~~~~~~~Wo
SYTDN'EY AN D HIS JPLAMTATION FRIENDS.








NO1{THWO 09;
OR,
LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH:
SHOWING THE
TRUE CHARACTER OF BOTH.
BY
MRS. SARAH JOSEPHA HALE.
tllustrate.
tl TH WHO LOVES NOT HTS COUNTRY CAN LOVE NOTHING."
SECOND EDITION.
NEW YORK:
H. LONG & BROTHER,
43 ANN-STREET.




ENTEIREn, according to Act of Congress, in the Year One Thousand Eight
Iundred and Fifty-two, by MRS. SARAH J. HALE, in the Clerk's Office
of th- District Court, for the Southern District of New York.




A WORD WITH THE READER.
TWENTY-FIVE years ago the book you are about to read was written; and
thus commenced my literary life. To those who know me, it is also known
that this was not entered upon to win fame, but a support for my little
children. Northwood was written literally with my baby in my arms-the
"youngling of the flock," whose eyes did not open on the world till his father's were closed in death!
The Reader who has suffered, or who is struggling to perform sacred duties, will rejoice that this work not only succeeded, but that the mode of its
success proved it was not unworthy of public favor.
Northwood was published in Boston, where I was not then personally
known to a single individual. The MS. was sent to a stranger; in less than
a month after the book appeared I had received many letters of congratulation and promises of friendly aid. Among these letters was one from a
publishing firm in that city, proposing to establish a periodical for Ladies,
and offering me the editorship, if I would remove to Boston. This proposal
was accepted, and the " Ladies' Magazine" established, the first literary
work exclusively devoted to women ever published in America. Its success
led to others of a similar spirit. Among these was Godey's " Lady's Book,"
published at Philadelphia. With this work my Magazine was united in
1837, and ever since I have continued editor of the " Ladies' Book."
Furthermore, the success of my literary life has enabled me to educate
my children liberally, as their father would have done-and I hope the influence of the various productions I have sent forth has been in some dedegree beneficial to my own sex, and to the cause of sound literature and
of pure morality.
Thus the kind Reader will see why this, my first novel, should be referred to as an era in my life.
Moreover, Northwood received commendations where no personal motives could have held sway. Under the title of " A New England Tale," it
was republished in London-at that time a very remarkable compliment to
an American book,-and honored with favorable notices in some of the leading Metropolitan Journals. In short, the author had no reason to feel dissatisfied with the success of her book. The portraitures of American character
were pronounced excellent-particularly that phase generally known as the
Yankee. The habits and tone of feeling characterizing the real yeomanry
of this class are nowhere so clearly marked as in New Hampshire. There,
the Farmers are realiv lords of the soil, -  loving their country next to




iv             A WORD WITH THE READER.
their God, and holding talents and learning in higher estimation than wealth
or rank. And from the glorious old Granite State, where the scenes of
this novel begin, have come forth those great men, "Defenders of the Constitution,"-who " know no North and no South,"-but wherever the sacred
Charter of Union stretches its cordon of brotherhood, and the Eagle and
the Stars keep guard, is their country. In the same spirit our book goes
forth. Northwood was written when what is now known as " Abolitionism"
first began seriously to disturb the harmony between the South and the
North. In the retirement of my mountain home, no motives save the search
for truth and obedience to duty prompted the sentiments expressed in this
work; nor has a wider sphere of observation, nor the long time for examination and reflection changed, materially, the views I had then adopted.
These views, based on the conditions of the compact the framers of the
Constitution recognized as lawful, and the people of the United States solemnly promised to observe, have been confirmed by a careful study of the
word of God, as well as of human history.
It is, therefore, a proud satisfaction to know that my own " Granite State,"
during all the fury of a sectional strife, has stood firm for the Constitution
and the Union, like the pine on her hills, gathering strength of root from the
storm that shakes its strong arms and even rends some of the noble branches
from the parent tree.
One cheering proof of the world's progress is the earnestness of those who
are now working in the cause of humanity. Men and women, too, are seeking for light to guide them in the way of duty. That it is easier to burn a
temple than to build one, and that two wrongs never make one right, are
points conceded by all; yet all seem not to have considered what is quite
as sure, that fraud and falsehood never promote the cause of goodness, nor can
physical force make or keep men free. The chain may be broken in one
direction, only to be more firmly riveted in another, unless Love and Truth
act as solvents, and destroy the fetters altogether. The great error of those
who would sever the Union rather than see a slave within its borders, is, that
they forget the master is their brother, as well as the servant; and that
the spirit which seeks to do good to all and evil to none is the only true
Christian philanthropy. Hoping that Northwood might, in some degree,
aid in diffusing this true spirit, I have consented to its republication at this
time. The few additions made to the original work are only to show more
plainly how the principles advocated may be effectually carried out. Fiction derives its chief worth from the truths it teaches. I have aimed to set
forth some important truths-their worth I leave to be estimated by the
Reader.
PIILADELPHIA, September 9th, 1852.




CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.           PAGE.
A Home in the Old Granite State.-.. —. —-.......-7 7
CHAPTER II.
Friends from the South -......   13
CHAPTER III.
North and South.. —. ----—.          19
CHAPTER IV.
The Hero Chosen. -- -------------. - -. 27
CHAPTER V.
The Return. —- ---------— 41
CHAPTER VI.
Home as Found —. ---------------—.- 58
CHAPTER VII.
A  Thanksgiving Sermon —--- -. —- - -........- - 73
CHAPTER VIII.
Thanksgiving Dinner   — 87
CHAPTER IX.
A Country Wedding. - ----------------  98
CHAPTER X.
A Walk and a Talk ----- - ---- - --- 114
CHAPTER XI.
The Day after Thanksgiving. —-..... — -  --—. —--—. —-12S
CHAPTER XII.
The Ball and the Belle ---- ---..... —--—. —. —— 137
CHAPTER XIII.
A  Yankee Doctor -------------------------------  -----  152
CHAPTER XIV.
The Destiny of America.-. —-----.- --—.... —--------— 164
CHAPTER XV.
The Story goes Backward............... 175




VI             CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XVI.         PAGE.
First Love.. —. —. —---—..-... —.. 185
CHAPTER XVII.
Zemira's History..... ------ -—. —------—.. —... 193
CHAPTER XVIII.
Zemira's History Continued... —----—... —...-. 203
CHAPTER XIX.
In which the Hero shows his Heroism... —-..-..215
CHAPTER XX.
Reconciliations ------------        225
CHAPTER XXI.
Friendships..- --------— 34
CHAPTER XXII.
A Money Lender and his Victim ---—.. —.......  248
CHAPTER XXIII.
A Reverse ------------------ --—.  259
CHAPTER XXIV.
Means and  Ends.-......... —- —...... -   268
CHAPTER XXV.
The Hero in a New Vocation ----- —. —- ----   280
CHAPTER XXVI.
Going Abroad.-. —------- —. —---—,292
CHAPTER XXVII.
Death of a Good Man.  ---           298
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A Country Funeral    — 308
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Dignity of Labor ------  — 317
CHAPTER XXX.
Lovers -..... — - - -—. -----—.-.-..... —--.328
CHAPTER XXXI.
A Yankee Sibyl, and other Matters -.. —..-.............  342
CHAPTER XXXII.
A Friend in Need -. ---------------------—. —... —.....363
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Plans for the Future.....................................389




NORTHWOOD:
OR,
LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.
CHAPTER I.
A HOME IN THE OLD GRANITE STATE.
Domestic bliss, that like a harmless dove,
Can centre in a little quiet nest
All that Desire would fly for through the earth;
That can, the world eluding, be itself
A world enjoyed; that wants no witnesses
Save its own sharers, and approving heaven.
KENNEDY.
SIDNEY ROMILLY, the eldest of a numerous family,
was a native of New Hampshire. The local situation
of the little village in which he was born, offered few
temptations to the speculator, and the soil promised no
indulgence'to the idle; but it abundantly repaid the
industrious cultivator. It was therefore inhabited, almost
exclusively, by husbandmen, who tilled their own farms
with their own hands, laboring actively six days in the
week, and on the seventh, offering, to that Being who
alone could crown their labors with success, the unfeigned
homage of contented minds and grateful hearts.
In short, some twenty or thirty years since, the inhabitants of this retired place displayed, in the simplici-t
and purity of their manners and morals, a model, which
Jeremiah Belknap, when describing so admirably what




8                NORTHWOOD; OR, t
constituted a "happy society," might have quoted as an
illustration of his "picture."
Among this unsophisticated people, where men are
esteemed more for merit and usefulness, than rank and
wealth, James Romilly, Esq., the father of our hero, was
a very honorable man; yet it was not wealth which gave
him consideration, for he was only what is called in middling circumstances, and the deference with which he was
treated was the more gratifying as he knew it to be an
unpurchasable tribute paid by freemen to his abilities
and integrity.
He, like almost all the New England yeomanry, married young, and lived most happily with his wife; for
she was the woman of his choice, and truly and faithfully
a helpmeet for him in his labors, and a tried and discreet friend, in whose sympathy and counsels he found
he might always rely.
When they first came to reside on their farm, it was
almost a wilderness; but unremitting industry soon
altered its appearance-the thrifty orchard occupied the
place of the maple forest, the garden bloomed where the
wild briar had sprung, and a comfortable house quite
eclipsed the log hut, which had, at first, afforded them
shelter.
But the complacency with which Mr. Romilly surveyed the outside of his new habitation, was nothing to
the pleasure he enjoyed while contemplating the beloved
and happy faces within; and among a family of fine
promising children, his dearest hope, perhaps unconsciously, rested on the eldest.
There is an emotion of the soul awakened at the birth
of the first-born, which seems to place that child in a
nearer connexion with the parents than any subsequent
offspring; and in most civilized countries, the laws give
the eldest some peculiar privileges, as the right of birth.
The wisdom or justice of such regulations, however, it
is not now my intention to discuss. I would only remark,
that if parental partiality was ever justifiable, the parents
of young Sidney might well be excused for selecting




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              9
him as their favorite. He was very handsome, sand
although personal beauty is of little consequence to the
man, it gives much interest to the child. In the spring,
who does not like to gaze on the most beautiful flowers?
But yet it is the intelligence and vivacity displayed in
the countenance that create the strongest interest, as the
odor of the flower is prized more than the beauty of its
tints, because we know it will longer continue.
Sidney, even from infancy, exhibited uncommon aptitude for learning, and it is not strange if his parents, at
least, should think his large, luminous eyes and expansive forehead gave promise of uncommon genius; he
was, besides, very docile and sweet-tempered; what was
considered most remarkable, his father often declared he
never heard him tell an untruth, nor even attempt the
least prevarication.
Falsehood may be termed the besetting sin of infancy,
and the child who has the mental courage to adhere
strictly to truth, even when it may expose his own faults
to punishment, certainly deserves our warmest admiration, and gives the most unequivocal promise of future
excellence.
Indeed, the only fault of our little hero, (which in a
child would scarcely appear one) was the facility with
which he yielded his own opinions and inclinations to
the perseverance or persuasions of others. A boy of this
facile, generous temper, which melts like wax, is liable
to every impression, and requires more constant watchfulness, and unremitting restraint, than those sturdy, stubborn, self-willed varlets, who, by turbulent opposition to
necessary regulations, perhaps often require punishment.
The former is always liable to adopt the faults of others,
which the latter from his very stubbornness resists.
It must not, however, be inferred from this, that a condescending temper is a misfortune; it only becomes so
by mismanagement. Chiefly because parents or guardians, weary of the task of rational discipline and instruction, relax whenever they can without immediate
inconvenience; and although they may be sufficiently




10               NORTHWOOD; OR,
assiduous to drive out the evil spirit, seem to forget it is
necessary to be equally alert to prevent its re-entering.
The tree that grows straight of itself; seems to require
no care of the gardener, yet its very luxuriance often prevents its becoming fruitful; while the crooked, crabbed
shrub, that requires constant pruning and grafting, becomes at length a sightly tree, producing abundantly, and
of the best quality. " But these observations are out of
place here," says the novel reader; "reserve them for a
treatise on education."
Mr. Romilly was well read in English history, and from
admiration of the splendid talents and devoted patriotism
of the famous Algernon Sidney, selected the same name
for his own son. He would have given him both names,
but Mrs. Romilly objected seriously to Algernon. It
sounded, she said, too much like "Algerine," and she
detested it.
Her husband, laughing, told her he had no fear of their
son turning pirate; "but," added he, "I dislike double
names myself, and so, if you please, we will call him only
Sidney."
And Sidney he was called; and although Mr. Romilly
was a man of too much sense to imagine a certain combination of letters would impart qualities to the mind of
his boy, yet the noble sentiments and exalted character
of the British statesman were so inwoven in his memory
with the name of Sidney, that, at times, when pronouncing it, he would almost feel an assurance of his own son's
future usefulness and distinction.
Indeed, few conditions in this world of care can be
imagined more enviable than that of Mr. Romilly, when
of a winter evening, with every chore done, he seated
himself before a "rousing fire," "monarch of all he surveyed," and listening to the roaring of the tempest without, contrasted it with the peace, plenty, and security
reigning within.
The ample fire-place, piled with wood, soon sent forth
a blaze which illuminated every corner and object in a
neat and comfortably-furnished apartment; his wife, with




1IF[1 NORTH AND SOUTH.             11
her knitting-work in her hand, or work-basket beside
her, looked the presiding genius of domestic felicity, and
his children, their little faces bright and beautiful as animated innocence could make them, sported around him;
all eager to share his caresses, or listen to the stories he
related. It was at such seasons, he often repeated those
lines from Cowper, (for Cowper was his favorite poet):
"Domestic happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the fall."
Thus smoothly passed the years over the happy dwelling of the Romillys, bringing no changes save those quiet
and expected ones which the heart anticipates and blesses,
and affording no diversity except in the occasional absences from home, which, to Mr. Romilly, public business
made necessary.
The bustle of political life was not at all congenial to
his disposition or habits; but he considered every freeman under sacred obligations to serve his country whenever and in whatever manner she required his services;
and the confidence of his own townsmen placed him,
almost every year, in some office, which, had he consulted
his inclination or interest, he would unhesitatingly have
refused. These separations from his family and farm,
were the only interruptions to the domestic happiness of
Mr. Romilly, which occurred till Sidney had entered his
twelfth year, beloved and praised not only by his own
parents, but the whole neighborhood.
But there always "lurks some wish in every heart,"
and many who can truly estimate the world for themselves, will yet overrate it for their children; and thus
Mr. Rtomilly, although he was indifferent to public honors
for himself; and felt convinced that happiness seldom resided in the bosoms of the ambitious and celebrated, yet
he ardently desired to give Sidney an opportunity of distinguishing himself. For this purpose he was daily planning how to bestow on him a liberal education.
Literature is the star and garter of a Yankee. It
claims precedence and gains privileges to which wealth




12               NORTHWOOD; OR,
alone is not entitled. This Mr. Romilly well knew. His
own education had, in youth, been neglected; but good,
natural sense, a sound judgment, and uncommon taste
for reading, in a great measure supplied the deficiency;
at least, it enabled him to discharge much of the public
business of his own town to the entire satisfaction of his
employers, and he had twice sat in the Legislature of
New Hampshire, as a representative. But there he met
with superiors, and although he was, by nature, remarkably free from an envious or repining disposition, yet he
could not avoid feeling some mortification while comparing his own acquirements with those of "College learned"
men; and he resolved to hazard suffering almost any
inconvenience, rather than Sidney should thus be cast
into the shade for the want of understanding a Latin
quotation, or a reference to the customs of antiquity.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH               13
CHAPTER II.
FRIENDS FROM THE SOUTH.
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.
[CHILDE HAROLD.
ABOUT this time, Mr. Romilly was visited by a sister,
whom he had not seen for nearly twenty years.
This lady, for reasons which the reader will ultimately
discover, must be introduced somewhat particularly. She
was the only daughter of her parents, and in her youth
a celebrated beauty; two very unfortunate circumstances
for the happiness of a woman. An only daughter is
sure to be humored by her family; a beautiful girl will
be flattered by her admirers; either of these is sufficient
to turn a young and giddy brain, and requires to be
counteracted by good sense and a strictly judicious education, or the object of such attentions will be pert and
vain while they are continued, peevish and unreasonable
when they are withdrawn.
Those who have the superintendance of young girls,
cannot too often nor too forcibly impress on their tender
minds, those lessons of prudence, forbearance and humility, which the world is sure, sooner or later, to force
upon them. The art of self-government is indispensable
to woman's felicity.
But Miss Lydia Romilly was never taught this lesson
beneath the paternal roof. All there was subservient to
her wishes or whims; and it was the common saying of
the neighborhood, that she ruled the whole family. Yet
she was neither ill-natured nor passionate; her greatest
fault was that self-estimation which made her imagine




14               NORTHWOOI); OR,
her own happiness ought to be the first consideration with
all who approached her.
Lovers without number bowed before this rural belle,
and at length she did what few belles ever do, bestowed
her affections on one of the most worthy. He was not
rich, but possessed what is preferable, industry to acquire
wealth, and capacity to preserve it; good health, good
habits, and good morals; but (the truth must be told) it
was not to those requisites he was indebted for the favor
of Miss Lydia, but to his manly form and fine face, which,
when set off by a handsome military dress, (he was a
militia captain) she declared was quite irresistible. She
loved him, however, as sincerely as one whose standard
of reference was ever self could love another; and her
parents willingly sanctioned her choice, though they
would have been better pleased could Reuben Porter
have added one round 0 to the sum total of his fortune.
But the match was settled. Reuben, who already
owned a farm, set about building a house, and old Mrs.
Romilly, full of bustling importance, began in earnest to
prepare her daughter's furniture.
While these operations were going on, Lydia took an
opportunity of visiting an acquaintance who resided in
Boston. She was induced to go partly to see the capital,
but more especially to procure her wedding dress and
ornaments in a style superior to what the country afforded.
She was determined her wedding should be the most
splendid her native town ever witnessed.
While in Boston, she was, at a party, introduced to a
young gentleman by the name of Brainard; he was from
South Carolina, reputed immensely rich-as all southern
people are-he was highly accomplished, and was, of
course, very much caressed in the polite circles of the
metropolis. Although he had been heard to declare he
felt himself perfectly impenetrable to female charms, in
a climate where the arrows of Cupid must, at least.twothirds of the year, be tipped with frost, yet at first sight
he fell deeply in love with Miss Romilly.
He was informed of her engagement; yet considering




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            15
a Yankee rival as no very formidable obstacle to his success, he did not hesitate to declare his passion. He was
not half as handsome as her plighted swain, but he was
far more fashionably dressed, and had that air of easy
elegance and winning confidence in his deportment, which
can only be acquired by mixing much with good company, and seeing what is called the world.
These accomplishments could not fail of making some
impression on a girl of nineteen, who, notwithstanding
her engagement, still felt at liberty to do as she had ever
done, consult her own feelings only. Still in her heart
she preferred Reuben; but she wished him to know what
a fine gentleman her charms had captivated; and this
female vanity of seeking to multiply admirers, made her,
at last, yield to the importunities of Mr. Brainard, and
consent he should accompany her home.
The town of S-    was instantly in an uproar. A
proud beauty must never expect friends among her own
sex. It requires the utmost suavity of manners on the
part of a handsome girl, to make the less favored ones
tolerate the superiority which nature has bestowed.
But Miss Lydia Romilly had always carried a very
high head, and sure of gaining lovers, had taken no
pains to attach friends, or conciliate enemies. Fortunate circumstances more than her own prudence had
hitherto prevented her giving much cause for censure;
but an opportunity was now presented which nearly all
seemed willing to improve.
Mothers harangued their daughters on the monstrous
wickedness of thus trifling with a solemn engagement,
always concluding with the observation that "Lydia
Romilly would never prosper."
The young ladies affected to hold her conduct in the
utmost abhorrence; while the young men, who.had
nearly all bowed to Lydia, felt chagrined and enraged,
that the girl, whom they had so eagerly and vainly
sought, should be thus easily won by a stranger.
To Reuben Porter the intelligence of her levity was
speedily conveyed; no less than fourteen of his very




16              NORTHWOOD; OR,
kind friends contriving, in the course of two days, to inform him of the whole transaction, condole with him on
the disappointment of his hopes, and offer him all the
counsels of their wisdom and experience. Two opposite
modes of procedure were, by his lady friends, recommended in the case. One was, to abandon Lydia immediately and utterly, as forever unworthy of his love or
confidence.
This advice was offered in the belief that the addresses
of the Southern gentleman were only prompted by gallantry; that he had no serious intention of marrying
her; and that, if the breach between her and Reuben
could be rendered irreconcilable, she would at Brainard's
departure, suffer a complete mortification, and verify the
old adage, that between two stools, one was sure of
coming to the ground.
The other party thinking Brainard's intentions were
really serious, and that Lydia was equally anxious to
wed him, urged Reuben to assert his claim, and thus
prevent the accomplishment of their wishes.
So much for the advice of disinterested friends!
But there was one good old lady who really loved
both Reuben and Lydia.
"Reuben," said she one day, as he breathed a low
sigh, "don't be cast down; all may end happily yet.
Lydia loves you, I know she does, and perhaps she is
not so much to blame as has been represented. Stories,
you know, lose nothing by being carried, and though I
would not have you imposed upon, yet let me warn you
not to form any hasty resolutions. I always thought
you were made for each other, and so I think still, notwithstanding what has happened."
Reuben had hitherto listened, apparently unmoved, to
the surmises, guesses and exhortations of his officious
friends; but now he started from his seat, grasped the
old lady's hand, and pressed it fervently, while a tear
moistened his eye, and his voice quivered as he pronounced —" Thank you!"   So touching is real sympathy.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            17
Reuben loved Lydia as his life, but he had a good
share of Yankee independence in his spirit; and although her unfaithfulness pierced him to the soul, yet
he prudently resolved to put a good face on the matter.
To compel her to fulfil her engagement, was revolting
to his love, and pride forbade his appealing to her compassion. So smothering his emotions, he appeared calmly
to await the result of her coquetry. And his conduct
was an example of stoicism, which Zeno himself might
have acquired credit by imitating.
Lydia, meanwhile, was not without anxiety and selfreproach. Her sense of justice she might perhaps have
stifled, but she had not yet brought her mind to contemplate an eternal separation (to use the lover's language)
from Reuben, without emotion; and her pride was sorely
piqued at the apparent indifference with which he received the intelligence of her defection. But Brainard
pressed his suit with so much earnestness, and his riches
pleaded his cause so powerfully, that Lydia's parents
were-much inclined to favor him. True they had the
reputation of being very pious people, and no considerations would have induced them to advise a breach of a
solemn engagement. Thus far their consciences admonished them. So they just allowed their daughter to do
as she pleased in the affair; and when she applied to
them for counsel, secretly hoping they would advocate
the cause of Reuben, they merely observed-'"That it was for her to decide. Her happiness was
at stake. And as Reuben, by not more manfully asserting his right, had tacitly relinquished her, they thought
she was at liberty to consult her own inclinations."
In short, to give the result of the affair as concisely
as possible, three weeks from the time of Lydia Romilly's return from Boston, saw her the wedded wife of
Horace Brainard, and journeying with him to his home
in South Carolina!
Poor Reuben! she left thee, but I shall not; and will
a single reader, who has a heart of any compassion,




18               NORTHWOOI); OR,
grudge to accompany an unfortunate lover a few lines
further?
Reuben Porter neither cursed the fickleness of his lost
love, nor thanked God he was rid of her: he kept quietly
at wrork- on the housGe he was fitting for her reception;
and, although the woman where he boarded thought his
eyes, for several successive mornings, looked red and
swollen, as if he had passed sleepless nights, and his appetite nearly failed him, yet he never complained. So
no one dared insult him by a show of compassion, which
is, on such occasions, to a refined or sensitive mind, the
most exquisite cruelty.
In a few months he paid his addresses to a very amiable girl. She was not a beauty, but sufficiently pretty
to be agreeable, and in every requisite for a good wife,
far superior to Lydia Romilly. They married, acquired
a handsome property, lived very happily together, and
were much beloved by all their acquaintance. Reuben
was never heard to allude to his own disappointment
but once. Hiawife bore him several girls in succession
-and some one was observing to him, they thought a
family of sons far preferable for a farmer, and that one
girl was quite sufficient for any family.
"No," he replied, "give me a dozen rather."  Then
added, laughing-" I am not partial to only daughters.
You must remember I was jilted by one."
From this observation people inferred he attributed
the fickleness of Lydia's conduct more to her injudicious
education than to her heart.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            19
CHAPTER III.
NORTH AND SOUTH.
The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye,
Who but owns their magic swayWho but feels they all decay!-BURNS.
MRS. BRAINARD, as in future we must call her, did not
bid adieu to New England without emotions of regret,
and even some feelings of compunction. The parting
from her parents, from whom she had experienced nothing but kindness and indulgence, was painful in the
extreme-she felt she had liberty to weep; and when
the carriage reached the last height that overlooked the
village where she had passed so many bright days, and
which she was now leaving perhaps forever, she leaned
forward to catch another look, and a torrent of tears bedewed her cheeks. They did, indeed, owe some of their
bitterness to the remembrance of Reuben-she thought
of his affection, his disappointment, and her heart reproached her for the part she had acted.
From the height where she then was, the house Reuben had been building for her was plainly visible. She
had assisted him to design it, or alter it rather, and she
now recollected how cheerfully he had complied with all
her suggestions. One window in particular, she knew
he altered to please her, when no other inducement
would have prevailed. That window she now beheld,
and the train of feeling it awakened, was almost too
painful for her undisciplined mind to endure.
Without sufficient stability of principle to guide, she
had just piety enough to torment her; and the fear that,




20               NORTHWOOD; OR,
for her broken vows, some punishment awaited her in
the strange land to which she was going, took immediate possession of her weak fancy.
Her husband, who thought all her grief proceeded
from the necessity of separating from her home and
parents, tried the usual methods of consolation practiced
on such occasions-kissed the tears from her fair cheek,
talked of his love, and gratitude, and constancy, all
eternal of course; and told her of the thousand amusements awaiting her in a gay city, where his wealth would
enable her to command every pleasure she desired.
This last consideration gave her some comfort. Persons who dare not commune with their own hearts, are
not only dependent on society for their pleasures, but
must seek it as a refuge from anxiety and remorse.
It may be thought strange, Lydia should give her
hand to Brainard, when in her heart she really preferred
her first love. But one wrong step usually makes many
others inevitable. The love of admiration first induced
her to admit the addresses of Mr. Brainard; then the
cool behavior of Reuben Porter made her fear he would
not forgive her levity without concessions, which she disdained to make; and thus she was compelled either to
wed the former, or risk being considered a forsaken damsel, a character she abhorred above all things.
It cannot then excite wonder, if Mrs. Brainard's ideas
of future felicity, instead of centering in the dear domestic circle over which she was so soon to preside, should
borrow many of their tints of happiness from the fashionable and gay diversions to which her husband inconsiderately directed her attention.
That she now felt far from being completely happy,
her heart acknowledged; but willing to attribute it to
anything rather than her own folly, she complained of
the tediousness of traveling, the inconveniences of hotels,
and scarcely seeing an object that gave her any satisfaction in the whole way, impatiently urged her husband to
hasten his journey. 
Mr. Brainard was a gay man, and one who sometimes




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             21
yielded his reason to the influence of violent passions, as
he had done in his hasty marriage; but he possessed,
nevertheless, a generous heart and a cultivated mind.
He was particularly fond of fine scenery, and his
principal inducement to visit the North was to examine
and take views of some of the sublime prospects nature
exhibits in this part of the Union. Often, when alone,
had he lingered on the way, and his solitary excursions
had afforded him exquisite satisfaction; but he now anticipated an increase of pleasure, when he had such a
loved and lovely one by his side, to whom he might
whisper his observations, and who, by the delicacy and
refinement of her taste and feelings, would correct and
improve his own.
What an oversight, that before taking her "for better
for worse," he did not ascertain whether she had taste,
and how far it was in unison with his own!
However, he soon found she had little admiration to
bestow on any object except herself. She must be the
fairest flower in every parterre, the object of unceasing
solicitude and attention, or she felt neglected and unhappy.
Sometimes, in a fit of sudden enthusiasm, he would call
on her to admire with him a sublime or beautiful prospect, or endeavor to intrcduce rational conversation; but
the impatience of her countenance and her listless answers,
soon convinced him he must change his subject.
Before reaching Charleston, he had become heartily
weary of the insipid, common-place chat which only
could entertain her, and something very much like a sigh
heaved his bosom when reflecting he must travel the
journey of life with such a companion.
* But he felt certain her face would, in the opinion of
the world, excuse him for marrying her; and he determined to become her preceptor, and doubted not, but
with a little assiduity on his part, she would become as
agreeable a companion as she already was a beautiful
mistress.
He had, with all his learning, yet to learn that the
woman who has from infancy been accustomed to a con



22                NORTHWOOD; OR,
stant course of adulation and indulgence, seldom exerts
her talents, because she thinks such exertion unnecessary;
and the person who presumes to arouse her from this
supineness, is sure to excite her displeasure.
Mr. Brainard was the owner of a large plantation
about twenty miles from Charleston, and an elegant house
in the city. It was to his city residence he first conducted
his bride, and there introduced her to his pleasant circle
of fashionable acquaintance.
The women allowed she was very pretty, yet each had
objections to urge against particular features. One thought
her nose too long; another said her forehead was too
low; a third disliked blue eyes; and a fourth was quite
sure the brilliancy of her complexion was heightened by
art; but they all joined in condemning her air and manners as absolutely rustic if not dowdyish.
The men, however, uninfluenced for once by the ladies,
unanimously voted her an angel. Whatever was abrupt
in her conversation, or ungraceful in her address, was, by
them, termed naivete, and, had not the days of chivalry
been past, the Northern lass might, in a Southern city,
have boasted many a champion of her charms.
It was even rumored that a number of young gentlemen had vowed to go on a pilgrimage to New England
before selecting their wives; nay, it was absolutely asserted one had departed; but the result of his expedition
was never, I believe, made public.
What Mrs. Brainard thought of the new scene to which
she was thus introduced, will be best understood by the
perusal of two letters which she addressed to her mother
soon after her arrival. To explain how these letters fell
into my hands, would be a long and needless story; but
the reader may depend on their authenticity. Yet the
veracity of a historian obliges me to acknowledge they
have undergone some alterations.  The orthography
needed many corrections, and the punctuation had to be
entirely supplied. The capital letters, also, were distributed with the utmost impartiality throughout the
whole, as often ending a word, as beginning a sentence.
7         0             0




LIFE NORlTII AND SOUTH.           23
Indeed, no one who saw the crooked, blotted, mis-spelt
scrawls, would have imagined a delicate hand had penned,
and bright eyes overlooked them. These facts are not
recorded for a libel against Mrs. Brainard, but merely as
a warning to beautiful young ladies, lest, like her, they
should depend on the graces of their persons, and neglect
the cultivation of their minds.
For her there was some excuse. Female education
had not, at that time, been well provided for even in New
England. True, the common schools were open to girls
as well as boys; but it was often very difficult for the
former to attend. The school-house would be distant and
uncomfortable, the roads generally bad; and, though
boys could rough it through all ways, winds and weathers, and were sent off as a matter of duty, the delicate
little girl was allowed to stay at home —if she chose.
And Lydia Romilly had chosen to stay at home. In
summer she complained of the heat, in winter of the
cold; and as such a lovely child really seemed to her
parents, as our first mother did to Adam,
-  " In herself complete,"
they had indulged her idleness in study, till it was too
late to correct the habit. Thus she passed her early
youth without any taste for reading, one of the very few
among the Yankee girls who never fell in love with the
hero of a novel; for, truth to tell, Lydia Romilly never
read a work of fiction. Her letters will, I fear, show also
that she had not much acquaintance with the facts of
authentic history.
*     X    *     *X  X      -x   *    *X    -    *[LETTER FIRST.]
Charleston City, Dec. 17, 17-.
MY DEAREST MOTHER,-I now take my pen to inform
you I am well, and hope this letter will find you enjoying the same blessing. We had a very uncomfortable
journey, jolting along over the rough roads, up hill and




24               NORTI\IWOOD; OR,
down; but we reached the end of it in safety, which I
take to be a special interposition of Providence, considering the great length of the way, and my being totally
unused to traveling. Mr. Brainard has a fine house, the
prettiest I have seen in Charleston; and I like the house
well, and I should like the place very well if it were not
for the black people-niggers they call'em here. Oh!
dear mother, you know how frightened I always was at
a negro-how I used to run behind your chair when old
Sampson came to the door, and always screamed when
he offered to step in. But, mercy! here the negroes are
as thick as bees; the streets are full of'em. I am sure
I did not imagine there were so many in the universe.
When our carriage drove up to the gate, out bolted a
great black fellow, and Mr. Brainard shook hands with
him, and was as glad to see him as could be; but I trembled all over, for I began to remember the stories I had
read of slaves murdering their masters and mistresses,
and many such bloody things. I guess Mr. Brainard
saw I was pale, for he told me not to be frightened at
Tom, who was one of the best creatures living. But
when we entered the hall, there stood a row of blacks,
laughing till their mouths were stretched from ear to ear,
to welcome us. They all crowded round my husban:l,
and I was so frightened, thinking some of them might
have knives in their hands to kill us, that I could not
help shrieking as loud as I could; and the slaves ran
away, and Mr. Brainard looked angry, and I hardly know
what happened next, for I believe I fainted. I am sure
if I had only known this was a negro country, I never
would have come here. They have a great many parties
and balls here. I don't go to the balls, for I never learned
to dance, and I think they are sinful; but I go to all the
parties, and dress just as rich and fine as I please. I
have a new head-dress, the prettiest thing my eyes ever
beheld; I wish you could see it. My husband buys me
every thing I ask for, and if I did not eternally see them
black people about me, I should be quite happy. Every
single day I am urging Mr. Brainard to send them off.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           25
He always tells me it is impossible, and would be cruelty
to them, as they are contented and happy, and have no
other home or country where they could be received.
But I intend to tease him till he does. I don't care
where the creatures go to, nor much what becomes of
them, if they can only be out of my sight. Pray give
my love to Betty Baily, and tell her I wish she would
come and live with me, and then I should want no other
help. I often tell my husband I could do my work
alone, but he laughs, and says, "What a ridiculous thing
it would be to see you in the kitchen." And besides, he
says, no white person will live long if they attempt to
labor in this warm climate. What to do, I know not,
but I am determined to get the black creatures away.
Your dutiful daughter,
LYDIA BRAINARD.
[LETTER SECOND.]
" Charleston City, iMay 3d, 17-.
MIY DEAREST MOTHER-I received your kind letter of
February first, and I should have answered it immediately, but I have had a world of trouble of late. I
do not know how to tell you what I have discovered;
but yet I must, that you may pray for me, that my faith
may be strengthened, and that I may be kept from temptation. I have often heard you say, the children of professors were especially protected by divine grace; and I
am sure I need such protection-for, don't you think Mr.
Brainard is a pope, or a papist, I forget which they call'em, and he goes to a chapel and calls it a meeting, when
it is no more like our meetings than it is like a ball. I
have been twice, but I am determined to go no more,
and I say everything I can against it, for it is so different from our christian worship I am sure it must be
wrong. I am sure you will be very much shocked to
hear of this, and I was when I discovered it; and I have
a thousand times wished myself in New England. But
2




26              NORTfHWOOD; OR,
don't say a word about it-you know who I would not
have hear of it for all the world.
I have everything money can command to content
me; and if Mr. Brainard would only send away his
servants, as he calls them, and go to a congregational
meeting, I think I should be quite happy. But these
blacks are always at my elbow. Here's one just been
into the room to see if I wanted anything, but I bade
her to go about her business. If my husband will keep
them he may order them-I will not, for they frighten
me out of my senses. Mr. Brainard is very kind to
them, and they love him like a brother, though he will
keep them in slavery; while they hate me, I know they
do, yet I tell them every day I wish they were in Guinea.
But they are a stupid, ungrateful race, and I detest them
perfectly.
I have a new carpet for my parlor-very beautiful indeed. Father would say it was too handsome to walk
on; but yet, I don't know how it is, such fine things,
now I have them so common, are not half so pleasing as
I expected they would be. I have to sit about, with nothing to do, till I am quite low spirited; and then I
think how I used to enjoy myself when at home-how
I could work and sing the whole day. Oh! I shall
never be so happy again. Give my love to all my
friends.
Your dutiful daughter,
LYDIA BRAINARD."




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.                27
CIAPTER IV.
THE HERO CIOSEN.
Will fortune never come with both hands full?
She either gives a stomach, and no foodSuch are tile poor in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stornach; such the rich,
That have abundance and enjoy it not.
[KING HENRY IV., PART 2d.
FROMI the letters in the foregoing chapter, the domestic
management of Mrs. Brainard may be easily understood.
Educated from her infancy to consult her own feelings
only, neither the interest, the happiness, nor the wishes
of her husband, could induce her to yield to the necessity of the case, and endeavor to conquer her antipathy
to the blacks. It was not principle but prejudice that
actuated her conduct. She cared little for their fate if
removed from her sight.  She feared and detested them,
and they reciprocated her dislike. They had rather be
whipped than hated.
It was in vain her husband attempted to reason with
her-told her that his father, on his death bed, in consigning to his care the servants, had solemnly charged
him to treat them kindly, and never to sell or alienate
those who conducted well. HIe told her, moreover, that
no one could hold the system of slavery in greater abhorrence than himself; but the peculiar circumstances
under which the slaveholders were placed, rendered a
relinquishment of their right over their slaves, for the
present, impracticable. Biut that he, with every noble
minded gentleman, inhabiting the south, anticipated the
day, when the necessity for slavery would cease to exist,




28               NORTI WOOD; OR,
and when their country, in being freed from its curse,
would wipe off the only blot that stained her character.
His arguments were given to the winds. The usual
answer of Mrs. Brainard was, that there were no slaves
in New England, and there was no need of having any
in South Carolina.
Then the discovery that her husband was a ionman
Catholic, was a still more serious affair. His belief, like
that of the generality of men, was more the effect of
habit and education, than of reflection or serious examination. His parents, who lived as Christians ought
to live, and died as Christians must wish to die, were
Catholics; and the remembrance of their virtues and
piety, hallowed, in the heart of their son, the religion
they professed. Yet he was not bigoted to its particular
tenets, and his kindliness of disposition always inclined
him to think favorably of the motives of human conduct, and of the religions that differed from his own.
Mrs. Brainard's piety, however, was of quite a contrary spirit. Elected to salvation, she had nothing to do
but accept, and then there was no possibility of her
failing to gain the crown, however she might loiter by
the way, or deviate from the prescribed course. And
she could not believe any one would be saved who had
not an experience to relate, and who had not been convicted and converted in the regular way. She had faith,
but forgot to add to her faith patience, or charity, which
is the greatest of all. IHaving naturally a timid mind,
and being inclined to superstition, she imagined her husband's infidelity, for so she termed his liberal principles,
was to punish her for her unfaithfulness to Reuben
Porter.
But the history of matrimonial infelicity is an unpleasant subject, especially when, as in the present case,
it seems to be owing more to what may be termed fate
and necessity, than folly or vice.
The truth was, the habits, opinions, and tastes, of the
husband and wife were totally dissimilar, and neither




LIFE NORTH AN-D SOUTH.            29
was willing to make concessions, or relinquish their
favorite theories.
He thought, as husbands are apt to think, that it was
his prerogative to rule, and his wife's happiness must
consist in studying and contributing to his.
She rarely reasoned much on any subject. Her wishes
had, beneath the paternal roof, been laws to all who approached her; and the transition from a goddess receiving adoration to an obedient wife, was a falling off
to which, as she had never anticipated, she did not sub
mit with a very good grace.
Those whom Providence seems to favor by bestowing
the means of luxury without the necessity of labor, are
often the least enviable of our species. If they have
much leisure, they will soon find it a heavy commodity
on their hands, and be willing to exchange it even for
the most trivial amusements and unprofitable pursuits.
None, save a judiciously disciplined mind, is fitted to
properly enjoy and dignify leisure.
It was certainly very unfortunate for Mrs. Brainard,
that no necessity existed for the exertion of her industry.
She wasl naturally industrious; and had they been poor,
the efforts to procure a livelihood would have prevented
that melancholy vacuity of mind she experienced while
sauntering from apartment to apartment in her splendid
mansion, where nothing required her care, and nothing
interested her feelings.
She soon found it was possible to be very rich and
very wretched; while Mr. Brainard became convinced,
that the personal beauty of a wife added little to her
husband's felicity.
The consequences may be easily divined. Instead of
passing his happiest hours beneath his own roof, Mr.
Brainard sought his pleasures in the circles of dissipation.
The race ground, billiard table and theatre, were his favorite places of diversion; yet his good sense and natural prudence prevented his falling a victim to vice, although he was fast becoming a votary of folly.
His wife, who lhad fewer resources for killing time, was




30               NORTII'OOD; OB,
soon the prey of ennui and discontent. Had they been
blest with children, their story would doubtless have been
a different one. A common offspring hallows the union
of a wedded pair far more than the benediction of the
priest. They then sympathize in the same hopes, fears
and affections, and each day draws closer and closer the
bonds of interest and self-love; for they love themselves
in their race, titl their union becomes inseparable by any
thing save death.
This bond, however, did not operate in the case of Mr.
and Mrs. Brainard, for children they had none; and the
disappointment of their wishes sensibly diminished their
tenderness for each other. There were not, to be sure,
any gross insults or outrages against propriety, offered
by either; but there was a constant clashing of sentiments, a perpetual disagreement in tastes and opinions, a
kind of querulousness on the part of the wife, and contempt on that of the husband, which rendered their domestic society irksome and unpleasant to all who joined
it; to themselves it must have been most disagreeable
and repulsive.
In this manner they passed nearly twenty years, Mrs.
Brainard often entreating her husband to take her to
New England; but as she scrupulously insisted on the
fulfilment of a promise he had given her mother, to go
the whole journey by land, he had a good excuse for declining her request. And perhaps she never would have
had an opportunity of revisiting her native state, had
not a severe fit of sickness come opportunely to her aid.
Her physician pronounced traveling indispensable to the
perfect recovery of her health; and her emaciated countenance awakening, in the heart of her husband, pity
and remorse, rekindled in some measure his first tenderness for her.
HIe could not forbear reflecting that by promises of
enduring love and unwearied care, he had prevailed on
her to leave the home of her childhood, and the dear
fiiends who delighted to cherish and indulge her. Nay,
more; for him she had forsaken a lover, who would




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             81
doubtless have made her a far more fitting husband than
he had done. It was not probable her life would continue long, and Brainard, with the generosity natural to
his disposition, when his better feelings predominated,
determined to gratify her wishes.
Accordingly they started for New Hampshire, and,
traveling by easy stages, arrived without accident at the
end of their monotonous journey. But twenty years had
wrought strange changes. Both parents of Mrs. Brainard
were in their graves; her brothers had all, James excepted, emigrated to other states, and of her early companions and friends, but very few remained in her native
village.
" I came to the place of my birth, and said,'the friends
of my youth, where are they?'-and echo answered,' where are they?'"
Mrs. Brainard had never read the sentiment, but her
heart felt its force; and, feeble and melancholy, she entreated her husband to take her to the town where she
understood her brother James, now dignified by the title
of James Romilly, Esq., resided.
She had left him a lad of sixteen, lively, ardent, and
unfearing; she found him an enterprising, intelligent,
and respectable man, happily employed on a farm, which
he had purchased with his own earnings, and now cultivated with his own hands. A neat, commodious house,
a pleasant, happy looking wife, and half a dozen lovely
children, were the pledges of his felicity.
" We have but a small house to receive you in," said
Mr. Romilly to his splendidly dressed visitors, "but
your welcome is as sincere as though we could usher you
into a palace."'"I doubt it not," returned Mr. Brainard, "and you
have all that is really necessary to happiness-health, a
competency, and those dear ones," glancing his eyes on
the group of little laughing faces which were stretching
forward, eager to catch a peep at the strangers.
The children were immediately called forward; their
names repeated, and the good qualities and promising




32               NORTIIWOOD; OR,
abilities of each enumerated and dilated upon somewhat
at length by their delighted mother, who, though a very
sensible woman, had yet the mother's weakness of being
dotingly fond of her children.
Mrs. Brainard beheld her brother's happiness with feelings very much like envy; certainly with deep repinings
at her own less favored lot. She had wealth to gratify
every whim, but finding its enjoyment did not satisfy
her heart, she considered it worthless, and often thought
she would willingly part with it all, could she only have
one sweet child to call her by the endearing name of
"mother," and embrace her as affectionately as the children did her sister-in-law. She could not bear the thought
of returning to her desolate home and living in the cheerless domestic solitude which had so long preyed on her
spirits.
"I shall never have a child of my own," said she to
herself one day, as she sat tracing in the infantile features
of her brother's children the resemblance of her deceased
parents; "but I will beg one of these-my brother cannot refuse me-and then I will have something to live
for."
No sooner had this idea taken possession of her mind,
than she hastened to impart it to her husband, hoping he
would aid her in the accomplishment of a plan which
now seemed indispensable to her happiness, and almost
necessary to her existence.
Mr. Brainard had secretly formed the same wish. IIe
had no near relative who needed his property, and flattered himself, if he could obtain a son of Mr. Romilly,
and educate him as his own, he should then transmit his
immense wealth to one who, grateful for the gift, would,
by his assiduity and filial respect, endeavor to merit the
favor.
Seldom had the husband and wife been so well agreed
on any subject as in the design of obtaining one of the
little rosy cheeked urchins, w ho now bounded by them,
all frolic and happiness; as unconscious and uncaring of
the proud fortune which awaited one of their number, as




t~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I 
II
MR. BRAINARD SELECTING AN HEIR.








LIFllE NOC TI'I AND SOUTI.        83
were the children of Jesse, when the prophet came to select from among tlhem a king to reign over Israel. But the
motives of choice in the two cases were widely different,
The prophet did not regard the outward appearance, nor
the age; Mr. Brainard and his wife were almost entirely
influenced by these considerations.
Sidney was the eldest, and would soon be a companion
for them; he had a fair countenance, and would do honor
to their selection.
These were the first requisitions; then Mrs. Brainard
recollected his mother had told her how sweet-tempered
and docile he was, and what an excellent scholar.
"And," said she, " any one may know he is amiable,
by only looking on his face; and ~or genius, there never
was a Romilly deficient in that."
Mr. Brainard smiled. I-e mlight, pelrhaps, have named
one exception, but his good nature, or good breeding,
prevented, and he only remarked, lie wished they might
obtain the child.
Mrs. Brainard undertook to procure her brother's consent, while her husbandc was to try his rhetoric on Mrs.
Romilly, from whose maternal tenderness they apprehended the most serious opposition to their plan.
It would be too tedious to detail all that was said and
thought on this occasion. I will not believe it would be
uninteresting; for can the deep emotions of parental love,
contencing with the powe-rful tempttations of ambition
and interest, be an uninteresting exhibition to those who
would analyze the human mind, by tracing the operations
of its most potent passions?
The parents hesitated long, and not till a few days before the time fixed by Mr. Brainard for the conclusion
of his visit, did they give a decisive answer to his proposal of taking Sidney to South Carolina, adopting him
lo   Q Qd0,(^S4 dt,mrL t.WlYJJi tke best manner and,
naking hiim sole fcier to firs vatI possc'sitOIs'.
"What answer shall we give?"' said MIr. Romilly to
his wife, as they were discussing the matter after the
family had retired for the night. "I wish to subdue my
T2e




34               NORTHWOOD; OR,
own feelings, and act wholly for the best interests of our
child."
Mrs. Romilly sighed. She thought the boy's interest
would certainly be promoted by going, and that such was
the conclusion at which his father was intending to arrive.
"If I thought it was the will of heaven," said she, in
a low tone, "I would submit. I have often thought
something singular would happen to that child. Don't
you remember what strange dreams I have had about
him?-that, in particular, which I thought portended his
death?"
" No, I do not recollect it," replied her husband.
"Well, perhaps I never told it you," returned she;
"but I dreamed I was looking out of our east window,
and I saw a man riding up the lane, full speed, on a coal
black horse. The man was a stranger to me then, but
since I have seen brother Brainard, I think he did resemble him. Well, he came up to the doortook Sidney
by the hand, and placed him on the horse, and galloped
off as fast as he could, and they were soon out of sight.
I told the dream to Mrs. Watson, and she said a black
horse always betokened prosperity, and she should think
Sidney would have good fortune."
"' hope it may prove so," answered her husband, who
had listened to his wife's dream and Mrs. Watson's interpretation thereof without a single smile or "pshaw!"
-(would all husbands be as well bred?)-" but I own I
have not much faith in presages; still, I have always,
myself, cherished the idea, that Sidney was born to be
distinguished; and I have been forming every plan I
could devise to give him a liberal education, yet, I fear,
I shall not be able. We have a number of children
already, and shall probably have more; and the income
of my farm will only give us a comfortable support.
May not this offer of our friends be an interposition of
Providence to fulfill my anxious wishes?  And now,
shall we murmur, and refuse the blessing, because it is
not bestowed in just the way we desire? And I know




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             85
Sidney has been our idol. May not his removal from
us, for a time, be in mercy, lest by rejoicing in the gift,
and forgetting the giver, we merit a more severe trial?"
There was a long pause. Both felt Sidney must go;
yet neither had courage to express their feelings.
"How can I bear the separation?" said Mrs. Romilly,
at length.
"We must endure separation from those we love,"
replied her husband, pressing her hand in his. " Even
we must part! and in that solemn day our sweetest consolation will be, that we have, to the best of our abilities,
discharged faithfully the duties incumbent on us, even
though their performance was painful."
Mrs. Romilly wept; but she urged no more objections,
and the departure of Sidney was considered certain, and
preparations were accordingly made.
Had Mr. and Mrs. Romilly known exactly the situation
and principles of those to. whose care they were consigning their darling child, they would never have consented
to his departure. But happy themselves, blessed and
blessing each other, they hardly thought family disagreements possible; and shame and pride had operated on
the minds of their visitors, and prevented them from
revealing their domestic troubles.
How could Mrs. Brainard, while displaying her rich
satins and laces, and costly jewels, to her admiring sisterin-law, acknowledge they were worn to conceal the throbbings of a discontented and despairing heart, and that
with all her riches and splendor she was a prey to grief?
So, she could not humble herself so far.  Had her
mother been living, she would have poured into her
pitying ear the tale of her distresses; but now she endeavored to appear as cheerful as possible, and her altered
countenance was ascribed altogether to the ravages of
time and disease.
She had made a profession of religion when very
young', before she was married, and from her conversation her brother ascertained she still held fast her hope.
It was true he did not see in her that spirit of humility




36               NORTHWOOD; OR,
so lovely in a Christian; but he considered her situation
and habits of living were very different from his, and
charity bade him make many allowances. He knew
also, that Mr. Brainard was far from being an orthodox
believer, but the affability of his manners, and the generosity and kindness of his temper, seemed pledges of
his tender care to the child he was adopting; and Mr.
Romilly, who always saw the good in every character,
and excused, if possible, the evil, hoped he would yet
be won by the pious conversation of his wife, to embrace
religion.
The day of separation at length came, and passed, as
every day will, whether brightened by joy or saddened
by grief; and the evening found Mr. Romilly and his
wife seated in their accustomed places before the fire. A
small table stood between them, on which lay her work
and an open Bible, in which he was preparing to read a
chapter, as a part of his evening devotions. It was a
custom he never omitted, always taking the chapters in
succession, till he had read the whole Bible, and then
again turning to the beginning.
The chapter which came in rotation that evening, was
the forty-sixth of Genesis, and when.reading the particulars of the meeting of Jacob with his son Joseph, Mr.
Romilly came to that affecting exclamation of the aged
father," Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, and thou
art alive, my son 1" his voice quivered, and he paused.
A moment of affecting silence ensued, which was broken
by the hysterical sobs of his wife.
"Mary-my dear Mary," said he, taking her trembling
hand, "we must be calm. God can restore our child,
and I have faith to believe He will, in His own good
time, grant us to see that dear boy's face again. Let us
rely on His goodness, and seek His protecting grace for
ourselves and children."
So saying he arose, and leaning over his chair, (a position in which the descendants of the puritans usually
addressed the throne of grace, ) he breathed forth the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             87
feelings of his soul in a most fervent petition to the
Being whom he loved and trusted. He prayed for fortitude, faith, and resignation, for himself, and her who
was dearer than himself; and he prayed for his absent
child, that he might be kept from temptation, and preserved from every snare; and oh! how earnestly he entreated that, although they might be denied the happiness of seeing him again on earth, they might all meet
in that glorious world where there are no changes to
dread, no separations to grieve!
From that time the parents were resigned to the destination of Sidney: true, his name often trembled on
the lips of his mother,' but it was only to wish they
might hear he had reached the end of his journey in
safety.
And in due time her desire was gratified. A letter
arrived, filled with Sidney's praises, and the thanks of
his uncle and aunt for such a good boy. This letter was
a treasure, especially to Mrs. Romilly. She read it at
least fifty times in the course of the week, and every
person who called, being supposed interested in the intelligence it conveyed, had to listen to its contents. And
her kind heart was not mistaken in her friends and
neighbors. Nearly all rejoiced with her; yet truth must
be told, however it may shame poor human nature.
There were, even in that secluded and friendly place, a
few good ladies who made visiting the business of their
afternoons, and talking that of their lives. These teadrinking veterans did not, in their hearts, love Mrs.
Romilly; she was too strict a " keeper at home" to obtain their favor; yet they usually contrived to spend an
afternoon.with her every two or three weeks, just to
scold her for not returning their visits.
And when, with all the mother in her voice and coun
tenance, she read to them the letter she had received
concerning Sidney, one remarked, that "his uncle might
give him a great fortune, and make a gentleman of him,
but, for her part, no earthly consideration should ever
tempt her to let one of her children go such a distance."




38               NORTHWOOD; OR,
Another said, " the climate was very unhealthy, and
she should not be surprised if the boy didn't live a
year."
While a third observed, that " if she had let one of
her children go to such a far away place, and he did die,
she should never forgive herself;" adding, " there is no
one will take care of a sick child like an own mother."
Mrs. Romilly's heart sunk within her at these suggestions. She feared she had done wrong in giving her
consent to Sidney's departure, and could scarcely speak
without weeping the whole afternoon.
"Ah!" said her husband, when, to his eager inquiries
of what disturbed her, she had related the conversation
of the gossips, "Ah! Mary, you are too good and benevolent yourself to suspect envy or ill-will in others; but
do you really think those women are kinder mothers,
and love their children better than you do yours? No,
it is all fudge; and when they read you another lecture
on maternal tenderness, tell them to evince theirs by
staying at home and taking care of their families."
Another and another letter succeeded, filled with good
tidings concerning Sidney; and for a whole year, scarce
a fortnight passed without bringing intelligence of his
health, growth, and progress in literature and in the
hearts of his friends. Then the letters began to be more
rare, and finally became much like " angels' visits,"
owing, no doubt, to the multiplicity of engagements in
which Mr. Brainard was involved.
So, at least, thought Mr. Romilly, and his wife was
more easy under the neglect than might have been
expected. But besides the effect which time naturally
has in diminishing our concern, and diverting our
thoughts from  the absent, there was another reason
which reconciled Mrs. Romilly to at least a partial suspension of the correspondence from South Carolina.
Mr. Brainard never paid the postage on his letters.
Rich people rarely do: a shilling is of so'little consequence to them, they think it as trifling to others. But
the postage on his letters to New Hampshire being then




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              89
twenty-five cents per letter, amounted, in the course of a
year, to a pretty round sum for a Yankee farmer to pay,
who was not much in the habit of corresponding, and
Mrs. Romilly felt willing it should be lessened. Accordingly, when her messenger returned from the post office
with tidings of " no letter to-day," although she felt disappointed, it was a consolation to reflect they had " no
postage to pay."
"Should anything serious befall our child," said she
to her husband, " they will inform us; and my mother
always used to say,'no news is good news.'"
And thus, in peace, sufficiency and content, lived this
good and happy pair.
"Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,
Ease and alternate labor, useful life,
Proogressive virtue and approving heaven,
These are the matchless joys of virtuous love."
And these, for nearly thirteen years following the departure of their son, they enjoyed in as perfect a degree
as the nature of humanity will permit. In that space of
time, they had added four fine children to their household, which, with their former ones, made altogether a
pretty round number.
Yet Sidney was not forgotten. Often did his father,
in a particular manner, allude, in his evening devotions,
to the dear absent one; and never did a Thanksgiving
pass without his saying, as he looked on his plentifullysupplied table, surrounded by smiling, happy faces,'.' Oh! if Sidney were only here, my joy would be conmlete."  Then the sigh or tear from his wife reminding
him he must check his own feelings to support her's, he
would add, "But it is best as it is; we have as many
children as we can provide for, and Sidney is well off."
During the last lour years, they had received but two
letters, both from Sidney: the first reporting the decease
of his aunt, Mrs. Brainard; the other giving an account
of a tour he had made through Virginia, and describing
in particular Mount Vernon and the tomb of Washington.
Both letters were warmly admired as well as welcomed;




40               NORTHWOOD; OR,
yet Silas and James, the two brothers next in age to
Sidney, contended the handwriting was not equal to
theirs, and thought it strange that a scholar, who had
nothing to do but study, should write no better than
Yankee lads, whose education had been solely acquired
by attending a district or common school a few months
in each year. Their mother, however, warmly supported
the cause of her first born, asserting his superiority,
especially in flourishes, of which, it must be admitted,
he had been very profuse.
Mr. Romilly was called upon to settle, by his opinion,
the point in controversy. After examining the specimens quite as attentively as do literary committees the
addresses submitted for the New Year's prize, he finally
decided in favor of the two younger claimants, adding,
by way of appeasing his wife:
"Sidney does, indeed, write well, but so many flourishes are unnecessary. It is utility, and not show, we
should encourage.  A good handwriting requires no
ornament, and a vile one no ornament can conceal."
From this decision and these remarks, we may safely
infer that Mr. Romilly was, in practice as well as theory,
a real republican.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.                 41
CHAPTER V.
TIE RETtURN.
What recollections memory's power restores,
Homle of my childhood, thy beloved shores!
Fair burstin through oblivion's mist appear
Thy deep-green vales, bo(l hills and fountains clear:
Again the crag abrupt I climb, and now
Pluck tle wild berries )purpling o'cr its brow:
Days of untroubled joy! yet whly deplore
Days fled forever, joys that come no more?
[HOME, A POEM.
AUTUMN in New England! The idea is fraught with
glory and beauty indescribable.    To-day, the forest is
green and full-leaved, as when Spring left her work to
the warm hand of Summer.       Over the wide panorama
of mountain and valley shines the clear October sun,
bright, but not warm; for the north wind is abroad,
sweeping the clouds from the sky, and chilling the dews
gathering in upper air.
The sun goes down; and the wind, as if weary, sinks
to rest; and through the long night the stars seem
watching the change of nature.    Sleep reigns over the
earth; the trees are motionless; the frost only is abroad.
His cold breath has chilled the heart of the forest, and
its life-blood no longer flows. The finger of Death passes
over the foliage, and the touch has left a lustre life never
displayed.
Go forth when the morning rises, and the old woods
stand before you in gorgeous robes, as though rainbows
had been lavishing their colors as a pledge of the return
of life and spring!
These wonderful changes of the autumnal forest are




42                NORTHWOOD; OR,
seen nowhere in such beauty and variety as in the Old
Granite State; and the wild scenery of that mountainland is then gorgeous in its magnificence. But the charm
soon passes. Winter storms are gathering, and the rich
garniture of leaves is torn off by the blast, and scattered,
trodden down, destroyed, illustrating the fate of all
human glory.
But the glory of nature never departs; and to the eye
that sees the Great Architect in his work,
"Though all the gay foppery of nature is flown,"
the earth is still beautiful.  And our autumn has a
period of peculiar and mysterious loveliness, called the
"Indian summer."  This brief season, of about twelve
days in the whole, though rarely following in consecutive order, is most beautiful and most distinctly marked
in New England. The softness of the atmosphere is then
indescribable. The sun looks down as though dreaming
of June and its roses; while some " tricksy spirit" throws
over the faded earth a veil that, mirage-like, gives a
charm beyond the brightness of summer noon. This is
most perfect in November.
It was perfect when our story opens.
The turnpike leading from Concord, N. H., to Portsmouth, passes directly through the retired, but romantically-situated town of Northwood, in the county of
Rockingham. On this route, and near where the turnpike entered the western part of the town, Landlord
Holmes had, some twenty-five or thirty years ago, established himself: he had just opened a new tavern, and
all his thoughts were employed in contriving how to
obtain customers, or how to please them. The seasons
rolled round without bringing any pleasure to him, except they brought company; and on that account he
considered the winter as far the most agreeable part of
the year.
So now, although he stood calmly smoking his pipe
under the "Si n of the Eagle," (which, by the way, very
much resembled a turkey,) and gazing attentively around,




iJl'FE NORTH AND SOUTH.          43
let no one imagine he was delighted with the prospect.
And yet the prospect was delightful, when the sun, suddenly bursting forth from behind a dark cloud, which
had, for the last half hour, totally obscured his brightness, threw his rich beams on the leafless forest trees and
seared fields, till the russet covering assumed a silvery
hue, as the flood of light quivered over its surface.
But the landlord thought not on the beauty of the
afternoon, except to wonder more heartily at the unaccountable delay of the stage, which usually reached his
house two hours earlier.
" The dinner will be totally spoiled," cried his wife,
in a shrill voice, from within.
"lHow can I help it," replied her husband gruffly,
" except I eat it myself? But look! yonder they come,
as sure as eggs-very carefully, though-some accident
has certainly happened."
The stage drove slowly up; and while the passengers
were alighting, the landlord inquired the reason of the
delay.
"Oh! it was all on account of a sick man, who could
not bear to be driven fast," answered the driver; "but
he has paid me well for the delay, and now, landlord, I
shall leave him with you to provide for."
"Provide for!" eagerly ejaculated the landlord.
" Why, does he intend staying here?"
"No longer than while you can harness your horses,"
answered the other. "le and another gentleman are
intending to go somewhere to the south part of the town,
to visit some relations, I guess; and I told them you
could doubtless furnish them with a carriage."
"But I can't," replied the landlord; "I have no carriage at home, except the old wagon, and none to drive
it but little Zeb."
"Why, where the deuce are all your carriages?" inquired the driver.
"Oh, the boys have taken the new wagon and gone
off to the shooting-match," said the landlord; "to-morrow is Thanksgiving day, you know, and the gals are




44               XNOIHTHWOOD; OR,
gone in the chaise to the store, to buy some furbelows
for the ball; and none of'em will be at home till pitch
dark, I dare say. There's nothing done here the day
before nor day after Thanksgiving."
"Well, well," replied the driver, "you can see the
gentlemen, and then conclude what to do. I shall leave'ecm here, and they may take care of themselves, which
they can do pretty well, I guess, for they have money
plenty."
This last item of information brightened the landlord's
countelnance, and his step was quick and light as he entered his house to reconnoitre the strangers.
Whether, like our own statesmen, they merely exerted
their eloquence, or whether, like British ministers in the
olden times, they offered a bribe, I am not able to say,
but it seems the means they employed were successful.
The corpulent landlord was soon seen puffing and bustling about, exerting himself to clean and repair his old
wag'on for an expedition. Zeb, too, came out, habited in
his Sunday suit, with his hat set smartly on his head,
and cracking his whip with all the importance of a veteran postillion. Everything was planned to make the
worse appear the better-a large buffalo-skin covered
and concealed, in part, the decayed seat of the crazy
vehicle; but the sagacious landlord could devise no expedient which would conceal the defects of a steed, that
in appearance and qualities very nearly resembled the
Vicar of Wakefield's old blackberry. Soon all was pronounced ready, and the two gentlemen appeared to take
their seats.
One, whose countenance bore traces of recent and
severe illness, had doubtless been a stout man, for his
clothes hung loosely on him, and there were wrinkles on
his face which did not appear to be the effect of years.
He was very pale, but the brightness of his eye told that
his heart was glad with the hope of returning health, although its current had not yet sent the glow to mantle
on his sunken cheek. His stature was rather below the
middle size, yet he had an air of conscious superiority,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTtI.             45
usually imparted by high rank, that added dignity to his
figure, and his address and manners bore ample evidence
of the refinement and elegance to which he had been accustomed; and, on the whole, though there was nothing
peculiarly striking or interesting either in his face or form,
yet whoever looked on him would wish to look again.
The other gentleman, on whose arm he leaned, was of
a very different appearance. Tall and symmetrically
formed, his figure was a model of elegance united with
the appearance of strength and activity; and nature, as
if disdaning, for once, the assistance of art, in striking
him off, blad stamped on every lineament, and impressed
on every movement, the perfect gentlemen. His eyes
were dark hazel, yet when agitated by emotions of any
kind, either of pleasure or anger, the lighting up of his
countenance gave to them such a lustre that they were
almost always mistaken for black, and several wagers had
been lost in deciding on their color. His dark hair clustered thickly around a high forehead, whose polished
whiteness proved the original tincture of his skin to have
possessed all the delicacy of a lady's. True, the climate
in which lie had resided, or the exposure of a journey
had bronzed it a little, and his cheek did not wear the
northern freshness; yet his was a face that would excite
curiosity and admiration, and the eye that rested on him
would be loath to withdraw its gaze.
Neither did his countenance lose any of its interest
from a shade of melancholy which, at times, passed over
his line features; for the beholder always felt an involuntary sympathy in his fortunes, and it will, I believe, be
generally found that the world sympathizes more willingly and sincerely with the sorrowful than the gay.
But the smile that now hovered on his lip seemed to
speak only of felicity, and the mellow tones of his clear
voice, while making inquiries of the landlord, were kind
as the accents of a friend, rejoicing to meet and learn the
welfare of beloved objects after a long separation.
The landlord was minute in his directions, and his last
words, as they started, were an order to Zeb, to "drive




46               NORTHWOOD; OR,
slowly, remember and keep the right-hand road, and be
sure and take a long sweep when he turned."
Phseton's example was an evil one, no doubt, but he
has found many imitators. There never yet was a youthful hand entrusted with the reins, that always guided
them steadily, and Zeb was not exempt from the ambition of wishing to display his skill as a coachman, now
he had mounted the box-or chair rather, such being the
substitute for the driver's seat.
Exerting all his strength, therefore, he applied his
long-lashed whip with such good will that he succeeded
for once in starting the lazy beast upon a furious trot,
which, as the road was none of the smoothest, and the
wagon seat had no springs, was rather too stirring an
exercise for the nerves of an invalid. The gentlemen
loudly ordered him to stop; and, prompt to obey the
order, the boy pulled the reins violently, and the horse,
much more willingly obeying the rein than whip, stopped
so suddenly, that the shock nearly threw them both from
their seats.
" What the devil did the fellow mean, Romilly," cried
the sick man, as soon as he could recover himself, "by
giving us such a rumbling old ark as this? Or, perhaps," added lie, seeing his companion's mirth, "perhaps
this is your real Yankee style."
"True Yankee style," replied the other, who was, indeed, Sidney Romilly, and who had been nearly convulsed with laughter. "Now, boy, drive on, but slowly;"
and then composing his countenance, and turning to his
friend, he added, gravely, " you will, doubtless, Mr.
Frankford, in a short time learn to appreciate our fash102S. 7
"Not at the expense of my bones, I hope. Oh! they
are half dislocated already. Pray, how ifar have we to
ride in this manner?"
"About twb miles, or perhaps three."
" And all the way over such an execrable road?"
" Why, the road that leads towards my own native
home cannot seem execrable to me," answered Sidney.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            47
"The objects begin, already, to look familiar. See yonder mountain, where the rays of the sun are now striking! I have climbed that mountain many a time, and it
looks like a friend."
"And those ragged rocks and stumps, black as if they
had just risen from the infernal pit, are your old acquaintances; I presume," replied Frankford. "Come, Romilly,
you must confess your Yankee farmers are the most
slovenly people on earth that pretend to civilization.
Look at the half cleared fields, and fences falling down
before they are finished, and timber houses placed plump
in the highway; what would an English farmer say to
such management?"
"Mr. Frankford," replied Sidney, "perhaps I might
show you the unreasonableness of expecting to find the
appearance of a country, which scarcely fifty years ago
was an unexplored wilderness, corresponding in agricultural improvements and neatness of appearance with
one settled and cultivated for nearly twenty centuries.
But we have not time, neither do I now feel an inclination for argument. My mind has sweeter fancies, and I
shall not even attempt to defend my country from your
criticism. I wish only to enjoy its beauties."
He spoke with energy, and the Englishman, who really
possessed the candor and generosity which many of his
countrymen only affect, although so deeply imbued with
the national contempt for everything American, that he
sometimes forgot his good breeding and good feelings
while expressing his sentiments, immediately asked pardon for what he had said.
"'Tis granted," replied Sidney, smiling; "the jolting
you have just undergone, was certainly a sufficient provocation for your severity; and it has diverted your
attention from our carriage, which, I confess, deserves all
your anathemas. But now which road do we take?"
"The straight forward one," said the boy.
"But Nve are going to the south parish," said Sidney,
and must certainly turn south to reach it."




48               NORTHWOOD; OR,
"I know it, sir," replied the pertinacious Zeb, "but
we go half a mile further before we turn."
"Look at the roads, Romilly!" cried the Englishman,
" and be sure take the best.'Tis always my maxim. I
like to travel in a smooth road, and I have always found
such led to the most agreeable places."
" Take that turning to the left," said Sidney.
" You are certainly wrong, sir," said Zeb, still holding
fast the reins, "and so you will find, for that road goes
to the mill."
"Then to the mill we will go," replied Frankford:
"turn, I say."
The boy slowly obeyed the order.
" A true slip from the Puritan stock, I'll warrant him,"
continued the Englishman, " determined to have his own
wav —that was their liberty of conscience."
" Yes," said Sidney, "and to that unconquered and
unconquerable spirit, we owe the settlement, independence, and glory of America.":"And its republicanism, you may add," replied the
Englishman; "and that I like in theory but not in practice. I like to hear and to read of liberty. It is a glorious tiling to repeat a'nation is free,' if we did not find
the tyranny of the people to be far more galling than
that of the prince. In a country where men boast of
equality, where there are no distinctions of rank, no established customs, no certain forms of respect instituted
towards superiors, there the rabble rule, for there is
always a rabble in every community. And whose pride is
most insupportable, that of the upstart, covered with
filth, or the gentleman, who, feeling secure of his own
dignity, is not constantly puffing it about your ears?"
If I receive a kick," replied Sidney, "I care little
whether the foot which bestowed it be covered with a
slioe of leather or prunella. One, to be sure, may inflict a deeper wound than the other, but a blow is a
blow. Yet I think, sir, you mistake the organization of
our society. Noor is it at all strange, as no age nor
country can produce a parallel. We really enjoy what




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            49
the Greeks and Romans, with all their boasts, never
did-rational freedom; and every person is equally protected by mild and equitable laws; but laws which he
can neither defy nor evade. As men wish to be treated,
so they must treat others; and thus the principle of selflove operates to prevent insults from being offered. And
this intercourse between equals is marked by a courtesy
of demeanor, equally free from fawning servility or overbearing arrogance, which you will in vain seek where
distinctions of rank are organized and supported."
" At least," returned Mr. Frankford, "you must allow
that, for the rich and superior classes, the intercourse
with the world is more agreeable and refined where those
little observances are attended to. There can be no community where all are precisely on a level. The superiority of wealth, intelligence and virtue, even the differences of age, and distinctions of sex, render a different
address to different persons proper and necessary. In
this particular, I think your countrymen are deficient.
For instance, this little urchin here, whose answers, I
confess, now awakened these ideas-why, he speaks to
us with just the same sangfrjoid he would to a school
fellow. What he says is pertinent and intelligent enough,
but there is wanting that preface of respect with which,
in every other civilized country, we should be addressed.
He has not once said'your honor,' or'your worship,'
nor do I believe he ever heard those terms used when
speaking to a superior."
"Did you ever call any man'your honor,' or'your
worship,' Zeb?" asked Sidney, settling his countenance
with all the gravity in his power.
The boy, glancing round his roguish eye with an expression which showed not a syllable had been lost on
him, said, "I never saw any gentleman with such names
in my life."
The arch simplicity of his manner made the Englishman smile, and Sidney, laughing heartily, was about to
reply, when his attention was diverted by the appearance
of a man coming towards them, to whom Zeb desired
3




60              NORTlAWOOD; OR,
they would speak, and inquire if that road did not lead
to the mill. There was not, however, much room for
doubt, as the man was then evidently returning from
such a place. He was driving a horse before him, laden
with bags, whistling the air of "Yankee Doodle," and
looking around him with perfect unconcern.
"There," said Sidney; " now, Frankford, you may see
a genuine Yankee; I know by his whistle he is a true
one. You have often enough heard him described and
beheld him caricatured; now look at the original."
The age of the man might be about five and thirty;
he was nearly six feet in height, and rather spare; but
showed such an athletic and vigorous form as might
well entitle him to the character of being the " bone and
muscle" of the land. He was habited in a dark colored
suit, made of what is termed "home manufactured;"
for the celebrated Lucretia herself could not spin with a
more becoming grace than did, at that time, the fair wives
and daughters of the New England farmers; and, not
to keep their families comfortably clothed, would have
reflected great discredit on their industry, and consequently on their characters.  His clothes were fitted
nearly in the London fashion, though the fashion of a
year gone by; for every individual being ambitious to
appear well dressed, and antiquity not having sanctioned
any particular form for the habit, nor necessity obliging
our citizens to appear in the suits of their ancestors,
"the fashions" are, by all classes and ages, more universally followed throughout the United States, than by
any other nation in the world. A red bandanna handkerchief was tied around his neck, above which rose his
shirt collar, white as the driven snow; boots and a good
hat completed his array, which appeared to unite comfort
and economy with a tolerable degree of taste, and showed
the wearer was one who thought something of himself,
and meant to appear in such a manner as to claim attention and respect from others. As they drew nearer he
ceased his whistling, and taking his horse by the bridle,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            61
led him on one side of the road to allow the wagon to
pass more conveniently.
Zeb's steed stopped the moment he came opposite, as
if anticipating his young master's desire to learn the
route.
" Is this the direct road to the south parish?" inquired
Sidney, bowing to the stranger.
The man, raising his hat, returned the salutation, and
replied with a pleasant though inquisitive look, " No, it
is not the direct road, and you have come a little out of
your way; but you may get there by making a circuit."
Zeb turned round and smiled.
" And which way must we go?" said the Englishman.
The farmer let go his horse and came up close to the
wagon.
"There are," said he, "two ways which lead there,
but (you will do best to take the first, turning to the left;
then go about fifteen or twenty rods and turn short round
by a guide-board, and that will bring you to Pleasant
Pond, and then the road is strait forward."
"Yes, I shall know the way well enough, if I can
once reach the pond," said Sidney, his eyes glistening
with emotion, "and the distance is not quite a mile."
" Then you have been hereabouts before, I guess, sir?"
said the farmer, regarding him earnestly.
"Yes, I have," replied Sidney; "but might not now
have found the way, without your direction. Good-bye,
sir."
The farmer responded the farewell; Zeb snapped his
whip, and they set off.
The road, and a bad one, too, for more than a mile led
through a thick wood. Frankford made many observations on the state of the highways and the multitude of
forest trees growing in the uncultivated parts of America;
while Sidney's mind was occupied with the idea of the
approaching meeting with his family, and he scarcely
listened to the invectives of the Englishman against the
horrid roads, nor replied to the arguments he used to
prove the country would never be a pleasant place of




52                NORTHWOOD; OR,
residence till it was better cultivated and more tastefully
adorned.
But soon, on turning the corner, the beautiful sheet
of water, called, significantly, " Pleasant Pond," appeared,
expanding before them. Its surface, just dimpled by the
passing breeze, rose in trembling undulations; and as
the quivering water caught the last glow of the setting
sun, it shone, like Loch Katrine,
" One burnished sheet of living gold."
Beyond the lake or the pond, and near its eastern
edge, rose a high mountain; whose bold peak reflected
the light in strong contrast to the shadows that were
already gathering at its base. The mountain was clothed
nearly to its summit by a growth of evergreens, intermingled with sumac and white birch; the straight, white
trunks of the latter, appearing through the dark green
of the firs and spruce, like pillars still standing, while
the edifice they had supported was overthrown. Common willows and dwarf pines grew around the edge of
the pond, but the leaves of the former were nearly fled,
and the naked branches drooping over the water, looked
like the arm of age, still stretched to screen the loved
one from danger, although the strength that had made
such defense effectual, was withered.
The feelings of Sidney could no longer be restrained.
He started nearly upright, and extending his hand toward the water, exclaimed:
" 0, that I may find the hearts of my friends as unchanged as the face of that lovely lake!  Years have
made no alteration here-just so I have seen it look a
hundred and a hundred times. Here was my holiday
resort; fishing in the summer, and sliding in the winter.
And on that mountain-how many times have I rambled
over it in search of blueberries, or climbed on yonder
high peak and rolled down huge rocks, listening, as they
bounded thundering from crag to crag, till they fell
dashing in the waters below! Ah, those were blessed
times! But they are passed, and the change that has




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            53
come over me will forbid their return. The lake and
the mountain are beautiful and sublime as ever-the
blight of time falls only on the human heart."
Zeb had reined in his steed, and was listening with
wondering attention to this burst of sentiment; but
Frankford, who really felt greatly fatigued, did not relish it quite so well; and his voice was peevish as he inquired how much farther they had to go.
" When we reach the top of yonder hill, we shall see
my father's house," said Sidney, still keeping his eyes
fixed on the water.
" You are certainly more romantic than I imagined,
Romilly," said the Englishman, "and this meeting with
your friends after so long a separation, will be a real
novel scene.  I have a great mind to describe the
thing. Suppose I should write a book, and put the
speech you have just spoken in the mouth of some
hero returning from an expedition, or some saint from a
pilgrimage, or even a discarded lover from self banishment, how apposite it would appear! And what answering sympathy it would awaken in the bosoms of
my fair readers.  Oh, that I possessed the skill of a
ready writer!"
"Perhaps it might do," returned Sidney, smiling.
" I have often been told I had many traits of a novel
hero in my character, and an old sibyl once predicted
I would die for love. And so, if you wish to make
your tale truly pathetic, you must wait till that catastrophe overtakes me."
" Which will be shortly, I presume," replied the
other. "You say New England is the native land of
female beauty; and some D)ulcinea will soon ensnare
your susceptible heart. A lady's fair face must certainly overpower you, if you are thus moved at the
face of a lake."
They had now gained the height overlooking the
village, if it deserved that name, consisting of about a
dozen or so of dwelling houses, built on a street running east and west, with a meeting-house, as it was




54               NORTHWOOD; OR,
called, on a rise of ground at its angle with a road
from the south; the one by which Sidney should have
entered the village.
The tall steeple, whose spire was ornamented with a
fish (doing duty as a weathercock), that still reflected
the brightness of the western sky, looked like a sentinel
guarding the humble abodes beneath and around it, and
by the associations its sacred purposes inspired, served
as a memento to lift the gazer's thoughts to heaven.
What the fish was designed to represent, I am unable
to say; but from the known protestantism of the builders, I presume it had not the most remote allusion to
St. Anthony, or his mission to the aquatic tribe.
"Which is your father's house?" said Frankford.
Sidney looked earnestly around.
"I do not recognize it," replied he. "The road, or
the village, or both are altered. The church and half
the houses have been built since I left the village. I
cannot see a familiar object.  Oh, yes, there is the
school-house; that was erected the year before I left
home. Do you know, Zeb, where Mr. Romilly resides?"
" Squire Romilly, you mean," said the boy,
" Yes."
"Well, I don't know exactly," answered Zeb, "I
never was here but once, and that was to a muster, and
then there was so many folks I did'nt see any body.
But I guess it is pretty near that are store."
" The store!" said Sidney-" there was no store there
when I left home.  What an alteration a few years
will produce!"
"In such a new country," replied Frankford, "and
where the number of inhabitants is doubled once in
fifteen or twenty years, there must, of necessity, be
great and rapid changes."
" They don't double only once in twenty-five years,
sir," said Zeb, looking up with an air of much self-complacency.
" And how should you know anything about statis



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            55
tics?" said Frankford, regarding the boy with aston
ishment.
"I didn't read it in stactics, sir," replied Zeb; "I
read it in our almanac."
Both gentlemen laughed so heartily, that the boy,
abashed, hung his head, fearing he had said something
wrong; then brightening up as he saw an opportunity
of diverting the conversation.  "Yonder," said he,
"( comes Harvey Romilly, now, riding on that are horse,"
pointing to a lad about his own age, on horseback, without saddle or hat, and urging his spirited looking pony
to a full gallop.
As he drew nearer, the Englishman exclaimed, "He is
your relative, Romilly, without doubt. See, he is your
perfect miniature, and has your features exactly."
And so he had, only his were blended with infantile
softness. His brown curling hair was flung back from
his fair forehead by the rushing wind that met his career; the smile of rapture seemed issuing from his
parted lips; and his laughing eye and flushed cheek
completed a picture of innocent and wild delight, on
which even a misanthrope could not have gazed without
acknowledging there was a season when the children of
men are happy.
Before they met him, he had reached a small house
which was erected close by the road ride, and bounding
from his horse, he gave the bridle to a man who stood at
the door watching the approaching wagon, and then
turned himself to gaze on the strangers.
" Now," whispered Frankford, " there is an excellent
opportunity, Romilly, for you to establish your favorite
doctrine of sympathy. Speak to that little fellow, and
see if his spirit will claim kindred with yours."
" Can you inform me in which of those houses Mr.
Romilly resides?" inquired Sidney of the man who was
regarding him.
"He lives in that large yellow house, yonder," replied
the man, pointing to a dwelling about a quarter of a mile




56               NORTHWOOD; OR,
distant, "and here is a son of his just going home, who
can be your company."
"Come into the carriage, my little man," said Sidney,
extending his hand towards him. The boy hesitated,
and put his hand on his head; his countenance saying,
I feel the want of my hat. "Come, step in," continued
Sidney, " here is plenty of room."
The kindness of his voice and manner seemed to penetrate the heart of the child; he bounded lightly in, but
then his bashfulness returned, and refusing the offer of
Sidney's knee, he took a seat on the side of the wagon.
No one, except him who has been long separated from
his near relatives, and who has felt the chill of unreciprocated affection and that vacancy in the bosom which
nothing but the consciousness of kindred love can fill, is
competent to judge of the feelings of the elder brother,
while he fixed his admiring and tender gaze on the
sweet face of the little fellow now seated beside him.
How his soul yearned towards him, and how he longed
to clasp him to his heart and call him brother! But he
could not articulate a word, and taking his hand, pressed
it in silence.
" You are a fine boy," said Frankford, who saw his
friend's emotion, and wished to divert it, "pray how old
are you?"
" Nine, sir, last June."
"And how many brothers have you?" continued
Frankford.
" I have four, sir, Silas, and James, and Sam, and Oli
ver," answered the child.
"And have you no more?" asked Frankford.
"! yes, sir, I've one more, Sidney; but he is in
Carolina, and I never saw him in my life."
"Should you like to see him?" inquired the Englishman.
"    yes, sir, indeed I should," answered the child,
with emphasis; " and ma' says she knows he will come
home soon, and then we shall all be so glad! But there,
see Oliver now, after that old turkey!-he ha'nt catched




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            57
him yet, and he said he should before I got back. I
threw off my hat to chase him,"-and a flush passed over
his bright cheek, as if glad of an opportunity to apologize for thus appearing bare-headed,-" but I'll help
catch him now."
" And what are you intending to do with him?" asked
Sidney.
" Oh, kill him for dinner to-morrow. It will be Thanksgiving day." And he sprung from the wagon and joined
in the pursuit of the bird.
" We have come in an excellent time," said Frankford.
"Now, I presume, the fatted calf will be killed as well
as the turkey. Don't you think, Romilly, the return of
the prcdigal was on the eve of a Thanksgiving?"
" Shall I drive up to the back door?" inquired Zeb,
as they drove near the house.
"No," replied Sidney, " we will alight here, and you
may now return, or you will be late home. I paid your
father," he continued, as they alighted, "for our passage; but here is something for your good behavior."
"And here is a trifle," said Frankford, "to buy you
an almanac for the ensuing year. Study it, and I have
no doubt but you will hereafter become a statesman."
Zeb bowed and smiled his hearty thanks for the
money, or the compliments, then turning his wagon
with a long sweep, his horse seemed to know instinctively the road homewards, and set off with a furious
clatter.
3*




58               NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER VI.
HOME AS FOUND.
All hail, ye tender feelings dear!
The smile of love, the friendly tear,
The sympathetic glow.  BURNS.
THE house before which our travelers now stood was
a two-story building in front, with a range of low buildings behind; the whole painted yellow, with white window sashes and green doors, and everything around
looked snug and finished. The house stood about five
rods from the highway; and this fact deserves to be recorded, as a genuine, old-school Yankee, living twentyfive years ago, seldom left so many feet before-his habitation. Indeed, they usually appear to have grudged
every inch of'ground devoted merely to ornament; the
mowing lot, cow pasture and corn-field being all the
park and lawn and garden they desired.
A neat railing, formed of slips of pine boards, painted
white, and inserted in cross pieces, which were supported
by wooden posts, ran from the highway to the house, on
each side, and stretched across the front, enclosing an
oblong square, to which was given the name of the
" front door yard." Around this square were set Lombardy poplars, an exotic, which was then cherished in
New England, to the exclusion of far more beautiful indigenous trees, as foreign articles are considered more
valuable in proportion to the distance from whence they
must be imported. It appeared, however, that the Romillys had discovered their error, and were endeavoring
to correct it. This was evinced by the young elms and
maples planted between the poplars, evidently with the




IIFE Ni0't'n AND SOUTH.           59
design to have them for the guard and ornament of the
scene, whenever their size would permit their tall,
straight neighbors to be displaced.  A graveled walk
led up to the front door steps, which were formed of
hewn granite, and wrought to appear nearly as beautiful
as marble, and much more enduring. Clumps of rose
bushes and lilacs were set around the paling, and, intermingled with evergreen shrubs, guarded, on each side,
the graveled walk; but the pride of the parterre was
the mountain ash. Several of these beautiful native
trees, throwing up their heads as though proud of their
coral clusters, now looking so bright in the absence of
flowers, were scattered over the ground. It was evident
that the forming hand of taste had been busy in disposing
all to the best advantage; and had it been the season of
sweets, the senses and imagination of even the most
refined might have found full gratification.
On the east side of the railing, a gate opened into the
back yard; and there was a carriage-way to drive round
to the kitchen door, beyond which the barns, sheds, corn
house, and all the various offices of a thriving and industrious farmer's establishment, were scattered about, like
a young colony rising around a family mansion.
The last gleams of the setting sun yet lingered on the
distant mountains, the village lights were beginning to
appear, and a strong gleam, as of the blaze from a fire,
illuminated the windows of one of the front apartments
in the house of Mr. Romilly.
" What if this worshipful father of yours should not
acknowledge you?" said Frankford. "We seem to be
thrown entirely on his mercy."
" He will, at least, entertain us for the night," replied
Sidney, opening the gate and going forward, "as we
have money sufficient to clear our score."
"Yes," replied the Englishman, "I have been told a
Yankee will sell any civility for cash; and it is usually
on that alone we must depend for favors in our intercourse with them."
The last remark was uttered in a low tone, and did




60               NORTHWOOD; OR,
not reach the ear of Sidney, who was just knocking at
the door for admittance. A masculine voice was heard,
bidding him " walk in;" and immediately obeying, they
entered what in Europe is called the hall, here the front
entry. It was about ten feet wide, and ran through the
building, and at its termination was a door leading to
the kitchen. A flight of stairs, painted to imitate marble,
conducted to the chambers; and doors, opening on either
side below, led to apartments called the parlor and
" keeping room."
As they entered the hall, the door of this keeping
room was thrown open by a little girl, with her knitting
work in her hand, who, in a soft tone, said, "Walk in
here, if you please."
They followed her, and entered an apartment about
eighteen feet by twenty, and eight feet in height, finished
in the style of the country. The floor was painted yellow; the wainscoating, reaching to the windows, blue.
Above.this and overhead, it was plastered and whitewashed.
There were no paper hangings, nor tapestry, nor pictures; but some itinerant painter had exerted his skill,
probably to the no small admiration of the wondering
community, to ornament the room, by drawing around
on the plaster wall a grove of green trees, all looking as
uniform in appearance as Quakers at a meeting, or soldiers on a parade, excepting that here and there one
would tower his head above his fellows like a commander.
Over the mantel-piece, the eagle spread his ample
pinions, his head powdered with stars, his body streaked
with white and red alternately, his crooked talons grasping an olive branch and a bundle of arrows; thus significantly declaring, that although he loved peace, he was
prepared for war; and in his beak he held a scroll, inscribed with the talisman of American liberty and power
-E pluribus unum.
A very long, wide sofa or couch, (in truth, a large,
old-fashioned settle, well stuffed and covered with chintz,)




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            61
was ranged on one side of the room. A deep writing
desk, that seemed designed for an oficial bureau-so
multitudinous were its drawers and compartments-was
surmounted by a book-case, whose open door showed it
nearly filled with well-worn volumes. A large cherry
table, a small work table, a wooden clock, and about a
dozen chairs, completed the furniture of the.apartment.
There was no candle burning; perhaps the precise
time to light it had not arrived; but a large wood fire
sent forth a bright blaze from the hearth; and before it,
in an arm chair, was seated a serious but happy-looking
man. In one hand he held a newspaper, which he had
probably been perusing; and with the other he was
pressing to his bosom a rosy-cheeked girl of three or four
years, who sat on his knee.
Rising at the approach of the strangers, he set down
his child, and offered them his hand with a "how d'y
do?"-and then bidding Mary set some chairs, he resumed. his own, while his little daughter immediately
regained her station on his knee.
Sidney at once recognized his father, and his heart
beat violently.
"A fine evening for the season!" said Squire Romilly
-as he was always called, contracting his real title. He
was, in fact, "justice of the peace and quorum" for the
county; therefore legally an "esquire;" and I shall so
designate him, to avoid confusion, though I do hate
titles.
"It is quite cold, I think," replied Frankford, moving
his chair towards the fire.
"You have been riding, I suppose," returned the
Squire, " and that makes you feel the cold more sensibly,
I have been at work all day, and thought it very moderate."
While he spoke, he.gave the fire a rousing stir, and
threw on some wood that was standing in the corner of
the fire-place. Hie then looked several times from one to
the other, as if endeavoring to recollect them, and, bid



62               NORTHWOOD; OR,
ding Mary draw a mug of cider, again addressed himself
to entertain them.
"Do you find the roads pretty good the way you
travel?"
"Not the best," replied Sidney, who determined to
speak, though the effort was a painful one.
"There ought to be better regulations respecting the
highways, I think," said the Squire.  "Where every
man is permitted to work out his own tax, the public are
but little benefited.  I was telling Deacon Jones the
other day-he is our surveyor this year-that I would
take half the money and hire workmen, who should repair the roads better than they are done by collecting the
whole in the manner it is now managed."
"Then Deacon Jones is living yet?" said Sidney, glad
to hear a familiar name.
"Yes, he is living," answered the Squire, surveying
Sidney attentively; " are you acquainted with him?"
" I have seen him many times, but it is now some years
since," replied Sidney.
" I expect he will call here this evening," observed the
Squire.
"He would not probably recollect me now," answered
the other, "yet I have been at his house often."
" Then you once lived in this neighborhood?"
"I have."
"And how long since?" said the Squire, whose curiosity seemed powerfully awakened.
"It is nearly thirteen years," replied Sidney, raising
his hat from his head and turning his fine eyes full on
his father's face.
The truth flashed on his mind.-" My son!" exclaimed
he, starting from his seat.
"My father!" replied his son, and they were locked
in each others' arms.
Just then Mary entered with her pitcher of cider; she
caught the last words, and, setting down her pitcher,
darted out of the room, and
"Sridney's come! Sidney's come!" resounded through




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             63
the house in a moment. In the next, the room was
filled. Mother, brothers and sisters crowded around the
long absent but never forgotten Sidney.
Oh! it was a meeting of unalloyed joy-one of those
sunlit points of existence, when the heart lives an age of
rapture in a moment of time.
Mr. Frankford, who often described the scene thus far,
always declared it would be in vain for him to attempt
more. And I must follow his example, leaving it to the
reader's imagination, and those who have the best hearts
will best portray it.
When the first burst of affectionate exclamations and
interrogatories was over, Sidney introduced Mr. Frankford, as an Englishman, and his particular friend, with
whom he had traveled from the south, and made a tour
to Saratoga Springs, and north as far as Montreal. At
the latter place, Mr. Frankford had been confined nearly
three months, with the typhus fever, from which he was
now recovering, and Sidney wished them to consider him
with particular attention.
Mr. Frankford had hitherto sat entirely unnoticed,
though not unnoticing; for he there learned a lesson
from the exhibition of natural feelings, which made him
ever after disgusted with the heartlessness and frivolity
of the fashionable world. And whenever he wished to
dwell on a holy and touching picture of nature, he always
recalled that scene to his remembrance.
He was not, however, suffered to be any longer a
stranger or a spectator. The friend of Sidney was the
friend of the family, and every one seemed anxious to
render him attentions. Mr. Romilly immediately resigned his arm-chair, in which one of the little girls offi-.
ciously placed a cushion; and having persuaded Frankford to seat himself in it, Mrs. Romilly brought from her
closet a cordial of her own preparation, which she recormmended as "the best thing in the world to prevent a cold
after riding;" and bidding the girls hasten supper, she
told him that before going to bed he must bathe his feet
in warm water, and then a good night's rest would restore




64                NORTHWOOD; OR,
his spirits at once; adding, "you must, sir, endeavor to
be at home and enjoy yourself; for I cannot bear to think
any one is sad while I am so happy."
She was a goodly looking woman of five-and-forty,
perhaps dressed as if she had been engaged in domestic
affairs, but still neatly. She had on a black flannel gown,
a silk handkerchief pinned carefully over her bosom, and
a very white muslin cap, trimmed with black ribbonher mother had been dead more than a year, but she still
wore her mourning. Her apron she would doubtless
have thrown off before entering the room, had she thought
of anything save her son; for when she returned, after
leaving the apartment to assist her daughters in their
culinary preparations, it was laid aside.
The dress of the daughters, which their mother observed was " according to their work," it may perhaps be
interesting to describe, and then, a century hence, when
our country boasts its tens of millions of inhabitants, ail
ladies and gentlemen arrayed in satins and silk velvets,
muslins and Mecklin laces, chains of gold and combs of
pearl, this unpretending book may be a reference, de
scribing faithfully the age when to be industrious was tc
be respectable, and to be neatly dressed, fashionable.
Both sisters, who were of the ages of seventeen and
fifteen, were habited precisely alike, in dresses of American calico, in which deep blue was the prevailing color.
The frocks were fitted closely to the form, fastened behind with blue buttons, and displaying the finely rounded
symmetry of the shape to the greatest advantage. The
frocks were cut high in front, concealing all the bosom
but the white neck, which was uncovered and ornamented-when does a girl forget her ornaments?-with
several strings of braided beads, to imitate a chain; and
no eye that rested on those lovely necks would deem they
needed richer adornments. The only difference in their
costume was in the manner they dressed their hair. Sophia, the eldest and tallest, confined hers on the top of
the head with a comb, and Lucy let hers flow in curls
around the neck. Both fashions were graceful and be



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              65
coming, as not a lock on either head seemed displaced;
both were combed till the dark hair resembled fine glossy
silk. Around their foreheads the curls clustered lovingly, and those who gazed on their sweet faces, glowing
with health and happiness, where the soul seemed beaming forth its innocence and intelligence, and the smile of
serenity playing on lips that had never spoken, save in
accents of gladness and love, would feel no regret that
they were uninitiated in the fashionable mysteries of the
toilet.
Mr. Frankford often declared he never, before seeing
them, felt the justness of Thompson's assertion, that
--       " Loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorned, adorned the most."
They were, indeed, beautiful girls-the Romillys were a
comely race-and every fair reader who honors these
pages with a perusal, and does not think them, at least,
as handsome as herself, may be certain she possesses
either a vain head or an envious heart.
The supper was now in active preparation. The large
table was set forth, and covered with a cloth as white as
snow. Lucy placed all in order, while Sophia assisted
her mother to bring in the various dishes. No domestics
appeared, and none seemed necessary. Love, warm
hearted love, supplied the place of cold'duty; and the
labor of preparing the entertainment was, to Mrs. Romilly, a pleasure which she would not have relinquished
to have been made an empress, so proud was she to show
Sidney her cookery; and she tried to recollect the savory
dishes he used to like, and had prepared them now in
the same manner. At length all was pronounced ready,
and after Squire Romilly had fervently besought a blessing, they took their seats.
The supper consisted of every luxury the season afforded. First came fried chicken, floating in gravy;
then broiled ham, wheat bread, as white as snow, and
butter so yellow and sweet, that it drew encomiums from




66               NORTH-WOO); OR,
the Englishman, till Mrs. Romilly colored with pleasure
while she told him she made it herself. Two or three
kinds of pies, all excellent, as many kinds of cake, with
pickles and preserves, and cranberry sauce-the last particularly for Sidney-furnished forth the feast. The best
of young hyson, with cream and loaf sugar, was dispensed around by the fair hand of Sophia, who presided
over the department of the tea pot; her mother being
fully employed in helping her guests to the viands, and
urging them  to eat and make out a supper, if they
could.
Sidney's feelings were too much occupied to allow any
great appetite for mere corporeal food. He wanted every
moment to gaze on the loved faces smiling around him,
or listen to voices whose soft tones, when calling him
son or brother, made every fibre of his heart thrill with
rapture.
But Frankford was as hungry as fasting and fever
could make him. He was just in that stage of convalescence when the appetite demands its arrearages with such
imperious calls, that the whole mind is absorbed in the
desire of satisfying its cravings. He did honor to every
dish on the table; till Sidney, fearing he would injure
himself by eating to excess, was obliged to beg he would
defer finishing his meal till the next morning; "for you
know, Mr. Frankford," added he, laughing, "the physician forbade your making a full meal till you could walk
a mile before taking it."
"If that be the case," said Squire Romilly, "I hope
you will exert yourself to-morrow. It is our Thanksgiving, and I should be loath to have the dinner of any
one at my table abridged. It will, indeed, be a day of
joy to us, and Sidney could not have come home at a
more welcome season."
While he spoke, he directed a glance towards Silas,
whose cheeks, fresh as they were, showed a heightened
color, and his black eyes were involuntarily cast down.
Sidney observed it, and asked his father if there was
to be any peculiarity in the approaching festival.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            67
"Do you," said he, "still have your plum-pudding
and pumpkin-pies, as in former times?"
"  yes," replied his father, "our dinner will be the
same; but our evening's entertainment will be different."
A wink from Mrs. Romilly, who evidently pitied the
embarrassment of Silas, prevented further inquiries or
explanations, and they soon obeyed her example of rising
from the table.
Mr. Frankford, who they feared would exert himself
too much, was now installed on the wide sofa, (or settle)
drawn up to the fire, and all the pillows to be found in
the house, as he thought, were gathered for him to nestle
in. When he was fairly arranged, like a Turk on his
divan, half sitting, half reclining, he addressed Squire
Romilly, and inquired the cause of the Thanksgiving he
had heard mentioned.
" Is it a festival of your church?" said he.
" No; it is a festival of the people, and appointed by
the Governor of the State."
" But there is some reason for the custom-is there
not?" inquired the Englishman.
" Certainly; our Yankees seldom do what they cannot
justify by reasons of some sort," replied the Squire.
" This custom of a public Thanksgiving is, however,
said to have originated in a providential manner."
Mr. Frankford smiled rather incredulously.
The Squire saw the smile, but took no heed, while he
went on.
" Soon after the settlement of Boston, the colony was
reduced to a state of destitution, and nearly without food.
In this strait the pious leaders of the pilgrim band appointed a solemn and general fast."
" If they had no food they must have fasted without
that formality," said Frankford.
" True; but to convert the necessity into a voluntary
and religious act of homage to the Supreme Ruler they
worshiped and trusted, shows their sagacity as well as
piety. The faith that could thus turn to God in the extremity of physical want, must have been of the most




68              NORTHWOOD; OR,
glowing kind, and such enthusiasm actually sustains
nature. It is the hidden manna."
"I hope it strengthened them: pray, how long did
the fast continue?"
" It never began."
"Indeed! Why not?"
" On the very morning of the appointed day, a vessel
from London arrived laden with provisions, and so the
fast was changed into a Thanksgiving."
" Well, that was wise; and so the festival has been
continued to the present day?"
" Not with any purpose of celebrating that event,"
replied the Squire. " It is considered as an appropriate
tribute of gratitude to God to set apart one day of
Thanksgiving in each year; and autumn is the time
when the overflowing garners of America call for this
expression of joyful gratitude."
"Is Thanksgiving Day universally observed in America?" inquired Mr. Frankford.
" Not yet; but I trust it will become so. We have
too few holidays.  Thanksgiving, like the Fourth of
July, should be considered a national festival, and observed by all our people."
"I see no particular reason for such an observance,"
remarked Frankford.
"I do," returned the Squire. "We want it as the
exponent of our Republican institutions, which are based
on the acknowledgment that God is our Lord, and that,
as a nation, we derive our privileges and blessings from
Him. You will hear this doctrine set forth in the sermon to-morrow."
" I thought you had no national religion."
" No established religion, you mean. Our people do
not need compulsion to support the gospel. But to return to our Thanksgiving festival. When it shall be
observed, on the same day, throughout all the states and
territories, it will be a grand spectacle of moral power
and human happiness, such as the world has never yet
witnessed."




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            69
Here Mrs. Romilly interrupted her husband, to ask, in
a whisper, which was rather loud," Was that basket of things carried to old Mrs. Long?"
"Certainly; I sent Sam with it."
"She will have a good Thansgiving then; for Mrs.
Jones has sent her a pair of chickens and a loaf of
cake," said Lucy.
"Every one ought to have a good dinner to-morrow,"
said Sophia.
" Is the day one of good gifts as well as good dinners?"
inquired Mr. Frankford.
"So far as food is concerned," replied the Squire.
"Everybody in our State will be provided with the
means of enjoying a good dinner to-morrow: paupers,
prisoners, all, will be feasted."
Mr. Frankford now confessing he felt wearied, was
persuaded to retire, Mrs. Romilly all the time lamenting
he had not reached Northwood before his sickness, and
repeatedly saying, "If you and Sidney had only come
here instead of going on to Montreal, how much better
it would have been! I would have nursed you, and we
have the best doctor in the country. I don't believe you
would have been half as sick here."
"Nor do I," replied he, gratefully smiling. "And to
have been a witness and partaker of so much goodness
and benevolence, would have made disease not only tolerable, but pleasant; the sympathy and interest I should
have awakened in such a kind heart as yours, would
have more than indemnified me for my sufferings."
Squire Romilly attended him to his chamber. It was
directly over the sitting-room, and finished nearly in the
same style. The ornament of the eagle, however, was
wanting; but its place over the mantel-piece was supplied,
and, in Frankford's estimation, its beauty excelled, by a
"Family Record," painted and lettered by Sophia Romilly.
There was an excellent looking bed in the chamber
with white curtains and counterpane; a mahogany bureau, half a dozen handsome chairs, a mirror, and a




70               NORTHWOOD; OR,
dressing-table, covered with white muslin and ornamented
with fringe and balls. Everything was arranged with
perfect neatness, order and taste-yes, taste; nor let the
fashionable belle flatter herself that she monopolizes the
sentiment. The mind of a rural lass may be possessed
of as just conceptions of the sublime and beautiful, and
less trammeled by fashion; she consults nature in selecting the appropriate, which is sure to please all who have
good sense, whatever may be their refinement or station.
A glowing fire on the hearth, and a large deeplycushioned rocking-chair (Mrs. Romilly's own chair) drawn
up before the fire, looked as if inviting the stranger; a
fodt-bath and plenty of warm water was near; on a small
table was a pitcher of hot chamomile tea, (a favorite
specific with Mrs. Romilly in diseases of all kinds), and
also a small bottle of cordial.
Squire Romilly set down the light, and was about
leaving the chamber, when Mr. Frankford, laying his
hand on the door, remarked there was no lock nor fastening.
"We don't make use of any," said the Squire. "I
never in my life fastened a door or window; you will be
perfectly safe, sir."
"Why, have you no rogues in this country?" asked
Frankford.
"None here that will enter your dwelling in the night
with felonious intentions," replied the other. "I suppose
you might find some in the cities, but they are mostly
imported ones," he added, smiling.
"And can you really retire to rest," reiterated Frankford, with a look of incredulity, "and sleep soundly and
securely with your doors unbarred?"
"I tell you, sir," replied the Squire, "I have lived
here twenty-five years, and never had a fastening on a
door or window, and never was my sleep disturbed except when some neighbor was sick and needed assistance."
"And what makes your community so honestly disposed?" asked Frankford.




LIFE NORTII AND SOUTH.           71
"The fear of God," returned the Squire, "and the
pride of character infused by our education and cherished
by our free institutions."
"But I should think there might be some strolling vagrants," said Frankford, "against whom it might be prudence to guard."
" We seldom think of a shield when we never hear of
an enemy," answered the Squire. "However, if you feel
insecure, I will tell Sidney-he will sleep in this chamber," pointing to the open door of a small bed-room adjoining-" I will tell Sidney to place his knife or some
fastening over the door, before going to bed."
"I hope," said Sidney to his mother, after his father
and the Englishman had withdrawn, " that Mr. Frankford
will have a good bed. He complains bitterly of his lodgings since he came to America."
The matron drew herself up with a look of exultation.
" He will find no fault here, I'll warrant him," said she.
"My beds are as soft as down; indeed, those two in the
chamber where you and he will sleep, are nearly all
down. I made them for the girls, though I keep them
now for spare beds; and I told your father I could afford
to give each of the girls a down bed when they were
married, as I have always had such capital luck with my
geese."
Sidney bestowed a kiss on the blushing cheeks of each
of his fair sisters, telling his mother he thought it much
easier to provide beds for such sweet girls, than find husbands worthy to share them.
The idea of matrimony, however, awakened a desire
in Mrs. Romilly's mind to communicate the intelligence
her significant looks had prevented her husband from relating while at supper. With true feminine delicacy, she
did not wish to have Sidney first apprised of it in the
presence of Silas; nor did she feel willing a stranger
should hear the remarks and interrogations which Sidney
might make. These objections were now removed, as
Silas had gone out and Mr. Frankford retired to bed; and
so she ventured to say that "to-morrow evening Silas




72                NORTHWOOD; OR,
is to be married to Priscilla Jones; and," said she, " it is
an excellent match for him. Deacon Jones is very rich,
and has only three daughters; the other two have already
married and moved away, and so your brother will go
there to live and have the homestead."
Squire Romilly now returning to the room, they drew
their chairs around the fire and entered into a confidential family conversation. And the conversaziones of Italy
offer no entertainment like that which the Romillys enjoyed-the interchange of reciprocal and holy affection.
A thousand mutual inquiries were made, and Sidney listened, delighted, to many an anecdote of his boyish
acquaintance, or the history of many an improvement in
his native village. The clock struck twelve before they
thought the evening half spent, and then, after a most
fervent prayer from the father-priest, so full of gratitude
and joy that all were melted to tears of thankfulness,
Sidney was suffered to retire and dream over the scene
he had just enjoyed.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              73
CHAPTER VII.
A THANKSGIVING SERMON.
All has its date below; the fatal hour
Was registered in heaven ere time began.
We turn to dust, and all our mighty works
Die too; the deep foundations that we lay,
Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains.
COWPER.
THE first sound that saluted the' ear of Sidney, on
awaking next morning, was the voice of Harvey, who
entered the chamber bearing a large pitcher of fresh
water: he informed the gentlemen breakfast was ready.
The sunbeams were shining brightly through the thin
muslin window curtains, and Harvey, to their interrogatories, replied it was past eight o'clock; " but ma'," said
he, "would not have you called before, though we always
breakfast at seven."
"She is a blessed woman," said Frankford, "and I do
not wonder, Romilly, you wished me to accompany you
home. The only strange thing is, that when you had
such a good, affectionate, and lovely family to welcome
you, you could stay so many years from their embraces."
"I think myself it is strange," replied Sidney; "but
till my education was completed, my uncle would never
consent to my coming, and since that period he has
always seemed unwilling; yet I will not blame him entirely. Till within a few months, pleasure has been the
idol of my pursuit; and I have, I believe, sought it in
every place except where alone it is to be found-in a
virtuous home." He sighed as he concluded.
"You seem to be spiritually minded this morning,"
4




74               NORTHWOOD; OR,
said Frankford, stretching himself and yawning. "And
so all your follies are to be given to the winds, I suppose;
at least, while you are here. It is best, perhaps, for I
have been told that politics and religion are the only
subjects which excite an interest in Yankee society."
On descending to the sitting room, where the breakfast
table was spread-that apartment serving for many purposes-they found all the family assembled, every eye
bright with benevolence, and every face looking like the
personification of happiness.
To the inquiries of "how they rested?" and "how
they liked their accommodations?" the Englishman expressed his entire satisfaction; and launching forth in
encomiums on his bed, he declared it was the very best
he had found in America, and fully equal to any in his
own country.
Mrs. Romilly, a good but a true woman, was not insensible to flattery; at least, it might have been thus
inferred from the delight which diffused itself over her
comely countenance on hearing these praises; and it was
afterwards often remarked by her neighbors, that they
never knew Mrs. Romilly so taken with any stranger as
she was with that Englishman.
Their table was, if possible, more plentifully supplied
than on the preceding evening; and Sidney observed,
that he feared they had forestalled their dinner, as he did
not see how they could be gratified with a greater variety.
"Your mother will answer for that," replied the Squire;
" she has a plenty of niceties still in store for us, I presume; but we must all attend church to-day, and endeavor to fit our hearts, as well as appetites, to enjoy with
advantage to ourselves the blessings a kind Providence
is continually bestowing."
This speech led to inquiries concerning the clergyman,
and Sidney was glad to hear Mr. Cranfield still continued
to officiate.
"And what has become of George?" he inquired.
"Well," replied his father, "he has been through college, and, as I hear, was called an excellent scholar. He




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             75
is now at home studying divinity with his father, and
promises to be an ornament to his profession."
" You will see him this evening," said Mrs. Romilly,
nodding to Sidney; " he is to be the bridesman."
Mr. Frankford now made some inquiries concerning
who was to be married, which elicited an account of the
arrangements for the evening, and a cordial invitation to
join the festivity and witness the marriage.
"Nothing," said he, "could give me greater satisfaction, except being myself the principal on such an occasion;" and he gazed so earnestly at Sophia, that her face,
which happened at the moment to be turned towards him
as she handed him some cakes, was crimsoned to her
forehead.
As he withdrew his eyes, they met Sidney's-their
keen glance seeming to say, " Beware of trifling here;
we are proud as you!"-and Frankford, abashed, resumed his breakfast.
" These Yankees," thought he, "intend to be very
dignified."
Just as they had risen from the table, Harvey, who
was standing by the window, exclaimed-" There! Dr.
Perkins is coming now; he said he should call this morning and see brother Sidney."
"And who is Dr. Perkins?" asked Sidney.
"Why, don't you remember Warren Perkins?" inquired his father.
"T'o be sure I do," returned Sidney: "he and George
Cranfield were my dearest friends. But is he really metamorphosed into a doctor of physic?"
" Indeed he is," replied Mrs. Romilly, "and an excellent one too.  He has all the practice, now old Dr.
Rodgers is dead; and I never heard a word of fault found
with him, except by Mrs. Watson, and she always has
something to say against every one."
"And every one against her, of course," said Sidney.
"Your slanderers are the Arabs of society; their hand
against every one, and every one's hand against them.
And though they deprive many of character, they are




76               NORTHWOOD; OR,
still destitute themselves; as the descendants of Ishmael
live in wretchedness while the plundered wealth of caravans is scattered around them."
Here he was interrupted by the entrance of Dr. Perkins, a robust, florid complexioned, happy looking fellow,
with a sort of comical shrewdness in his small blue eyes,
that instantly revealed the lover of fun and frolic; yet
the child of misfortune would have addressed him, confident of succeeding in any request that appealed to his
heart.
It is useless to attempt a description of these meetings.
Those who have souls will understand what they must
have been; and those who have none are requested to
lay down this volume-it was not written for them. If,
after this. fair warning, they will read on, I shall not
think myself amenable to their criticism. To the dull,
all books will be dull.
"You are altered, Sidney," said Dr. Perkins, "besides
your growth, for which I was prepared. You have lost
much of that fairness of complexion which used to make
you so handsome. And I may be allowed to remember
it, for, to confess the truth, I used to think, when we
were at school together, that the teachers, school-mistresses
in particular, were always partial to you; but what it
could be for, except your good looks, I never could divine."
" Then you attributed nothing to his superior industry
and application to his book," said Squire Romilly, who
still remembered that Sidney was always allowed to be
the best scholar.
"I think, sir," replied Dr. Perkins, "there must be a
cause before an effect; and that it is encouragement and
attention on the part of the teacher which makes good
and attentive scholars. I was always called an unlucky
rogue; they knew by my countenance I was one, and
accordingly I was watched and punished; and thus the
faculties of my mind were more directed to deceive them
and escape punishment, than to acquire learning. Sidney, on the contrary, had such a pleasant, amiable look



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            77
ing face, that he was patted on the head, called a fine fellow, and had full confidence placed in his integrity, and
this animated him to deserve it. Whatever you wish to
make a child, treat him as such, and you will seldom be
disappointed."
"But, Warren," said Sidney, "it don't appear that you
have suffered at all for your juvenile follies. You are
now a physician, with a diploma, and I have no such
honors to boast."
"You never sought them," answered Perkins. " Wealth
and distinction were yours without exertion; but I have
been compelled to save every sixpence, or go without
my dinner, and force my way upward by main strength,
or run the risk of being precipitated to the bottom by
some jostling competitor. And thus, partly necessity
and partly competition, have operated to make me what
I am-a poor physician, who will do his best for any patient that pays him well; yet nature has still a nook in
my heart, and I can love and serve a friend without
pay."
"I wish I could give as good an account of myself,"
said Sidney, laughing; "but mine has been a kind of
life more pleasant to pass.than profitable to relate. I
have seen much, and studied little; resolved great things,
and done nothing at all —nothing, at least, that I can
claim any merit for having performed."
"And do you call saving my life a performance of no
merit?" asked Frankford. "I never knew before how
low you rated me."
"Then he did save your life?" repeated Mrs. Romilly,
her countenance brightening. "I knew Sidney had done
some good; it is his disposition; and now Providence
has given him the means, he would be criminal to do
otherwise. And'tis just so with all my children; I never
knew one of'em that would ever hurt a fly. There's
Silas, now," and she looked around to assure herself he
was absent, "he will make one of the best husbands in
the world."




78               NORTHWOOD; OR,
"And to-night is his wedding," said Dr. Perkins;
"faith, I had forgotten it."
"You are going?" said Mrs. Romilly.
"Certainly," he replied, "I would not miss this wedding, for the fees of a month. There will be the old
Deacon, puffing and preaching, all smoke and original
sin. Have you forgotten, Sidney, how the school-master
flogged me for robbing the Deacon's pear tree? That
was the last flagrant breach of the eighth commandment
I was ever guilty of. The master's ferule, or the Deacon's
lecture, effectually convinced me of my fault, and induced
a thorough reformation."
"I have entirely forgotten the circumstance," said Sidney. "Indeed, I recollect but very little about Deacon
Jones, except his sour looks, and how my mother once
scolded me for saying he resembled a crab apple. I believe it was the only witty thing I ever attempted."
The conversation now became more desultory, if possible; and though many things were said, at which the
party laughed heartily, readers might not be so humorously inclined. Indeed, to relish a good thing, the hearer
must sympathize with the speaker; and jests that convulse an audience with merriment, often appear exceedingly silly when published as bon mots. For these reasons I shall omit many conversations, which, as they
actually occurred during the visit of my hero, I had
taken down with all an author's accuracy, for publication;
but the difficulty of making them understood, and the
fear of swelling the work beyond fashionable limits, prevented their insertion.
At length, after the most urgent invitations to Mr.
Frankford and Sidney to visit him and spend a month,
if possible, and see his wife and two boys, and telling
them that they should meet again in the evening, Dr.
Perkins took his leave.
"A doctor, you call him!" said Frankford; "I should
sooner think him a Merry Andrew."
" You will find, sir," said Squire Romilly, " that notwithstanding this appearance of careless humor, which is




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             79
constitutional, he is a man of strong talents, and sound
judgment; and he has not only a practically useful, but
even a classical education, though Almost entirely selfacquired. And a more honest man, or sincere friend, or
better citizen, I do not believe exists! He and Deacon
Jones are often at variance on religious opinions; but I
tell the deacon, if Warren Perkins' principles are un
sound, his practice might be an example for the most
rigid professor."
" What is he," asked Frankford carelessly, " a deist?"
"A deist!" repeated the Squire, "no, indeed; there
never was a deist in this town, I guess. He only objects
to the doctrine of the decrees and election; and to confess the truth, I don't think them subjects of very profitable discussion. But the deacon thinks otherwise; and
if our minister followed his advice, we should have nothing but doctrinal discourses. However, Mr. Cranfield
manages to satisfy the deacon tolerably well; and,
indeed, it is impossible for any one to dislike him. Even
the most opposite in sentiment are equally charmed with
his preaching, and his spotless life bids defiance to censure. But you will have an opportunity of hearing him
to-day, and then he will not need my praises to recommend him."
Mr. Frankford smiled almost contemptuously, that a
Yankee puritanical preacher should be considered an object of any interest to him, who had heard the most eloquent and learned doctors of divinity declaim without
any sensations save of weariness, and had thought the
conclusion far the best division of the discourse.
"I believe," said he, "I shall hardly feel in health to
attend to-day."
At this declaration the whole family appeared so distressed for fear he needed some remedy which they had
not yet provided; and their inquiries and solicitude
about his disorder, and sorrow and disappointment that
he was not to hear their Thanksgiving sermon, were so
overwhelming and sincere, that the apathy of the Englishman was overcome.




80               NORTHWOOD; OR,
"I cannot," thought he, "refuse to make these kind
creatures happy when it depends only on appearing so
myself. I will go to their meeting, and, if possible, refrain from ridiculing the oddities and absurdities I shall
undoubtedly see and hear."
The whole family, Sophia excepted, were soon arrayed
in their best, and ready for church. She was left at home
to superintend the various operations of stewing, roasting, baking, &c., which were in the full tide of successful
experiment, and required careful attention.
" Sophia," said her mother, "can manage such matters better than Lucy, though she would do them nicely.
But Sophia is going to the ball to-morrow evening, and
so is willing to stay at home to-day."
" Then you dance in this country," said Frankford.
"I thought that was a prohibited amusement with your
religionists."
"It has been so, in particular places," replied the
Squire, "but there is now less of opposition. For my
own part, I never could see any enormous wickedness in
dancing, when managed with decorum and followed with
moderation. I have always permitted my children to
attend, and should have made no objection to their taking a few lessons in the art, had there been an opportunity; but some of my brethren in the church were so
bitterly opposed that no school for teaching it could be
established in this town."
"Deacon Jones, in particular," said Mrs. Romilly,
"thinks it the unpardonable sin, and he has been here
to give me and the children many a lecture, and argued
the matter with my husband till I have been vexed beyond measure-he is so unreasonable, and so set in his
way."
"And probably honest in his opinion now," replied
the Squire, "whatever he was when adopting it. Men
cannot, for any length of time, defend a system without
becoming convinced of its truth, especially if its tenets
are much controverted. The arguments they advance
may fail to convince an opponent, but are not lost on




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            81
themselves; they strengthen their zeal, till creeds, which
at first were adopted without reflection or consistency,
shall become the polar star of their existence.  I-ow
carefully should we examine a proposition that affects
our morals or happiness, before we admit its truth, or
advocate its requirements!"
All were now assembled, and the bell had ceased ringing as they set off. Squire Romilly was arrayed in a
suit of black, home made merino, and Silas in one of
deep blue-bran new for the wedding. Mrs. Romilly
wore a black satin dress, Lucy a changeable silk, and the
children looked not only neat, but handsomely attired.
The church stood about eighty rods from Squire Romilly's, but so punctual were the parishioners to be "in
season," that all had entered before he arrived. His seat
was the second in the middle aisle, an excellent one for
observation; its situation enabling the occupants to see,
to the best advantage, not only the clergyman, but nearly all the congregation.
Mr. Frankford had the best corner assigned him, and
Sidney sat by his mother, who experienced a triumph
which a queen might have envied, in seeing the eyes of
her acquaintance so often turned towards him. It was
the triumph of maternal feeling.
Frankford had determined to be entirely at ease, and
look about him, as such an opportunity for commenting
on the real Yankee phiz, especially when lengthened by
the solemnity of his severe devotions, might never again
occur.
The psalm was performing when they entered. The
tune was " Old Hundred," with a bass viol for an accompaniment. They sung with energy, and made up in tone
what they lacked in harmony; yet there were some fine
tenor voices, and the Englishman allowed the performance to be tolerable, but he said there was wanting the
full, swelling peal of the organ, to lift the soul to heaven:
and nothing could in church music, he thought, supply
the place of that instrument.
Mr. Cranfield had been reclining in the pulpit, so as
4*




82               NORTHWOOD; OR,
not to be visible, but a moment after the singing ceased,
he arose, and the whole congregation, by a simultaneous
movement, arose with him, "and stood up." When,
clasping his hands, he raised his eyes towards heaven,
where the prayer he poured forth seemed ascending, Mr.
Frankford admitted the possibility that his talents might
merit the praises they had received.
Not a foot was moved nor a loud breathing heard; all
seemed to realize that they were in the presence of a
holy God; and when the amen was pronounced, there
was not a heart in the assembly that could not have responded, " so be it!"
Again they sung, and then Mr. Cranfield, who had been
industriously turning over the leaves of his Bible as if
searching for his text, arose, and looking around, a profound silence was maintained, while, with a slow and
solemn pronunciation, he " invited their serious attention
to what might be offered from that portion of the sacred
scriptures recorded in the prophet Isaiah, twenty-sixth
chapter and fifteenth verse:' Thou hast increased the nation, O Lord, thou hast
increased the nation: thou art glorified; thou hast removed it far unto all the ends of the earth."'
That the whole sermon is not inserted is no fault of
mine, and well was it worthy of being so; but the copy
could not be obtained. Mr. Cranfield, with the usual
modesty of pulpit orators, refusing it for publication, I
can give only such an imperfect sketch as the recollection
of one of the audience could supply.
After an appropriate exordium, descriptive of the happiness and security of that "nation whom God increased,"
the orator adverted to America, succinctly mentioning
its settlement by the pilgrims; their persecutions in the
old world, and the perils they braved in the new, and
the influence which their character had exerted in fashioning the minds of their descendants.
From thence the transition was easy to the war of our
revolution, which was waged in resistance of oppression;
and in detailing some of its most trying scenes, he showed




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             83
plainly that "if the Lord had not been on our side when
men rose up against us, we should indeed have been
swallowed up."
Then he noticed our excellent institutions, securing
the liberty and happiness of the people on the broad
foundations of intelligence and public virtue; and drawing a picture of the prosperity of our country, he anticipated its probable increase, power, and glory, by an
estimate of its hitherto rapid growth, and unparalleled
and almost inexhaustible resources.
No eye was closed during the sermon, nor was a nod,
or even a look or action, expressive of weariness, seen
throughout the assembly. With eyes riveted on the
speaker, old and young sat motionless; except, at times,
a half curious, half gratified glance was directed towards
the pew where sat the Englishman, to learn, if possible,
how he relished such sentiments.
And he afterwards acknowledged, that never, during
his life, had he experienced such a variety of emotions.
His contempt for itinerant or uneducated clergymen,
among whom he supposed were ranked all in America,
excepting a few in the cities, had led him to expect nothing more than a rhapsody in favor of some exclusive
dogma, or a rant against some prevailing sin. Little had
he anticipated the beauties of a chaste and classical composition; the polished period; the clear and concise, yet
animated description; the pathetic appeal; the lofty sentiment; and the soul-stirring patriotism, that seemed,
like a shock of electricity, to thrill the nerves of the
audience, and even, in spite of his prejudices, made his
own tremble.
He knew very well, that America had been discovered
and settled, and that the States had gained their independence; but he seemed now to learn it for the first
time. He knew, too, that his countrymen had been
beaten by these rebels, and little had he recked of the
matter; but now, wien te orJtor, in describing tie2
tremendous struggle, alluded to Bunker Hill and the
little band of patriots who, fighting their first fight in




84              NORTHWOOD; OR,
defense of their liberties, met and defied the proud
power of Britain, when he told of the twice routed foe,
and the wasteful carnage before succeeding to dislodge
the Americans, Mr. Frankford shaded his face with his
hand, and internally vowed never to listen to another
Yankee Thanksgiving discourse.
The orator did not stop at the point where his hearers
naturally concluded he would, the acme of the prosperity and glory of his own country; he glanced at the
probable consequences such an event would have on the
nations of the old world, and particularly on that from
which we were descended. He dwelt on the advantages
which would accrue to England from an intercourse with
independent America, proving it to promise far more
important benefits than could have been realized from
colonies; that the community of language, similarity of
laws, customs, habits, and religion, formed a bond of
union between the two countries, which nothing but the
most pernicious policy or absurd prejudices on the part
of Great Britain, would prevent from operating to increase her resources, and perpetuate the grandeur of her
name and character.
"Great Britain," said he, "once called herself our
mother, and though far from being an indulgent one,
we do not deny her maternity; but there is a period
when nations, as well as individuals, quit their minority,
and if the parent country would continue the parallel of
relationship which subsists in families, she will not consider her independent offspring as her natural enemy."
" Suppose a mother had a daughter who was, on some
occasions, self-willed, and finally married against her
consent, would she, breathing a malediction against her
child, endeavor to accomplish her ruin?  Would she
not, rather, secretly rejoice in her prosperity, and, taking
the first decent opportunity for a reconciliation, renew
those offices of kindness and generosity which those of
the same blood should ever be ready to reciprocate?
And do we not see instances where a mother finds, not
only a useful friend in the child she once discarded, but




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            85
even a supporter in the imbecility of age, and one who
will afford an asylum when no other protector is to be
found?
"When Alexander sacked Tyre, and made that
haughty city a heap of ruins, the Carthagenians who
were present conveyed many of the Tyrians to a place
of safety; they remembered they were the descendants
of a Tyrian colony.'The things which have been, are
those which shall be.' Where are the mighty empires
and proud cities of antiquity? They have passed away
like the chaff of the summer threshing floor, or left only
memorial ruins to waken the sigh of the traveler, or to
gratify the researches of the antiquary! And will Great
Britain, think ye, be exempted from the operation of
those universal laws of nature which have governed all
created things on this globe, and all their works? Will
not luxury enervate her spirit as it did that of Greece?
Will not the extension of her empire weaken her power,
as it did that of Rome? Will she not, like them, have
her period of growth, of maturity, and of decay?
" Yes, I repeat-her period of decay-though heaven
forbid she should, like the heathen nations, fall to rise
no more! The word of God is in her homes, and the
light of the hallowed Sabbath on her hills and pleasant
places. But her haughty pride must be humbled, and
her power will suffer an eclipse. The nations of Europe
will band against her, for she has trampled them down
in her day of triumph; and she has the light of freedom, which tyrants hate.  The nations will gather
against her, and she will be sorely beset.
" And then will America remember her; and here
shall her exiles and her fugitives find a refuge and a
home.  Iere, mingling with a people descended from
the same stock, speaking the same language, inheriting
the same passion for liberty, and worshiping the same
God-brothers and christians-they will feel that they
yet have a country.
"I consider the settlement of the United States by
Englishmen, and its separation from the mother country,




86               NORTHWOOD; OR,
as two of the most fortunate events which could have
occurred to the kingdom of Great Britain. A young
and mighty nation is here rising, a nation which the'Lord has increased,' and whose borders'are far removed, even unto all the ends of the earth,' and this
nation will perpetuate the names and achievements of
Englishmen-even should the monuments of that now
glorious land be crumbled into dust!"
Frankford looked up during this, and every word fell
on his heart. IHe could not forbear thinking it was purposely designed for him; others were likewise of the
same opinion. And perhaps they were right in their
conjectures, as Mr. Cranfield had, late on the preceding
evening, been informed of the arrival of Sidney Romilly and his English friend; and he might-his office was
to win souls and teach good-will to the children of men
-take the only but doubtful method of giving the whole
view of the subject, to soothe the feelings of the stranger, after listening to an eulogium on a country which
he had probably been taught to execrate as ungrateful,
or despise as insignificant.
A short and impressive prayer closed the services of
the day, which will never be forgotten, either by the
Romilly family or the Englishman-they connect it with
the return of a beloved son or brother; he refers to it
as an original exhibition of piety, patriotism, and eloquence.




LTFE NORTH AND SOUTIT.           87
CHAPTER VIII.
THANKSGIVING DINNER.
Thine, Freedom, thine, the blessings pictured here.
GOLDSMITH.
As they quitted the house, the old friends of the
Romillys and boyish acquaintances of Sidney thronged
about him to shake hands and congratulate his return;
and those who had never seen him, being anxious to
watch the meeting between such friends, he was very
soon surrounded by nearly all the assembly.
A considerable portion of the attention, however, was
directed towards Mr. Frankford, who, fatigued, both
from the length of the services and the crowd, gladly
accepted the invitation of Mrs. Romilly to walk home
with her. " For there is no telling," said she, " when
Sidney will get away, so many want to see him, and I
am afraid the turkey will be over-roasted."
Together, therefore, they walked homeward, but Mrs.
Romilly's mind being so intent on her preparations for
dinner, that she could talk of nothing else, the Englishman found no opportunity of censuring, as he had intended, the sentiments of the preacher, and criticising
his style and manner.
About half an hour elapsed before the return of Squire
Romilly and his sons, and in that time every thing had
been arranged for the dinner.
Although the description of a feast is a kind of literary treat, which I never much relished, and hope my
readers do not, yet as this was a thanksgiving entertainment, one which was never before, I believe, served up
in style to novel epicures, I may venture to mention some




88               NORTHWOOD; OR,
of the peculiarities of the festival, without being suspected of imitating those profound and popular writers
who make a good stomach the criterion of good taste;
and instead of allowing their characters to display their
sentiments in conversation, make them eat to display
their appetites. Such authors might very well dispense
with all but two characters in their books-a cook to
dress their dinners, and a hero to devour them.
And now for our Thanksgiving dinner. A long table,
formed by placing two of the ordinary size together, was
set forth in the parlor; which being the best room, and
ornamented with the best furniture, was seldom used,
except on important occasions.  The finishing of the
parlor was in a much better manner than that of any
other apartment in the house; the wood work was painted
cream color, and the plaster walls ornamented with paper
hangings of gay tints and curious devices.
Over the mantel-piece hung two paintings, executed
by Sophia and Lucy, representing scenes from the Shepherdess of the Alps. A connoisseur in the art would
undoubtedly have seen faults in both pieces, on which
he might have displayed his critical acumen to advantage. He might have objected that the shepherd was
nearly black, and the shepherdess very blue-her nose,
and not her stockings-that the sheep resembled wolves,
and the rocks coffins; but such profane things never had
been said of them, for they had been examined only by
those who, having the landscape of nature always before
their eyes, require something both strange and new in an
exhibition of art. They had therefore not only escaped
all censure, but even excited rapturous praise.
The furniture of the parlor consisted of a mahogany
sideboard and table, a dozen handsome chairs, a large
mirror, the gilt frame covered with green gauze to prevent injury from dust and flies; and on the floor was a
substantial, home-manufactured carpet, woven in a curious manner, and blended with all the colors of the rainbow. Seldom were the junior members of the family
allowed the high privilege of stepping on this carpet,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             89
excepting at the annual festival; and their joy at the
approaching feast was considerably heightened by the
knowledge that it would be holden in the best room.
The table, covered with a damask cloth, vieing in
whiteness, and nearly equaling in texture, the finest
imported, though spun, woven and bleached by Mrs.
Romilly's own hand, was now intended for the whole
household, every child having a seat on this occasion;
and the more the better, it being considered an honor for
a man to sit down to his Thanksgiving dinner surrounded
by a large family. The provision is always sufficient for
a multitude, every farmer in the country being, at this
season of the year, plentifully supplied, and every one
proud of displaying his abundance and prosperity.
The roasted turkey took precedence on this occasion,
being placed at the head of the table; and well did it
become its lordly station, sending forth the rich odor of
its savory stuffing, and finely covered with the froth of
the basting. At the foot of the board, a sirloin of beef,
flanked on either side by a leg of pork and loin of mutton,
seemed placed as a bastion to defend innumerable bowls
of gravy and plates of vegetables disposed in that quarter.
A goose'and pair of ducklings occupied side stations on
the table; the middle being graced, as it always is on
such occasions, by that rich burgomaster of the provisions,
called a chicken pie. This pie, which is wholly formed
of the choicest parts of fowls, enriched and seasoned with
a profusion of butter and pepper, and covered with an
excellent puff paste, is, like the celebrated pumpkin pie,
an indispensable part of a good and true Yankee Thanksgiving; the size of the pie usually denoting the gratitude
of the party who prepares the feast. The one now displayed could never have had many peers. Frankford
had seen nothing like it, and recollected nothing in
description bearing a comparison, excepting the famous
pie served up to the witty King Charles II., and containing, instead of the savory chicken, the simple knight.
Plates of pickles, preserves and butter, and all the
necessaries for increasing the seasoning of the viands to




90               NORTHWOOD; OR,
the demand of each palate, filled the interstices on the
table, leaving hardly sufficient room for the plates of the
company, a wine glass and two tumblers for each, with
a slice of wheat bread lying on one of the inverted tumblers. A side table was literally loaded with the preparations for the second course, placed there to obviate
the necessity of leaving the apartment during the repast.
The Romillys had no domestic, properly speaking; their
only ie/pl was a pauper maiden, known as "old Hester."
She was blind of one eye, utterly shiftless, and with such
a crooked temper that her relations could do nothing
with her. They were poor and shiftless too; so "old
Hester" had to be supported by the town. She was the
only pauper in Northwood, and made as much trouble
for the public, aa4 more talk, than would a work-house
of paupers in England; because there paupers are of no
consequence.  Old Hester made herself felt in every
department; and Squire Romilly had been so annoyed
with her complaints, and complaints about her, that he
told her one day she might come and live with Mrs.
Romilly a month or two, and he should then know who
was in fault. So Hester came; and partly because she
wished to prove her accusers had been wrong, but chiefly
because the Romilly family always called her " Miss
Hester," and treated her with much respect, she had done
her very best, and so improved her ways,. that Squire
Romilly informed the town officers " he would keep her
for the present without any charge on the public;" and
so Northwood had no pauper.
This had happened about five years before our
Thanksgiving dinner, and Miss Hester was still in the
family, but had gone to eat her dinner with her sister, as
every one must go to their own on Thanksgiving Day;
and so the Romillys had to wait on themselves.  ~j
There was a huge plum/~pudding, custards and pies
of every name and description ever known in Yankee
land; yet the pumpkin pie occupied the most distinguished
niche. There were also several kinds of rich cake, and
a variety of sweetmeats and fruits.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             91
On the sideboard was ranged a goodly number of
decanters and bottles; the former filled with currant wine,
and the latter with excellent cider and ginger beer-a
beverage Mrs. Romilly prided herself on preparing in
perfection.  There were no foreign wines or ardent
spirits, Squire Romilly being a consistent moralist; and
while he deprecated the evils an indulgence in their use
was bringing on his countrymen, and urged them to correct the pernicious habit, he practiced what he preached.
Would that all declaimers against intemperance followed
his example.
Such, as I have attempted to describe, was the appearance of the apartment and the dinner when Mr. Frankford, ushered by his host, and followed by Sidney and
the whole family, entered and took their stations around
the table.
The blessing which "the saint, the father, and the
husband" now fervently besought, was not merely a form
of words, mechanically mumbled over to comply with an
established custom, or perform an irksome duty. It was
the breathings of a good and grateful heart acknowledging the mercies received, and sincerely thanking the
Giver of every good gift for the plenteous portion he had
bestowed. And while enumerating the varied blessings
with which the year had been crowned, Squire Romilly
alluded to the return of the long absent child, and expressed his joy in thus, once more, being permitted to
gather all his dear family around his table, his voice
quivered;-but the tear which fell slowly down his
cheek was unnoted by all save Frankford; the others
were endeavoring to repress or conceal their own emotion.
The eating of the dinner then commenced in earnest.
There was little of ceremony, and less of parade; yet the
gratified hospitality, the obliging civility and unaffected
happiness of this excellent family, left on the heart of
the ifreigner a lasting impression of felicity, while the
recollection of many a splendidcfete in gorgeous halls had
passed away.
The conversation during the repast, though chiefly




92                NORTHWOOD; OR,
employed in comparing the respective qualities of the
several dishes, and explaining the manner of their preparation, was more interesting than a discussion of the
same subjects would have been at a nobleman's table;
because those who supported or listened to the discourse,
were more immediately concerned in the decision of the
various questions proposed, and more gratified by the
eulogiums which the quality of the provisions and the
perfection of the cookery received from the two guests.
Mrs.: Romilly attended particularly to them, helping them
to the choicest bits, and replenishing their plates so often
and so bountifully that the appetite of the Englishman,
craving as it had been, was completely satiated. Yet he
could not forget how hungry he had been, and while refusing the "pudding which Lucy had made," and the
"custard Sophia had prepared," he looked around on the
still loaded table, with a kind of sorrowful disappointment that he must leave so many good things untasted.
"Our wine," said Squire Romilly, smiling, while he
placed a decanter of his currant preparation before Mr.
Frankford, "is not the precise kind to which you have
been accustomed. For your sake, I wish it were champagne or old Madeira."
"Thank you," replied Frankford, "and why not for
your own sake? You have undoubtedly sufficient discrimination to prefer the best."
"If what we prefer be the best," replied the Squire,
"I shall certainly give the palm to my currant. The
fashionably discriminating taste of appetite is entirely
acquired.  And the fastidiousness which rejects the
wholesome because it is common, and prizes only the
rare, dear and far-fetched, is the offspring of whim or
vanity."
"It may be so," returned the other, "yet I think it no
small privilege to have been taught that fashionably discriminating taste, as you term it. It always accompanies
refinement of manners. The Greenlander may prefer
his draught of oil, or the Highlander his whisky; their
preferences are as much acquired tastes as my own, yet




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             93
I fancy you, sir, would sooner conform to mine than
theirs."
"Their tastes are acquired by necessity," said the
Squire; " they have no choice. Their situation or their
poverty deprives them of all opportunities of discriminating. No such necessity governs us. But I think it
becomes the people of a great and free country, to consider well the effect which the indulgence in foreign luxuries may have on their own character, and the high
privileges committed to their trust. The Greek'and
Roman legislators frequently enacted sumptuary laws,
restraining the extravagance of fashion and the excesses
of appetite. We depend for decency, sobriety, order, and
economy, on the good sense, cultivated reason, and enlightened patriotism of our citizens. Excessive luxury
and rational liberty were never yet found compatible."
All true born and bred Americans, Yankees in particular, are fond of argument. Their reasoning faculties
are constantly excited by canvassing the merits of rival
candidates for their frequent elections, and sharpened by
the necessity they find or make of often engaging in political controversies; add to this their liberty of conscience, which gives every man full power to form or
defend his own religious creed by the light and strength
of his own understanding, and we shall be convinced
that the force of circumstances alone would operate to
give them dexterity and tact in supporting their own
opinions, or refuting those of an antagonist.
The circulation, too, of newspapers and other periodicals throughout every part of the country, and their perusal by almost every individual, diffuse a knowledge
of all passing events, and impart a tone of intelligence
to the society even of the humblest orders, which the
mass of European inhabitants do not display.
Men are fond of doing what they are conscious of performing well, and Squire Romilly, although of a most
liberal and conciliating temper, had been too often victorious in the war of argument not to feel he had strength
for the encounter; and he was probably more gratified




94              NORTHWOOD; OR,
with the turn the conversation had unexpectedly taken,
than he would have been, had the Englishman, by complimenting his currant wine, and preferring it to champagne or old Madeira, precluded the necessity of reply.
"And do you imagine, sir," said Frankford, laughing
heartily, while he set down the glass he had just emptied,
" that currant wine or ginger-beer are at all connected
with the preservation of your liberties?"
"If you had been in this country forty years ago,"
answered the Squire, with equal good humor, "would
you have imagined the article of tea could have had any
influence in accelerating our independence? Yet, had
your East India company kept their tea at home, or your
parliament possessed three pennyworths more of wisdom,
we might, till this day, have been a colony of Great
Britain. Small causes often produce great effects; and
the fate of nations, as well as individuals, is decided or
materially altered by such trifles as we scarcely think
worthy notice."
"But your clergyman proved to-day, and plainly, as
he thought, I presume, that the separation of these states
from the mother country was an excellent affair for us
Englishmen. By a parity of reasoning, I can demonstrate that the introduction of foreign luxuries, will advance your prosperity. It will increase your trade, and
by that means augment the revenue of your government;
these surplus revenues may be expended in public improvements, and thus your country, by becoming more
polished and respectable, will offer greater inducements
to our fugitives and exiles to make it their asylum and
homTe."
There might have been a little acrimony in the emphasis which Mr. Frankford laid on particular words in
the last observation, but the gay laugh with which it
concluded, seemed to pledge that it-was not spoken in
anger nor intended as an insult; and the Squire proceeded, without noticing it, to descant on temperance
and industry, and on the necessity of inculcating the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            95
practice of these virtues on the rising generation, till
Mr. Frankford archly interrupted him.
"You must then," said he, "abolish your Thanksgivings entirely, for who can practice temperance when
set down to such a table as this? If you were a hermit,
and our meal had been roots and water, I might have
listened, much edified, to your discourse; but now, sir,
I confess my excellent dinner has totally disqualified me
from receiving any benefit from a homily on temperance;
nor can you, while placing me in the midst of temptation, wonder if I fall into the snare."
"Well, well," replied the Squire, laughing, "I may at
least recommend industry, for all this variety you have
seen before you on the table, excepting the spices and
salt, has been furnished from my own farm and procured
by our own labor and care."
"If that be the case," returned Frankford, looking
around on the various and complicated dishes with a
half incredulous stare, "you are privileged to enjoy
them. The fruits of his own labor every man may surely
partake. You think the indulgence in domestic luxuries
perfectly innocent?"
" No; but I think them less dangerous and less apt to
be indulged to excess. And the exertion to procure
them cherishes a spirit of patriotism, independence, and
devotion. We should love our native land were it a
sterile rock; but we love it better when to our cultivation it yields an ample increase; and the farmer, instead
of sighing for foreign dainties, looks up to heaven, and
depends on his own labors; and when they are crowned
with a blessing, he thanks God, as tens of thousands
throughout our State are doing this day. Let us join
our voices with theirs."
" So saying, he arose, and the whole family with him.
The thanks of the Romillys were sincere, but the Englishman, who had never, at a dinner party, been accustomed to quitting the table in such an abrupt manner,
and had expected-though he knew there was nothing
to drink but currant wine and ginger-beer-to sit an




96              NORTHWOOD; OR,
hour or two after the ladies had withdrawn, was too
much surprised to listen to thanks. He stood stock still
in his place till the family were all in motion removing
the dishes, Mrs. Rornilly all the time hurrying and bidding the girls " make haste and clear away the things
and do up the chores, or we shall certainly be late at the
wedding."
Mr. Frankford then walked to a window to conceal
the mirth he could not suppress at the unfashionable
ending of the feast.
" But," thought he, "they have done as well as they
know how, and better than I could have expected in
this wild place."
After the removal of the things, coffee was brought
in and served round by Oliver and Harvey. This was
an innovation-coffee not beipg usually taken after a
Yankee dinner. Mrs. Romilly explained the matter by
telling the foreigner, who had taken a seat beside her,
that it was done at Sidney's desire: "and really," said
she, "I think I shall like the fashion very well, for coffee
always settles my head so nicely."
They then began to arrange for the wedding. The
distance from Squire Romilly's to the dwelling of Deacon
Jones, was about half-a-mile, and the evening being a
beautiful one, with a good moon, they all preferred walking. Mrs. Romilly, however, insisted that Mr. Frankford must ride.
" You have been to meeting," said she, " and you look
pale, and if you get too fatigued and catch cold, it may
bring on a relapse. No, no, you must ride. James, get
out the chaise, and Sophia may ride too-she is tired."
Sophia's cheeks were crimson, while she declared she
"'should walk with Sidney."
"Well, then," replied the good mother, "I'll ride with
Mr. Frankford myself, and carry Lydia; the poor child
wants to see the wedding as much as any of us."
The Englishman was fain to acquiesce in this arrangement, but the look he directed towards Sophia declared,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            97
unequivocally, that he would willingly have exchanged
two for one.
It was dusk when they started. Silas had been gone
an hour, and Mrs. Romilly more than once regretted that
they were so late. It was not that she feared the ceremony would commence before their arrival, but her habits of industry made her always feel in a hurry to have
every thing performed, in which she was at all concerned,
immediately.
Such promptness is an excellent thing in a housewife,
but when it degenerates into teasing impatience, it is very
uncomfortable in a companion.
5




98                NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER IX.
A COUNTRY WEDDING.
Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers,
Those who improve his golden hours
By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A Paradise below.        COTTON.
THE house of Deacon Jones was a tolerably fair specimen of Yankee architecture. A genuine Yankee consults no order save the order of his own will; and to suit
himself.nd build as large a house as possible, is the rule
of every New England farmer. Should his means confine him  at first to small dimensions, he never fails improving the first favorable opportunity of enlarging his
tenement by building what he significantly terms additions-they are rarely improvements-till either age or
poverty compels him to desist. And it was in this manner the dwelling of Deacon Jones had acquired most of
its size, and, in his judgment, all its importance.
It was originally a one story building, with two square
rooms in front and several small rooms back, and accommodated his family very well. But when Mr. Jones, as
he was then called, found his substance increasing, he
could think of no better method of displaying his wealth
than by enlarging his dwelling; so he reared what he
denominated "a back kitchen," joining his old house,
and extending back about forty feet. Here was a capacious dairy room, cheese closet, and every convenience-a
significant term, and much better understood by a thrifty
New England farmer than the sublime-for his large
dairy. Yet still he was not satisfied. Some of his less




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              99
wealthy neighbors were already residing in their two
story houses, and'it galled his pride to see the eyes of
strangers who visited the village attracted towards their
showy buildings, while his were passed carelessly by, when
lie numbered so many more head of cattle, and sold so
much more butter and cheese than they did. These reasons determined him to erect a wing, or body, rather, to
his lowly dwelling.
The new building was of two stories, of course, but to
make it appear more elevated, he directed the posts to be
made two feet longer than the usual dimensions. The
wing was thirty feet by twenty-four; the upper story being divided into two chambers, with ample closets,
finished handsomely and designed for his daughters.
The lower story formed but one room, and many were
the conjectures of the good and inquisitive people in the
neighborhood, concerning the use for which such a huge
apartment could be designed. Some guessed Mr. Jones
was intending to open a tavern, and designed it for a barroom; others surmised that he was about turning merchant, and would convert it into a store; and the young
lads, who hated him for his opposition to their amusements, declared that they knew he was preparing it for
a ball-room. One wag actually wrote tickets for a housewarming in Mr. Jones' behalf, inviting all the young
ladies and gentlemen in Northwood to meet at his new
hall and celebrate its accomplishment.
The worthy proprietor deigned no explanation to any
of these surmises. He kept his workmen busily employed
in finishing it after the pattern he had shown them, and
on the Sabbath following its completion, after the services
were closed and a conference appointed at the schoolhouse, he arose in his place and communicated to his
brethren, in a solemn tone of voice, the important information, that he had provided a room in which they
might for the future hold their conferences'
The circunstance caused quite a sensation in the little
community, and many who had formerly accused Mr.
Jones of worldly-mindedness, now acknowledged, that if




100              NORTHWOOD; OR,
he had been a little too anxious to obtain property, he
seemed willing to improve it for useful and pious purposes. He was soon after elected deacon, by an almost
unanimous vote of the church, a station he had long
coveted, and no doubt often sincerely prayed for, but
which, had he not made himself useful to his brethren,
might not have been so readily or spontaneously granted
him.
Selfishness is an insidious passion, mingling itself with
motives, and inspiring actions which claim to proceed
from holy and benevolent feelings. And-I would not
teach uncharitableness-when Deacon Jones surveyed his
spacious conference room, completely finished, with a
row of seats around, and furnished with a table, chairs,
and candlesticks, and appurtenances requisite for the accommodation of his brethren, and was remembered publicly in their prayers, as one who " had opened his doors"
for the reception of God's children, he felt quite secure of
the divine favor, and ever after attributed his worldly
prosperity to the particular approbation of the Most
High.
I have, perhaps, been more minute in the description
of this conference-room than the subject required. The
reader will pardon it when informed it was there the
wedding was to be celebrated, and there the guests were
received and seated.
Among those assembled when the Romillys arrived,
were Dr. Perkins and lady.  The Doctor immediately
joined them, and after introducing his wife, a sweet
looking young woman, to Frankford and Sidney, he
proceeded to point out to the notice of the latter each
particular person in the room, describing their characters
and humors in his own lively manner. Sidney remembered the names of many of the families, for nearly the
whole neighborhood was invited and assembled: of the
individuals he had but a faint recollection.
After some lively rattle on Sidney's inquiries respecting one particular young lady, Perkins said, " Romilly,
if you have really returned here with the patriarchal




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           101
intention of taking a wife from among the daughters of
your own land-by the way, could you ever seriously
think of a patriarch being in love? —why, I can promise you the sight of a girl worthy to captivate an ern.
peror."
" Where is she?" inquired Sidney, looking round.
"She has not yet entered the room," replied the doctor; "she is the bridesmaid, and will, on that account,
be easy for you to distinguish, though her own loveliness will distinguish her far better."
"Am I acquainted with her name or family?" asked
Sidney, continuing the conversation more on account of
the interest it appeared to excite in his companion, than
from any he felt himself.
"No, I rather think not," replied the doctor; "her
mother was sister to the old deacon there, and married a
merchant of Boston. They lived in high style for a few
years, when Mr. Redington-that was her husband's
name-dying suddenly, his affairs were found insolvent.
It was rumored at the time, that the widow and infant
daughter were defrauded by the villany of his partner;
but nothing could be proved, and Mrs. Redington, after
every thing was settled, found herself entirely destitute.
It has been said that her brother, the deacon, wrote to
her, offering her an asylum in his house; but his letter
contained so many reproaches for her former extravagance, as he termed it, that she declined accepting his
benevolence, and resolved to obtain her own support by
her needle.
"She is represented as being a very extraordinary
woman, uniting the fortitude and energy of our sex with
the sensibility and meekness of hers; and she succeeded
in supporting herself and child in competency.  Her
patient endurance of misfortune, and perseverance in
performance of her duties, gained her many valuable
friends; and when she died, which was when her daughter was about twelve years old, a lady of the first respectability, who was childless, took Annie Redington, and
adopted her for her own child. Lhere she was educated




102              NORTJHWOOD; OR,
in every accomplishment; but death, as she once observed to me, seemed determined to deprive her of protectors, and at the age of eighteen, she followed Mrs.
Eaton, her second mother, to the grave.
" Mr. Eaton was a very fashionable man, and although
he had always called Annie his daughter, yet very soon
after the decease of his wife, he was glad to recollect she
was not within the degrees of affinity which by Scripture and law are forbidden to marry together. In short,
he was over ears in love with the fair orphan, and had
Annie possessed the vanity or ambition of many of her
sex, she would certainly have accepted his splendid alliance; but, no-she was astonished, frightened, and
grieved, and having no relation except the deacon, was
forced, in the terrible dilemma, to apply to him for advice and assistance. The old man bestirred himself most
manfully in the affair; he hurried to Boston, and notwithstanding the entreaties, reproaches, and threats of
the widower lover, succeeded in freeing the lady from
duress. Eaton, when he found Annie determined to
depart, offered her money to any amount she wished;
but she refused accepting it, and the deacon practiced
what I call a most heroic act of self-denial, for he actually told Eaton his gold might perish with him; adding, with a sneer, that he felt quite able to maintain his
-own niece without assistance.
"This happened about two years ago, and since then
Annie has resided constantly in Northwood. Indeed,
she is absolutely confined, having no relatives in any
other place, and no acquaintance excepting in Boston,
which she dares not visit for fear of encountering Mr.
Eaton. He remains unmarried, and perseveres in declaring his determination yet to obtain her hand."
"Indeed!" said Sidney, "and do you think it probable he will succeed?" suppressing, though with difficulty, a yawn. Should the reader feel the same inclination, it must excite no wonder-the power of sympathy
is proverbial.
"Why, no," answered Perkins; "I think his case is




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           103
hopeless.  But there comes George Cranfield; he is
master of the ceremonies this evening, and we shall now
be marshalled round the room with all the formality of
a battalion at a muster. The etiquette of the ceremony
will assign us different stations; but don't forget to look
at the bridesmaid."
" I should imagine the bride would be the more interesting object," said Sidney.
" No, by no means," eagerly replied the other. "She
is pretty enough, but no more to be compared with
Annie Redington than I —to you, sir.     Hercules
would be a borrowed simile, and I like to manufacture
my own comparisons."
George Cranfield now approached, and affectionately
taking Sidney's hand, told him his seat was next to Mr.
Frankford.
After the bustle of a few minutes, the company was
arranged, all conversation hushed or carried on in low
whispers, and a stranger, who had not been apprised of
the cause which had assembled such a goodly number
together, might have thought the conference room was
occupied for its original destination.
Both Frankford and Sidney improved this interval in
a critical survey of the apartment and the company.
The room has been already described; and the company were, even in the Englishman's opinion, a very
decent, clever, civil-looking set, and considering there
were none who had any pretensions to noble extraction,
or had received the polish which travel and good society
bestows, they seemed to understand how to behave
themselves with propriety.
At the head of the apartment was seated the Deacon
and his wife; he in his elbow chair, with his head reclining backwards, eyes raised and half closed, as if in
the act of imploring a blessing on the approaching solemnity. His thin and sharp visage, wrinkled and receding forehead, whose baldness was shaded only by a few
snow-white hairs, made his appearance quite saintly; and
it was not till you caught the shrewd glance of his little




104              NORTHWOOD; OR,
grey eye, cautiously peeping from its thick and overhanging eyebrow, that you would imagine him engaged in
any earthly speculations, or interested by any sublunary
spectacle.
His wife was really his "better half," being fat enough
for a Chinese beauty, and possessing that contented, kind,
benevolent countenance, which constitutes the beauty of
age in all countries.
Next were seated Squire Romilly and lady; then Mr.
Frankford, and either to honor him as being a stranger
from a far country, or else in consideration of his recent
illness, he was placed in a large easy chair, furnished
with a high cushion, the covering of patch-work, and
formed of as many stars as are displayed in the flag of
our country.
Sidney came next; then the sisters of the bride, each
with her spouse, then the remainder of Squire Romilly's
family, while friends and neighbors filled the remaining
seats.
These were all arrayed in their best; the young ladies
in white, the married in silks or crapes, and the men
mostly in suits of dark-colored cloth, which, although
homespun, would not, in some instances, have suffered
much by a comparison with foreign manufacture.
Nearly in the middle of the apartment was seated the
Rev. Mr. Cranfield, a clear space before him being left
for the bridal party. A wood fire blazed brightly in the
ample chimney, and a number of candles and lamps disposed around the apartment, made the whole appear to
the best advantage.
It was evident from the glances of the assembly, that
they were quite as much interested with the appearance
of the strangers as the latter could be with them; and
they continued to reconnoitre each other till the sound
of approaching steps directed all eyes towards the door
to see the entree of the bride. The door being thrown
wide open by young Cranfield, Silas Romilly entered,
leading by the hand a very amiable-looking girl, whose
downcast eye and blushing cheek told at once her history.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           105
Sidney looked not at her; a young lady walked beside her, apparently anxious, by assiduity, to save her
from all embarrassment. It was Annie Redington; and
Sidney, while he steadfastly regarded her, internally exclaimed, "Perkins, you did not exaggerate 1"
But now is no time to describe her, for the ceremonies
are commencing; and who would delay a wedding to
read the description of the most beautiful woman on
earth?
The marriage ceremony is the most interesting spectacle social life exhibits. We see two rational beings, in
the glow of youth and hope, which invests life with the
halo of happiness, appear together, and, openly acknowledging their preference for each other, voluntarily enter
into a league of perpetual friendship, and call heaven
and earth to witness the sincerity of their solemn vowswe think of the endearing connexion, the important consequences, the final separation-the smile that kindles to
ecstasy at their union must at length be quenched in the
tears of the mourning survivor!-but while life continues, they are to participate the same joys, to endure
the like sorrows, to rejoice and weep in unison. Be constant, man; be confiding, woman, and what can earth
offer so pure as your friendship, so dear as your affec
tion 
The couple who now approached the altar of Hymen,
came in the simplicity of virtuous love, and the vows
they breathed were dictated by the truth as well as fervency of their feelings. There was a slight embarrassment visible in the countenance and manner of the bridegroom, but it probably proceeded from his concern for
the timidity of his trembling bride. Silas Romilly had
never been called handsome, yet now when his coal-black
eyes were lighted up with animation, giving a deeper
glow to his healthy, though rather dark complexion, his
thick black hair combed.back from a finely formed forehead, his tall and manly figure, and the serious yet happy
air of his deportment, formed a portrait which no observer could survey with indifference.
5*




106               NORTHWOOD; OR,
Priscilla Jones, to whom he was about to plight his
faith, was, in appearance, entirely his reverse. She was
a small, slender, delicate girl, and the wreath of white
roses entwined amidst her fair hair, was hardly paler than
her cheek. Her dress was a frock of plain white muslin,
trimmed around the bosom and sleeves with lace; the
only ornament she wore, was a gold chain around her
neck, to which was attached a small miniature picture of
a brother who had been drowned.
After a short pause, Mr. Cranfield inquired if they were
ready to proceed; and on George's replying they were,
he arose, and all obeyed his motion. He made a short,
but solemn prayer, fervently imploring a blessing on the
lovers; then addressing himself first to the bridegroom
and then to the bride, he recapitulated, in a pertinent
and impressive manner, the duties which the marriage
covenant imposed, and asked if they promised to perform
them. A bow and courtesy answered in the affirmative,
-no vocal response is necessary,-and he pronounced
them "lawfully married," &c.; and the ceremonies, the
whole occupying fifteen or twenty minutes, were concluded.
After they were all again seated, a deep silence ensued,
which was first broken by Mr. Cranfield. He made some
observations, and addressed a few words of advice to the
young married pair;-but soon whispers began to be
heard in the distant parts of the room-and finally, on
the appearance of the assistants, who were the neighbors,
-one bearing a large waiter filled with tumblers and
glasses containing wine (the real juice of the grape), and
another with a still larger waiter filled with cake,-the
god of silence (if such a deity ever presides at an assembly) resigned his charge, and a burst of loquacious gaiety
effectually prevented his return.
There were several kinds of cake, all very nice; and it
would have puzzled any one, except a professor in gout,
to have decided which was best. But what was significantly termed the wedding cake was conspicuous by being




I,FE NORTH AND SOUTH.           107
iced, covered with sugar plums of all colors and forms,
and tastefully decorated with myrtle and evergreen.
Of this cake all the young ladies, and, by their persuasions, nearly all the young men, preserved a small slice
for the purpose of placing it beneath their pillows when
retiring to rest-it being the popular opinion, that, in
consequence of its peculiar virtues, they should be favored
with dreams revealing their future destiny.
Who would wish to be always wise or grave? Not
the young while celebrating a wedding. The evening
passed delightfully to most of the party, and many an
ardent wish was breathed for the felicity of the wedded
pair.
In the changes of place which now occurred, Dr. Perkins soon elbowed his way to a seat near Sidney.
"You are obeying my instructions," were his first
words to Sidney, the direction of whose eye made them
perfectly understood.
" Why, yes. You did not imagine I would be indifferent to your panegyrics, did you?" replied Sidney.
"No, no, I had no fear of that; and now tell me honestly, have you, at the South, any beauties who surpass
her?"
" Who?-the young lady now presenting the cake to
the bride? I think not, —one, perhaps,-yet it is seldom
we find a more faultless face."
"And her mind, her disposition, Sidney, is as fair and
faultless. And after all our admiration of a perfect outside, it is the perfection within which must perpetuate
our esteem."
"You are enthusiastic in her praise, and a married
man too!" answered Sidney, laughing.
"And does being married," said Perkins, "destroy all
perceptions of beauty or virtue, except in the individual
to whom my vows are pledged? You need not be jealous, however, or imagine I feel any emotions in gazing
on the face of that fair girl which would not be awakened
by the sight of any similar piece of perfection. Yet
where is such n one to be found?  There is nothing in




108             NORTHWOOD; OR,
creation on which the eye of man can rest so lovely as
woman in her Eden charms of youth and innocence; and
I never look on such a one without thinking of the pure
pleasures there must be in heaven, where none but agreeable objects meet the sight, and where we can feel assured
they will forever retain their loveliness. The recollecting
how soon our terrestrial beauties fade, is a melancholy
drawback to me-I regard them as fair flowers, which
the first cold blast will wither."
" Yet, notwithstanding you are assured that beauty is
so evanescent, you appear to prize it very highly," said
Sidney.
"And so does every man and every woman; and for
this reason, that we associate, in our imaginations, excellence of mind and character with excellence of person.
After a few disappointments, we acknowledge the injustice of the criterion; yet still we look and admire, and it
is not till tardy reason has confirmed experience that we
are fully convinced the worth of the jewel must not be
estimated by the casket that contains it." Perkins paused,
and then added, laughing, "I have given you a longer
sermon on beauty than I intended; but George will, I
believe, give a longer one to Annie. See how attentive
he is. George is her undisguised admirer."
"Is he a favored one?" asked Sidney.
"Why, no; I think not. She esteems him undoubtedly, but I guess there is not much love in the matter;
however, it is the general opinion here that she will
marry him."
"Marry him!" repeated Sidney, looking rather blank.
"Yes, marry him," re-echoed Perkins, laughing at the
earnestness of Sidney's manner; " and should you have
any objection to urge against the fitness of the union?
George is an excellent young man, and liberally edu;
cated-a large item, you know, in his favor, especially
with the ladies. Then his father has a pretty good property, to which George is sole heir, and you can see lie
looks very well."
" There is nothing under heaven to prevent his suc



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           109
cess," said Sidney, peevishly, " as I suppose he has ample
opportunity to cultivate her good graces."
"O yes, I believe, between ourselves, that the old
deacon would give his consent with all his heart. Yet I
will give him his due; he has been very kind and indulgent to Annie since her residence with him."
" And who could be otherwise?"
" Why, no one who saw with your eyes," replied Perkins, regarding Sidney archly; "but the deacon's eyes
require more substantial charms. A good farm, a fine
horse, or even a fat cow, have beauties more congenial to
his taste than had Helen herself."
" Can you not introduce me to your belle?"
" With pleasure; and now your brother has married
her cousin you may claim some intimacy as a relation.
0, how I wish you would woo and marry her, and settle
here among us!"
A sigh was the answer to this remark.
" I shall love no more," thought Sidney, as he followd
the doctor.
" Miss Redington, Mr. Sidney Romilly, the brother of
your friend Silas," said Dr. Perkins.
The usual compliments ensued, and the doctor contrived, by displacing a couple of stout yeomen, and interrupting one or two confidential communications, to
seat Sidney and himself immediately within the bridal
circle.
The conversation soon became very lively; and Sidney supported his part with that ease and elegance which
an acquaintance with the world and with the manners
of good society alone imparts. Miss Redington had not,
since her residence in the country, met with a gentleman
of such varied information and winning deportment.
Time fled noiselessly on, unheeded by any in that circle,
and none of them seemed to remember they were ever
to separate. But a bustle began to arise at length among
the elderly part of the company, and Sidney heard the
unwelcome intelligence that it was time to retire.
Now was the time for the display of true Yankee po



110             NORTHWOOD; OR,
liteness and hospitality.  The People, especially in the
interior towns, were not, twenty-five years ago, accustomed to the courtly manner of sending cards to invite
their guests. Verbal invitations were then the compliments mostly used. And on the present occasion, there
were very urgent invitations tendered from all to all; but
Sidney in particular, was overwhelmed with their civilities.
Nor did the Englishman depart unnoticed. He was
invited over and over to "come with young Romilly"to "come at any time"-to "come and see how poor
folks live"-and assured he should "find a welcome if
he found nothing else."
And even after they had left the house and, as Sidney
thought, were fairly clear from the good company, one
farmer-looking fellow came up, and, taking Sidney by
the hand, said,"I'spose you've most forgotten me, but that makes
no odds: I remember you well enough, and want you
should come and see me and be acquainted. I have
made some improvements on my farm I should like to
show you. And pray bring this gentleman too," turning to Frankford. " I have read of the fine breed of
cattle they raise in old England, sir, but if you will take
pains to come and see me at my poor house, I guess I
can show you some that will match'em."
"HIe has a good house, I am certain," said Sidney, as
he walked with Frankford to the chaise. "You may
easily tell a rich Yankee farmer-he is always pleading
poverty."
"For what reason?" inquired Frankford: "I should
think he would rather boast."
"It is boasting in disguise. He knows that his wealth
is of a kind which will display itself; and the more he
disclaims the more minute he hopes will be your survey,
wonder, and admiration."
When they had reached home, and all drawn their
chairs around a good fire, kindled by Harvey, who had
been sent forward for that purpose, Sidney asked Frank



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           111
ford how he liked the wedding and the appearance of
the people.
" Shall I answer you on my honor, and in sincerity?"
said the Englishman.
" Yes-sincerely," replied Sidney.
"Well, your wedding ceremony was very interesting,
and your people appeared better than I expected, andI will speak truth-better than I wished: all except
your deacon-he is a most confounded bore,-although
now connected with your family."
" Make no difference on that account," replied Sidney;
" say of him what you please, we will resign him entirely
to your mercy."
" I should show him but little if his destiny depended
on me," said the Englishman, " for I received none at his
hands. Did you see our encounter?"
"No; nothing particular. I thought, however, you
and the deacon were engaged in some interesting discussion."
"As agreeable as you were enjoying by the side of
that beautiful girl! Strange, with what delusive coloring
imagination invests objects! WVhen we are happy ourselves, we think no one need complain. I wish you had
been compelled to exchange seats with me for one half
hour, at least."
" Why, you had the best seat in the apartment," remarked Squire Romilly, " and was treated with marked
attention, I thought."
" That I willingly acknowledge," said Frankford. " My
chair was a good one, and the cake and wine, both excellent, were almost forced upon me by that motherlylooking deaconess, in quantities sufficient to have satisfied
the appetite of a Milo."
"Of what, then, do you complain?" inquired Sidney.
"Of your cursed long-winded deacon," replied Frankford.  He was resolutely bent on coercing my admiration, and I have had to listen to every minutia of his
history, from the hour of his birth, up to this twenty-fifth
of November, 18-."




112              NORTHWOOD; OR,
"And have been much edified, I presume," said Sidney, laughing heartily, "or you would'have contrived
to have escaped him."
"Escape him, Romilly!" ejaculated the Englishman,
"the thting was impossible; I might as well have escaped
from Newgate. He drew his chair opposite mine, and
so close that our noses were more than once absolutely
in contact. And then he poured forth his tribulations,
and he has undergone more perils than ever did St.
Paul. I have been through the wars to some purpose.
First the old French war, as he called it, where, at the
age of thirteen, he made his debut in arms; and then the
war of the Revolution, where, if we credit him, the
British were sorely beaten, and chiefly by his invincible
valor. Then he commenced his civil life,-moved into
the wilderness-felled forest trees-and fought wolves;
till, finally, he had succeeded in bringing his farm into
the best state of cultivation of any one in the town of
Northwood; as was evident from his having obtained
the premium for the best calf at the last cattle show."
" And so ended his history?"
" No, indeed, I found it only the exordium. Then
came an eulogium on his wife's talents for managing a
dairy; next the marriages of his daughters, and the
death of his son. And I congratulated myself on having
arrived near the conclusion, for death,'as I thought, was
the end of all; but my joy was soon turned to sorrow,
for from the decease of that child he dated his experience; and very minutely le related the travail of his
soul, I assure you; from thence the transition was easy
to the state of the church, and the zeal with which he
had labored in its formation; and finally, and lastly, I
found he had been deacon thereof for the space of nine
years."
The mirth of Sidney, and indeed of the Squire and
family, at this recital, was too violent to be restrained,
and the room echoed with their peals of laughter.
Frankford's countenance, at first, betrayed some cha



LI'E aNORTH1 AND SOUTH.          113
grin; but the sympathy of good hunbor at length conquered, and he joined heartily in the mirth.
"You will probably, Mr. Frandford, report this conversation, as a perfect specimen of Yankee manners and
character," said Squire Romilly.
"And if I should, sir," replied the Englishman,
" could you tax me with being guilty of much error or
exaggeration? I shall make exceptions," continued he,
looking round on the family, till his eye rested on Sophia; "but exceptions, you know, do not invalidate a
general rule."
" Yet in fixing the standard of national character and
manners," said the Squire, " we consider the influence
which wisdom and talent exert in the state, and not
the wisdom and talents of every individual who composes it. Your nation is renowned for literature and
arts; yet the number of educated persons bears no proportion to the ignorant. And your national character
is decided by the influence men of honor and abilities
exercise over public sentiment.  We ask a like indulgence. It is true we have citizens who are and deserve
to be ridiculed by Europeans; but they are not those
who possess most of the esteem and confidence of their
own countrymen. Shall I conclude, because I find you,
sir, an accomplished gentleman, that of such is the majority of your inhabitants? And should I make the
tour of England, would such expectations be realized?
You smile, and I presume would not wish me to measure the intelligence, manners and morals of the farmers
of Yorkshire, the manufacturers of Birmingham, and
miners of Cornwall by such a standard. Neither must
you decide, because you find among us those who are
egotists in conversation and bigots in religion, that egotism and bigotry are therefore characteristics of Americlans.'




114              NORTHWOOD; OR.
CHAPTER X.
A WALK AND A TALK.
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
As You LIKE IT.
WY-^;r Frankford entered the breakfast room next
morning, the first object that presented itself was Sidney, sitting on a low seat at the farthest part of the
room, and surrounded by the junior members of the
family, all talking in the loud and animated tones of
eager exultation.
" What do you find so very delightful, Romilly?"
said the Englishman to Sidney, who was laughing
heartily.
"I am showing brother Sidney my cyphering book,"
said Harvey, his bright eyes sparkling with conscious
importance, " and I told him I could repeat every word
in my geography."
" And here is my writing book," cried Mary, the
rose waxing deeper on her round cheek, "and I had
this premium for being at the head of my class the
last day."
"I have read this here story book twenty times,"
said little Lydia, lisping so as almost to need an interpreter, " and ma' gave me this pretty picture to reward
me."
Mr. Frankford advanced and examined the specimens
of these infant competitors for literary honors; then turning to Harvey,




LIFE NOi:t'l' ANI) SOUTH.        115
"You understand geography, you say?"
"Yes, 0 yes, every question in it," exclaimed the
child.
Mr. Frankford opened the map of the world;-" I am
an Englishman," said he, " now show me my country."
Harvey immediately pointed to Great Britain.
"And where am I now?"
" ere, sir, right here in New Hampshire," replied the
boy, laying his finger on the little mark distinguishing
that state.
" Am I far from my country?" inquired Frankford.
" O yes, sir three thousand miles; I should not like
to be so far off," replied Harvey; and a shade of concern
passed over his smiling countenance.
"And what rout must I take when I wish to return
omne?" continued the Englishman.'' 0, you must sail across the Atlantic, and through
the Brittish Channel, and up the Thames, and so to London, if your home is in London?" And he looked up
inquiringly in the face of his questioner.
MAr. Frankford smiled.
"I do live there, my little fellow; and when you grow
a man, if you should ever sail across the Atlantic, and
tl:rough the British Channel, and up the Thames, and so
to London, come to my house and I will welcome you."
Then taking from his pocket a handful of money, he
presented a crown to each of the children, telling them
to purchase a Christmas box with it, when the time came,
as he should not be there to make them presents.
Squire Romilly and his wife were spectators of this
scene; the latter, who had just placed her toast and coffee
on the table, seemed to forget they were cooling. They
looked at each other, then at their children;-a tear of
delight dimmed the eve of the mother-a smile lighted
up the benevolent features of the father. It was a happy
and proud moment in their lives; such as only is enjoyed
when we see our fond exertions crowned with success,
and feel that virtue approves the means we have takes
to secure it.




116             NORTHWOOD; OR,
When they were seated at the table, Mr. Frankford
inquired if it were really true that the whole population
of New England was educated.
"If by being educated," replied the Squire, " you mean
a knowledge of reading, writing, arithmetic, grammar
and geography, or what we term a common school education, the whole population is educated. Every child
in the New England States has the privilege of attending
our free schools; a noble institution, and unparalleled in
the annals of the world."
"Yes," replied the Englishman, " I have heard something about your free schools. If I remember rightly,
you usually have one in every township."
The parents smiled, and the children, who were attentively listening to this conversation, were heard to titter.
"Your information," said the Squire, "is hardly correct. The number of free schools in a town depends on
the number of inhabitants. The towns are divided into
districts, each containing usually from twenty to sixty
children under age, or minors, as you would express it.
Every district is required, by law, to furnish a schoolhouse; and whenever a district becomes too populous to
allow the children to be accommodated in one building,
or by the superintendence of one teacher, it is subdivided,
on an application of the freemen of that district to the
authorities of the town, and after a vote in the affirmative
is taken on the question. We now have seven school
districts in Northwood, and in a few years shall probably
hIave more."
"And do you maintain schools constantly in every
part of your town?" inquired the Englishman.
"No, not constantly in any part. Our public money,
which is raised by a tax on our polls and ratable estates,
is proportioned among the several districts; in some
towns, according to the number of scholars; in others,
of property, each district usually receiving sufficient to
support a school six months in a year. Thus every child
-the poor equally with the rich-from the ages of four
to twenty-one, have the privilege of attending school six




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           117
months in each year. They do not all avail themselves
of the extent of this privilege; but none dare neglect it
entirely, as the person who could not at least read and
write, would almost be thought infamous. Nothing, except gross vices, renders one so completely contemptible,
among us, as ignorance. And it is to this general diffusion of knowledge, and the influence it possesses in moulding the character and directing the passions, that we owe
most of the moral and political blessings we enjoy. Universal education, sir, is the broad foundation on which
we are rearing the imperishable structure of our liberties
and national glory."
The good Squire was now in his element, as every free
born American is when the independence and glory of
his country are the themes of discussion; and he might
have launched forth in encomiums, which the fastidious
pride of the Englishman would have styled a rhodomontade, had he not luckily been interrupted by the hasty
entrance of Doctor Perkins.
"I have come," said the Doctor, addressing himself to
Sidney, " commissioned to give you and your friend, Mr.
F.rankford, an invitation to join our ball this evening. I
will not promise you the brilliancy of a London rout, or
a Charleston assembly; but you shall see many happy
faces, and some handsome ones, and receive a cordial
welcome from generous men, and amiable women."
"What say you, Mr. Frankford," said Sidney to the
Englishman, who was scrutinizing his card as if willing
to find some blunder-" shall we attend?"
" I shall not probably be able to join the festivity," replied he, "but I will go with pleasure, unless Deacon
Jones is to be there."
"The Deacon!" exclaimed Perkins; "why, he would
sooner attend a levee of Pluto. But Miss Redington will
be there, and I feel in duty bound to give Sidney the
information, although I fear it will prevent him from attending."
"Annie Redington!" cried Mrs. Romilly; "I don't
see how that should hinder Sidney from going. She is




118              NORTHWOOD; OR,
the best girl in the world-always so pleasant to every
one, and as industrious as if she had lived all her life in
the country, instead of being at the top of Boston."
"Will George Cranfield join you?" inquired Sidney.
"No," replied the Doctor; "he never dances. It is a
deference to his father's profession, which it becomes him
to pay, as he is also qualifying himself for the desk. Yet
he does not condemn dancing, when enjoyed with moderation, and on suitable occasions."
"He thinks with me," said the Squire, " that there is
a time to dance. I have come to that conclusion after a
serious, and, as I believe, a candid examination of the
arguments on both sides of the question. My liberality
has drawn on me severe censures from some of my
brethren, but I cannot place my conscience in the keeping of any mortal, however honest he may be in his
opinion. I must judge and act according to the light
imparted me, and, until I am convinced of the evil of a
practice, I shall not condemn it to gratify others."
"Then we have your approbation for this evening's
amusement?" said Sidney.
"Certainly; and my best wishes that you may be
happy while enjoying it."
It was soon settled they would attend; and then Doctor Perkins departed, after enjoining it on Frankford and
Sidney to dine with him the ensuing day.
"Would you not like to walk out this morning," said
the Squire to his son, "and look about the farm to see
what improvements we have made during your absence?"
"Yes, I should," replied Sidney: " it is the proposal I
was just intending to make. But how will Mr. Frankford be entertained in the meantime? If he go with us,
he will probably have to listen to pretty much such a
discourse as the deacon gave him last evening."'It will, at least," said the Englishman, smiling, " be
free from religious cant. The good sense of your father
ensures me that; and I can tolerate anything better than
the puritanical zeal which exalts itself at tje expense of
every social virtue and innocent enjoyment; which




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            119
knows no pleasure save that of getting money, and
acknowledges no excellence except in a particular and
exclusive mode of faith."
"You seem to forget," replied the Squire, "that our
country is the only one in which liberty of conscience is
fully and perfectly enjoyed. And while no one denomination can claim pre-eminence except what purer principles or better arguments afford, is it a wonder each
should endeavor, as far as possible, to uphold its own
purity and truth?  The discipline of our churches is
more strict, and the walk of our professors obliged to be
more circumspect, than with you; and this severity and
strictness doubtless has a tendency to nourish spiritual
pride. But where do you find excellence without a foil?
In judging of each other, we should never forget that
"Charity hopeth all things."  Charity is the virtue for
which there is no substitute: if we are deficient in that,
mene,mene, tekel, upharsin, will be written upon us.  I
am of Pope's opinion:
"In ftith and hope the world may disagree;
But all mankind's concern is charity.
They were now prepared for their walk. The morning
was beautiful for the season, though the night had been
cold, and the frost yet remained where the beams of the
sun had not penetrated.
"The autumn has been an extraordinary mild one,"
said the Squire: "we commonly calculate on a fall of
snow about Thanksgiving, and intend, if possible, to have
our crops gathered in, and everything snug and secured
by that time. I hurried the boys very much, fearing we
should have a storm; but it don't come yet."
"Your winters commence early," said the Englishman.
"And continue late," replied the Squire. "We have
a cold climate and rough soil to contend with; but the
certainty of enjoying the fruits of their industry will
animate men to encounter and overcome almost every
obstacle. We labor hard, sir but we labor for ourselves;




120              NORTHWOOD, OR,
and Sidney will, I presume, acknowledge there is some
difference between voluntary and forced exertion."
"Yes, indeed," replied Sidney. "I recollect perfectly
well, when I first went to the South and saw the slaves
at labor, I used to think my father would never allow his
workmen to be so idle; and many times have I wanted
to show them how to work; but their implements were
so uncouth, I could not blame them entirely."
As they passed the farm yard, they saw Harvey busily
employed in driving forth the cows, that they might
obtain a scanty supply of food from the adjoining field.
To some inquiries of Frankford's, the Squire observed
he did not keep a great number of cattle.
" My usual number," said he, "is about twenty head
of horned cattle, two horses and a flock of sheep. Some
of my neighbors winter a much larger stock; but I do
not intend any shall have a better one. I always take
care to winter no more than I can feed well, and by that
means my oxen are able to do much more work, and my
cows give double the quantity of milk they would do if
poorly fed. But I will not tire you," he continued, turning to Frankford with a smile, "by relating all my history at one time. I am more fortunate than Deacon
Jones. As you stay longer with me, I shall be able to
communicate it by degrees, and thus save you from being
entirely overcome."
As he concluded, Harvey, mounted on a high-spirited
colt, galloped past them, and rode a little distance to open
a gate for his flock. " That boy rides like a Cossack,"
said Frankford. " I should think it dangerous, however,
to allow him such a pastime."
"His mother is of your opinion," said the Squire;
"but I tell her if we run no risk, we can expect no reward. Courage and skill are not to be taught by lectures,
Mr. Frankford; they must be acquired by practice, and
improved by braving danger; and the younger we begin
our lessons the better. An axe, a horse and a gun, were
among the first indulgences my boys coveted; and I




LIFE NORTHI AND SOUTH.          121
always gratified them when reason did not absolutely
forbid. My wife says I have often violated prudence."
In such conversation they beguiled their walk, till
they had proceeded about half a mile, and reached a
brook, as we call it; but which in Europe would have
been dignified with the name of a river.
This brook, issuing from the pond Sidney had so much
admired, and taking an easterly course, watered the fields
on the south of the village, and formed a strip of meadow
land which only wanted better cultivation to be very
productive.
The land on the opposite side of the stream had never
(to use the phrase of the country) been cleared; ahid
btlack alders, and evergreens, intermingled with berrybearing bushes, hung over the water, and extended back
some distance till they were met by taller trees. These
soon thickening to a forest, stretched away to the base
of a mountain, whose broken ridges and unequal eminences, now softened with a covering of shrubbery, and
now rearing their bold and rocky foreheads to the clouds,
bounded the horizon of the village, and seemed to forbid
access from that quarter.
Along this brook, which the heavy rains usually preceding winter in North America had swelled to a rapid
stream, Squire Romilly now proceeded. There was nothing apparent to excite or gratify curiosity, and Frankford more than once wondered why such a route had
been chosen. But the Squire had a motive. He wished
to discover whether Sidney would recollect a place in
the stream, where he had once narrowly, and, as it were,
providentially, escaped drowning. Nothing had been
mentioned of the circumstance, and when they came opposite the spot, which, ever since the accident, had gone
by the name of the "deep holes," Squire lomilly paused
and entered into conversation with the Englishman, to
allow Sidhey full time for the examination of the scene.
The incidents which befall us in childhood and youth,
are well and long remembered; and it is then the habits
and principles, which through life iniluence our actions




122              NORTHWOOD; OR,
and determine our characters, are almost always imbibed.
In childhood the seed is sown; its growth may be
stinted by circumstances; its maturity retarded by situation; its fruit materially altered by culture; yet it will
still partake, in a degree, the qualities and flavor of its
original stock.
Here was the spot where Sidney, when snatched from
the water, had kneeled to thank God for sending him
rescue; and here his father had often, during the absence
of his son, retired to meditate on the goodness which had
then so singularly interposed, and strengthen his faith
that the same Providence was still watchful and able to
preserve his child though plunged in the chilling stream
of affliction, or hurried away by the more dangerous,
because insidious current of pleasure.
Squire Romilly had never made or allowed any alterations in this spot, and he could not doubt but Sidney
must recollect it.
He did so, but the emotions and train of thought it
wakened, were too painful for communication; and turning from his father and Frankford, he stood silent with
his eyes fixed on the stream. He thought of the feelings
he had there experienced; the wild terror, the struggle
for life, the agony when the remembrance of his mother,
and how she would weep,' came over him; and then he
shrieking called on his father: he knew not that he was
near, but his father came and snatched him from the
waters!
Oh! the joy to escape from death! and his father held
him to his breast, and he felt the warm tears bedew his
cheek.
He remembered, too, how, while he was endeavoring
to thank that kind parent, his father interrupted him
and bade him thank God, for Hie it was who had preserved him. Then his father kneeled and he with him,
and he remembered how he there mentally promised
never to forget the Being his father adored with such
gratitude.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           123
But he had forgotten Him, and there arose in his mind
confused images of many scenes in which he had participated, that his father's prudence and piety would have
condemned; and he dreaded, so powerful is conscience
when first awakened, to meet his eye, lest its expression
should convey a reproach that the life he thus preserved
had been devoted to folly.
There is a sacredness in the emotions of early piety,
for gratitude to God is piety, which hallows its recollections even to the heart which has been enervated by
pleasure, or hardened by an intimacy with selfishness
and vice; and Sidney, while his mind wandered backward and dwelt on the innocent and happy days of his
childhood, was tempted to wish he had then resigned his
life; even then when his spirit would have returned to
heaven pure as when breathed by the goodness of his
Creator.
"That stream interests you much," said Frankford.
"I should think it recalled recollections similar to the
pond that we passed in our way hither."
Sidney raised his head-his eye met his father's; —
there was something'in its expression which seemed to
say,
"My son, is your heart yet pure?  Can you still,
when in danger, look confidently to Him who must save,
or you will perish forever?"
"This spot," said Sidney, striving to speak cheerfully,
"has not much claim to my admiration, although a deep
place in my memory. It was here when, about nine
years old, in attempting to swim I once went beyond my
depth, and should not now have related the story had
not my father unexpectedly come to my aid."
" Yet it was not to me I told you to ascribe the favor,"
said his father, watching with anxiety his son's varying
countenance.
"Am I certain it was a favor?" returned Sidney. "I
have sometimes thought long life was not greatly to be
d esired. "
"To those who improve it as they ought, it is un



124               NORTHWOOD; OR,
doubtedly a blessing.  I have lived nearly fifty years,
and never did one pass without bringingl cormforts and
mercies in its train; and not one that I cannot reflect on
with satisfaction and gratitude," said the Squire.
" Then the fault must be mine, I suppose," returned
Sidney; "but I confess I have, even in my short career,
at times thought life was a dear purchase, and that those
only who were fools or cowards coveted it."
" I fear, my son," replied the affectionate father, while
the tears of parental concern filled his eyes, "I fear your
acquaintance with the world has not contributed to your
happiness."
"Do you think, sir," inquired the Englishman, "that
an acquaintance with the world, as it is termed, that is,
with its follies and vices, is ever productive of happiness?
Some philosophers have asserted that man can be happy
only in proportion to his removal from acivilized state,
and that of all nations now existing, the savage are the
best entitled to pretend to innocence and happiness."
"And I wish,' replied the Squire, "that all such philosophers were compelled to test the truth of their theories by an actual residence of a few years with the people
they so much admire."''he subject of conversation had changed, and neither
Sidney nor his father seemed disposed to renew it. Leaving the brook, therefore, they walked on in silence, and,
ascending a rising ground, passed a very large thriftylookin orchardl, when Squire u lomilly interrupted the
meditations of his guests, by descanting oil the goodness
and quantity of fruit it produced, assuring thei thtt,
"take one year with anotler, lie made forty barrels of
cider; anld," continued he, "the cider I sell, or the greater
portion,-live or six barrels of cider, with plenty of homebrewed beer, and my wife's currant wine, are all the
liquors we use in our family, and all we find necessary
to enable us to support fatigue, or enjoy a social visit of
our friends.
After walkingl a little farther, they reached an eminence
which thle Sqtire told tllhlm comnlandlled a viewc of his




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            125
whole farm, and indeed most of the neighborhood, and
they turned to examine the prospect.
Before and below them lay the village, with its irregular buildings, of all sizes, shapes and colors, which the
owners thereof could devise or obtain, each wishing to
give some distinguishing characteristic to his own dwelling. Above all, rose the meeting-house, with its towering spire and cunning fish, catching a brilliancy from the
morning beams, which every inhabitant of the briny
deep might have envicd.
North and south stretched the cultivated fields of the
villagers, all now brown and scared; but from their situation, and the degree of cultivation they exhibited, there
was no doubt but they well rewarded their owners for
the industry which had thus made the harvests wave on
the site of the wilderness.
And to the honor of this little community, most of
whom were farmers, it shall be recorded, that nearly all
the stumps-I wish I could write all-were removed. It
is the appearance of these stumps which, to the eye accustomed to the neatness of European cultivation, particularly the English, so much disfigures the scenery
throughout most of New England, and, indeed, of all
North America. But in this pleasant village, the stumps
had disappeared, and the stones, too, had been mostly
removed, and used in forming enclosures around the
fields. Many cattle and sheep were scattered over these
fields, picking a scanty meal from the withered herbage,
and their unsatisfied hunger keeping them continually
shifting their places, gave to the scene an appearance of
animation and interest which Erankford remarked with
admiration.
"Why, yes," said the Squire, "those cattle stirring so,
make everything look alive. And, indeed, I think men
never appear more happy or more honorable than when
surrounded by their natural dependents, those animals
which are willingly subjected to their sway, and glad to
receive protection from them. Their brethren are not
thus easily subdued."




126              NORTHWOOD; OR,
"And yet," said the Enlishman, " there are, in your
free country, human beings, brothers I suppose you would
call them, in a condition which degrades them to a level
with yonder brutes."
"I acknowledge it," returned the Squire, "and I feel
it is a stain on our national character, and none could
more heartily rejoice to see the evil removed. But the
sin of introduction, Mr. Frankford, is not on the Americans. They did not wish it; indeed they zealously opposed it. It was forced upon them by Great Britain,
whose colonies we then were; and Englishmen should
not reproach us with the system of slavery, when the
power of England alone effected its introduction."
The good Squire spoke with warmth, and in an elevation of tone he seldom used. Frankford carelessly replied.
" Your statements are undoubtedly true, yet your
southern planters seem willing enough to continue the
system. I presume they find it a very useful and convenient thing, and doubt not it would require a much
greater exertion of power to suppress slavery than it did
to introduce it."
"And of necessity it must," said the Squire. "Wie
all know that habits, when once formed, even though
they may have been adopted with reluctance or aversion,
are often thought necessary to our happiness and sometimes to our existence. It is this principle in human nature which should make us very sedulous to guard our
hearts and lives from the approaches of evil. I have no
doubt many of the slave-holders would rejoice to have
the southern states entirely freed from slaves, and cultivated in the same manner we Yankees do at'the north.
They cannot be blind to the evils of the system-they
certainly are not blind to its dangers; but the difficulty
is to provide a remedy. I have thought much on the
subject, especially since Sidney's residence at the south,
and I own I do not see how the masters can, at present,
do better by their slaves than treat them humanely; but
I hope and pray the time may come when they can be




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            127
emancipated without danger to themselves or the country."
"You may hope, but do you seriously believe such a
time will ever come in this country?"
"I do," replied the Squire, firmly.
"When?"
"Times and seasons are known only to the Most High."
"It is very easy to prophesy a good time coming, and
leave it for Providence to bring about," said Frankford,
dryly. "Now the British people and parliament are in
earnest; our West India slaves will soon be freed,
whether the right time has come or not."' Well, t try the experiment. We may learn something
from its workings, though I do not anticipate any favorable results to the cause of freedom and humanity from
such a step," said the Squire.




128               NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XI.
THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING.'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume,
And we are weeds without it. All constraint,
Except what wisdom lays on evil men,
Is evil.                 COwPER.
THE Squire would probably have expatiated at length
on the topic of slavery, for it was one, in all its bearings
with which he was better acquainted than most of his
neighbors, having been often compelled by the animadversions of some of his less prosperous neighbors, and
above all, from the fiery abolition zeal of Deacon Jones,
to defend his conduct, in placing Sidney in a slaveholding country; but they were interrupted by the report of
a gun a few paces off, in a wood on their left.
They had heard the same a number of times during
their walk, and Frankford had been on the point of inquiring the cause of its frequency, but had been prevented, at the moment, by some conversation which it
was difficult to interrupt. I-Ie now inquired, but before
lhe could receive an answer, a lad appeared issuing from
the wood, his gun supported on his shoulder with one
hand, and in the other was a quantity of game. As he
sprung over a tree which had been blown down, and
which had prevented his seeing the party, he stood directly before them.
"You are hunting, then, this morning, Luther," said
the Squire; "do you have good luck?"
"0, pretty considerably good, sir," replied the youth;
" I have killed these here five squirrels, two patridges
and a blue-jay. I was out as soon as'twas light, but




LIFE NORTH AND1) SOUTH.         129
the game a'nt half so plenty as'twas a month ago, when
your Jim and Amos WVinter had their squirrel hunt."
" Are you fond of hunting, young man?" asked Mr.
Frankford, attentively surveying the stripling who was
standing so erect before them. His hat was set smartly
on his head, and he was neatly though plainly dressed;
while the exercise the pastime he was enjoying required, gave a deeper glow of health to his ruddy countenance, now lighted up with the keen animation of the
sportsman. But what rendered him most peculiarly an
object of interest to the foreigner was, that air and look
of fearless confidence, blended with an expression of
civility and a willingness to oblige, which, in this land
of equality, distinguishes the poorest of our free citizens
from the peasantry of every other country in the world.
" Fond of hunting?" repeated the youth, " I guess I
am, sir. When my gun is good and game plenty, I
love it better than eating ywhen I am hungry."
"And how is your gun now?" inquired Sidney, laying his hand on the neat fowling piece.
The lad instantly resigned it.
" O0 it is a capital one," he replied; "I don't believe
there ever was a better, though my father is always
praising his old Queen Anne rifle, and telling how many
times he fired it without missing at the battle of Bennington, and how General Stark praised him; but I
tell him I know I could fire this as many times without missing."
" You endeavor to keep alive the memory of your
battles, I see," said the Englishman, turning to the
Squire with a look of affected indifference.
" Why, yes," replied he, "the war of our revolution was too important in its consequences to allow its
details to be soon forgotten. Wte, at least, shall preserve
them."
"What are you intending to do with your game?"
inquired Frankford, addressing the young hunter; "do
you eat these animals?" and he pointed to the squirrels
and the jay.
f5*




130              NORTHWOOD; OR,
"Eat them," repeated the lad, laughing, yet looking
full in the stranger's face with a glance of keen inquiry,
as if endeavoring to ascertain whetler the question were
prompted by pleasantry or contempt; "no, I guess not.
Why, sir, John Watson and I are captains of the hunting match, and we have agreed to carry all the whole
squirrels we kill; sometimes they carry only the heads,
but then they cheat plaguily, for they'll kill'em a week
beforehand, sir, and they can keep heads better than
whole squirrels. But we intend to have everything fair
and square, and so we carry whole ones; and every partridge and blue jay counts one, and the side that is beaten
pays for the supper and toddy."
Frankford, when asking his question, which was
prompted merely by the wish of changing a conversation
in which he found he could obtain no laurels, little anticipated such an animated reply; and the effect was entirely to dispel his chagrin for the allusion to the Bennington battle; and his countenance, from an expression
of mortified vanity and a little contempt, relaxed during
the harangue of Luther Merrill to the merry pleasantry of broad good humor, while again addressing Luther.
" You say you are a captain-pray how many men do
you command?"
"We have twelve on each side, sir, besides boys to
carry the game. I engaged a boy to go with me, but he
did'nt come. But yonder comes Harvey —now Squire,
I wish you'd let him go with me."
This request was eagerly backed by Harvey, who
came bounding up the hill to tell his father he had " done
all the chores himself, for Sam and Oliver went off early
to the shooting match, and now," continued he, "I want
to go and play, for it is the day after Thanksgiving."
" Well, go," said the indulgent father, " but mind my
boy, and keep out of the way of the guns, and take care,
Luther, and do no mischief in your fun."
Both promised to be careful, and striking into the
woods,'were out of sight in a moment; in the next, the




LIFE NORTIH AND SOUThI.          131
report of the gun, followed by the loud laugh of Harvey, and the shout, "he's dead, he's dead, Luther!" justified the encomiums the latter had bestowed on his fowling piece.
"Have you any laws for the securing of your game?"
inquired the Englishman; "or do your people hunt
wherever they please?"
" Just where they please," returned the Squire. "The
beasts of the forest, the birds of the air, and the fish of
the sea, are not protected by our institutions. We, sir,
make laws for freemen, and no statutes assimilating their
condition to that of slaves would be endured."
"But your laws ensure to every citizen his rights of
property," rejoined the other. "Now, on my estate, I
consider the game as the most valuable part of my property."
"That," returned the Squire, "is because you have
been accustomed to such considerations. But reason, if
we consult it, will tell us that whatever we have bestowed
cost or labor upon, or have received by transmission
from those who possessed by such a right, is the only
property we can rightfully claim the exclusive privilege
of enjoying or transmitting to others. The animals whiqh
own no master, and subsist without any care from man,
being dependent on nature alone, cannot belong to any
individual."
"Well, if I were the owner of an estate here," said
Frankford, " I would endeavor to have some regulations,
giving me the exclusive right to game on my own estate.
Do you not think such a statute, if enacted, could be
enforced?"
"No, not for any length of time."
"What! would your Yankees take the field and oppose it with their rifles?"
"No, I think not; but'with weapons you would find
quite as efficient-with their votes at the poll.  You
gentlemen, accustomed to nonarchical institutions, are
apt to confound our liberty with licentiousness; but no
people, as a people, are more submissive to the laws than




132               NORTHWOOD; OR,
the freemen of our United States; every good citizen
holding himself responsible for the execution of those
wholesome regulations he has either directly or indirectly
contributed to make, and for the observance of the constitution. No, sir, I do not think there would be any
hostile measures used until we had exhausted all pacific
ones. We should probably forbear trespassing on your
grounds till the next meeting of the legislature; taking
good care, in the meantime, to elect such members as
would, then and there, repeal your exclusive statute."
" Yes, I presume so," returned the Englishman. " The
rabble here have entirely the ascendancy, and every man
who can contrive to get himself nominated is eligible to
office.  I think, in New Hampshire, you require no
qualifications of rank, property, character or religion: a
proper age is all the requisite."
"We acknowledge no rank," observed the Squire,
"and perfect liberty of conscience is enjoyed by all;
consequently, the rank or religious creed of an individual
can have no influence on his election. That we pay no
deference to property, is not certainly a reproach: we
cannot be taxed with selling our votes to the highest
bidder; but character is very essential. I do not believe
a man guilty of gross and notorious vices would consent
to become a candidate for any office. The press, sir, is
with us perfectly free; and the opposition would drag
every hidden sin to light; and public opinion, when
rightly directed, exercises a censorship more appalling
to vice than any punishment a tyrant could inflict."
"And is no mischief to be apprehended from   the
expression and influence of popular sentiment? Is the
voice of the people always the voice of justice? You,
sir, are well read in ancient history, and will recollect
Aristides was banished by the vote of the people! In
the hands of upright and intelligent men like yourself,
Squire Iomilly, power may be safely trusted: it is the
preponderance of the rabble which will prove your
destruction."
"While public opinion is enlightened by universal




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            133
education," answered the Squire, "there is but little
cause to fear injustice from popular sentiment, or the
subversion of our institutions. Had all the Athenians
who voted for the banishment of Aristides been capable
of writing their own names on the shells, the ostracism
against him might not have been obtained. Nor have
we, in the New England States, many such persons as
you designate by the appellation of rabble. There may
be, in the cities, a few worthy of that ancient and significant name; yet not many of these are native-born
American citizens. We are an industrious, sober, quiet
and orderly people, generally reflecting before we act,
and examining before we decide; and this our history,
if you should ever think it worth your examination, will
abundantly prove."
During this long (and rather dull, is it not?) conversation, Sidney had remained silent, and apparently absorbed in no very pleasant meditations; and the anxiety with
which his father frequently regarded him, manifested a
suspicion that all was not well with this still favorite
child.
But the bustling importance with which Mrs. iornilly
welcomed their return, and the anxiety she expressed
lest Mr. Frankford should have caught cold, or be too
much fatigued by his walk, allowed Sidney time to recover his wonted flow of spirits and usual serenity of
countenance.
The day passed pleasantly away; to Sidney and his
family it was rendered exquisitely delightful by the interchange of interesting communications, and the confidence of mutual inquiries; to the Englishman it was
uniaue at least. It displayed human nature in a light
which he had never beheld nor considered probable.
Iere was the father of a family living in all the simplicity of retirement, inuring his children to habits of
prudence and laborious industry; yet cultivating in them
a taste for the refinements of literature.and the love of
science, and cherishing in their minds hopes of obtaining
the highest honors and privileges their country could be



134              NORTHWOOD; OR,
stow, by superior merit alone, without the subterfuges
of artifice or the favor of the great.
Squire iomilly was a man exactly calculated to win
on the mind of prejudice, and remove those unfavorable
impressions which arise more from misapprehension than
actual dislike. Ills good sense and extensive information
on every subject connected with the history and political
situation, not only of his own country, but of Europe,
made his conversation at once interesting and instructive;
but what rendered it more agreeable to the stranger, was
the candor with which he listened to objections Frankford sometimes urged against particular customs or institutions of the Americans; the deference and admiration
he expressed for the English character and literature, and
above all, the entire suppression of that boasting spirit
which, to foreigners, is often disgustingly visible in our
countrymen.
The hour for attending theball, seven o'clock, had arrived, and they were all assembled in the sitting-room,
waiting the coming of the carriage-a stage coach, hired
by the managers for the occasion, and driven round to
collect the company —when Harvey came running, alnost
breathless, into the apartment, to tell that the squirrelhunt was over, and they had just counted the game.
"And has Captaiin-I forget his name-conquered?"
asked Frankford.
"0 no, no, sir!" replied Harvey, "Luther hunted and
hunted, and killed twenty-nine himself; but his side is
beaten for all that. John Watson has five the most; but
Luther says he knows he cheated, and I know he did."
"  arvey," said his father, in a mild but reproachful
tone, "should you like to be accused of cheating?"
The child felt the rebuke; he hung his head and cast
down his bright eyes with a look of shame.
"I guess he cheated," said he; "I am sure Luther ought
to have beaten."
"  ow soon," said Squire Romilly, turningl to Frank
ford, "our feelings will warp our sense of justice! Be
cause Harvey has attended Luther Merrill to-day, he en




LIKE NORTH AND SOUTh.            135
ters entirely into his interest, and that so warmly, he can
see no merit ill his competitor. It is of thle first importance to impress on the miiin.ds of chiildren and youth, the
precept of doing, as they wAould be done by-no other
principle will preserve their integrity at the age when
reason is feeble and appetite and passion strong."
"Yet I cannot much blame my little friend here for
his preference," said 1'rankford; "to confess the truth, I
entered very heartily into the interest of that Merrill.
Ile looked so frank, so confident of success, and so happy,
that I feel really sorry disappointment has overtaken
him."
"What if we try to mitigate his misfortune," said Sidney; "I suppose it is mostly of the pecuniary kind."
" 0 no," replied the Squire; "our young hunters feel
heavily the disgrace of being beaten. Not, perhaps, so
much as your Wellington would have done at Waterloo,
but enough to mortify them very sensibly."
"IIe shall feel no other inconvenience at this time,"
said Sidney, takling out his pocket book. "Pray, Harvey, do you know what the bill for supper was expected
to be?"
"I heard brother Oliver say," replied the child, "it
would be as much as fifty cents a-piece."
"And there are twelve of them," said his father;' how much, Iarvey, will be the amount of the whole
bill?"
"IIow much?-why, just six dollars, sir," he replied,
after a moment's hesitation.
"You allow no opportunity of instructing your children to pass unimproved, I see," said the Englishman.
"I endeavor to give them advice and information at
the moment they feel its need," replied the Squire; " they
will then appreciate its value. The formality of lectures
is of but little importance. in correcting imprudences of
practice, or ilparltirng practical knowledge."
Sidney had now taken out his pocket book. "Allow
me to go shares in your liberality," said the Englishman.
"No, sir, no," replied Sidney; "I have taken this




136              NORTHWOOD; OR,
affair wholly on myself. We will only, in our behalf,
tax you with a generosity of spirit in judging of our
character and customs; on your purse we need make no
demands."
He then delivered the money to Harvey, with clirections, and Frankford, notwithstanding Sidney's objections,
would add a crown to defray, he said, any extra expense
which might arise. Harvey having received the cash
and orders, scampered off, happier than ever was a candidate for political honors in obtaining the object of his
ambition; for his happiness arose solely from the pure
benevolent idea of the felicity he was commissioned to
impart to others.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            137
CHAPTER XII.
THE BALL AND THE BELLE.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, whlen youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
CHILDE HAROLD.
THE ball which our visitors were invited to attend,
was given at the public hotel, the room appropriated to
this amusement being always designated "the hall."
This hall, a spacious room, in the estimation of the
company, had been splendidly fitted up for the occasion.
Branches of pine, and spruce, and festoons formed of a
species of evergreen called ground laurel, ornamented
with artificial roses, were disposed around the apartment,
which was lighted by a handsome chandelier, depending
from the middle of the vaulted roof, and numerous lamps,
tastefully arranged among the evergreens around the
room. At one side of the apartment, and on seats raised
several steps from the floor, sat the musicians. These
were three in number, two playing the violin, the other
the clarionet.
The ball had been opened before the arrival of our
party, and the dancers were jigging with spirit. The
strangers were met at the street door by one of the
managers, conducted up stairs, ushered to the head of
the hall, and seated in a convenient place to reconnoitre
the company.   Dr. Perkins was immediately beside
them.
"I had got to the bottom," said he, striving to recover
breath, "'but I would have left the middle of the dance
to welcome you. Mr. Frankford, I hope you will have
no reason to regret the honor you do us by joining our
b                        J 




138              NORTHWOOD; OR,
party to-night;-for my friend Romilly here, I presume
he will be unhappy when I inform him I have arranged
for his dancing the next figure with Annie Redington."
Mr. Frankford, bowing, made the usual compliment
of the happiness it gave him to witness theirs; and Sidney inquired why he was thus supposed predetermined
to be wretched.
" Because," replied Perkins, " I cannot doubt but your
affectiuons are already engaged. With your advantages
of person and fortune, you must have excited the sensibility of some fair creature; and with your warm heart,
she would certainly have met a return: it must be so,"
he continued, while a half stifled sigh and a whole blush,
swelled the heart and crimsoned the cheek of Sidney;' and now how can you help feeling miserable when
dancing with such a beautiful girl, whom you cannot
but admire, and yet know you have not a heart to give
her?"
" And why is he considered the only susceptible man?"
inquired the Englishman: "do you think me wholly
formed of ice?"
" I suppose your heart is impenetrable here," answered
the doctor; "not by nature-heaven forbid I should
ever think so ill of the countryman of Byron-but byprejudice. Pardon the word, sir, I could not soften it."
" And so I have been, I confess, doctor; but my armor
is fast dissolving. A few days spent in your hospitable
society have taught me how to appreciate your character
better than would an age of study; and I shall certainly
regret to leave your country, although to visit my own."
The doctor listened to this compliment with a smile
of more than pleasure-it was pride. There is no people
whose good opinion is more gratifying to Americans than
that of the English; and although we shall never fawn
or stoop to obtain it, we justly appreciate it when generously offered.
But the doctor was prevented from replying, by a
summons to his place, and Mr. Frankford continued
silent and attentive till the dance was finished. The




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           139
doctor then again appeared, and inquired of him if he
would join in the next dance.
" Not now," replied the other; "and indeed my health
ought to excuse me for the whole evening; yet, perhaps,
before its close, inclination will overcome prudence."
"And remember," said the gay doctor, laying his hand
familiarly and kindly on the shoulder of the Englishman,
"should bad effects ensue, I am in the commission of
health here, and shall claim the privilege of attending
you."
Then taking Sidney's arm he led him to another part
of the hall and presented him to Miss Redington, communicating, at the same time, the request of the managers, that they would call the figure.
After some demurring and excuses, such as usually
occur, this was finally assented to; and then, seeing the
floor filled and the dance commenced, Perkins returned
and seated himself by the Englishman.
The history of Annie Redington, now the partner of
our hero, has been briefly, yet perhaps sufficiently
sketched; but the influence her rather singular fortune
had had on her mind and disposition, may not be uninteresting to those who like to have a reason rendered
for every appearance, and a cause ascribed for every
effect.
It has already been said she was beautiful, and I think
personal appearance has a decided influence on female
character. Yet, let not the lady who has a fair face look
up with an exulting smile, thinking the palm of excellence is to be awarded to beauty; neither let her of
homely features heave a sigh, while reflecting on the inferiority to which nature has doomed her.
They would both mistake my meaning.
The eve is dclightecd with fair proportions: symmetry,
delicacy, and grace, have a charm over the senses of the
beholder, directly communicating with the heart, and
often imposing on the understanding.
" There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple," is a




140              NORTHWOOD; OR,
suggestion involuntarily arising when we fifst gaze on a
being whom nature has delighted to honor. And were
such impressions realized-were beauty of person always
an index of mental excellence-the hard-favored and illfeatured ones would indeed be in a sad predicament.
But nature is not thus partial in the distribution of
her favors. To those who boast but little of her fashioning skill without, is often imparted as much symmetry
of mind-I will hazard the expression-as much delicacy and beauty of soul, as ever went to the formation
of a Helen or a Rosamond; and the chances for the improvement of those spiritual graces are certainly in her
favor. She has not the admiration of the world to seduce her attention from her studies or duties; the syren
voice of the flatterer does not arrest her progress while
striving for perfection, by whispering she is already an
angel. She soon learns the necessity of being useful if
she would be respected, and good if she would be loved;
and thus, to the desire of obtaining the approbation of
heaven and the applause of her own conscience, is added
the powerful motive of obtaining the favor of men to
accelerate her proficiency in those qualifications which
must ultimately fix the standard of her excellence in
both worlds.
A fair face does not long retain its fairness; and there
are few beings more unhappy or contemptible than the
antiquated belle or coquette, with no charm of mind to
prevent the beholder from dwelling on the alteration of
her person, and no loveliness of heart to repair the ravages of time or disease.
It is the bane of beautiful women to trust in their
beauty; yet while they are continually receiving homage
for their charms, how difficult it is to convince them it
will not always be thus! Nothing, under such circumstances, except the most watchful discretion and assiduous
care on the part of those entrusted with her education,
or the grace which cometh from on high, can prevent
such a lady from becoming vain.
Vanity and envy are the besetting sins of women.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            141
The handsome are inclined to the former, the plain to the
latter. Vanity sullies the charms of the person, and envy
withers the excellences of the mind; but as the plain are
necessarily obliged to be more assiduous in cultivating
their understandings and regulating their tempers, there
is more hope that they will correct those errors and foibles which are common to humanity.
To sum the whole, as in the library of the student, the
books he most values are usually the plainest bound; so
in the female world, excellence, and merit, and talents,
are oftenest found beneath a plain covering; yet when the
pure page is enclosed in a beautiful binding, it is then
most perfect.
And Annie Redington was such a one. Circumstances
beyond human control or agency had undoubtedly contributed to this result; yet worth is not the less to be
prized because it has been formed by culture.
Few are born with such happy dispositions as make
discipline unnecessary. And Annie certainly was not;
but she had that docile temper which lends a willing ear
to instruction, and endeavors to profit by the lessons of
wisdom and experience.
The death of her father, and the consequent indigence
of her mother, prevented her childhood from being indulged in the supineness and selfishness which so often
injure the children of the rich; while the elegance of
her mother's manners, and the refinement of her sentiments, equally removed her from the contagion of vulgarity and meanness, to which the poor are exposed.
Her mother was the magnet of her young heart and
affections. To imitate her example, and contribute to
her happiness, were the first wishes she formed. And
if sometimes, with the thoughtlessness of the child, she
enumerated the pretty playthings and costly ornaments
of her little mates, and asked for like indulgences, her
mother had but to say-" Annie, you have no father to
provide for you, and are you not contented to live as your
mother must?"
Then the sweet girl, throwing her arms around hex




142              NORTHWOOD; OR,
mother's neck, and kissing the tears from the face she so
much loved, would declare she had enough, all she
wanted, and was sorry she had asked for a single thing.
Thus early was taught the lesson of self-control. And
from pitying her mother, she felt the desire, and formed
the resolution to assist her; happy under every task imposed, and asking only to beguile it, that her mother
would talk about her father.
This was a theme on which Mrs. Redington could
dwell with that fond melancholy which the joys that are
past inspire. Her husband she had loved with that deep,
devoted, confiding affection, which merit only inspires
and virtue only feels; and to trace his character and impress his sentiments on the heart of their child, was the
dearest earthly pleasure her widowed soul could enjoy.
It encouraged her piety when reflecting on his, and she
was reconciled to endure the crosses of earth when confiding in hope that she should shortly meet him in heaven
to part no more.
Thus the pleasures of the world never obtained a prominence in any picture of future felicity which Mrs.
Redington presented before her darling child. She was
taught that our earth is what all will find it-a place
where much may be enjoyed, and also a place where
much must be suffered; and her fortitude was strengthened by the lessons of patience, prudence, resignation,
and self-denial which her mother's example always exhibited-a much more efficient method of impressing
truths on the human mind, than the most eloquent or
elaborate lectures.
Yet they did not dwell in a state of melancholy seclusion from the world, or in peevish repining at their own
situation. Annie's temperament was gay as the birds
when first welcoming the spring flowers; and Mrs. ledington, naturally of a cheerful disposition, did not wish
to depress that happy buoyancy of spirit which sits so
gracefully on youth and innocence. She only carefully
watched, lest gaiety should approach levity; and by
awakening her reason, and sometimes by gentle expostu



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           143
lations, she directed to the performance of her duties,
those energies which are often allowed to expend them
selves on frivolous fashions or selfish gratifications.
Whenever the art of education can make duties pleasures, the grand obstacle in the path of human improvement is removed.
But her mother died; and to Annie's young heart the
world then appeared as wide and lonely as it did to our
first parents when driven from Eden.
Yet there is One who careth for all; and in Him the
dying Christian trusted. She committed, in faith, the
care of her destitute child to her God, and He did provide. The hearts of all who knew the little orphan were
softened to pity; and the lady who finally adopted, and
for six years treated her with all the tenderness of a
mother, was a woman capable of performing tne duties
she had thus voluntarily assumed. Beneath her forming
care, the fair child grew a lovely, intelligent, and accomplished young lady, realizing those expectations her docility and early industry had inspired.
There can be no excellence attained without industry.
The mind of the idle, like the garden of the slothful,
will be overgrown with briars and weeds; and indolence,
under whatever fashionable name it may assume, sensibility or nervous affections, delicacy or dyspepsia, is a
more dangerous enemy to practical goodness, and to
moral and intellectual improvement, than even dissipation or luxury. Those who tread a devious path, may
possibly retrace their steps, or by a circuitous route
finally reach the goal; but those who never stir, how
can they win the race!
It is a good thing to have habits of industry formed early,
and to be able to connect our first exertions with the happiness or benefit they imparted to those we loved. This Annie
Redington could do, and the pleasure it gave her made
employment, ever after, a privilege instead of a burden;
and when she was released from the necessity of labor,
she was still ready to receive every order, and attentive
to fulfill every wish of her benefactress. Her warm and




144              NORTHWOOD; OR,
grateful heart would indeed have incited her to do all
this, but she could now perform it with dexterity and
satisfaction to herself; and Mrs. Eaton, to the pleasure
of having protected the destitute, soon found she might
add the convenience of having obtained an excellent
assistant. And she soon loved Annie better, for the
useful must combine with the agreeable, in the character
of one whom we love well and love long. Accomplishments are like costly apparel, elegant, but sometimes
cumbrous or useless appendages; while usefulness, like
a plain suit, is always becoming and often indispensable.
To a superficial observer, Annie might have been
thought to owe her education entirely to Mrs. Eaton;
but it was her mother who bent the twig to the right inclination-whose lessons imparted perseverance and
energy to genius and delicacy, and infused patience and
fortitude in a bosom naturally possessing the keenest and
most trembling sensibility.
It was this disciplined disposition which made her so
soon and so easily conform to the simple arrangements
of her uncle's family. She was never once heard to repine at her altered style of living, nor ridicule the inconvenient house and old fashioned furniture, nor squeamishly affect a distaste for her aunt's plain cookery; but
she exerted herself to please and serve them in every
way she could devise, and was, by her own desire, very
soon initiated in all the mysteries of the dairy, and even
learned of her cousin Priscilla to spin!
Perhaps it would gratify those who do not delight in
perfect characters, if I tell them Annie did weep and
even fret a little at the necessity of parting with her beloved piano. But her uncle would not be persuaded to
allow the "rattling thing," as he called it, "to enter his
sober dwelling." He had no ear for the concord of sweet
sounds, and told Annie " he hoped she would find something better to do than to be flourishing and twiddling
away at sich a rate; any way, Priscilla would not have
time to listen."
So the sweet girl played her farewell air, kissed the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           145
instrument which had so often afforded her ecstatic delight, wiped her eyes, and with a smile followed her
uncle to his carriage.
She did not think, because her uncle had offered to
protect her, he was therefore bound to gratify all her
wbLms or wishes; and she was never heard to complain
of the cruelty which had separated her from her piano;
nor indeed did she name the instrument at all, till when
learning to spin she one day told Priscilla the noise of
the wheel reminded her of the music of that instrument.
But the wheel did that for Annie which the harp of
Apollo would never have effected. It entirely removed
the pain in her side, from which she formerly suffered,
and restored the circulation of her blood to its original
briskness; and when she was introduced to Sidney, the
glow and animation of perfect health, joined with youth,
beauty, and intelligence, to complete a picture of loveliness rarely surpassed. And the person who could have
gazed on her finely rounded form and expressive face,
where every grace seemed united, and thought her less
delicately attractive because she owed the bloom on her
cheek, and the happy gayety of her manner, mostly to
the health and cheerfulness which industrious exercise
bestows, must have been fastidious indeed.
As Sidney gazed, his heart acknowledged she was
worthy to be loved; yet he did not fall in love. There
is a kind of credulous fervency, a glow of the imagination, which can make deities of mortals and heaven of
earth, necessary to constitute a lover at first sight;-this
glow, like April sunshine, is bright and brief, and when
it has once been clouded, it rarely burns again with its
original warmth or intensity.  The cloud had passed
over Sidney, and he was "a sadder and a wiser man;"
but here is no place to relate his history.
Annie Redington, however, was more susceptible. She
had never before beheld a man who at all realized the
idea she had formed of her father.  Mrs. Redington
would often describe him to her child, and when the
affectionate creature would simply ask if he was as hand




146              NORTHWOOD; Ol,
some as her mother, she always received an answer in
the spirit, if not in the words, of Lady Randolph's affecting language to her son:
-   -I'- " In me thou dost behold
The poor remains of beauty once admired;
The autumn of my days is come already,
For sorrow made my summer haste away;
Yet in my prime I equaled not thy father."
And thus Annie, from her mother's description and
her own imagination had formed an ideal picture of perfection-"where every god did seem to set his seal,"
and with which every man who approached her had to
be compared. And no wonder they should suffer by
such a comparison! Even the merits of George Cranfield were obscured, and although Annie esteemed him,
and felt she could love him dearly if he were her brother, yet she would never for a moment admit the idea
of marrying him.
But Sidney Romilly was a very different being; he
had such a very striking and noble countenance, was so
graceful in his manners, so polite and attentive, and
spoke so kindly, she thought he must be like her father,
and while listening to him was almost tempted to wish
with poor Desdemona, " that heaven had made her such
a man;" or rather that she might appear as amiable in
his eyes as he did in hers.
Had he been an utter stranger, the timid delicacy of
her nature would have shrunk from his attentions, but
his family were her best and most valued friends, and she
had so often heard him described and extolled that she
thought his merit undoubted, and in conversing with
him felt all the freedom which approved worth and intimate acquaintance inspire.
But their apparent satisfaction with each other did not
pass unnoticed; many significant smiles were seen, and
some knowing winks exchanged, yet none seemed to
disapprove, or be jealous of their intimacy, except one
little pert looking fellow, who kept continually hovering
around Annie, watching every movement and endeavor




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           147
ing to catch every syllable of their conversation. His
impertinence in following them to their seat when the
figure was ended, and crowding as near as possible, did
not escape the notice of Dr. Perkins, who remarked to
Mr. Frankford "that there was a fellow he heartily
wished was in Constantinople."
" For what reason?" inquired the Englishman.
"Because he woult1 immediately turn Turk and then
might possibly go to Mahomet's paradise-to the christian's heaven he never will."
"Are his sins unpardonable by your creed?"
" Why, sir," replied Perkins, " he is a compound of
meanness, selfishness, and hypocrisy; one of those characters who deserve a prison daily for violations of humanity, honesty, and decency; and yet he calculates so
warily that the law can have no hold on him, and he
gains property so fast he has his adherents and flatterers even among the respectable and well-meaning. But
I hope," added he, eyeing the little gentleman who appeared to be edging still closer to Sidney and Annie, " I
hope, if he offer an insult to Romilly he will have to
answer it;-I should like to be Sidney's second on such
an occasion."
A movement among the company prevented farther
explanation; and the floor was soon occupied for another
cotillion.
Perkins again asked the stranger if he wished to join;
he declined for that time, but added, " Don't let me detain you, doctor; I shall be well entertained by seeing
your performance."
"No," said Perkins, "I am not in a humor for jigging
to-night. My wife is not here, and I can never enjoy
such a scene without her to partake it. She was detained at home by the sudden illness of our babe, and I
should have staid with her, had I not expected to meet
you and Romilly."
The Englishman received this domestic intelligence
with a kind of comical stare; and he could not help
thinking how such a speech, delivered as this was, in the




148              NORTHWOOD; OR,
perfectly natural tone of native feeling, would be greeted
by the fashionable husbands of his own fashionable
metropolis.
The figure now called was an intricate but very graceful one when well executed, and the dancers acquitted
themselves handsomely. After regarding their movements for some time with earnest and silent attention,
Mr. Frankford suddenly burst into a laugh which appeared wholly involuntary.
Dr. Perkins started, and a slight embarrassment, half
ludicrous, half alarmed, might be perceived shading his
good humored countenance, as he turned his eyes on the
Englishman with a look which demanded explanation.
Frankford, the moment he could speak, explained the
whole by saying,
" Excuse me, doctor, I was not laughing at your countrymen, but at my own.   I was thinking of the ridiculous prejudices the English as a nation, have imbibed respecting America. There are individuals, and
honorable ones too, who do you ample justice; and to
such should I describe the scene I am now witnessing,
they would credit me, and rejoice in your happiness and
social refinement.  But the mass of my countrymen
would account it as much a fible as the discoveries of
Gulliver.  They think you half savage, wholly selfish,
and possessing nothing which assimilates you to Englishmen except the tatters of their language. Should
I tell them that, in the interior of New Hampshire, I attended a ball, where the ladies and gentlemen were dressed in the same materials (I don't say as rich,) and, nearly in the same fashions as would be found in a London
assembly; that the music was tolerable, (though I think
it the worst part of the performance,) and all the arrangements conducted with civility, good taste, and even
elegance, why they would think me either jesting or
dreaming; either intending to deceive them, or laboring
under a deception myself. It was the wonder my narrative would create that caused my mirth."
"Then you intend to do us justice," said the doctor,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           149
with a little trepidation, yet affecting to look unconcerned.
"Yes, indeed, I do," returned the other, "you need not
fear my travels being a second edition of the scoundrel
Faux. But he described what he wished to find, and
what he knew would be acceptable to his employers.
We have not, sir, quite forgiven you the sin of acquiring
your independence. It galls our pride, it mortifies our
self-love;-but we are becoming better acquainted with
your character, and shall in time surmount our prejudices."
" And we shall gladly meet you half way. We have
never forgotten our ancestors were Englishmen; and we
trust the time will come when even your proud Islanders
shall acknowledge we do not shame the stock from whence
we sprung."
"And with such a sample before me, I shall not hesitate to acknowledge it now. Your ladies, sir, have more
symmetry of form, and nearly as much delicacy of complexion as our own. And what is more remarkable,
yours cannot owe these advantages to the delicacy of their
education; for I suppose but few now before me are exempted by their wealth or station from industry."
"No, not one," returned Perkins; "but their labor is
entirely domestic. I presume you will not find, should
you travel throughout the United States, scarcely a single female engaged in the labors of the field, or any kind
of out-door work, as it is called. And the manner in
which women are treated is allowed to be a good criterion
by which to judge of the character and civilization of a
people. Wherever they are oppressed, confined, or made
to perform the drudgery, we may be sure the men are
barbarians. But I do not believe there is now or ever
was a nation which treated their women with such kind
ness and consideration, tenderness and respect, as we
Americans do ours. Here they are educated to command
esteem, and considered as they deserve to be, the guardians of domestic honor and happiness, friends and companions of man.' And to study household good,' and




150              NORTImWOOD; OR,
rear and educate their children, is all the labor we wish
them to perform. But see, the dance is ended, and by
the bustle of the managers, I think we may expect supper; you shall eat in peace, sir; I will not trouble you
with as long an eulogium on our cake as I have on our
ladies."
The supper tables were spread in a long dining-hall
below stairs, and covered with every dainty and delicacy
the season afforded, or the occasion would justify. And
Frankford, while partaking the plentiful and excellent
entertainment, asked Perkins, by whom he was seated,
if the Thanksgiving feast lasted as many days as the
Passover.
" You shall be feasted as many days," replied the Doctor, "and more, if you will spend them in our society."
"I should not need the promise of a feast to induce
me to prolong my visit; but my evil genius will, I suppose, drive me hence on Monday."
"What! so soon? Then you must come to my house
to-morrow."
T'his Frankford said he should be happy to do, if Sidney Romilly's engagements permitted.
When they returned to the ball-room, at his own request, he led the dance with Sophia Romilly. That the
Englishman did not acquit himself entirely to his own
satisfaction, nor fulfil the expectations of superior grace
and elegance of movements, the Yankees had expected,
was ascribed by him to the musicians, and by them to
his illness; so he sat down with as much credit, though
not entirely as happy as he would have felt could he have
flattered himself he had excelled.
After enjoying the festivity till about one o'clock, the
Romillys, among whom were included Frankford and
Annie Redington, retired; leaving the company, who
were expected to prolong their pleasure till nearly morning. The carriage called at Deacon Jones' house, and
Sidney had the honor of handing Annie out, but had
also to undergo the penance of being unmercifully rallied
the remainder of his ride'. Even after they had retired




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            151
to their chambers, Frankford did not desist, till Sidney
almost angrily declared, there was not a woman on earth
to whom he would offer his hand.
" Then the proposal will come fiom the fair lady," said
Frankford, looking very grave, "for I know you will
marry her. I have spent some time in studying the laws
of fate, and if you two are not made for each other, I
will forswear my art."
"Are the designs of fate always fulfilled?"
" Always; so make up your mind for the noose."
"Not to-night," replied Sidney, enveloping himself in
the ample bed-clothes. "I shall sleep soundly, without
once dreaming of Miss Redington."
AWhether he did sleep as soundly as he would have
done had Annie never crossed his path, the lover's muse
hath never recorded; but certainly the fair lady did not..Again and again Sidney's image, combined with the
imlaginary likeness of her father, arose before Annie;
every word of his conversation was recalled, and wlhen
she thought of his riches and the style in which he had
bieen educated, she sighed deeply that he should see Ier
tlLus, a poor, dependent orphan.
It; was the first time poverty had drawn a sigh from
her happy heart; but she checked all repining at her destiny, and folding her hands on her innocent bosom,
mtCeekly murmured,-"Father in heaven, thy will be
done," and sunk calmly to repose.




152              NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XIII.
A YANKEE DOCTOR.
These are kind creatures. Gods, what ties I've heard I
Our courtiers say, all's savage but at court.
SHAKSPEARE.
" WE shall hardly visit Dr. Perkins to-day," said Frank,
ford, as they entered the breakfast-room. " What a terrible storm you have-why, the snow is a foot deep already."
"0, yes," replied the Squire, "it snows pretty fast,
but I think it will soon be over, and we are not at all
frightened, as we always expect a storm at Thanksgiving."
The conversation then continued respecting the climate
of New England, and the good Squire displayed much
philosophical research in accounting for the difference of
heat and cold in countries within the same latitude, and
considerable acumen in deducing particular facts from
general causes.
The storm, however, increased, notwithstanding the
Squire's prediction, and the Englishman's impatience,
who really wanted to spend the day with Perkins. As
they were contriving where to obtain a carriage, Silas
Romilly having taken his father's the day before, and
gone with his bride, to accompany her sister to Nottingham, her place of residence, Dr. Perkins drove up to the
door.
" I have come to fetch you both," said he, shaking the
snow from his feet as he entered, "for otherwise I might
have been disappointed of the pleasure I have promised
myself in your society to-day. Sidney was not always




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           153
to be daunted by a northeaster, but a southern sun has
doubtless enervated him a little, and Mr. Frankford's
health would be a sufficient apology for his neglect. But
I was resolved that no excuse should be left you, so get
your hats and overcoats instantly."
The gentlemen gladly complied with this very frank
invitation, for they both felt the languor and ennui which
are apt to steal on the body and mind after the excitement of a night's revel, and these were now heightened
by a severe and gloomy storm. Such feelings we know
are not local, yet the eagerness with which all seek a
change of place as a relief would imply it.
A ride of something less than a mile, brought them
to the door of a neat, snug, one story house, painted
white; a color which looks well in summer, but has,
during the winter, an appearance of coldness rather uncomfortable to gaze upon. However, when the door
opened, the gentlemen found the cheerlessness was all
without.  The doctor ushered them  into his parlor,
where a rousing fire, carpeted floor, and cushioned chairs,
promised them all of comfort an Englishman could desire.
Mrs. Perkins came forward and gave them a smiling
welcome. Her very pretty face was rendered more interesting by that air of maternal kindness and concern
called forth by the illness of the infant she held in her
arms, and which, to her husband's eager inquiries, was
reported much better. Another sweet little boy, of between two and three years, sat on the carpet playing with
his kitten; but the moment his father entered, his playthings were abandoned, and he sprung to embrace him.
Mr. Frankford, at first, almost fancied himself introduced into the nursery, but he soon found the children
were entitled to all the privileges of place enjoyed by
any of the family, and that no separate apartment or
confinement with nurses and servants was found necessary in this land of "equal rights." So the Englishman
sat down, having Mrs. Perkins and babe on one hand
7*




154             NxOR'THWOOD; OR,
and the doctor in his arm-chair, with his boy on his knee,
at the other.
The doctor, after again welcoming them, and stirring the
fire, began to rally Sidney on the speculations which his
gallantry at the ball had excited. "We all think Annie
an angel," continued he; " and were our religion Catholic,
she would most certainly be worshiped: and you must
be very clever or we shall not resign her even to a ltomilly, though that is an honored name among us."
" I noticed, last evening, a little man who betrayed
quite an anxious interest for Miss Redington," said Sidney; "pray, who is he?"
"O, it was Skinner," replied Perkins;-"Ephraimn
Skinner, by name, and a skinewlre by nature, also. I never
observed the least sensibility in that man except what
Annie has awakened, and I believe she is the only human being for whom he feels any tenderness."
"Is he her lover?" asked Sidney.
" No-only a dangler; yet, I really think the fellow
would love her if he had a heart. My wife always looks
as if she wanted to check me when I utter censure; but
indeed, gentlemen, I am not given to evil speaking. I
am much happier in praising than condemning, when
truth will warrant it; nor will I wantonly expose faults
when the offender shows by his conduct that he regrets
them. But the man who glories in mischief deserves no
mercy."
"What is his profession?" inquired Frankford, who
seemed interested by the ardor his host displayed.
" He is a merchant, a money-lender, and a miser," replied Perkins,-"three vocations in which he labors
unceasingly."
"Skinner?" repeated Sidney; "I have no recollection
of such a name. Is he a nntive of Northwood?"
" O, no; he is from Connecticut, the land of steady
habits; and he certainly has tile habit of being steady
in the pursuit of his own interest. He came here about
five years since, and, always taking advantage of the




IFE'.::NOiRTi ANND SOUTI.       155
times, and when he can, of his customers, he has realized a handsome property."
" But riches will not surely recommend such a character to the favor of Miss Redington?" said Sidney.
"No, indeed," replied Mrs. Perkins; " she would not
marry him if he had an ocean of gold. I think she detests him as much as her generous heart will permit her
to detest a human being; but Deacon Jones thinks him
an excellent man and an excellent match."
" To the deacon's perception," said the doctor, "riches
not only cover a multitude, but all sins; and there is
another bond of sympathy between him and Skinnerthey think exactly alike on religious subjects."
"I should not imagine," said the Englishman, smiling,
"from your representations of Skinner, he would be very
particular about his religious tenets."
But he is, sir," replied the Doctor, "very particular
to adopt the theory lie finds most popular; and perhaps
it is not so difficult for him to believe in total depravity
as it would be for a better man; and certainly his salvation, if he ever attain to such a glorious state, must, unless 1v, alter his practices, be a matter of jfee grace, and
wholly by faith, as he has no good works on which to
depend. So you perceive his interest and his habits both
conspire to make h'm a sound orthodox believer; and
that consideration, cdded to his increasing wealth, gives
him great importance in the opinion of Deacon Jones,
and indeed of many others."
"Yet these convenient qualities or qualifications-I
hardly know which to call them-have not, it seems, obtained your favor," said Frankford, laughing as much at
the manner of the speaker as the matter spoken.
"I have too often unmasked the villain to be deluded
by his vizor. My profession introduces me to families
of every grade and every situation, and much of their
private history is necessarily unfolded to me. And almost every instance of poverty, intemperance and wretchedness, which has for the last three or four years fallen
beneath my observation in this vicinity, I have found to




156             NORTHWOOD; OR,
be either directly or indirectly the work of Skinner. It
would be disagreeable and tedious for me to relate, or
you to hear, these histories of debts, and mortgages, and
suits, and executions."
"I should suppose," said Sidney, "people would be
apprised of his artifices, and become wary of putting
themselves in his power."
"Experience does not always teach wisdom," replied
Perkins. " The man in want is usually weak, or at least
credulous to believe those professions which have his
interest or convenience for their ostensible object. Skinner is a plausible creature, one who' can smile and smile
and be a villain;' in short, a hypocrite, a word including
almost every term of reproach."
" I thought Connecticut was your stronghold of morality and piety, a fountain that always sent forth pure
streams," said the Englishman.
" You doubtless recollect the pathetic language of poor
Job to his wife," said the Doctor. "The world and men
are still the same; we receive no good without a mixture
of evil-no garden is free from weeds-no society exempt
from pests and traitors. Connecticut is an excellent
State, and has given birth to excellent men, but all are
not such; and one restless, intriguing fellow, shall go
forth and do more mischief than a Cozen good ones can
repair. We have, in our town, a inumber of deserving
men, who were natives of Connecticut, and it was in a
great measure owing to their character for probity, that
Skinner first obtained the confidence of our people.
Neither is he destitute of talents; and his industry is
unwearied.  But the love of money-not merely the
root of evil, remember, but of all evil —has taken such
entire possession of his heart and soul, that it deadens or
destroys every kindly feeling of his nature. There is no
passion so engrossing as the love of money, when it
thoroughly possesses the whole man, and certainly none
which renders him so contemptible. The thirst for fame,
the pursuit of glory, may be indulged till they become
criminal, yet there is still an apology in the magnitude




LIFE NORT1H AND,SOUTI.          157
and grandeur of the objects pursued; even the votaries
of pleasure exhibit, at intervals, a romantic tenderness
or generosity which palliates their follies or faults; but
your man of cent. per cent. has no feeling but for himself, and can see no excellence but through the mediumn
of yellow dust. Alfred, my boy," he continued, raising
his child from his knee, where he had been stationed for
some time, watching his father's rapid utterance with
pleased attention, " Alfred, I have given you a glorious
name, may you never sully it by making gold the idol
of your worship."
The conclusion of this harangue, so different from what
the gentlemen expected, made them both smile, and
Frankford, following the last idea, inquired why the name
of Alfred was entitled to such an eulogium?
"I should not have expected that question from an
Englishman," replied the Doctor. Frankford blushed.
"Your Alfred has immortalized the name, and that is
what few kings do."
" And did you really name this pretty boy in reference
to our Alfred the Great?" asked Frankford, taking the
little fellow's hand.
"I did. I have, perhaps, rather peculiar ideas about
the propriety of given names. I think we too often neglect a significancy in the appellation. Among the ancients it was not thus an unmeaning sound; it excited
ideas of former incidents, or roused hopes of future
blessings. When we give our children the names of dear
or departed relatives or friends, there are sentiments of
affection and respect produced while repeating them;
when we call them for the good or illustrious, we are
reminded of the virtues and deeds which made the name
celebrated; but when we merely select a pretty sounding
word, we display neither refined taste, warm feelings, nor
just perceptions. I was the youngest of twelve children,
and born an uncle, and my brothers and sisters had
monopolized all the family names before I had an opportunity of using them. My father had a half score of
grandsons called Josiah, for himself, and all my uncles




158             SNOlTHWOOJD; Ot,
and grand uncles had been remembered, and so I concluded to resort to history."
" Have you given your other son as proud an appellative?" asked the Englishman, surveying with a smile of
admiration the fair little creature, who was now playing
with the ringlets of his mother's hair, and every few moments pressing his dimpled cheek to hers; while she
regarded him with a look of unutterable fondness and
delight.
"I know not whether is most fair,
The mother or her child,"
thought Frankford, as he gazed upon them.
"That boy bears the name of my favorite Latin poet,
Horace," said Perkins.-" Horace," continued he with a
loud whistle; the child started, stared at him a moment,
and then began to bound and laugh, all ecstasy at receiving his father's attention; " Horace, you will never touch
the lyre like the Roman satirist; but you may manage a
farm as well as he did his Sabine villa, and live as happily."
The conversation then turned on the beauties of Latin
and Greek poetry-the site of Troy-which Frankford
had visited-Alexander and Bonaparte-Roman eloquence-aborigines of America-British manufacturesculture of turnips —American literature-ShakspeareMilton-British Navy-Irish patriots-Emmet —character of Washington —and the study of physic in Europe.
The discussion of these dissimilar subjects seemed to
follow each other naturally, without a designed introduction by either party; and being interspersed with common topics, and lively anecdotes related mostly by Perkins with infinite humor, and enlivened by a dinner
bearing ample evidence of its thanksgiving fraternity;
excellent wine, cider and fruits —the apples blushing a
beautiful red. without requiring the presence of Apollo,
engrossed and entertained them  so happily, that the
shades of night began to descend, before Sidney or the
Englishman could believe the day had departed.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            159
I shall send my boy to drive you home," said Perkins, as he assisted Frankford to adjust his over-coat. "I
must mount my horse and ride twenty miles before tomorrow morning."
"What, to-night in such a storm, and on horseback
too!" said the Englishman.
" 0 yes, in the mountainous road I must travel, a carriage would not be convenient; and for riding in the
evening, why, sir, I rode twelve miles last night after
leaving the ball; and dealt out to my patients a pretty
good supply of medicine, I assure you, in order that I
mlight have this day of leisure to enjoy with you and
Sidney."
" And we have enjoyed it," replied Frankford; " but
I little thought you would be subjected to such a penance
for your hospitality."
"I should not value submitting to perform penance, if
by that means I might pass another day as pleasantly;
but business is not usually a penance to me, yet now I
should rather be excused, as my absence must, I fear, be
prolonged till after your departure on Monday. I have
patients, or rather irnpatients in the next town who have
sent requiring my attendance to-morrow, and I must not
return home without seeing then. So I thank you for
the pleasure of your society to-day, and wish you a prosperous voyage to the land of your fathers; and sometimes when your thoughts wander to America, may I
hope you will remember the Yankee doctor?"
As lie concluded he took Frankford's hand, and pressed
it cordially.
The Englishman returned the pressure.
" I shall remember you while I live, and I hope meet
you again. Why do you not come to England? My
friend Romilly has promised to visit me next spring;
come with him. A tour abroad would to your strong
and inquisitive mind af-ord materials for much pleasure
and lasting improvement. Few men could see the world
with the advantages you possess: because your sound
judgment and practical education qualify you to make a




160              NORTHWOOD; Ot,
just estimation of men and things; and the gloss of
novelty would not deceive you. Come, then, and I will
aid your researches all in my power; I need not say
how gladly I should welcome you."
"Sidney can go without any inconvenience," replied
the doctor, "and were I in a similar situation I should
not hesitate. Yet I do not repine because he possesses
the means of gratifying all his wishes, while I am compelled to bound mine by the distance my patients may
happen to reside. I believe our duties and happiness are
so closely connected that the better we fulfil the one, the
more perfectly we enjoy the other. And when you are
a married man, Mr. Frankford, and have a home rendered dear by the presence of those you most love, you will
see all the world necessary to your felicity beneath your
own roof."
As he ended, his eyes rested on his wife and children,
who returned his glance with those affectionate smiles
that so richly repay the toil of labor and the anxiety
of care.
" I shall note you down for the most perfect philosopher I ever met with," said Frankford.
"Not a silent one, nor a cynic, I hope," replied Perkins, laughing.
"No, indeed —I shall describe you as one whose life
illustrates the philosophical portion of your favorite Horace:'that the happiness of life consists in serenity of
mind and virtuous enjoyments.' And I think there is
more sound philosophy in that ode than in many a huge
volume of jargon miscalled ethics. You are just the
character I have often wished yet never expected to see
-a man of an independent mind, enlightened yet unshackled by education, and with an understanding governed by reason alone."
"And instructed-by Revelation, you may add," replied
Perkins, seriously.  "I laugh at Deacon Jones' absurdities, and I detest his prejudices; but I honor religion.
There can be no abiding excellence of character unless
it has a principle of piety for its basis. The glory of




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTl.           161
Great Britain is more effectually supported by her Bible
Societies than her standing armies."
Perhaps Frankford would willingly have spared this
unexpected burst of enthusiasm, as he felt inclined to call
it; but it was spoken so unaffectedly and sincerely he
felt a sentiment of respect for the candor which had
prompted the avowal.
They again shook hands, and after seeing them seated
in the carriage, Dr. Perkins bade the boy drive on, and
bowed his last adieu.
"Shall I never see that man again?" said the Englishman to Sidney, bending from the carriage, as Perkins entered his house. " And very soon I must part with you
and your amiable family. What a melancholy drawback
on the pleasure of traveling, that we either go over the
world without forming attachments with the deserving,
or abandon them almost as soon as we have learned their
value."
To the inquiries of Squire Romilly, Mr. Frankford replied, he had seldom passed a more agreeable day.
"Your doctor is a most original fellow," said he, "and
possesses the happy talent of nicely discriminating character, and readily applying principles, which is the charm
cC intelligent conversation.  And he is tolerably well
raformed too; with every subject discussed, and they
were numerous, he appeared sufficiently familiar to be
agreeable, although I perceived he was not profoundly
erudite on any."
"If you would consider the desultory manner in
which his education has been acquired," replied the
Squire, "and the rc und of business in which he is now
engaged, you would cease to wonder he was not profound."
" Perhaps so; but who'n a man pretends to knowledge,,
we are, I think, at liberty to test his pretensions; we do
not require the display, yet when made it must be supported or he cannot expect credit for his intelligence.
Your American mode of education is generally conducted in a miscellaneous manner, and your scholars too often




162              NORTIHWVOOD; OR,
verify the old adage of Pope, that'a little learning is a
dangerous thing.' Yet I am not applying these remarks
to Dr. Perkins. He is really a man of information, and
his learning sits so easily on him, there is amusement as
well as instruction in the display. I never saw a person
who could more readily adapt his conversation to the
taste or capacity of his company. I have before observed your countrymen possessed a flow of ideas and
fluency of language no other people with whom I am
acquainted can boast. The French talk more, perhaps,
but they are triflers;-one Yankee would out-reason a
dozen Frenchmen could he make them listen to his argunents.' But the doctor, I was intending to observe, is at
home on every subject; one moment he converses professionally, then he is the farmer, then the scholar, the
antiquary, the politician, and perhaps playing with his
children, or playing the buffoon immediately afterwards.
And all appears perfectly natural. Did you notice Mr.
iomilly, when his little boy hurt his head against the
table, Perkins was eagerly engaged in drawing an ingenious parallel between Alexander and Bonaparte? but
he stopped, hushed the child by telling him the story of
the cat and the fiddle, and then proceeded in his parallel
without the least embarrassment or hesitancy."
"Yes, I noticed it," replied Sidney; " but Warren coun!
always wield any instrument or any argument, and succeed in any study or business when he chose to exert
himself:. He was born a Jack at all trades."
" I think you Yankees all are," said Fr4nkford smiling;
" certainly I now find manual labor and mental refinement more compatible than I ever'magined they could
be, and their united effects on the human character are
very favorable. Activity of body prevents the mind
from becoming the prey of enn li, while the cultivation
of the mind corrects that grossness and selfishness which
are so disgusting in the ignorant; and thus the mind and
body being preserved in a healthy and vigorous tone,
there is here, a freshness of intellect and feeling, a kind




LIFE NOR'TH AD l SOUTH.         163
of human spring, which is as delightful in the moral, as
the natural spring is to the physical world."
"You could not have read our character more rightly
had you studied it a century," exclaimed Squire Roomilly, starting from his seat and grasping the Englishman's
hand.
" Should I study it a century I should probably read
it differently," replied Frankford, smiling with the most
winning kindness. "The season of youth for nations,
as well as individuals, will soon pass; what character
your country will finally attain I am not qualified to decide. But I think there is reason to fear that what it
gains in glory will be lost in purity."
" Ours is an experiment," said Sidney, " yet with our
advantages there is not much fear but the result will be
favorable to human nature."
"Hope everything-hope is the privilege of youth,"
said the Englishman, rising and laying his hand on his
bosom, "and from my heart I wish you success."




164               NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DESTINY OF AMERICA.
I see the living light roll on,It crowns with fiery towers
The frozen peaks of Labrador,
The Spaniard's land of flowers;
It streams beyond the splintered ridge
That parts the northern showers, —
From eastern rock to sunset wave
The continent is ours!
DR. HOLMES.
THE Sabbath proved a rainy day, and the sudden dissolving of the snow made the walking so very bad, that
Mr. Frankford excused himself from attending church.
He passed the day in his own apartment, engaged, as
it was thought, in making notes on Northwood and its
people-but his volume has never been published. Perhaps he slept.
In the evening, however, he appeared eager for information about the settlement and history of the old Granite State, and seemed much gratified to find its people
were descended, chiefly, from English parentage.
" Your family name is similar with that of our late
distinguished philanthropist and statesman, Sir Samuel
Romilly," said he to the Squire.  "Are you from the
same stock!"
"According to our traditions, we are-but the relationship is now rather remote. We are descended from
the younger brother-there were two, Pierre and Jacques
Romilly, who fled from France on the revocation of the
edict of Nantes. The elder settled in London; the
younger came to America and settled first in Boston,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            165
but afterwards removed to New Hampshire, where his
descendants, or most of them, remain."
" Then you claim fraternity with the French?"
"Yes-but a stock engrafted on several other nations.
My children inherit, on my side, the blood of France
and Britain-my great grandmother was an Englishwoman: on the side of my wife there is Irish and Spanish
blood; but it is now all united in one patriotic current-.the American."
"I have heard it asserted that from such an intermixture of races, the most perfect and beautiful one would be
derived;" rmarked the Englishman, reflectively.
His gaze was fixed on Sophia Romilly, who sat by
the table reading. He saw her en profile and to great
advantage, as she had put her, curls behind her ear, and
thus revealed not only the exquisite perfection of that
little member, but also the delicate outline of her cheek
and her beautiful throat. Her skin was of that pure,
clear, lily white which seems as though it would never
be sullied. She had very dark hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, while her eyes were the soft blue of summer skies.
In truth, she seemed as fair a specimen of the mingled
beauty of the races as one could hope to look upon, and
it was not strange if Mr. Frankford so regarded her.
He was aroused from his reverie, which an aesthetic
philosopher can only understand, by a remark of Sidney
Romilly's.
" That emigrants from Europe were now flocking to
our land in such numbers he feared the old Puritan stock
would be blotted out."
"No fear of that, my son," said the Squire, cheerfully.' Let them come. We have room for all, and food, too;
besides, we want their work, and they want our teaching.
We shall do each other mutual good."
" Is there no danger to your peculiar institutions from
this influx of foreigners?" inquired Frankford. "These
people are not accustomed to your liberty."
"I don't think they will try to destroy it though;




166              NORTHWOOD; OR,
they have suffered too much from oppression in the old
world to wish it introduced here," returned the Squire.
"They may destroy it by their ignorance," observed
Sidney; " at least such is the fear of our Southern states
men."
""We must enlighten them-the emigrants, I mean,"
said the Squire. "The destiny of America is to instruct
the world, which we shall do, with the aid of our Anglo
Saxon brothers over the water," he added with a smile,
as he turned to Mr. Frankford.
" We shall be much obliged for such a permission,"
said Mr. Frankford. " Where shall we begin?"
" At home. Let both nations be faithful there. Great
Britain has enough to do at home and in the East Indies
to last her another century. We have this continent and
Africa to settle and civilize, besides keeping open school
for people of all nations, tongues and sects that choose to
come here and enjoy its privileges."
Mr. Frankford looked a little amazed, but after a
moment's reflection he said, pleasantly-" I thought
Great Britain held a small portion of this continent?"
"Over which the stars will yet wave."
"Why? what reason have you to believe this?"
"Because in the first place our title covers it.'The
United States of North America' is the title given our
Republic by the wise framers of our Constitution, and
will be fulfilled. In the second place, we have already
more than doubled our original territory. We shall gain
other additions as we have gained Louisiana and Florida.!'
"Oh! you are intending to buy the world.   That
alters the case. I thought you were anticipating Roman
triumphs," said Frankford.
" The triumphs of peace are greater than Roman; they
are Christian. WTe may have to draw the sword, but I
hope not."
Well," said the Englishman, after reflecting a little,
"you have laid out work enough at home for your citizens during another century, I think; and you spoke of
having something to do in Africa. Perhaps you are




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            167
intending to free all your slaves and send them there to
accomplish their destiny."
" Yes, that is the greatest mission of our Republic, to
train here the black man for his duties as a Christian,
then free him and send him to Africa, there to plant
Free States and organize Christian civilization."
"Degraded as he is by slavery," said Frankford.
"Elevated as he is by American slavery," returned
the Squire, " the most miserable slave you can find at
the South is an enlightened and civilized man compared
with his heathen brothers in Africa, who have never
heard of a Saviour. The evils of the system bear heavily
on our land-but the negro race have been and will be,
eventually, greatly benefited from their contact with
American institutions. And this point should never be
forgotten.  The white race here endures the heaviest
burden of the evils of slavery. Look at Virginia! Absolutely a century behind Massachusetts in agriculture,
arts and manufactures. Yet the former has every advantage of soil, climate and mineral wealth, and the latter
nothing indigenous except granite and ice! Slave labor
keeps Virginia poor: free labor makes Massachusetts
rich. So it is throughout our whole land. Everywhere
the free states are the most prosperous."
" Why then do the southern states keep their slaves,
if they are injured by them?"
" What shall be done with them?"
"'Why, give them freedom! Your Constitution declares all men are entitled to that."
" And have equal right to life, liberty, and the pursuit
of happiness " —put in Harvey, who was sitting on a
stool by his father's knee, and looking earnestly at each
speaker in his turn.
They all smiled, and Frankford said inquiringly, laying his hand on the boy's head-" You will'never be a
slaveholder?"
Harvey was quite abashed, for he had heard Deacon
Jones speak contemptuously of Sidney —as a "southern
slaveholder " —-and the little boy, looking on his eldest




168             NORTHWOOD; OR,
brother, would not believe it was so very wicked-yet it
seemed that Mr. Frankford thought it was bad too. He
was puzzled. Before he had settled his doubts, his mother changed the subject. She had, for some time, been
looking, alternately, at the clock and little Lydia, who
seemed in a very sleepy condition. Touching her husband's arm, Mrs. Romilly whispered something in his
ear: he nodded, and turning to his guest" I must beg your indulgence, Mr. Frankford, we hold
our family devotions early on Sunday evening, so thlat
the little ones may be with us. We have singing, too,
and that, I fear, may annoy you."
011O! not at all. I shall be happy to listen and heartily wish I could join; but psalmody is not one of my accomplishments."
"It is the only musical accomplishment of my children," returned the Squire; "at least, the only one in
vwhich they have been instructed.  Nature gives the
voice."
By this time the arrangements mere made. The big
Bible and several hymn books were laid on the table —
the candles set in order, and the family circle waiting in
silent attention. The father, glancing his eye around
and finding all prepared, opened reverentially THE BooK,
and selecting the twentieth chaioter of that sublime and
mysterious "Revelation," yet to be revealed, read in a
very impressive manner:
" And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having
the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his
hand.
"And he laid hold on the. dragon, that old serpent,
which is the Devil and Satan, and bound him a thousand
ears.
" And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him
up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the
nations no more till the thousand years should be fulfilled," &c.
The whole chapter was read, and listened to with devout seriousness. Mr. Frankford was struck with the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.                  169
scene.  He seemed to hear the strange passages for the
first time.  Hitherto he had considered the whole as a
myth-but it appeared that this family believed in the
actual coming of the events foretold. " Will they come?"
was his thought.
After the Bible was laid down, the Squire took the
hymn book offered by his wife, saying —" Well, Mary,
you have chosen the song, I see. Children, sing the 282d
hymn of the collection;" and he read it1. "For a season call'd to part,
Let us now ourselves commend
To the gracious eye and heart
Of our ever-present Friend.
2. "Jesus, hear our humble prayer,
Tender Shepherd of thy sheep;
Let thy mercy and thy care
All our souls in safety keep.
3. " In thy strength may we be strong,
Sweeten every cross and pain;
And our wandering lives prolong,
In thy peace to meet again.
4.   Then if thou thy help afford,
Ebenezers shall be reared;
And our souls shall praise the Lord,
Who our poor petitions heard."
"We have lost our best bass voice, now Silas is gone,"
said Mrs. Romilly, softly, "unless Sidney will join. I
hope you sing, my son; you had a fine voice."
"I do sing a little, mother, and I will try now," answered Sidney, tenderly.
The strain was raised; the Squire led the household
choir, and every one, even little Lydia, joined.
Mr. Frankford had listened at operas and concerts,
where the first musical geniuses of the age had displayed
their powers; but no one, not even Malibran herself, had
so moved his stul as did the voice of Sophia, a soprano
of great clearness, naturally, and now, by her feelings,
modified to a softness touchingly sweet. She paused at
the close of the third verse, and did not resume. As she
8




170              NORTHWOOD; OR,
sat, still as a statue, the long dark eyelashes drooping till
they entirely shaded the downcast eye, and no sign of
emotion visible, except the ebb and flow of color on her
fair young cheek, he thought, " Oh, that I could read her
heart! Fool that I am-it beats for her brother! She
thinks only of the parting with him!"
And so-perhaps-she did.
Then they all knelt, the Englishman beside Mrs. Romilly-who often, afterwards, mentioned it as a proof that
he was a real good man,-and the prayer of faith, hope,
and love ascended to Him who blesses the family altar.
It was a touching petition, and so appropriately as well
as fervently worded, that the Englishman quite forgot,
while listening to its earnest breathings for his own safety
and happiness, his prejudices against extempore prayers
in general.
After the children had retired, Mrs. Romilly asked
Sidney what church he attended in Charleston.
"The Episcopal."
" Ah, well; I am glad you go there, and not with your
uncle."
"He goes often to the Episcopal church."
"Indeed! How long has he gone there?"
"Since the death of my aunt. My Uncle Brainard is
quite a different man from what he was when I first went
to the South," added Sidney.
" There is something to me quite inexplicable in this
strife of sects in America," said Mr. Frankford. "Where
all religions are exactly on the same footing in the state,
I don't see the use of trying to make proselytes. Besides, your religious people spend so much s!tength and
time in controversies, they can have very little for Christian duties."
"You are right," returned the Squire. "And these
dissentions about points that all concede are not material
to our salvation, are doubtless the'tares sown by the
enemy'-the temptations of that Evil One who would,
if possible, deceive the very elect. It is cheering to reflect that his power will end when the millennium begins."




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            171
"Do you really, sir, believe such a time of peace and
happiness is coming on this earth?" inquired Frankford,
earnestly.
"I do, because God has promised it."
" I should like to believe it; but is there any reason
for such hope? Men have changed very little since the
time of Cain, of Nimrod, or of Solomon.   Hatredpower-pleasure-these move the master minds, and selfishness governs the multitude.  Christianity seems to
have caused some improvement; but when we examine
closely, we find selfish motives apparent among those
styled the most pious men. It has taken eighteen hundred years, almost, to make a few real Christians; the
great mass, nearly the whole world in fact, is still heathen,
or little better. It seems, therefore, hopeless to look for
any great improvement in the future."
" Reasoning from the past, entirely, you are, perhaps,
right in your conclusions," returned the Squire. "But
you leave out of account the two great elements of human
progress which the millennium will introduce."
" I don't understand."
" You have shown, Mr. Frankford, that men have not
improved much; morally speaking, this is true. And
you conclude, therefore, they never will improve, forgetting that God has promised to do for man what he cannot
do for himself. Now, to bring about the'good time
coming,' God has promised to do two things."
" What are they?"
" To change man's heart, and to chain the devil!"
"God must certainly do the last, if it is ever done.
But do you believe what you read this evening about
chaining the devil, is to become a literal fact?"
"So far as this —the temptations of the enemy of God
and goodness will cease. The devil will not have power
to deceive. Revenge, ambition, selfishness, will appear
as they really are —foul, mean, monstrous. Men will see
the truth, their hearts will be changed to love the truth,
and the truth will make them free!"




172              NORTHWOOD; OR,
"And then American slavery will cease, I suppose,"
said Frankford, shrugging his shoulders.
" It will; and slavery will cease in India also. Asia
is now a den of oppressions of all kinds, to which American slavery is freedom. The greater portion of Europe
is under despotic power;-the people are slaves. Our
country has made the greatest progress in the true principles of liberty; our government was the first to prohibit the slave trade; our nation will be the first to find
out the right way-the Christian way is good and peaceable-of converting slaves into free men."
" Should the States continue united, your people will,
doubtless, prosper; but the Union may be dissolved."
" Heaven forbid! The evil would be so disastrous to
the world, so crushing to the cause of humanity and religion, that God, surely, will never permit the enemies
of truth and freedom such a triumph."
" You believe the devil will be chained?" said Frankford.
" Yes; and I also believe that'the knowledge of the
Lord will cover the earth, as the waters doth the sea,'
and that peace and brotherhood will be universal," said
the Squire.
Early on Monday morning the chaise was in readiness,
and Sidney prepared to accompany Mr. Frankford to
landlord Holmes', where the stage to Boston was taken.
There were warm wishes breathed, and warm tears
shed at the parting, though the acquaintance had been
but for a few days. Confidence is soon established and
esteem won, where all are deserving and all sedulous to
appear agreeable.
Mr. Frankford kissed the younger members of the
family; to the elder ones he proffered his hand, and the
blush that crimsoned Sophia's cheek was, by her brother
James, always attributed to a very tender pressure, and
with many a sly jest he afterwards reminded her of the
circumstance.
Mrs. Romilly said, as she wiped the tears from her




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           173
eyes, after the carriage was fairly out of sight,-" Well,
I never thought I should cry at parting with an Englishman; but there, he don't seem like a stranger; he talks,
and thinks, and feels, just as we do. I wonder he don't
stay here in America-I'm sure it must seem just like
his own country; but I shall always remember him, because he's our Sidney's friend."
The stage was drawn up at the door of the tavern, and
the baggage of the Englishman being soon transferred,
all was ready for his departure. He came up to Sidney
and took both his hands in his. There was evidently a
struggle in his bosom, and the dignified stateliness of his
manner seemed assumed to conceal the weakness of feelings he was ashamed to indulge.
Tears started in the eyes of Sidney. "You will write
soon, Mr. Frankford. I shall wait anxiously to hear of
your safe arrival in England."
" With not more anxiety than I shall wait your promised visit there," replied the Englishman. "I shall
never feel at peace till I can have an opportunity of repaying some of the obligations with which you have
loaded me. It was to you I owed my favorable reception at Charleston; it is to your care at Montreal I owe
my life. Now give me an opportunity of proving how
highly I esteem your generous character. You have often
heard the English people were proud: you shall find we
are grateful. Farewell!"
Sidney returned home very low spirited, and all the
exertions of his family were insufficient to dispel his sadness. He had, for the last ten or twelve months, passed
most of his time in the society of Frankford, and felt,
on parting with him, perhaps forever, that vacuity of
heart which all feel on the first separation from favorite
and familiar'frencs.
The day appeared long, and soon as tea was over he
retired to his chamber, notwithstanding Deacon Jones
had called with the avowed design of having "a talk
with Mr. Sidney, and learning something about how he
had spent his time away there to Carolina."




174              NORTHWOOD; OR,
The deacon, indeed, attempted to indemnify himself
for his disappointment by closely questioning the Squire
and Mrs. Romilly, but all the particulars he gathered did
not satisfy his mind; and as I hope some of my readers
will feel a like anxiety, though from different motives,
we will go back to the period when Sidney Romilly first
left the home of his childhood for the house of strangers.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            175.
CHAPTER XV.
THE STORY GOES BACKWARD.
Youth might be wise. We suffer less from pains
Than pleasures.               F&STUS.
THE characters of Mr. and Mrs. Brainard, those relatives whom Sidney Romilly accompanied to South Carolina, have been briefly sketched, and a greater dissimilarity between persons, considered respectable, can
scarcely be imagined than between them and his own
kind parents
In the home he had left, resided peace, the brightest
angel of domestic bliss. There, no forced smiles were
necessary to conceal real sorrow; no words of honey
issued from hearts of gall; no feigned compliances were
extorted to save appearances; but sincere affection inspired the wish to please, and gratified affection still
blessed the loved face, whose smiles even time, the destroyer of beauty, could not mar. And the flowers of
love, to be worth gathering, must be perennial; but
none are so, except rooted in the soil of virtue, discretion, and mutual esteem, and moistened with the soft falling dews of confiding truth, delicacy, and piety.
Shame, however, will sometimes teach decorum when
even a sense of duty would not inspire forbearance; and
a married couple, whose constant bickerings have been
a disagreeable annoyance to their neighbors and intimate
friends, will often live very decently together in the
presence of a stranger.
And thus Mr. Brainard and his wife were, for a time,
awed by the presence of the child, into something very
much like conjugal tranquillity. They both knew the




176               NORTHWOOD; OR,
manner in which Sidney had been educated; the examples of kindness, benevolence and self-control to which
he had always been accustomed, and they shrunk from
exhibiting angry or petulant passions before him.
But the vexed spirit, like the raging sea, is difficult to
be restrained. Nothing but the voice of the Almighty
can hush the one, and nothing but the grace inspired by
waiting on Him can give us wisdom    to subdue the
other.
Mr. Brainard and his wife did disagree, and after a few
faint apologies for the first contentions, they became regardless of Sidney's presence, and very soon required
him to arbitrate between them in their trifling, yet obstinately managed disputes. His aunt, thinking he belonged
especially to her as being of her own blood, now unfolded
to him all her trials and sorrows; his uncle claiming the
affinity which, in many respects, a similarity of disposition engenders, related the story of his disappointment;
each endeavoring to win his confidence and sympathy,
and infuse into his young heart their own illiberal and
bitter prejudices.
But there was one subject on which they perfectly
agreed, and that was to grant Sidney every indulgence
he desired. They both adored him, and looked to him
as the sweet minstrel whose soothing strains were to bring
to their troubled bosoms the peace they had so foolishly
forfeited.
Sidney was formed to be happy. His gay and unbroken spirits imparted to every object he beheld a portion
of his own felicity; and even the evident unhappiness of
those with whom he resided had but a passing remembrance in his innocent bosom.
Indeed he could not sympathize with his aunt in her
abhorrence of the negroes; he was delighted with them
when they came around him, smiling with obsequious
attention to greet his arrival; and he had not yet learned
the immeasurable inferiority a shade of the skin can impart to beings of the same human family.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            177
They were told he was to be their master, and exerted
themselves to obtain his favor.
He was informed what rights the laws of men had
given him over them, but nature was not obliterated in
his heart, and instead of claiming their services as a right,
he yielded his love as a recompense.
His aunt could not endure this, and labored to shame
or pique him out of his partiality for the blacks.
His uncle was a good master, and from particular circumstances, being anxious, in the event which all must
expect, to consign his slaves to a kind owner, he saw
the amity subsisting between them and his heir with
much satisfaction.
Perhaps, too, the idea that it vexed his spouse, might
make him more willing to encourage it; certainly he
permitted his nephew to frolic and ramble about his
estate in company with two or three favorite servants,
who soon initiated him in the arts of hunting and fishing, and all those games and pastimes in which unlettered
leisure is sure to find amusement.
While Sidney had resided with his father he had
been accustomed to constant employment, working on
the farm, except when attending school, and never considered play as necessary to his happiness; but the descendants of Adam are always willing to escape his
penalty of eating bread gained by hard labor; and the
little republican was soon familiar with the idea of his
own privilege of exemption from the degradation of work,
which he was now taught to consider a menial employment.
His uncle had stipulated and indeed intended to bestow on him a liberal education, but he felt loath to part
with him for the length of time necessary to complete it.
His house seemed insupportable without one happy face,
and so he postponed, month after month, the beginning
of his Latin studies, excusing his neglect by the difficulty of finding a competent instructor.
At length, after more than a years' delay, a tutor
was obtained, and as Mr. Brainard could not endure the
8*




178              NORTHWOOD; OR,
thought of sending Sidney to college, he determined to
have him educated at home, beneath his own eye.
The advantages of a public education have been often
asserted, and notwithstanding many objections, the majority of sensible people have, I believe, given their suffrages in its favor. Certain it is that Sidney's proficiency
will not be creditable to the private manner of instructing. He had no competitor to excel, and no reward to
obtain, which he might not by other means have acquired. He was still docile, but his mind wanted a stimulus
which the pedantic and formal lectures of his master, an
old-fashioned birch pedagogue, never could impart.
His love of study was now languid, and progress in
learning slow compared with what they had been in the
district school of his own native village.  There, his
reward for application was certain, immediate, and what
is best of all, while it satisfied his ambition, it still cherished the generous and kindly feelings of his nature. To
walk home with the medal suspended on his bosom, and
receive a smile from his mother as her glance rested on
the proof of his scholarship; to have his father lay his
hand on his head, and inquire the particular manner of
excelling by which it had been obtained, and listen while
the little fellow, with a most exalted tone, repeated his
perfect lesson, or spelt his hard word; these were the
honors he had coveted, and to gain them he had been
urged to the most unwearied exertions.
Nor was there any punishment he dreaded like the loss
of his station in the class, and the censure of his parents.
But now his uncle was engrossed by pleasure or business, and had no leisure for such trifles, and his aunt had
neither taste nor capacity for the task of instructing. True
they were both anxious Sidney should be a scholar, and
to have insured him such they would willingly have
offered a large premium. Money to almost any amount
they would freely have given, but their.own time, or per,
sonal inspection or encouragement, they could not afford.
The consequence was, as it ever is when study is made
an irksome duty, Sidney's book was neglected for play




LIFE.1 ENORT1 AND SOUTH.         179
whenever it could be without incurring severe reprimands,
and these his uncle's affection and indulgent temper
rarely permitted to be employed. Once, it is reported,
the master threatened correction, but Mr. Brainard soon
gave him to understand nothing of that kind must be
attempted with his heir, and so Cornelius Nepos and
Virgil slept quietly and unthumbed, while the Latin
scholar was taking his lessons at marbles or ninepins.
How I wish I had a more perfect hero. One of those
patent made creatures, who either by nature or intuition
are possessed of every virtue, art and accomplishment.
It mortifies me to record, that after seven years' instruction, Sidney Romilly was still ignorant of those languages,
which, by being called learned, we are taught no one can
be learned w'ithout understanding; and, what I consider
far worse, that for all kinds of mathematical studies he
had the most invincible aversion. Should these deficiencies, which truth compels me to make public, be considered as depreciating from his merits, let those who
aspire to the character of heroes carefully avoid an imitation of his errors.
But though the classics and mathematics held but a
slight tenure in his memory, he was not wholly idle.
The French language he studied; philosophy and belles
lettres possessed charms to interest his feelings and fancy,
and to these he devoted his attention,
His tutor for some time struggled against the inclinations of his pupil; but as he declaimed only against those
studies which Sidney found intelligible and agreeable,
without endeavoring to render those he recommended
equally so, his pupil paid no attention to his remonstrances.
And finally, as he found resistance vain, the faithful
tutor contented himself with a good salary, and let Sidney
have his own way, quieting his conscience by laying all
the blame on Mr. Brainard's indulgence and the boy's
obstinacy.
At the age of twenty his education was declared complete, his tutor was dismissed, and Mr. Sidney Romilly
introduced into society as a young gentleman whose




180              NORTHWOOD; OR,
scientific attainments entitled him to a high rank in the
learned world, while his polite accomplishments assured
him a flattering reception in the fashionable one.
He was handsome and agreeable; his uncle had riches
and influence, and his pretensions to learning were never
questioned; nor did he suffer more inconvenience for his
lack of Greek, than did the professor at the university of
Louvain.
His time was passed in a continued series of amusements, and for two years his only occupation seemed to
be the discovery and enjoyment of some new pleasure.
Wherever he appeared, a welcome awaited him; his taste
was the fashion, his applause excellence, and the gay and
accomplished Yankee became the pride and ornament of
a southern city.
But, though he drank deep of the cup of luxury, he
was not the votary of vice. The natural benevolence of
his feelings prevented him from indulging in pleasure at
the expense of another's happiness; and his acquired
prudence kept him from such as would grossly injure
himself.
But, above all, those early lessons of sobriety and virtue which he had, as it were, drawn in with his mother's
milk, those pure and pious precepts instilled into his soul
before one blight of the world had stained its innocence,
still clung around his heart, still visited his imagination
in dreams by night, when he would find himself again
beneath that roof where folly and repentance were alike
unknown.
His father's revered form, while lifting his hands in
holy prayer, was often before his eyes; and the expres
sion of the last petition which he had ever heard from
his lips, was an entreaty to Him who can keep us from
temptation, to preserve and return spotless the dear one
who was about to quit the paternal roof; and the remembrance of that scene often came over him in the midst of
gaiety, and never did it fail of having a restraining and
salutary effect.
But his mother's tears were still more admonitory. He




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            181
never recalled her to his mind without thinking how,
with the last kiss bestowed on his then innocent cheek,
raising her streaming eyes to heaven, she said, " Oh! my
God, I commit him to Thy care, for thou only canst preserve him."
And that Sidney Romilly, in the midst of the pleasures
which a gay city presented, with wealth to gratify every
wish, should yet, in a great measure, preserve the integrity of his heart and his love of virtue, must doubtless
be ascribed to the lessons of his childhood and the example and prayers of his parents.
It has undoubtedly been already anticipated that Sidney had been a lover-for what hero is not-and strange
it would have been, if amidst the bright circles in which
he moved, and where he was an acknowledged favorite,
his susceptible feelings should not have been awaked.
Yet his heart was not an easy conquest. The unhappiness he had witnessed in his uncle's family had prejudiced him against marriage, and his libertine companions
had treated it with ridicule. His course of reading was
mostly novels and poems, and although they usually
ended by placing their best characters in the honorable
state of wedlock, yet they terribly magnified the perplexities and dangers besetting the path which leads to the
temple of Hymen.
However, from the recollection of the happiness enjoyed by his kind parents, and the whispers of his
own heart, he felt assured the most perfect felicity earth
witnesses, is theirs, "whose hearts, whose fortunes, and
whose beings blend." Yet he imagined this felicity was
attained only by the wedded pair who loved each other
solely and individually, without any alloy of worldly
considerations to sully the purity of their affection; and
he fully determined never to marry, unless assured his
fair one loved him for himself alone.
This was a difficult problem to solve, and cordially as
he hated Euclid, he would willingly have sat down to
the study of angles and triangles, if he might thereby




182              NORTHWOOD; OR,
have obtained a result by which to calculate the sentiments of the lady on whom he might fix for a bride.
His appearance, rank, and fortune, made his alliance a
prize not lightly to be rejected by people of fashion;
and he had nothing of that vanity which converts civilities offered to the station into marks of personal esteem.
This refinement, as most men would call it, made him
distrust exceedingly the friendly and affectionate notices
bestowed on him by mothers who had unmarried daughters, and aunts who had unportioned nieces. Perhaps if
he had really loved any of the fair or fine ladies of his
acquaintance, he might have fancied a return; the coolness of his reasoning certainly argued insensibility to
their attractions, as none but an uninterested spectator
can make such rational and unbiased reflections.
At length, however, his philosophy was tested. He
was sitting at the theatre one evening, his eye wandering
unsatisfied over brilliant beauties and dazzling dresses,
when an elderly gentleman entered a box on his right.
His appearance and air bespoke him a man of mighty
consequence in his own opinion, yet he attracted none
of our hero's homage, Sidney looked, but it was at a
beautiful young creature who accompanied him.
iow many sensations a single glance can awaken how
much the heart can grasp in a moment of time-how
soon the affections expand when warmed by real love!
Sidney gazed and loved, and in imagination wooed
and married; nor did the brother of Orlando and the
cousin of Rosalind come to the conclusion of the matter
sooner than he.
The features of this unknown charmer were not regularly handsome-the fascination of her countenance was
its expression; so sweet, so innocent, so feminine, it
seemed as if the softness and harmony of her soul had
diffused their influence over her form and face, giving
to one the most exquisite symmetry, to the other that
indescribable grace which breathes the soul of love and
tenderness,




LIFE NORPTH AND SOUTH.           183
Sidney's eyes were riveted; and with his romantic
feelings it is no wonder that
"In every secret glance he stole,
The fond enthusiast sent his soul."
One would, indeed, be reminded of Ellen Douglas,
while gazing upon her. There was a likeness between
the creation of the bard and the fair creature before him
which immediately occurred to Sidney, The same lightness of figure, the same raven tresses, the same dark eye;
but the heightened bloom which "sportive toil" had
imparted to the complexion of the Highland lassie did
not mantle the cheek of the fair stranger. She was pale,
and sometimes Sidney fancied a shade of sadness passed
over her mild features like a soft cloud over the brightness of the summer moon. Yet so young, so lovely,
apparently so affluent, whence could her sorrows arise!
She bestowed no attention on the many curious observers who regarded her, being apparently absorbed in
the scenes of the drama, or in her own reflections.
The play was Douglas, and during the representation
of some acts she appeared affected even beyond what the
most refined tragic-loving grief could warrant. Through
the first scene she shaded her face entirely; and when
towards the last of the play Lady Randolph sighs forth
in the bitterness of her spirit,
- " Alas! a little time
Was I a wife; a mother not so long 1"the tears fell in large drops down the colorless cheeks
of that sweet being, who appeared totally unconscious
of the remarks her conduct excited, and sympathizing
only in the sorrows of the wife and mother,
"Pshaw!" said a dandy, who was regarding through
an opera glass the same interesting object, "pshaw! how
I do detest to see a lady playing off her airs of sensibility and always expecting some compliment for tender
feelings, and to be told how well her grief becomes her,
It is only, take my experience for it, to gull our sterner




184              NORTHWOOD; OR,
race by making us believe what kind, affectionate, managable wives they will make; but marry them, and the
soft cloud that seemed to distil only tears is soon changed to one surcharged with thunder and lightning, and
we may think ourselves fortunate if we escape being prostrated by a devil of a whirlwind."
Here he paused, to laugh at his own wit.
It did not strike Sidney as wit; but he felt there
might be truth in the observation. His acquaintance
with the world had taught him how often men are deceived by appearance; " and yet," thought he, " who can
suspect artifice in one so young and apparently so innocent?"
He intended to follow her and discover her lodgings,
but as she left the theatre the crowd retarted his progress, and she was gone he knew not whither. No one
could answer his inquiries concerning her, and after a
fruitless search he returned home to dream of the vision
he had seen.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           185
CHAPTER XVI.
FIRST LOVE.
Thou hast the secret of my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart.
LADY OF THE LAKE.
THE moment breakfast was finished on the following
morning, Sidney seized his hat and hurried into the
street, and continued sauntering through the city during
the whole forenoon. He would not have acknowledged,
even to himself, the motive which prompted him to this
singular display; yet, from the eagerness with which he
surveyed every lady he met, and the disappointment of
his air as he turned from each fair face, unequivocally
declared the object he wished to meet did not reward
his search; and restless and sad he entered the dining
room where his uncle was already seated.
"A fine afternoon we shall have," said Mr. Brainard;
I hope, Sidney, you are not engaged?"
" Why so?"
" Because, I have promised to spend the evening with
an old friend of mine, just come to town-a worthy gentleman from Savannah, rich as Croesus, and generous as
rich; and I have engaged you shall accompany me. He
is very anxious to cultivate your acquaintance."
"I don't know," answered Sidney, with as vacant a
look as hopeless love could well assume, " as I wish for
the introduction. I had rather forget half-a-dozen old
acquaintances than form one new one."
" You will be interested this evening, or I'll forfeit a
cool hundred," said his uncle; "so make no more objections, for you must go."




186             NORTHWOOD; OR,
Sidney never opposed any serious wish of his uncle,
and he prepared to go, although he had no inclination
for the visit, and would much have preferred spending
the evening at home, musing, like a faithful Quixotte, on
the unparalleled perfections of that unknown damsel
who had captivated his heart.
They went at an early hour, and were conducted into
an elegant drawing-room, where Mr. Atkinson waited to
receive them. He embraced Sidney with all the ardor
of friendship, telling him that his uncle's commendations
had prepared him to be pleased with Mr. Romilly; "but,"
added he, "your appearance and manners would have
been a sufficient passport to my favor."
Sidney listened to all his compliments without being
able to answer one word; and Mr. Brainard, wondering
at his silence, almost cursed his stupidity, and resolved
to scold him heartily when they reached home.
But the truth was, Sidney at once recognized in Mr.
Atkinson, the old gentleman he had seen at the theatre
as the protector of that lovely girl, and surprise and joy
held him mute.
" Where is your daughter?" inquired Mr. Brainard;
"shall we not see her this evening?"
"She will attend us soon," replied Mr. Atkinson.
" Ah! she comes now. Zemira, my love, let me intro
duce you to Mr. Romilly, the nephew of Mr. Brainard,
my good friend here. You two must be friends as we
are."
Zemnira blushed deeply; yet it was only maiden bashfulness at the appearance of a stranger; but poor Sidney
felt as if every drop of his blood were rushing back to
his heart. He hardly respired; and the sudden paleness
of his countenance alarmed his uncle, who hastily inquired what ailed him.
The event was a fortunate one for our hero, as the
exertions he was obliged to make to convince them he
was "perfectly well-never better in his life," enabled
him to conquer his surprise, and collect his thoughts.
He was soon convinced Zemira did not recognize him,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           187
probably had not noticed him, and he determined to
keep his own counsel, and let no one know the impression her first appearance had made on his heart.
"They shall not know I was so weak as to fall in
love," thought he: "I will first ascertain whether she is
worthy to be loved; and in the second place, whether
she will return my affection. Love at first sight, my
uncle has often told me, a declaration the first opportunity, and a marriage without reflection, were the three
grand errors of his life, which no subsequent prudence
or sagacity on his part could remedy."
So Sidney resolved to be circumspect, and guard his
heart, but armor is useless when we have already surrendered; and so much did his passion speak in his eyes
when gazing on Zemira, and in the tremulous tones of
his voice when addressing her, that the old gentlemen
both perceived it, and with many sly winks and knowing
smiles, expressed their satisfaction at the attachment
which promised a consummation of their fondest wishes.
They had been friends from infancy, and wished to
perpetuate the friendship of their families; what better
method could be devised than to join in wedlock those
who were nearest and dearest to each? They both had
large estates: how could they be better preserved than
by uniting them? For several preceding years, the
nephew of the one, and the daughter of the other, had
always been mentioned in their letters to each other:
but it was only a short time since any explanation of the
views and hopes both had secretly entertained had been
suggested.
The ecclaircissement was first made by Mr. Atkinson.
In a letter, written a few months before his arrival at
Charleston, after mentioning his increasing infirmities,
and the difficulty of finding men with whom he could
entrust his business, he added, I sometimes think if my
daughter were married to a worthy man, it would lessen
my anxieties. I am known to be very rich, and she, although I say it myself, is very pretty. As soon as she
is introduced into the world, which I have not yet per



188              NORTHWOOD; OR,
mitted her to be, these advantages will be sure to attract
a crowd of admirers. She has neither brother nor sister
to guard or counsel her, and the restraints and advice of
an old man are often, by the young, thought morose and
selfish. You have frequently mentioned your nephew,
Sidney Romilly, in terms of high commendation. Now,
Brainard, what if we should contrive a match between
him and Zemira? You, I know, will not object, and
from your description of him, and my knowledge of her,
I should think they would easily agree. My daughter
is young; too young, indeed, to be married, scarcely sixteen; but my health is very poor, and I must either confine the dear child at home with me, for a nurse, during
the bloom of her life, or let her go forth alone into a dangerous world, or give her a protector suitable to her age
and feelings. WVhat say you to my proposal?"
The answer of Mr. Brainard was in the affirmative;
for such an offer, what rich man would refuse! A large
estate always requires a balance of power, or the dignity
of the wealthy party is terribly sacrificed.
They settled the business thus: Mr. Atkinson was to
come, accompanied by his daughter, to Charleston, ostensibly in search of health, spend the winter, and renew
his acquaintance with his friend Brainard. The inter
course once established, Sidney and Zemira would, of
course, be often brought together, and their guardians
flattered themselves mutual affection would soon ensue.
The plan was well devised, and could the impressior
her first appearance would make on Sidney's heart hav(
been foreseen, would not many have wondered at the
sagacity of these match-makers, who had even seemed t(
anticipate the intentions of Providence?  And woul(
they not have pronounced the union to have been de
signed by heaven?
They would have been mistaken, however.
Sidney, it has been shown, was already caught, anm
his attentions to Zemira soon became so pointed and pai
ticular that she could not mistake their meaning. Bu
still her pale cheek grew paler, and, except when beneat




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            189
the eye of her father, whose glance always appeared to
make her tremble, she was pensive or silent.
Sidney sometimes thought she was unhappy, and sometimes feared it might be from secret disappointment; but
her father said she had never had a suitor; her reserve,
therefore, was only bashfulness, and, in her lover's opinion,
it constituted her most delicate charm.
Many a time had he sighed on beholding some fair
lady, who, with glowing cheek and tender air, had been
listening to his compliments, smile just as sweetly on the
next admirer who approached her; and often had he repeated, that at the shrine he worshiped, others must not
bow. And how rapturous to win the love of Zemira, so
young, so inexperienced in the world, and make her soft,
unhackneyed heart all his own I
The denouement, however, speedily arrived.
Urged on by the impetuosity of his passion, secure of
his uncle's approbation, and certain, from pretty broad
hints, he was favored by the father, Sidney thought he
might dispense with such a scrutiny of the sentiments of
the daughter as he had always determined to institute
before making a formal declaration to any woman on
3arth.
How easily love leads captive the judgment of men!
Many reasons, plausible ones, too, now occurred to Sidaey, why a lady should never "tell her love;" no, not
even let it be suspected by any, certainly not by the object of her partiality. It was a violation of maiden deli-:acy-a sacrifice of female dignity-and he would not
narry with her who could " unsought be won."
And there was truth in all this. The mischief was, he
lid not consider the difference which would appear in
me whose heart was touched with the merit of her lover,
Lnd in one who was indifferent or averse. And though,very particularity on his part only added to the reserve,r evident inquietude of Zemira, he still flattered himself
Ler decision would be favorable.
At length he made his avowal. I cannot tell whether
L was at a morning call, or an evening walk, in the par



190               NORTHWOOD; OR,
lor or garden-neither do I know the exact form of
speech used on the occasion. And of what consequence
would it be if I did?
There are specimens of this kind of eloquence already
extant, sufficient to furnish the vocabulary of every
pretty fellow who is incapable of wording his own petition; and lovers of sense and honor, why, they will not
regret the omission, for they know the language which
would express their feelings must be their own.
Sidney told her, however, of his affection, ardent, sincere, and undivided, and entreated a word or look to
assure him he might hope.
Her color went and came like the gleams of an April
day, but grief overpowered at last, and she burst into
tears.
There have been tears of joy, but her lover saw these
were not, nor was her confusion that of gratified surprise.
"Not that the blush to wooers dear,
Nor paleness that of maiden fear,
It may not be."
He took her trembling hand.
" My dear Zernira, do not cast me off!"
She struggled to release her hand.
" Oh 1 Mr. Romilly, you know not whom you address,
but I will tell you all-I am-I am —already a wife; I
have been married these three months."
Sidney's feelings had been wrought up to such a height
of expectation he hardly believed disappointment possible; certainly he never could have anticipated it in such
a shape. Her words fell like an ice-bolt on his heart.
lie did not merely see, he elt his hopes annihilated. Cold
drops of sweat started on his forehead-he trembledher hand fell from his nerveless grasp, and leaning
against a support, he groaned aloud.
A long and death-like pause ensued; at length it was
broken by Zemira. Raising her tearful eyes to his, she
said
"Mr. omnilly, before you blame me, listen to my story.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           191
If I havenot mistaken your character, you ha-v a kind,
generous heart. You profess to love me —oh. do not
prove my enemy! You can comfort, you can befriend
me; and though I cannot return your affection, I will
bless your kindness-I will accept your assistance-and
if you really wish to contribute to my happiness, you
now have it in your power. Say, will you not be my
friend?"
"Your friend, Zemira, your friend! when you have
thus pierced my heart?"
"Yet how could I avoid it? I endeavored to discourage your addresses, but you persisted, and my father favored you; he does not know my marriage. Oh, if he
should learn it at present, he will cast me off forever 
but he does not know it; and he gives you every oppor
tunity to approach me, and I have no resource left but
to throw myself on your humanity, your honor."
"Where is your husband?" said Sidney, in a tone of
bitterness. "Your husband must protect you. Why
does he not claim you?  Were you my wife, I should
not thus leave you to the casual interference of strangers"-And he walked hastily away, as if intending to
depart.
" Mr. Romilly," said she, and the despair of her heart communicated itself to her voice-" listen to me one moment.
Hear my story-I ask no other favor-and then, if you
wish, publish it to the world;-I can but die." And she
covered her face and burst into a hysterical sobbing.
Sidney hurried back, caught, and supported her to a
seat.
"Forgive-forgive me, Zemira; I am myself again.
You must not wonder at my unreasonableness; my disappointment —butt I will mention it no more. Now
tell me how, at your age, this strange marriage could
have been contracted without your father's consent or
knowledge."
After a few moments' silence she began; but her narrative was so often interrupted by her sighs or Sidney's
questions and exclamations, that it would not be as intel



192              NORTHWOOD; OR,
ligible to my readers as a connected story. And besides,
there were circumstances she did not understancd, and effects whose causes she had not developed. None but the
author can know the hidden springs which move the
world of his creation; and the scholar and philosopher
who requires a reasonable apology for the unreasonable
marriage of Zemira must read carefully the three succeeding chapters.
Every lady and every lady's man will surely peruse
them, and without skipping, when assured they are all
about love.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTIH.               193
CHAPTER XVII.
ZEMIRA'S HISTORY.
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say aye,
And I will take thy word.Yet if thou thickest I am too quickly won,
I'll fiown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else not for the world.
ROMEO AND JULIET.
ZEMIRA ATKINSON was an only child, and her mother
dying when she was an infant, the heart of her father
seemed to rest on her alone. He did not merely love,
he idolized her, and expected from her a return of the
same extravagant affection.
She was a sweet-tempered, warm-hearted child, so gentle
that restraint of any kind seemed almost unnecessary.
Why need she be troubled with lectures, be taught she
must sometimes control her inclinations, and that the
world was fraught with disappointment!       Her father
never intended she should be exposed to temptation or
sorrow.   He had wealth to gratify her every wish, —he
would select her friends, direct her affections to the highminded and worthy, provide her amusements, encourage
her studies, and in seeing her happy, he should ensure
his own felicity. But
"There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them how we will."
The web of human life is never uniningled; and let
no one fancy he or his shall be exempt from misfortune,
or infallible to error. It is the height of folly to flatter
our offspring with the hope of being good without exer9




194              NORTHWOOD; OR,
tions or sacrifices; or that the whole universe will move
in unison with their wishes and for their happiness.
Among the instructors Mr. Atkinson provided for his
daughter was Mr. Charles Stuart, a young gentleman
from Massachusetts, liberally educated, of fine talents,
and whose prospects had once been brilliant. But losses
and crosses occurred, and he found himself compelled,
after leaving college, to earn money before he could complete his studies for the profession of law; his visit to the
south was to seek employment as a preceptor in the languages.
Mr. Atkinson was highly pleased with his appearance,
and satisfied with the credentials of character and scholarship he exhibited, and he employed him to instruct in
French and Latin, his daughter and a boy whom he had
adopted, giving Stuart a large salary.
Zemira, then not quite fifteen, was "gay as a lark,
and innocent as gay;" one of those sweet, happy, laughing fairies, that so soon weave their spells around the
hearts of the brave or wise when their lofty souls are
saddened by care or misfortune.
Mr. Stuart instructed her with all the attention a faithful preceptor should do; and he soon loved her with all
the ardor a young man of the most exquisite sensibility
and entirely unengaged would do. It was his first love;
he feared it would be hopeless, for he saw her father was
a proud man, and expected a proud fortune for his child.
Would he give her away to a Yankee school-master?
And Stuart considered it all, and he felt it was dishonorable to attempt winning her affection when thus commnitted to his care. A hundred times he resolved to leave
the place and the employment, and Zemira and her father.
These resolutions were always taken when absent from
his pupil; a tone, a look of hers, altered his plans in a
moment.
Then he remembered his engagement to her father, anc
fancied he had power to command his own passions, anc
that his secret would never be discovered; and a soft raj




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            195
of hope would fall on his path-it might be, it might be
she would be his.
He redoubled his assiduities to please and oblige Mr.
Atkinson, but the more he won his confidence, and the
better he understood his character, the less reason he saw
to hope he would give him Zemira.
With Mr. Atkinson, as with many other men, wealth
and success were criteria of merit; genius and learning
being considered as appendages only, which should perhaps attract some notice, but which might be dispensed
with easily, and without much inconvenience.
People who derive all their consequence from wealth,
and have received their wealth by inheritance, are not
usually very generous to encourage talents, or willing to
acknowledge that, in conjunction with prudence and industry, they may soon obtain for their possessors even a
higher station than themselves. Those who are rich can
conceive of no happiness without riches; for they are
ignorant of the satisfaction the exertion to obtain eminence or fortune excites. But moralize for yourselves;
the reader who cannot, will never be wise. I must to
my story.
Zemira, meantime, was as unsuspecting of the passion
she had inspired, as she was of the one she entertained.
She had scarcely heard of love, and never, in her life,
thought seriously on the subject. Happy in the indulgent affection of her father, and charmed with the lessons of literature and wisdom imparted by her instructor,
she did not think from whence arose the exquisite bliss
she was enjoying. And when her father told her of his
plans for her future felicity, she would press his hand,
while the tear of delight trembled in her dark eye, and
exclaim:
" Why do you feel so anxious about me? I never can
be happier!"
She did not know why she so loved to have her tutor
linger in the parlor where she received her lessons; nor
why she so often studied questions to detain him; nor




196              NORTHWOOD; OR,
why it seemed so lonely when he was away; nor why
she always counted the hours of his absence.
She did not think of loving him. He was her instructor, and her father's friend; she ought, therefore, to feel
interested in his fortune; and he was so noble and amiable, she must admire his sentiments and conduct.
So she would have reasoned had she been called on to
defend her partiality; but she was so insensible of her
love for Stuart, that she never framed an excuse to justify
or conceal it.
But suddenly his behavior altered. He no longer listened to her questions with a smile, or drew his chair
nearer while giving an explanation; he came but at the
stated moment, and staid only to hear her recitation.
He entered the room with a gravity of countenance
bordering on severity, and often left it without once turning to give any directions for the next lesson. He grew
pale, thin, and melancholy, and to all her inquiring and
sympathizing looks, only answered with a suppressed
sigh.
" What can be the matter with him?" was a question
she repeated to herself a thousand times in a day.
She feared that she had done something to offend him,
and taxed her memory for some omission of civility, some
inattention to instruction, and redoubled her diligenceall was vain. He heeded no attentions she offered, no
arts she practiced-he was cold and indifferent.
So she believed, yet she did not mention it to her
father; for some how, though she knew not why, she
shrunk from exposing her thoughts to him. And of what
could she accuse Stuart?-he heard her lessons, he gave
her the stipulated instruction. Should she complain his
smiles were withdrawn?-would not her father say," Foolish girl, what are his smiles to the heiress of Atkinson!"
At length she felt so wretched she determined to come
to an explanation, and know the reasons for his altered
behavior. It was several days after this resolution was
formed before she could gather courage to put it in exe



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           197
cution. He left the apartment so suddenly she could not
begin.
"The next time "-he came again and departed as before., One day, when she had finished her recitation, she
looked up and saw he had covered his face with his
handkerchief, and she thought he wept. She burst into
tears.
Stuart gazed on her, astonished. "Zemira, why do
you weep?"
"How have I offended you?" said she.
"Offended me!" replied Stuart, incredulously.
"Yes, I know you are offended; you appear so differently from what you did. You are silent, and look so
sad, and sometimes, I fancy, angry. Pray tell me what
I shall do to make you happy and regain your favor?"
"Good Godl" burst from Stuart's heart. He seized
both her hands and pressed them to his bosom; all his
resolutions of prudence were vanquished by her pathetic
appeal, and he poured out his whole soul.
Zemira, abashed, confounded, scarce drew her breath;
frightened at his vehemence of passion, yet rejoiced that
he was not angry, that he loved her; yes, he loved her,
and at that moment she did not think she could ever
again be unhappy.
But the cloud soon returned on the brow of Stuart.
He knew the obstacles to their union, and his nice sense
of honor condemned the declaration he had made, as a
violation of the confidence with which her father had
entrusted this lovely girl to his instruction. He released
her hands, started from his seat, and regarding her a
moment, said, in a tone rendered touching by sorrow." Zemira, I must leave you, even now leave you. Your
father never will consent to our union, and to stay and
endeavor to win your love and then be compelled to part,
would only add to my sufferings. Farewell! I must go
far and endeavor to forget you. The attempt, I feel, will
be vain, yet I ask you not to regret me. You are surrounded with blessings; let not my remembrance ever




198              NORTHWOOD; OR,
prevent your enjoying them. I would not plant one care
in your happy heart. Farewell, farewell!"
He was leaving the apartment. She started up. "Stay,
Stuart, stay one moment, 1 entreat you."
He turned, saw her quivering lip, her pale chee-,
sprung and caught her as she was falling to the floor.
"Zemira, Zemira," he exclaimed almost wildly, as he
bore her to a window.
As he pronounced her name she opened her eyes, and
looking up faintly said, "Do you still intend to leave
me?
" Why should I stay?" inquired he mournfully.
"For my sake," she replied, covering her blushing face
with her hand.
Stuart could scarcely credit his hearing. The violence
of his emotion shook his frame. He endeavored to reason, to reflect, but passion conquered.
Again he urged his love and found he was beloved.
Zemira could not dissemble; she was artlessness itself;
though nature had " wrought in her so," that she had
never given him any suspicion of her attachment till his
declaration demanded a return.
" Can I, Zemira, flatter myself with the hope you will
be mine?" whispered Stuart.
Her smile might have imparted hope to despair itself,
while she replied, "Ask my father; if he consents, I
shall not refuse. And he will consent; for he has often
declared he lived only to contribute to my happiness."
Stuart shook his head. "I am a poor man, my love,
and the rich see no merit in such."
"You wrong my father," she replied; " he loves and
respects you. He has wealth enough for us both, and
why should he care from which party the abundance is
supplied. Oh, when he finds his consent is necessary to
my happiness, he will not withhold it."
The cold snows that wrap the frozen earth, like the
shroud of nature, are not more unlike the soft dews which
sparkle on the bosom of the summer rose, than are the
feelings of selfish age and generous youth. The dews




LIFE NORTHI AND SOUTH.          199
and snows are both exhaled from the same source, they
descend from the same skies; yet who can discover their
similitude?
Stuart felt their difference on his heart, as slowly he
walked down the broad avenue to seek Mr. Atkinson,
who had retired to his garden. He saw him in an arbor.
There are but few men, and I do not believe there ever
was a true lover, but trembled when approaching thq
guardian of his fair one with an intention of asking consent. And Stuart trembled, but he told his errand like
a man.
"Zemira," said the old gentleman, regarding the petitioner with an eye of lightning, " Zemira, you say, has
accepted your suit if I will consent?"
"She has."
Mr. Atkinson paused a moment, as if to deliberate, and
Stuart hoped, though the paleness of the father's face, the
paleness of rage, forbade him to indulge it. But suspense was not long; Mr. Atkinson only paused to gather
strength to express his wrath, and then it burst forth like
the thunder of a torrent!
It is unnecessary, and would be painful to record his
language-the ravings of a bedlamite are not more frantic.
He poured his curses on the ingratitude and arts of
Stuart, and on the weakness and simplicity of his daughter.
Epithets the most opprobrious and contempt the most
galling, seemed- inadequate to convey the bitterness of
his soul; and no efforts on the part of Stuart to appease
or moderate his anger, were of the least avail, till
exhausted by his own violence he was compelled to stop
to recover breath.
"You have heaped your reproaches on me," said
Stuart, when he could speak, " but they shall not move
me, for God and my own conscience will witness I do not
deserve them."
"You deserve the gallows," cried the furious father,
"and I doubt not you will yet grace it. Such dissimulation and ingratitude will not go unpunished. But go,
go from me; I will not listen to any apology. I owe you




200              NORTHWOOD; OR,
for your last quarter —there is the money; take it, and
never let me see your face again. You may send for
your clothes, but never presume to darken my doors
yourself." As he ended he threw the money at Stuart,
walked hastily out of the arbor and proceeded to the
house.
Mr. Stuart was a man of strong and ardent passions,
but they were usually subjected to the control of reason;
and his own disappointment was forgotten while he
sighed to think a man-an old man-should exhibit such
an ungovernable and furious spirit.
" I pity him," thought he; " my own sun, darkened as
it is by misfortune, is bright to his. There are scorpions
in his bosom, whose sting is more keen than the gripe of
poverty. My sorrows have arisen from casualties I could
not avoid; his misery is the result of his own wilfulness
and folly."
As Mr. Stuart could devise no expedient either to conciliate Mr. Atkinson or see Zemira again without encountering him, which he did not like to do in her presence,
fearing unpleasant consequences might ensue, he had no
alternative but to obey the bidding of his employer and
depart.
The devoted lover, who has experienced a similar
doom of banishment from his mistress, and only he, can
conceive what his grief must have been. There are but
few such despairing swains in our land of liberty and
equality, and therefore should I draw the picture ever so
touching and true, it could neither excite sympathy by
its tenderness, nor admiration for its justness.
Stuart went to the house of an eminent merchant in
the city, who had shown him many civilities, and on
whose counsels he thought he might depend, and asked
his advice what course to pursue.
Mr. Lee respected and loved Stuart; and besides,
being a brother free mason, he felt bound to assist him.
After listening to Stuart's history of his love and grief,
he said,-" If you have any hope of obtaining Mr. Atkinson's consent, there is but one course-you must ac



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           201
quire wealth, and a pretty large sum too, as that only
will be a passport to his favor. It is strange," continued
Mr. Lee,-" and yet it is true-that we usually find the
greater a man's stores, the more inordinate are his desires, especially if he consider wealth necessary to rank
and character. Property here has such an effect much
more than at the north; because wherever slavery is established, to labor will be disreputable for a free white
man, and while this prejudice operates on the minds of
a community, the wealth that will exempt from exertion
becomes absolutely indispensable. You must, therefore,
endeavor to push your fortune; and were you willing to
hazard the perils of the sea, I could employ you in a
lucrative situation."
"I should not fear the danger-the distance might
appal me more," replied Stuart; "but where would you
send me?"
"My agent in New York is now fitting out one of my
vessels for a voyage to the Mediterranean: I want a superintendent on whose capacity and faithfulness I can
rely. If you would undertake the business, you shall
have an opportunity of some advantageous speculations,
and besides I will allow you a liberal compensation."
" And leave the country without seeing Zemira-without letting her know my destination and entreating her
to be faithful?"
" Why no, my dear sir; for in that case, I fear you
would be tempted to drown your sorrows, not in the
flowing bowl, but in the briny deep. Yet, if Mr. Atkinson has really said and sworn you shall not see Zemira
again, it will be very difficult for you to obtain an interview. He is one of those characters who always make
it a point of honor and conscience to keep their word,
thinking by that means to pass off their dogged obstinacy
for manly perseverance. Now the man who tells me he
never alters his opinion, I immediately set down for a
very ignorant or a very obstinate fellow-certainly a very
disagreeable one; and such has always been the social
character of Mr. Atkinson."
9*'




202             NORTHWOOD; OR,
" Then you are proving that for me to see and co:1verse with Zemira is an impossibility?" said Stuart,
thoughtfully.
"0, no," replied Mr. Lee, laughing "who would ever
attempt to prove impossibilities to a lover? I was only
stating some of the difficulties you must encounter; then
intending to offer my mediation in the affair, and should
the issue be successful, the more credit would be mine.
That, I believe, is the usual management of skilful diplomatists. I do not know what influence I might possess
with Mr. Atkinson; our acquaintance has never been an
intimate one. Yet, if you please, I will call on him, and
shall doubtless learn something of his intentions, and
perhaps be able to convince him of your merits."
Stuart gladly accepted the proposal; and after Mr.
Lee had seen his guest accommodated to pass the time
of his absence pleasantly, he departed on his embassy.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              203
CHAPTER XVII.
ZEMIRA'S HISTORY CONTINUED.
------------ My dearest husband,
I sometimes fear my father's wrath; but nothing
(Always reserved my holy duty) what
His rage can do on me. You must be gone;
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.       CYMBELINE.
MR. ATKEINSON received Mr. Lee with a profusion of
civilities; for the man who has just fallen out with one
friend is usually anxious to conciliate another, either to
strengthen himself against the enemy he has lately made,
or to demonstrate he has a heart capable of friendship
whenever he meets with a worthy object. Few persons
distrust compliments when paid to themselves, because
but few distrust their own merits; unless, like Mr. Lee,
they penetrate the motives of the speaker. But although
he suspected Mr. Atkinson's uncommon flow of kindness
proceeded from that revulsion of feeling from rage to
complaisance which he had just experienced, and expected, should he mention the name of Stuart, to see a
return of the storm; yet he determined to brave the tempest rather than betray the interest of the lover; and it
is what but few men would have done, to offend a rich
and powerful neighbor by appearing in behalf of a poor,
friendless stranger.
But Lee and Stuart were brother free masons.
After some conversation, Mr. Lee introduced the name
of Stuart by mentioning the proposed voyage, and inquired of Mr. Atkinson if he thought he might safely




204             NORTHWOOD; OR,
trust the young gentleman with such a responsible situation.
" I can't answer for your business," replied Mr. Atkinson, his anger rekindling, " but Stuart has betrayed my
confidence most cursedly!"
lie then proceeded to detail the matter as it appeared
in his eyes, breathing denunciations against Stuart,
and lamenting his own folly in employing him; " For,"
said he, "I might have known a Yankee pedagogue
would stick at no means to gain property. I don't
mean any reflections on you, Mr. Lee; you have been a
citizen here a long time, and are naturalized to our customs, and have imbibed our generous spirit; and besides,
you are not a Yankee, only from New York; but I do
despise the people of the north that come like locusts to
devour whatever they can find. To better himself is the
first study of a Yankee; and heaven knows their situation needs bettering; but I have no intention they shall
do it at my expense. My daughter shall never marry
one of that canting, hypocritical race who are forever
declaiming against slavery, and yet wish to reduce all
the world to a dependence on themselves."
"But, Mr. Atkinson, I have often heard you speak in
terms of the highest praise of your daughter's tutor."
"Ah! that was before I knew him. It takes a long
time to find out the cunning of the race. Yet I might,
if I had only had any thought, have found out Stuart
before now. Why he was always walking and looking
around my plantation, and inquiring about the management, and the income, and suggesting plans by which
my estate might be improved; and I fancied it was all
done to gratify me by showing an interest in my affairs;
-fool that I was not to see that he was planning for himself! And my daughter is so young, it is no wonder
she should be deceived. But his plans are blown now.
He never shall see Zemira again, even though I should
be compelled to confine her to her chamber till the day
of her death."




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           205
"You don't confine that sweet girl, I hope!" said Mr.
Lee, looking-astonished.
"But I do, and I will, till that villain leaves this part
of the country. Oh!'tis here the ingrate has wounded
me;" and he laid his hand on his heart. " He has stab.
bed my peace by robbing me of the affection of my only
child, and I will never forgive him, even though I knew
my eternal salvation would be forfeited by refusing."
" And did you not expect your daughter would love
some man besides her father? Did you mean she should
live in celibacy?"
"No, but I expected she would bestow her love on a
man I could approve; and then the gratification of her
wishes would fix another bond of obligation on her to
respect me for thus providing for the continuance of her
happiness. But now, Stuart has wheedled her out of
her senses, and she thinks she must marry him or be
wretched; and she regards me as a tyrant, and feels as
if I were depriving her of every enjoyment. 0! we
shall never be happy again."
In spite of the knowledge that this misery was the effect of his own unyielding prejudices, Mr. Lee could not
help commiserating the grief of the father, and he exerted
all his ingenuity to convince him of his unjust accusations of Stuart, and persuade him to accept him for a
son-in-law. But his arguments might as well have been
employed in teaching self-denial to a Sybarite. His
words, like oil poured on fire, increased the violence of
the old man's anger, till his extravagant and irreverent
language became too painful to Mr. Lee to endure, and
he suddenly made his exit.
"There is no hope of appeasing or convincing Mr.
Atkinson," said Lee to Stuart, after he had detailed in
part the particulars of his interview. " He is in a more
terrible rage, I presume, than you ever saw any one indulge. Your cool climate keeps your temperament cool;
and the perfect equality subsisting in your society makes
the controlling of the passions more indispensable than
with us, where the overflowings of wrath may be poured




206               NORTHWOOD; OP.
out on the heads, and bodies too, of unresisting menials.
But you will also find our virtues are proportionally
more warm and ardent; this you will willingly concede,
if you are a lover of Zemira, as no doubt you invest
your charmer with every perfection under the sun."
"No,' replied Stuart, "I only think her more free
from the foibles which usually blemish such perfections
and advantages as she possesses. She is beautiful, and
yet neither affected, insolent, nor vain; she is rich, without being proud, arrogant, or extravagant; and she has
always been indulged, and yet is neither petulant, wilful, or selfish."
" So you make her a paragon at last. I knew it would
end there; and indeed I think she is well worthy
your love. But now the only question is how to obtain
her. I can contrive but two methods-either to elude
the eyes of her Argus, and steal her away, or wait till
they are closed in. everlasting sleep."
" And before that event his cruelty will either have
broken her heart or her spirit; she will be in her grave
or in the arms of a rival."
" You are for expediting matters," said Lee, smiling.
"Then suppose you contrive to steal her away? A
clandestine marriage would be an affair of some celebrity
in your history, as it is an event so seldom occurring in
our country. Who knows but it might furnish a good
plot for some dramatist? But it is uncertain yet whether
the tragic or comic muse must be invoked; pray heaven
it be not Melpomene. Yet we have some excellent characters for a tragedy. There's Mr. Atkinson very much
resembles old Capulet; and if your fate should end like
Romeo's    but I always thought his might have been
avoided. He was too precipitate; you have his example
before you, and would doubtless avoid his errors."
"And when was a lover ever made wiser by the mistakes or misfortunes of his ill-starred fellows?"
" 0  never. You lovers are just like the girl in the
Arabian Nights, who was in search of the talking bird,
golden water, and singing tree; and would not turn back




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            207
for warning, threat, or expostulation. She stopped her
ears against the din; you are more courageous; you hear
it, and yet go on."
" And she obtained the prize which a cowardly retreat
would have forfeited. And true lovers always expect to
obtain one. I am so confident of the worth of her I am
seeking, that no hazard to myself would stay my pursuit.
I only pause, fearing rashness on my part might involve
her in distress. Could I only see her!"
"You can write to her," observed Mr. Lee.
"And how shall my letter be conveyed?"
"Easily enough. You know Tom; well, that fellow I
purchased soon after I came here. He was such a faithful
servant that about eight years ago I gave him his liberty. lie afterwards continued with me some time, till
5Mr. Atkinson, hearing of his faithfulness, and always,
by some means, being troubled to obtain good overseers,
offered him such enormous wages, I advised him to accept. Hie has since resided there;-but still gratitude
to me will prompt him to any service or sacrifice I
require. He can carry your letters to Zemira, and return her answers: for he is cunning and dexterous as a
juggler, and would outwit --  "
The offer was accepted, the letter written and despatched. It is due, however, to the good sense and real passion of Stuart to record, that his love-letter was not an
unmeaning rhapsody-alternately fire and frost; now
breathing out his affections, and now lamenting his destiny.
He addressed Zemira as his friend, and therefore entitled to his confidence-as a reasoning being, and therefore able to understand his situation, and assist him with
her counsel. He explained his intentions and hopes,
stated the offer of Mr. Lee, and asked her whether, in the
event of his acceptance, she would still continue her faith,
and at his return, allow him to claim her for his own.
Early next morning her answer arrived. It was so
characteristic of the writer, so devoid of dissimulation or




208              NORTHWOOD; OR,
artifice, that it may be worthy of inserting as a unique of
its kind.
It was written in pencil on a blank leaf torn from a
book —(she was not allowed pen, ink, or paper)-and
had been begun with "Dear Sir." This address she
thought, possibly, too formal, and she substituted
"Charles." But "Dear Charles" was too familiar, so
she had tried to efface it, and wrote on itDEAR MR. STUART:
Your letter was the first consolation I have received
snce uWe pazt-e. Youa Cave not tlien PrgotCen mile; you
will not then forget me, though my father has treated
you so angrily. But he is my father, and has always
been so kind, I must bear with his severity now without
murmuring. Ie says I am too young and inexperienced
to know what will most conduce to my own happiness;
but I know my own heart, and feel that my affections
can never be altered or divided. By your letter I perceive you judge it best to accept the proposal of Mr.
Lee, and perhaps it is so. O! these cruel prejudices of
my father, that make such a sacrifice necessary. Why
should riches be thought so indispensable to happiness?
I would rather live in poverty all my life, than have
you exposed to the dangers of the seas to acquire wealth.
Yet, if you think it best to accept your friend's offer, I
will not urge your stay; only do not let time or distance
blot Zemira from your memory or your heart. You
need not bid me be faithful: I cannot be otherwise, for
the idea of you is blended with every thought, every
sentiment, and lesson you have taught me. And when
I read over those passages in my books your pencil
marked, I almost fancy I can hear your voice. I shall
read them constantly during your absence; but what
will remind you of                     ZEMIRA?
Postscript.-My father confines me closely to my
chamber, yet allows me every indulgence I wish, except
my liberty, and the means of corresponding with you.
I suppose I am foolish to weep so much, and I endea



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           209
vor to recollect all you have urged on the necessity of
self-command; but thinking of your advice always
makes me weep more. I wish I had more fortitude.
When do you leave Savannah?              Z. A.
Tuesday night, 12 o'clock.
The simple and pathetic letter of Zemira overcame
Stuart's resolution, and he told Mr. Lee he could not
embark in an enterprise that would take him so far, and
detain him so long from that lovely and innocent girl;
certainly not, if he must leave her thus exposed to the
tyranny of her father, who would probably confine her
till he could find a match which gratified his ambition,
and then compel her to marry. "I cannot," continued
he, " endure such uncertainty."
" Then why not marry her yourself-before you go?"
said Mr. Lee.
" Marry her! Hiow?"
" Why, as lovers of the olden time were in the habit
of doing. Steal her away fron the dragon that guards
her. I will engage the parson. You may bring the
fair lady here, and Mrs. Lee will protect her-with my
assistance in times of imminent peril-till you return."
A spasm passed over the face of Stuart, as though he
struggled with some deep agony of mind, some feeling
he dared not entertain. After a few moments he raised
his head, and said, hesitatingly" It may be the only way to save Zemnira from being
sacrificed to her father's hatred of me. And yet, how
can I, as a man of honor, propose to this child —she is a
child in her timid, clinging nature-to disobey her father, and desert him? I have no means of supporting
her-and must leave her to the kindness of my friends.
I don't doubt your friendship, Mr. Lee, but I fear your
advice is wrong."
"Then don't follow it," said Mr. Lee, dryly. "You
can go on this voyage; she says in her letter she will
be faithful. You may return in two or three years  "
"And find Zemira lost to me!" exclaimed Stuart.




210              NORTHWOOD; OR,
" Her father's threats, notwithstanding the sincerity of
her affection for me, will overcome her resistance, or he
will use artifice to persuade her I am inconstant-and.
when I return she will be lost to me."
The workings of his spirit displayed their power, and
even his stern self-command could hardly restrain the
violence of his emotion.
"If Zemira loves you as your merits deserve, and as
her fatlhr's anger would imply, her happiness ought to
weigh something in your decision," said Mr. Lee, earnestly. "I do not approve of elopements, nor would I counsel you to this course, only I know Mr. Atkinson, and
know that Tour case is a desperate one. He would rather
see his daughter in her coffin, than at the altar with you,
even if you gain wealth, because he has sworn she shall
not marry you. Now, you can live without her-men
don't often die for love;-but poor Zemira will have a
pitiful lot. She has never been disappointed; she has a
very tender, loving heart; and I am sorry for her."
" What would you advise me to do?"
" To leave this place at once. Go to Augusta, and remain there two or three weeks. When Mr. Atkinson
finds you gone, he will release his daughter. Mrs. Lee
shall visit her then. My wife loves Zeinira, and has her
corfidence."
"And then?
"We shall see how this little Juliet, as my wife often
calls her, because she has such an exuberance of love in
her young heart, we shall see how she bears separation
from  her Romeo.   Should she droop like a broken
lilyt — 
" Oh! let me know it at once!"
The suggestion was acted on, and came very near proving a real tragedy. Mr. Atkinson, finding Stuart had
actually left Savannah, was so overjoyed that he burst
into his daughter's prison-chamber, told her she was free,
for the villain had fled, never to return!
She heard the announcement calmly, as her fhther




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             211
thought; before the next morning she was in the delirium
of a fever.
Mrs. Lee was sent for; Zemira loved her well, and Mr.
Atkinson had no female relation in the city. At the first
lucid interval, Mrs. Lee told the poor, broken-hearted
child, that her lover had not forsaken her —he was then
returned, privately, and waiting to see her as soon as she
recovered.
It was wonderful, the effect of this simple assurance,
and how suddenly Zemira's health improved!
Then Mrs. Lee tried her rhetoric on the father; but
she found him in no melting mood. To all she could
urge of the danger Zemira had just escaped, and how
deeply her happiness was concerned in her union with
Mr. Stuart, the father was utterly unmoved.  Ie met
every attempt to gain his consent, by a stern refusal, declaring that "Zernira might die! but she should never
marry Charles Stuart!"
To reason was hopeless;-so the trio at Mr. Lee's resorted to stratagem,-Mrs. Lee justifying her course by
her belief that it was the only way to prevent Mr. Atkinson from becoming accessory to the death of his daughter.
The love of Charles Stuart overmastered his scruples of
honor-yet his own passion was not so predominant as
his terror lest Zemira, unless tranquilized by the assurance that she was his?zfj, should, on his actual departure, sink into a state of hopeless despondency.
Zemira's assent to the secret marriage was easily obtained-but not to the residence at Mr. Lee's. She would
remain with her father. He might be ill and need her
care; he always needed her caresses. In one of her letters to her lover, she wrote," Do not, dearest Charles, ask me to leave my father.
I will marry you; but while you are gone, let me stay
with him. Perhaps he will relent. Perhaps, in some
blessed moment, he will say,-' Zemira, when Stuart returns, you shall be his!' Oh! how such a permission
from his revered lips would confirm my happiness. But




212               NORTHWOOD; OR,
should he retain his prejudices against you, and endeavor
to compel me to marry another, and I find no other resource of escape, I will then confess my marriage, fly to
your friends for protection, and there await your return."
So it was arranged. And when Zemira had recovered
sufficiently to go abroad, her father permitted her to pass
a week with Mrs. Lee. An easy opportunity was thus
presented for the marriage; and she and Stuart pledged
their faith at the house of Mr. Lee, in his presence, his
wife's, and a lady, the particular friend of Zemira, whose
affection and secrecy admitted not of suspicion.
A few days after his marriage, Stuart was obliged to
take leave of his young bride, and actually depart. It
was a moment that called for the exertion of more fortitude than he had ever before practiced, when, with her
soft arm encircling his neck, she wept on his bosom her
last adieu-it was one of those partings that "press the
life from out young hearts."  He was obliged to suppress
his own emotion to soothe and encourage her; and he
promised a speedy return, and faithful remembrance, and
constant correspondence. His letters were to be directed
to Mr. Lee, enclosing Zemira's, who could convey them
to her without being discovered.
And thus they parted; he on a foreign destination,
and she to weep his absence in her father's splendid but,
to her, )onzey hal}s.
The sorrow and desolation of such partings are not
felt in their full bitterness by man. I-e plunges in business or resorts to amusements; new scenes attract his notice, new friends solicit his favor, and the smile he at first
only affects, soon images the real gayety of his heart.
But woman, sad and secluded, sits alone and muses on
joys that are past. In every dream of her fancy is
blended the image of her lover; and- every tear she
sheds, hallows the remembrance of his friendship. She
must be faithful-" she cannot choose but weep."
Zemira wept almost continually, though her father,
more fond, if possible, than ever, tried every art to con



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            213
sole and divert her. But her melancholy continued;
her color fled, and her health seemed fast declining.
Mr. Atkinson, convinced it was the loss of her lover
which thus affected her, thought the best method of dissipating her grief was to give her another; and he renewed his correspondence with his friend Brainard, of
whose nephew and heir he had heard much, and on
whom he had fixed as the future husband of Zemira.
To accomplish their union with the least delay, was his
constant study. The feeble state of his own health forbade him to expect a long continuance of life, and he
fancied he could die happy if he saw his daughter the
wife of Sidney Romilly.
So fondly does the world cling around the hearts of
men! And when they can no longer enjoy it themselves,
they labor to direct its enjoyments for others.
In pursuance of his plan, Mr. Atkinson informed Zemira she must make preparations to visit South Carolina,
and spend the winter in Charleston. His health required
journeying and change of scene, and he had many friends
in that city to whom he was anxious his child slould be
introduced.
Zemira heard this declaration with dismay. She could
not think of an introduction to the notice of strangers.
She could not leave the place where she often fancied
she heard the voice of her beloved Stuart; and she
should be deprived of the dearest happiness she now
enjoyed-the perusal of his letters, which arrived almost
daily; for how could she receive them at Charleston
where she knew no one to whom they might safely be
directed? But her entreaties to relinquish or defer the
journey, by making her father suspect she intended corresponding with Stuart, only made him hasten her departure, and she was compelled to obey.
She had just received a letter from her husband, detailing an account of his success in prosecuting the business entrusted to his care, and flattering his hopes with
a fortunate voyage when he might return with wealth to
support his sweet wife, claim her, and be happy.




214               NORTHWOOD; OR,
"It will never, never be," thought she often during
her journey, and after her arrival at Charleston. "I
shall not live to see him again." But when she was introduced to Sidney, and discovered she was, by her
father, destined to be his wife, fear and grief did indeed
nearly deprive her of existence. She was separated from
every friend on whom she had any claim for assistance.
But one ray of hope yet remained-Sidney Romilly had
a kind heart; he could sympathize in the sorrows of
others, and more, he had the power to relieve them.
She determined, whenever he declared his passion, to
tell him the whole of her story, and rely on his generosity to forgive, pity, and assist her.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           215
CHAPTER XIX.
IN WHICH THE HERO SHOWS HIS HEROISM.
But 0, how bitter it is to look into happiness through another man's
eyes!                               As You LIKE IT.
" AND what do you expect from my interference in
this business, madam?" said Sidney, with an air of petulant haughtiness.
Zemira uncovered her face; and, turning her dark
eyes, bathed in tears, upon him,"0 I" said she, "I hoped-I hardly dare tell you-I
hoped you would be my friend, and conceal all from my
father, and make him believe you did not wish to marry
me; and"      she grew paler.
"And what more?" said Sidney, trembling with suppressed emotion. "What more do you require of me?"
"Only-to receive Mr. Stuart's letters and convey
them to me. My father will not suspect you, and I must
hear from my husband, or my heart will break. Will
you —will you do it?  0, say you will!" and clasping
her hands, she leaned towards him in the attitude of
entreaty.
Sidney might, with old Norval, have complained,
"Alas, I am sore beset."  He professed himself her
devoted lover, and yet shrunk from bearing the name
of friend. "I must resign her," thought he. He looked
at her, and his feelings overcame his resolution.
" O, Zemira!" exclaimed he, seizing her clasped hands
in his, "why, why did you marry him? You say you
esteem me-you wish me for a friend. Ah! had I seen
you before this fatal connection, and could I have obtained a dearer title, my whole life should have been




216             NORTHWOOD; OR,
devoted to your happiness. Zemira, say, at least, if
you were not the wife of Stuart, you might have preferred me."
" Mr. Romilly," she replied, with such an air of modest
dignity as compelled him instantly to release her struggling hands, "I never thought of preferring any man to
my husband. I said you were generous; but you are
not like him. If you were acquainted with him, you
would not wonder at my partiality. 0, he is my pride,
my preceptor, my friend! But I can convince you of
his worth, nobleness, and superiority," she continued,
her face glowing with animation: "I will show you his
letters, and then you can judge whether he is not worthy
of my confidence-my heart."
As she ended, she left Sidney, but soon returned with
a small ivory box in her hand, and opening it, took out
a bundle of letters, and holding them towards the discarded lover, said, with a sweet smile,-" Here, if you
will only peruse these, you cannot, I am sure you cannot, blame my choice. But do return them; they are
dear to me as my life."
Sidney took the letters, although he would willingly
have been excused from seeing them; but he could not
refuse such an urgent request, especially when made by
such a persuasive voice. He took them, and without
speaking, bowed, left the house, and, hurrying home,
shut himself up in his own chamber, to deliberate what
course to pursue. But his mind was all anarchy; and at
last, as a refuge from his own thoughts, he took up the
letters. They were all neatly folded, and each labeled
with the date of its reception.
Although Sidney had no intention of analyzing the
mind of his rival by a minute examination of the contents
of the several epistles, yet he naturally opened the first
in order, intending merely to glance over its contents,
without expecting to be much edified by the morality or
consistency of a love-letter. However, he made no pause
till it was finished, and then laid it down but to take up




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           217
another; nor did he once change his posture till the reading of the whole was accomplished.
The hand-writing was beautiful and very plain, which
much facilitated the reading and comprehending too; for
who can understand the connection of a sentence when
obliged to pause and hammer and spell one half the
words composing it. But Sidney thought not of the
penmanship; it was the sentiments of the writer, so
noble, so wise, so just, yet expressed with such simplicity,
and illustrated and applied with such anxious, yet delicate tenderness to direct the mind and conduct of his
pupil and bride. There were directions for the regulation of her time and temper; hints on the selection of
books and the choice of company; on the advantages of
a taste for literature, when kept in subordination to her,duties, to the happiness and usefulness of a woman; and
a recommendation of the heaven breathing spirit of piety,
as the beautifier which added loveliness to the lovely.
These were the topics introduced and discussed with all
the knowledge of the philosopher, yet with all the suavity,
feeling and delicacy that friendship and love could inspire.
"He is worthy of her!" exclaimed Sidney, starting
from his seat and pacing the apartment with rapid steps.
" She was right in saying I was not like him. I have
worshiped her for her beauty and to gratify my passion;
Stuart loved her for the excellences his intimate acquaintance showed him she possessed, and he is employing' his
influence over her mind to render her worthy of forever
retaining his confidence and affection. He sought her not
as a toy for the moment, but to make her his friend, his
2ompanion through life. For this she loves him as I shall
never be loved. I may obtain a wife or mistress; wealth
would gain either, though a man were deformed as
AEsop; but a friend, a true love, who will "love on;hrough each change and love on till we die," such a one
nust be deserved, and must be cherished. I am not
rorthy of Zemira, for I could not guide aright her gentle
spirit, that would so entirely commit itself to mine to be
lirected. Yet why?" continued he, sitting down and
10




218              NORTHWOOD; OR,
leaning his head on his hand with a mournful expression
of countenance, as if lamenting over the loss of long
cherished hopes, " why am I thus inferior to Stuart? I
was, in childhood, extolled as possessing uncommon
genius, and flattered with the expectations of becoming a
great man, and now I am-a gay one. Strange, that the
expectation of being able to bestow a fortune on a child
should lead those who have the care of his instruction to
educate him only to spend it! As if they thought riches
possessed the quality of imparting knowledge without the
necessity of study or exertion. Had I remained in the
old granite state and won my way from the plow to the
honors of a college, as our greatest statesmen have done,
I should not now be envying the superior acquirements
of even Stuart. I know I could have equaled him. But
luxury has undone me. Wealth all covet; yes, my good,
sensible, and contented parents were dazzled by its lustre,
and thought, by placing me in a situation to inherit it, I
should of course possess the advantages which it is supposed to convey. But they erred, or I have wretchedly
misimproved my opportunities. And is there then no
privilege attached to the possession of riches? Yes, the
power of conferring benefits on those less favored by fortune's smiles. It is there I can excel Stuart; and I will
-yes-I will make him, learned and noble, and dignified
as he is, confess himself indebted to me. I will go to
New York, find out Stuart, and offer him such inducements as shall make him forego his intended voyage. I
will restore him to Zemira, and by the influence of my
uncle, reconcile Mr. Atkinson to their marriage. Then
Zemira will be happy, and she will bless me, and acknowledge I have a soul capable of estimating worth; and I
shall perhaps feel deserving of her gratitude."
Sidney was an enthusiast in whatever he heartily
engaged, and he had no sooner taken this resolution thar
he hastened to put it in immediate execution. He com
municated to no one whither he was going; but simplj
informed his uncle he wished to be absent a few days o0




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTI.           219
an expedition from which he promised himself much
pleasure.
Iis uncle consented, though not without endeavoring
to ascertain whether his business had any reference to his
nuptials, which Mr. Atkinson was anxious should be
celebrated without delay.
"Mr. Atkinson," said his uncle, "told me nZemira had
received your addresses. You will be a happy man if
she loves you."
How often the face speaks a language foreign to the
heart. Sidney suppressed a sigh and forced a smile, and
Mr. Brainard thought he was happy.
Early the next morning Sidney took his seat in the
New York stage.
Steam and telegraph have made a revolution in affairs
of the heart as well as in business affairs. Space and
time being annihilated, novel writers can no longer keep
lovers in the purgatory of suspense. There is no possibility of delaying the meeting or the letter, as lightning
can be used if steam is too slow, unless the author raises
a tornado to break the wires, or blows up the steamboat,
or runs the rail-car over a precipice. And these horrible
accidents must be sparingly used, or the interest of the
work will prove too painful for readers of amusing
fiction.
But in the good old times of which we treat-say
thirty years ago-neither steam nor lightning connected
the South with the North. IFrom South Carolina to New
York, was a weary pilgrimage of nearly eight hundred
miles, and many long days —more than now suffice to
make the voyage to Europe-were required for the journey by land. It required, also, some heroism to undertake it solely for the benefit of others. Our hero, however pursued his way without interruption, and arrived
in due time at the end of his journey safely, and in good
health. No sooner was he set down at the hotel, than,
directed by Stuart's letters to Zemira, he proceeded to
his lodgings, and inquired if he iwere within. rThe waiter
answered in the affirimative. Sidney then sent up his




220              NORTHWOOD; OR,
name, and requested an immediate interview on business
of importance.
The waiter soon returned, saying,'*Mr. Stuart is
engaged, sir, but says he will attend to your business
now, if it does not require long attention." Then motioning Sidney to follow him, he began to ascend the
stairs.
This was a trying moment for the rejected lover. In
the hurry and bustle of the journey, h  hhad thought
but of reaching the city il time to find Stuart before he
embarked, without considering the consequences which
might result from an interview with him. But now,
when so near the completion of his wishes, embarrassments h hhad not anticipated, began to appear. What
should he say to Stuart? and how introduce the particular business that brought him to the city? Should
he tell the husband he had made love, serious, ardent
love, to his wife? and how would he relish the intelligence?
Sidney ran over in his mind every dilemma to which
unfortunate lovers had been reduced, but found no parallel for his case, and no precedent to guide his behavior.
Once he paused, almost resolved to return back and
leave the affair unexplained; but he was within three
steps of the apartment, the waiter had already reached
the door; "I must proceed now," thought he, " and my
communication shall be regulated by the appearance of
Stuart. Perhaps he is not so formidable as I imagine.'
The servant opened the door, and Sidney entered.
"Mr. Stuart," said the waiter, motioning towards a
gentleman who was seated before a table at the upper
end of the room, then instantly retreating, he closed the
door.
Stuart raised his head as the waiter pronounced his
name, and fixed a scrutinizing gaze on the stranger;
Sidney Rornilly felt his heart beat, and his cheek flush,
beneath the penetrating regards of the Yankee schoolmaster. He stood exactly fronting Stuart and a large




LIFE NfORTHI AND SOUTH.         221
mirror, and the view of his own face as compared with
that of his rival, did not afford him much pleasure.
Sidney had often been told he was a handsome fellow;
and it is not strange if he sometimes indulged a little
self-complacency on his good appearance-but he now
saw of how small account, especially for a man, is a " set
of features or complexion " to the perfection of the human
countenance.
Charles Stuart's features, examined by the rules of art,
were irregular, and his complexion, though clear and
healthy, had nothing of the delicacy or freshness that
usually distinguishes students from men of business (the
freshness can only be claimed by those who burn no
midnight oil; remember that and be careful, ye dandy
students.) His was the beauty of deep thought, the
lofty expression of superior intelligence, giving to his
countenance an irresistible fascination, while a gravity
almost approaching sadness told the struggles he had to
maintain with the world, which had always seemed adverse to his happiness. But the animation of his eye
at once evinced he did not shrink from the contest; his
eyes literally flashed forth the feelings and meaning of
his soul, and seemed to read the thoughts and hearts of
those who approached him, and few could meet their
keen, searching, expressive glance, without feeling. a
sense of inferiority.
Oh! the eye is the index of the mind, and let Gall
and Spurzheim examine the bumps of the cranium, one
glance of the eye tells more than all.
"Your name is Romilly, I believe," said Stuart, examining his card. Sidney bowed. "You have business
of importance, the waiter told me."
"Yes, yes," stammered out Sidney, and all was
silence. " Would to Heaven," thought he, "some trapdoor would kindly open beneath my feet; I should care
little where I landed if once freed from this awkward
dilemma."
"I am in haste," observed Stuart, "and shall be




222              N'ORTHWOOD: OR,
obliged to urge the despatch of your affairs with all
convenient speed."
"Y    ir yes, sir,  " said Sidney, and drew towards the
table, then suddenly stopping. "I came here, sir, without considering the awkwardness of introducing myself
or my intentions to a stranger; yet I came as a friend,
to serve you, to make you happy."
"And really for a stranger you were very benevolent,"
replied Stuart, smiling; "but can you not explain the
reasons which induced you thus to interest yourself in
my fate?"
"Your wie I!" exclaimed Sidney, resolutely raising his
voice while pronouncing wrfe, as if determined to convey
his whole meaning at once.
"My wife!" repeated Stuart, starting from his seat,
while lis face was crimson and his eyes seemed to emit
fire; "my wife! what do you know of my wife?"
Sidney was now the calmest of the two, and certainly
was relieved from a part of the feeling of inferiority
which had so sensibly depressed him in the presence of
the scholar and philosopher, when he found Stuart was
also a lover. Nothing affords' more self-complacency
than seeing those whoin we imagine exempt from human
weaknesses, exhibit the like passions as other men.
"We will sit down, if you please," said Sidney, "and
I will tell you a tale that might well grace a romance,
were it not over-true for such a place. I hope you will
listen with patience, and judge with candor."
They sat down, and Sidney began and related minutely
the particulars of his meeting with Zemnira, and told the
tale of his love; but then he did not dilate, for the
changing color and compressed lip of Stuart warned him
to be brief, and he hastened to his last interview; and
when he mentioned the delicate and noble conduct of
Zemira on the occasion, her husband's eyes beamed with
tenderness, while he unconsciously ejaculated, "What
an angel!"
Then Sidney made his own generous offer of assisting
the lovers, urging Stuart to accompany him back to




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            228
Charleston, and pledging himself, with his uncle's assistance, to remove every obstacle to his happiness.
"We will," said he, "either conciliate the old gentleman's prejudices, and he shall receive you as a son, which
he may well be proud to do, or we will place you in a
situation to support yourself and Zemira independently
of his favor. Do not deny me the pleasure of thus deserving your friendship, for the man worthy of Zemira's
love must be estimable as a friend."
He sighed, and Stuart pitied him; yes, pitied the man
who was offering him assistance.
There is riches in reciprocal affection-there is wealth
in superior intellect-which cannot be estimated or transferred, and the possessor of either has a jewel the man
of gold can never purchase with gold.
Stuart held out his hand.
"I accept your offer, Mr. Romilly, with the same
frankness it is made. Although I have oftener found
deceit than kindness in the world, yet my heart is not
chilled into suspicion; and if your countenance be an
index to your soul, I have now no cause to fear being betrayed."
Sidney pressed the offered hand, and felt, at the momlent, almost as gratified as if he were pressing Zemira's.
Almost-self still held a sway, which reason and generositv were striving to extinguish. His love could not at
isis bidding retire, but by continued exertion he hoped
it migOht be overcome.
There were circumstances which gave to the offers of
Sidney the appearance of the design of fate, or rather,
Providence-the term is more appropriate in a Christian
country-to reunite the husband and wife. The agent
employed by Mr. Lee to procure the cargo, had failed,
land in consequence of his bankruptcy the vessel could
not proceed on her voyage.
Mr. Stuart, therefore, was destitute of employment,
and at the arrival of Sidney was anxiously meditating
some plan to enter on business. Several had been proposed, considered, and rejected * and he was then actually




224              NORTHWOOD; OR,
employed in speculations on a voyage to China, the only
one offering which afforded him a chance for pecuniary
profit, and that demanded a length of time that almost
rendered such a recompense valueless.
But now he might stay in his own country, with his
beloved Zemira, and while he thanked Heaven in a
transport of gratitude, he fully appreciated the noble
sacrifice and disinterestedness of him who so largely
contributed to his happiness.  Everything was soon
arranged, and the two friends, without any feeling of
rivalry, commenced the journey which was to terminate
the suspense of all parties.
If Sidney sometimes breathed a sigh that his fairy
visions were thus dissolved, he never failed, on listening
to the conversation of Stuart, to acknowledge that he
who had robbed him of his love was worthy of the
prize. There was a satisfaction in the thought-not that
we like to be eclipsed-but the heart involuntarily pays
a tribute to merit, and we are consoled with the hope of
obtaining a like reward, when, like the favored one, we
shall deserve it.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            225
CHAPTER XX.
RECONCILIATIONS.
A death-bed's a detector of the heart.-YOUNG.
THE two gentlemen reached Charleston in safety, and
were set down at the house of Mr. Brainard.
" Where is my uncle?" said Sidney to the servant
who appeared.
"At Mr. Atkinson's," was the reply.
" When does he return?"
"Lack, sir, I don't know," replied the servant" why, Mr. Atkinson is dying with a fit of the artiplax."
"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Stuart, "where is Zemira?"
"The old man's daughter I heard my massa say took
on desputly, and he feared she would die too."
" Let us go, Romilly," cried Stuart, " perhaps we may
save Zenmira."
Silently and hastily they proceeded to the lodgings of
Mr. Atkinson. In reply to their eager inquiries, the
servant said his master was still living.
"And where is his daughter?" asked Sidney.
"In her chamber, I believe."
"Go to her and say Mr. Romilly wishes to speak with
her immediately, if she is able to hear him."
"I will wait in the hall," said Stuart, as Sidney opened
the door of the parlor, "till you apprise Zemira of my
arrival; should I appear suddenly, the effect might, in
her present low spirits, be overwhelming."
Sidney had not passed many minutes in the parlor
before Zemira, pale, and her eyes swollen with weeping,
10*




226              NORTHWOOD; OR,
entered, and, making an effort to speak, burst into
tears.
" My friend," said Sidney, as he hastened towards her,
"you have allowed me that title-I may not aspire to a
dearer-I know your sorrow, and I need not tell you of
my sympathy. Is there any service I can perform for
you?"
" My father," sobbed Zemira, " wishes to see you he
insists on pledging you my hand before he dies. 0,
what shall I say to him! How can I so deceive him at
such a time, and who will protect me?"
" If your husband were here you would not feel so
destitute," said Sidney, trembling almost as much as
" 0! no, no; but I have heard nothing from him since
I came to this city. He has, I suppose, sailed, and I fear
I shall never"-. Here her agitation overcame her,
and she wept aloud.
" Zemira, Zemira, be calm!" exclaimed Sidney. " You
will see your husband again —I pledge my life to restore
him to you."
"When?"
" Now, whenever you can have fortitude to support
the interview."
"Is he come? —is he here?-I am calm; let me but
see him, and I will be calm." And she gazed eagerly at
the opening door.
Stuart entered: he had heard all, for the door was
not entirely closed, and at her pathetic entreaties he
could no longer restrain his impatience. He rushed forward and caught her, as faintly uttering his name she
sunk into his extended arms.
Sidney did not dare trust himself to be a witness of
their rapture. He felt sick, oppressed for breath, and
hastened to the door with an intention of leaving the
house. A servant overtook him as he reached the street,
with a message from his uncle, requesting to see him.
He turned back, and was conducted into an apartment




li,.tt NORTlH AND SOUTH.        227
adjoining that in which the sick man was confined, where
his uncle soon joined him.
After a few hurried inquiries, respecting what had so
long detained him, which Sidney evaded as well as he
was able, Mr. Brainard described the melancholy situation of his friend, hinted the probability of his speedy
dissolution, and finally ended by telling him he had engaged for his marrying Zemira.
"But," continued he, "the old gentleman is anxious
to witness the performance of the ceremony, and I was
about despatching a messenger to hasten your return."
"What a prize might have been mine!" thought Sidney; "but I have begun to act the part of the self-denying, philosophic lover, and must proceed." He then
related to his uncle the story of Stuart, and the resolutions he had himself taken.
Mr. Brainard listened to the recital with astonishment
and emotion; and when it was concluded, leaned his
head on his hand and sat for some time in deep and evidently unpleasant reflection. Then suddenly starting up,
he drew his hand across his eyes, as if to shut some unpleasant object from his view, while he said, in a melancholy tone," Sidney, I applaud your conduct, though my example
did not teach it. But you need not my praises, for I am
convinced integrity always imparts its own reward, and
your heart is now enjoying a happiness which the possession of Zemira could not bestow; at least not for any
length of time. I know that connubial affection to be
lasting, must be reciprocal, and that if we would enjoy
felicity we must be able to confer it."
He sighed, and Sidney, who suspected his sadness
arose from self-reproach for the ungenerous part he had
acted in supplanting Reuben Porter, changed the conversation by inquiring how they might best communicate
the affair to Mr. Atkinson, or whether it was not better
to let him depart without a knowledge of his daughter'
marriage. After some discussion, they concluded to visit




228             NORTHWOOD; OR,
the sick man, and consider what effect the intelligence
might have on his weak frame and agitated nerves.
His disorder was a fit of the apoplectic kind; and
although he had partially recovered from the shock, and
now possessed his reason, his enfeebled constitution was
sinking beneath the attack, and his wasted and livid
features struck Sidney with horror. At their approach,
he turned his dim, heavy eyes, upon them; death was
already glassed in their sunken orbs, yet there was something like the lighting up of joy at the sight of Sidney,
as if earth still held one object on which they might rest
with confidence-one heart on which he might rely for
comfort.
Mr. Atkinson raised his hand and Sidney extended
his, although shuddering while he did so; for the hand
he took was already cold, and the damps of death gave
a clammy chilliness to the long bony fingers, and he
trembled while involuntarily striving to release himself
from their convulsive grasp.
"I thank God that I see you once more," said Mr.
Atkinson, at length, in a hollow, rattling tone. "I can
now depart in peace-you will protect my daughter."
Sidney could not answer.
After a moment's pause, Mr. Atkinson made an effort
to raise himself, while he said with energy,-" Mr. Romilly, you know my partiality for you, and I think-I
believe-I hope Zemira favors you also. Will you
promise me, in the name of that God before whom I
shall soon stand, to make her your wife, and by your
kindness console her for my loss? Ah! she will soon
be an orphan."
Sidney's eyes glistened with tears as he turned them
on his uncle with an expression that supplicated his interference.
"My nephew," said Mr. Brainard, comprehending the
appeal, " on account of some singular circumstances, is
not able to give you a decisive answer. If you will consent he should retire, I will make the explanations, and
then we will agree to whatever shall be proper."




LIFE NOUlRT AI  ) S Ju Tl -.   229
Mr. Atkinson released the hand he had held, and by
a motion of his head signified his assent; yet when Sidney was leaving the room he called him to return, and
told him he hoped nothing had happened which would
impede his marriage with Zemira; " for," said he, " my
sick heart cannot brook such a disappointment."
" Oh! would to heaven she could be mine!" exclaimed
Sidney, thrown off his guard by the mention of a union
as possible, "but she is already" —  married, he would
have said, had not his uncle caught his arm and hurried
him from the chamber.
Then returning to the bed-side, Mr. Brainard, after
much circumlocution, and many exhortations to the dying father to consider what was past and inevitable as
designed by Providence, revealed the marriage of his
daughter and the return of Stuart.
It was some time before Mr. Atkinson could believe
the story; but when he learned the noble part Sidney
had acted, and the praises he bestowed on his rival, he
was conquered. Tears streamed down his cheeks, as he
faintly said, "I am satisfied; may God bless their union
-it was of his appointment." Then turning his face
towards Mr. Brainard, continued, " My friend, the world
is fading from me; its riches, honors, and pleasures appear now like the baubles that amused my childish
fancy. They have been bright, but now I see their vanity; I wonder I could ever have prized them so highly,
A death bed, Mr. Brainard, a death bed reduces the
things of earth to their intrinsic value. I am passing
the dark valley, but it is the world only that is shadowed. Heaven and goodness are bright and beautiful, and in the scrupulous practice of christian duties, I
must acknowledge the superiority of Stuart. He bore
my unreasonableness, my rage and rebukes, with the
calmness of. conscious innocence. I knew he was worthy of Zemira, but he was poor-his poverty was the
objection I could not overcome. I thought a rich man
would add lustre to my name, and my name will soon
be known only on a neglected tablet of stone.  I




230              XORTIHWOOD; OR
thought a rich man, by adding his wealth to mine,
might make great improvements on my estate, and now
my eyes are to be closed on everything below the skies.
I was providing for an earthly eternity-ah! that is a
provision no mortal need make!"
He had spoken so rapidly, Mr. Brainard could not
check him, although trembling for the consequences;
and his fears were realized, for Mr. Atkinson now sunk
down exhausted and apparently dying, and it was not
until after the application of many restoratives that he
recovered sufficiently to express his desire to see his
daughter and her husband.
"I will bless them," said he, "before I go hence;
Zemira will live happier, and I shall die happier."
Mr. Brainard summoned Sidney, and acquainting him
with the result of the conference, bade him go to Stuart
and Zemira, and conduct them to their father.
Sidney said he rejoiced te hear all would be so amicably adjusted; yet his step, when proceeding to seek
them, was not a "tripping on the light airy toe" of unbridled happiness. He lingered a moment in the hall,
endeavoring to assume a cheerfulness of countenance,
that he might not appear like a disconsolate lover; but
when he unclosed the door and saw the beautiful cheek
of Zemira resting on the shoulder of her husband, while
with his face declined towards hers, and an arm encircling her waist, he was supporting her and soothing her
grief; the image of mutual love, confidence, and tenderness was more than his disappointed feelings could endure, and hastily closing the door, he paced the hall in
an agony of perturbation.
" And yet," thought he, "I knew it would be thus.
I must control my passions-one effort of self-denial will
not make me good, or my friends happy. I will be consistent-I have reunited the lovers, and now shall I mar
their felicity, and blast my own, by indulging in weak
and wicked repinings and envyings? I will not yield
to the suggestions of imagination. Zemira never can be




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           231
mine, but tranquillity may, if I do not foolishly waste
my life in vain regrets."
He now again opened the door; the lovers were standing evidently in a state of anxious expectation.
Sidney approached them with tolerable composure,
and related the approval of the old gentleman and his desire to see them. Sudden felicity is usually in its first tumultuous throb, more overwhelming than sorrow. Zemira had never dared to expect such a result. Joy and
grief had been, for the last half hour, strangely commingled in her bosom. She had been folded to the heart
of her husband, but she could not anticipate the happiness of enjoying his society for any length of time without associating it with the death of her beloved and only
parent. She dared not think of the future, for on every
side dark shadows were resting; but Sidney's intelligence dispelled them all, and she who had borne sorrows and separations patiently and calmly, now fainted
in the sunbeams of prosperity!
As soon as she recovered sufficiently she begged
to be conducted to her father. He had been strengthening himself to take a last farewell of his daughterthe world he had already shaken off.
Early independence, an ill directed education, and violent passions, had involved Mr. Atkinson in many incolisisteuices, exposed flarr to many temptationls and it
must not be thought strange if he had at times yielded
to the allurements of pleasure and vice; yet of cold, premeditated cruelty or villany he had never been guilty.
His impulses were usually on the side of goodness, when
his passions did not interfere; and had he in youth
been subjected to judicious discipline, or taught by necessity to govern himself, he would have been an inestimable man.
As it was, he had been prosperous, but never happyrich, but never contented; and instead of studying himself and discovering from his disappointments the inadequacy of the world to afford real or permanent enjoyment, he had, by the failure of one ambitious scheme been




232              NORITHWOO (30I); 01?,
stimulated to a more ardent pursuit of another, till they
centered as the schemes of life usually do in age, in a
desire of accumulating wealth, not for himself-for he
was sensible he could not long enjoy it —but for his
daughter. Such are the subterfuges of selfishness.
But the approach of death dissipated the illusions of
earth. He saw the broken reed on which he had been
leaning. His vices and follies sprung up like armed men
when the field was sown with dragons' teeth, to threaten
and destroy him. Oh! how gladly would he have given
all he possessed for the peace of a quiet conscience!
But peace is not to be purchased; it is won only by
goodness, or accorded to penitence. He could not claim
it for the first; he had not besought it in the humility
of the last. For some time he struggled to suppress his
feelings and his fears; but an alarmed conscience is not
easily hushed. His pride at length yielded to his terror,
and a clergyman was sent for-a sensible and pious man,
whose conversation and example were alike heavenly.
He listened to all the confessions and complaints of the
sick man with patience and pity, and gently as the dew
falls on the drooping plant, he breathed the words of consolation.
Mr. Atkinson became convinced the Bible he had so
long disbelieved, or at least doubted, was the only sure
guide to immortal life; and that the Saviour he had
neglected was indeed the kind physician who would heal
all his sufferings by forgiving all his sins. IHow rich now
appeared the promises of the gospel!-how glorious the
love of the Redeemer and the joys of heaven!    He
believed; and while relying on the mercy of God, he
felt a spirit of benevolence towards his fellow men, which
he had never before cherished.
The pride which had so long elated him at the idea of
his vast possessions, was now humbled by the consciousness of the little good he had performed with all his
advantages, and the utter nothingness of wealth to purchase the favor of heaven.
He could now listen to the account of his daughter's




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            233
marriage with a poor man, who he knew was rich in
merits, without feeling a degradation, and was eager to
press her to his bosom and give to her union with Stuart
the sanction of his approbation.
As they approached, he stretched forth his hand, saying,
while an attempt to smile gave to his sunken and distorted features an unearthly expression. —"Ah! my
daughter, my darling, do I see you happy before I die.'
Zemira sprung from the support of her husband, and
throwing her arm around her father's neck, burst into a
passion of tears. It was more than his weakened frame
could endure, and the attendants had to separate them.
She was consigned to the care of Stuart, who succeeded
in calming her agitation by representing the fatal effect it
must have upon her father.
After a few minutes he again spoke and called on his
daughter and Stuart. They knelt by his bed-side and
took each a hand.
"My children," said he, looking on them tenderly
while the difficulty of his respiration seemed increasing
every moment, " 1 have much to say, but death will soon
interrupt me. I feel his cold embrace. He is stealing on,
and this heart and pulse will soon cease to beat. Yet do
not grieve; my Saviour has interceded for me and God
will receive me. But, oh! do not love the world as I
have done. I could tell you-but I am going. God
bless ye-God bless ye, my children!  Stuart, forgive
me-love Zemira —and be kind to my servants."
As he ended he fell back on his pillow; his eyes were
raised and his lips moved as if in prayer; then drawing
his hand across his eyes, as if to shut his weeping friends
from his view, a low groan, a slight tremor, and the
spirit had gone forever!




234               NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XXI.
FRIENDSHIPS.
And blest are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop sle please! Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, aye, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.
MORALISTS and philosophers have consumed much
time in advancing arguments to prove that disappointments are not always evils; but perhaps we might not
yield our assent to such self-denying propositions did not
daily experience confirm the theory. Even the annihilation of our dearest hopes, although fraught with keen
agony at the moment, often proves in the end a precious
blessing, and well worth the price we have been compelled to pay.
However Sidney might think the loss of Zemira could
never be repaired, yet when he found himself the object
of such unceasing regard, and saw the gratitude he had
awakened in hearts so pure and noble, and now by his
means, rendered so happy, he felt the delightful approbation of his own heart, the joy which the truly benevolent
only can know, and which seems, more than any other
happiness, to assimilate men to angels and earth to heaven.
The resiglnation of his beloved had been rewarded by
the acquisition of twco friends, and though he did not
dare indulge in any intercourse approaching to intimacy
with Zemira, lest his weak heart might rebel against
Stuart, he indemnified himself for this constraint, by
making him, excepting in some wandering dreams where




LIFE NORTH AIND SOUTH.           285
his wife was yet concerned, the depositary of all his
secrets and the oracle he consulted on every question.
Charles Stuart was just such a friend as Sidney Romilly needed; bold, ardent and enterprising, yet with a
mind tempered and disciplined to caution and perseverance by the lessons of adversity (and more useful precepts are acquired in her school than ever were in tliat
of Plato)-learned and accomplished, yet estimating his
talents more by the benefits he might by their exertion
render to his friends and society, than for the consequence they bestowed on himself. And thus, while his
intelligence rendered him a most agreeable companion,
Iils integrity made him a perfectly safe one.
In short, he was a man capable of true friendship;
there are but few such. How can a selfish, a frivolous,,or an ignorant mind, be actuated by that disinterestedness which sacrifices its own wishes when the welfare of
a friend requires? or that steadfastness which remains
unshaken in affection, when the world forsakes or derides the object of its choice? or that delicate propriety
which seizes the fittest opportunities both to show its
zeal in defending, or its love in advising a friend?
But if to the compact of friendship now subsisting
between these two young men, Stuart brought a mind
the best instructed, Sidney had undoubtedly as generous
and warm a heart; and the knowledge that they were
both natives of the same section of the country, had
also an effect to increase their confidence in each other;
for Sidney had never forgotten he was Yankee born,
although half raised on a southern plantation. 1Thec
green hills of New Hampshire still rose on his " mind's
eye;" those frequent eminences swelling into an endless
variety of forms, yet still retaining a character of softened grandeur, lofty but not inaccessible, and severe
vithout being savage, they might personify the stern,
steadfast, yet generous race their cultivation had helped
to form.
The natives of a mountainous and sterile region are
more enthusiastically attached to their place of birth.




236              NORTHWOOD; Ol,
than those of a monotonous and fertile country. This
attachment is naturally excited, partly by tle degree of
labor necessary to subdue a stubborn soil, which, making
attention and care necessary, fosters a deep and exclusive
attachment for the spot where they must be exercised;
and then there are more distinct objects on which the
eye rests at particular seasons and under peculiar circumstances-and thus conveys impressions to the mind,
hallowing their appearance by connecting them with the
emotions of our hearts or the events of our lives.
The Old Granite State has been often styled the Switzerland of America. In the vicinity of the White Mountains this comparison is most appropriate. Other portions
of the State have less of the Alpine grandeur, and the
softer features are more blended with the charm of life.
There are very few dark frowning pinnacles of bleak,
barren rocks; —forest trees climb up the steepest hills,
and leaping brooks shout in their freedom, as they dash
down mountain ravines, wind under the old woods, or
linger in the lap of green meadows, where industry welcomes their freshness and their song.  But the most
beautiful scenery is in the neighborhood of the lakes
and ponds; and hundreds of these, counting all the little
lakelets, are found in New Hampshire.  Ermbosomed
among the green hills, or opening suddenly upon you
by the wayside, as you journey on through the cleared
country, these lakelets lie, blue, bright and clear, like
earnest eyes looking from earth up to heaven in neverceasing gratitude that God made all things good!
" The mountains are God's temples," and calm, swee1
waters are like His mercies.
Sidney, while listening to descriptions, or viewing
delineations of this scenery, which his friend executed
in an elegant manner, would recall with wild rapture
the sweet associations of his childhood, and almost fancy
himself transported to the mountains and lakes, whert
he had spent its brightest hours. In spite of the luxu.
ries surrounding him, and the fortune and flatteries he
commanded, he still cherished the remembrance of his




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            237
own dear home, and in reference to New England could
truly exclaim:
" There's none, ah! none, so lovely in my sight,
Of all the lands that heaven o'erspreads with light."
Stuart employed the ascendency which his penetration
soon discovered he had obtained over Sidney Rorilly,
to lead back the heart and mind of the latter from frivolous and pernicious pleasures, to the love of study, of
quiet scenes, and calm amusements. Instead of rioting
in the round of gay diversions which had lately appeared
so necessary to his happiness, he now preferred a ramble
with his friend, whose active and enlightened mind gathered subjects of entertainment and instruction from every
object and appearance of nature. Or if conversation
wearied, he was always supplied with a book, which
would charm while it enlightened.
Thus gently, and almost imperceptibly, Stuart was
loosening the chains which fashion had twined around
our hero, and restoring him to the freedom  of that
rational enjoyment which his soul was formed to appreciate, but for which the Circean cup of luxury had nearly
destroyed his relish.
The gay companions of Sidney were loud in their
3omplaints of his abandonment, and tried all their wiles
Lo lure him back to their society. They were his friends,
they said, his old and tried friends, who would stand by
him in all weathers, and now he was leaving them for
-he acquaintance of a day.
But when Sidney had once escaped from their atmosThere, he saw objects and motives through a very dif-?erent medium from what he had while breathing the con-;aminated air of licentiousness. He could now discover;he selfishness or thoughtlessness that dictated their lavish:xpressions of attachment.  He saw they wished to.ndulge their appetites at his expense, or justify their
ollies by his example, and that their friendship, like the'avor of the flatterers of Timon, would last no longer




238              NORTHWOOD; OR,
than did his means to gratify their whims and extravagancies.
"I am convinced," said Sidney to Stuart as they were
about to separate, "I am convinced of the superior happiness of a life of usefulness over one of mere amusement.
I was, in early life, educated to love study and activity;
but the tempter came and would certainly have prevailed
had not your advice and example again roused me to
energy. Still continue my Mentor till I have acquired
sufficient hardihood to face this formidable world with its
host of enchantments, and when I note down my bene- factors your name shall stand in conspicuous characters."
"And how shall I sufficiently honor yours?" returned
Stuart, grasping his hand: " to you I owe my felicitymy Zemira!"
It was an allusion seldom made, for both felt the danger of awakening recollections which might lead to a
discussion of past events.
There was a moment's silence. Sidney drew his other
hand across his eyes.
"You have," said he, "sufficiently honored mine already, by thinking favorably of its bearer, although you
have learned the weakness of his heart and the inconsistencies of his conduct."
" Friend of my soul 1" exclaimed Stuart, "you have
the best, the kindest of human hearts. It is only the
excess of its generosity, of its goodness, I fear. There
are so many insidious minds, watching like serpents
every opportunity to twine themselves around the unwary, that a little precaution-suspicion, perhaps, would
better define my meaning-is absolutely necessary, if we
would escape being allured by their fascination and destroyed by their venom. This precaution is all you need;
and could I, at the hazard of my life, impart it to you,
it should be yours. But no man can grow wise by
another's experience; it is only by exercising our own
sagacity and discretion we can discover and avoid the
subtle and powerful temptations which beset youth anc
fortune. Would you, my dear Sidney, be as true tc




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           239
your own feelings and reason as you are to your friends,
I should have nothing to fear from you, nothing to wish
for myself."
The earnestness with which he spoke penetrated the
heart of Sidney. His eyes sparkled with the proud consciousness of determined resolution. "You shall not,"
said he, "from henceforth have cause to blush for me.
I have always loved the right;-your example will embolden me to practice it."
*        A *r     t         Xd*      X 
After Mr. Stuart's departure, Sidney lived a very retired, and, to confess the truth, a very dull life.  His
mind and will had been so long undisciplined, that to
refrain thus at once and entirely from the contemplation
or the wish to pursue pleasure was impossible, and the
attempt frequently threw him into the horrors.
However, he persevered in the course of reading and
amusements his friend had recommended; and although
he sometimes sighed to think so much circumspection
was necessary, he was gradually acquiring habits of study
and reflection, which, by unfolding new and noble sources
of enjoyment, contributed to fix his heart more firmly in
the resolutions he had formed to follow wisdom. A letter
from Stuart came very opportunely to confirm his good
intentions, and for that reason it shall be inserted.
" Georgia, June 4th, 18-.
MY DEAR ROMILLY,-When I tell you we reached
home in safety, and are now enjoying excellent health,
you will know that I, at least, am happy. But it is that
kind of happiness which makes no figure in description.
It is the quiet consciousness of peace, the calm security
of reciprocated affection,. in short, the'sober certainty
of waking bliss.' And for much of this felicity we must
thank you; certainly for the final reconciliation, without
which Zemira's mind never would have been at rest.
And how shall we requite your disinterestedness?-your




240               NORTHWOOD; OR,
heroism? We pray daily that God would bless you,
and assuredly He will, if to obey His command and do
as you would be done by is holy in His sight. Property
you do not want; yet, I will acknowledge my selfishness, I have sometimes wished you did, that we might
show how highly we rate the favors you have conferred.
But gold cannot gain friendship, nor can it requite the
sacrifices you made for me. I will tell you how I propose to reward you-even by furnishing you with wise
precepts for the better guidance of your sublunary course.
You, I presume, will allow that those who have (lone us
the most essential and generous services, are always most
willing to pardon our officiousness.  The inference is
obvious. I feel secure of your favor although I should
harass you with my old saws by way of advice.
There are but few who have the moral courage, or the
moral rectitude, to speak undisguisedly to the wealthy
and the powerful man. Either fearing to give offense,
or hoping to profit by his errors, they abandon him to
the guidance of his own heart or humor. And pray
why should he not follow his own humor as well as
others? It is not, my dear Sidney, that his inclination
for pleasure is greater, but his facilities for its indulgence
that constitute his danger. The universal necessity for
constant labor or application to business, which yet happily exists in the New England States, contributes, perhaps more than any other cause, to preserve the purity
of morals which distinguishes the inhabitants of that
section of our country. Had the Puritans and their descendants been fed with manna and fattened with quails
in their wilderness, they would, doubtless, long before
this, have spurned the hand that bestowed the unsought
favors.
And speaking of New England, I wish you would
improve the first opportunity to visit your native state.
There-are sacred associations connected with the thoughts
of home and parents, brothers and sisters; while their
spirits seem, as it were, hovering around us, we are often
deterred from the commission of some folly, or invigo



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            241
rated to tread with more firmness the path of rectitude
and duty.
With your family I have not the happiness of being
acquainted; but judging from your disposition and what
you have related, I should not hesitate to say you will
find them worthy of your warmest love. And notwith.
standing you have drank so deeply of pleasure's intoxi
eating cup, and fancy, perhaps, that'heaven, earth and
ocean' have been plundered of their sweets to form the
mixture, yet I cannot but hope you will hereafter find a
more cordial drop than any yet tasted. In no society are
the domestic afftctions cultivated, and the love of relatives more sincere and ardent, than in New England.
Natural affection seems there to be expanded, or at least
increased by the concurrence of external circumstances.
There, children are not merely the heirs of their father's
property, but fiequently the means by which he acquires
it. A Yankee farmer looks on his boys with affection as
his offspring, with pride as his representatives, and yet he
thinks of them, perhaps, quite as often as his assistants in
his toil. There is an intimacy created by a participation
in the same labors and hopes, and a confidence arising
from a community and equality of interests. Ah, our
lordly planter, surrounded by his host of slaves, has no
such sensations of generous pleasure!
There is no telling how long I might have pursued the
subject, for 1 was quite in the scribbling vein, but luckily,
for you 1 Inean, my servant-I say servant and even
slave, so easily we yield to the dominion of custom, and
adopt habits which once made us glow with shame and
indignation-enters to say a gentleman wishes to see me,
and so I must end this immediately or lose this mail.
Write soon and tell me how you relish your studies, and
whether the mathematicians have yet obtained grace in
your sight, and whatever else you please; nothing from
your pen will be uninteresting to
Yours, forever,          C. STUART."
11




242              NORTHWOOD; OR,
This letter was soon answered and a constant and confidential correspondence maintained through the summer;
but the letters being very long their entire insertion would
make this work too voluminous, and might not be sufficiently interesting to tempt the reader to such a frequent
perusal as the friends alternately bestowed on each other's
epistles, and such as they would still think they merited.
However, in the autumn an incident occurred to Sidney
which drew from him a letter necessary to be made public.
" Charleston, Nov. 24th, 18-.
MY DEAR STUART-I have made a new acquaintance,
and one from which I promise myself much pleasure;
yet for fear you should call me romantic, I will describe
the man and relate the accident which introduced him,
and then I think you will allow there is a necessity —I
hope not a fatal one —for the present intercourse.
About a week since, arrived the brig Ann, from Liverpool, anamong the passengers was a young English
gentleman by the name of Frankford. He brought letters of introduction to some of our principal citizens, and
among others to my uncle; but it happened that his trunk,
soon after he landed, was rifled of its contents, and the
introductory letters were among the spoil. The thief,
who was also a foreigner, and a well dressed, bold faced
villain, conceived the plan of passing himself off for the
real'Simon Pure,' or at least he resolved to take that
opportunity of seeing, for once in his life, a little good
company. While the legitimate Englishman was quietly
refreshing himself at the sign of the'Lion,' the newly
patented gentleman arrived at my uncle's, and presenting
his credentials, was received with a most cordial welcome
and a pressing invitation to partake our dinner, which he
accepted without hesitation. Why he was thus infatuated it is difficult to say. It is now generally thought
he calculated more on the plate than the pudding; yet
surely he must have expected detection.
Well, in the midst of our conviviality I was summoned
to the. hall, and there found the landlord of the house




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            243
where the Englishman lodged and a couple of constables.
It seems the police had received an inkling of our guest
and were on the alert to apprehend him. I could hardly
be persuaded he was an impostor, but finally, as the
officers insisted on seeing him, I entered first and unfolded
their errand.
Our guest received the intelligence with perfect nonchalance, and even the landlord was staggered when the
villain offered to accompany him to the hotel and explain
matters to his satisfaction. I attended him, but just as
we entered the street, the fellow started, knocked down
the constables on his right hand, overturned the fat landlord on his left, and was in a fair way of escape had I not
-from an innate love of justice, some would say, but I
think it is only the instinct which prompts us to secure
the rogue lest his practices may injure ourselves —rushed
forward, seized and held him till help arrived to secure
him. It is needless to repeat particulars, suffice it to say,
the plundered Englishman succeeded in recovering his
baggage and establishing his identity, and the process
bringing us together on very familiar terms, and he being
profuse in his acknowledgments, an intimacy was soon
established.
And besides, I find him a very pleasant companion;
and one who would, under almost any circumstances,
have gained an interest in my heart. He is about twentyeight, liberally educated, and highly accomplished, both
by an intimacy with the best society in his own country
and by foreign travel. He intends spending the winter
in our city and at Washington, and next summer will
make the tour of the middle states. Butthough he stays
here so long, you need not fear a rival in my friendship;
nor have I, because my heart is wholly engrossed with
him, employed so much paper in his service. I wished
you to understand the causes which have thus, in a
manner, forced me to an intimacy with a stranger and a
foreigner, who is agreeable, to be sure, but whose principles and character I know you will think we have not
yet had sufficient opportunity of ascertaining. Should




244             NORTHWOOD; OR,
the intercourse prove detrimental, may I not blame the
stars and curse the waywardness of my fate, instead of
lamenting the weakness of my folly?
Ever yours,          S. ROMILLY."
Many letters attesting to the excellencies of the Englishman, were written by Sidney during the winter; some
extracts from one of the number may be sufficient for
our purpose.
" Charleston, April 4th, 18-.
" FRIEND STUART,-Frankford certainly has, as you
intimated, his prejudices against America; still he is a
reasonable man, and although admitting conviction slowly
and only on the most irrefragable proofs, yet I think he
is becoming not only tolerant but liberal in his estimation
of our character and customs. Neither is it strange that
the aristocratical spirit of the old world should be alarmed
and revolt at the democratical influence which the new
is so rapidly obtaining. We cannot expect those who
pride themselves on an ancestry, whose pure blood has
flowed through proud veins for many hundred years,
will forget at once this fancied superiority, and look on
what they call our plebeian origin, without feelings of
contempt.
*      -X-    *       -*     X      *%
" My friend-I now call him friend without any misgivings-has deservedly a high place in my esteem, and
if you knew him, you would, I am positive, approve the
partiality. Besides those qualities which command respect, he has that indescribable fascination of manner
which wit and talents, improved by strict intellectual culture, and graced by politeness and good humor, never
fail to impart. By the way, I do think the real English
gentleman has more of dignity, and less of arrogance,
than our purse-proud citizens. The Englishman is more
proud, perhaps, but is free from that puffing consequence
which is the most offensive part of the folly in our own
countrymen. This may arise from the superiority of the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            245
former being established and acknowledged, whereas our
own gentlemen are continually striving to maintain their
precarious honors, and seem determined, by making the
*most of what they happen to possess, to indemnify themselves for the transientness of its continuance.
-~*   -X    -  *      %   *     X    -X"Frankford is often pressing me to accompany him to
England; and if, after visiting my parents, I can obtain
their approbation and my uncle's consent, I shall assuredly go. We are intending, in a few weeks, to start for
the north, visit Saratoga, and, after the establishment of
our healths-no very difficult process-Frankford will
proceed to Quebec, to arrange some business entrusted to
his management, and I shall go to New Hlampshire.
Should our plans all succeed, we may probably embark
together for Europe in the autumn.
"In the meantime, wherever I am, I am ever yours,
" S. ROMILLY."
Agreeably to the intention expressed in the foregoing
letter, Prankford and Sidney set off on their tour, and
after alternately admiring the works of nature, and censuring those of art, the Englishman always indemnifying
himself for his encomiums on the former by his severe
strictures on the latter, they arrived at Saratoga, the Bath
of America, and sipped the far-famed Congress waters
with many a delicate nymph and dashing dandy, both
equally wishing it might prove a Lethean draught-to
her of her faithless lovers, to him of his faithful creditors.
Our travelers prolonged their stay rather beyond their;jn:t&?>222, Fraunkfo'rd wishing to expfore the country in
the vicinity of Fort George and the works of Ticonderoga,
as it was there one of his great uncles had fallen, in the
same engagement which terminated the career of the
young and gallant Howe. The picturesque shores of
Lake George and its limpid waters, drew many an epithet'
of admiration from the Englishman, and even the dilapidated fortifications excited considerable interest, as he
remarked they exhibited proofs that there had once been




246              NORTHWOOD; OR,
a martial spirit in the country which otherwise he should
never have suspected.
After visiting the Falls of Niagara, and wondering,
and rhyming, and repeating what hundreds have before
repeated, they proceeded to Montreal, Sidney accompanying his friend thus far, and then intending to return to
Saratoga, and bend his course to New Hampshire; but
he was prevented by the illness of Mr. Frankford. The
very next morning after they reached Montreal, he was
violently attacked with a fever, the consequence of a cold
caught by passing beneath the cataract at the falls; and,
increased by his impatience, the fever, which was a slow
typhus, soon raged to such a degree, his life was despaired
of. For three weeks he was insensible, and during the
whole time Sidney nursed him with all the watchfulness
and tenderness of a brother; and, assisted by the landlady, a kind-hearted creature from the " States," he had
at length had the unspeakable pleasure of hearing his
friend pronounced convalescent.
The English residents in Montreal paid but little attention to their countryman; perhaps the house where
he had taken lodgings might make him appear a renegade
from their principles, as it was one always frequented by
travelers from the "Union;" but whatever were their
reasons, they neglected him, and their apparent indifference stung the proud and sensitive mind of the Englishman to the quick. There is no season when kindness or
cruelty makes so deep an impression on the hearts of
men, as that which is offered or inflicted in the hour of
sickness; and Frankford, when reflecting on their conduct, and comparing it with that of the Americans, acknowledged that the virtues of benevolence and sympathy
were not exclusively English.
It was three months before he was sufficiently recovered to travel; the lateness of the season and his own
debility made a journey to Quebec hazardous, while
advices from England rendered his return necessary.
Abandoning, therefore, his intention of journeying northward, he concluded to repair to Boston and take passage




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           247
from thence to London or Liverpool, and yielding to the
urgent solicitations of Sidney, he agreed to accompany
him to Northwood and see him restored to his friends.
Sidney had not apprised his parents of his intended
visit, as he wished for the zest which a surprise would
give their affection; and after his journey was so long
delayed by the illness of Frankford, he rejoiced at his
own forbearance, for he was sensible his mother would
have been greatly alarmed by the delay. Thus they
had arrived unexpectedly, and yet how welcome!
0, give me the welcome that waits the unexpected yet
ardently wished friend! The loved countenance suddenly lit up with the surprise of wild delight-the agitation of unrestrained affection-the abrupt exclamation
-the half uttered ejaculation, bursting warm from the
soul to thank heaven for your safe arrival,-ah, these are
dear pleasures, and such as the proud and mighty, who
travel in state and send forward their couriers to announce their approach, never know!
And now we must return to Northwood.




248              NORTIHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XXIL
A MONEY LENDER AND HIS VICTIM.
Anthonio-I pray thee, hear me speak.
Shylock-I'11 have my bond;-I will not hear thee speak;I'll have my bond, and therefore speak no more.
MERCHANT OF VENICE.
THE two weeks succeeding the departure of the Englishman were passed by our hero in a continued round
of visiting and feasting, as every family in the village
onsidereA themselves entitled to at least one visit from
the son of their much esteemed neighbor. Sidney could
not refuse invitations thus pressingly made, yet had he
consulted only his inclination, he would have confined
his attentions to the families of Dr. Perkins and Deacon
Jones; and now, notwithstanding his engagements, he
generally contrived to drop in at those houses, especially
the deacon's, almost daily. This ought to have excited
no wonder, as his brother Silas was there; yet it soon
became the theme of conversation among the ladies of
the neighborhood, and several wise ones, who had undoubtedly given Annie Redington to George Cranfield,
now confessed they felt that"the suit of the young divine
would be coldly received, should Mr. Sidney Rornilly
appear as his rival.
Perhaps some such apprehension stole into the mind
of that young gentleman, for he became more particular
in his assiduities, to the extreme regret of Annie, who
sincerely esteemed him, and felt loth to wound his feelings by a rejection.
Ephraim Skinner, too, ventured to quit his store on
those evenings he ascertained Sidney was at the Dea



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.          249
con's, and at the hazard of losing business, joined the
party at the "conference room," where he was always
graciously welcomed by the deacon; and although he
never could succeed in obtaining a single smile from the
fair lady whose bright eyes were the magnet that attracted him, he indemnified himself by indirectly displaying
his consequence in sundry heavy complaints of the hurry of business, and some pretty significant hints on the
profits a country trader, who attended closely to his affairs, might realize.
One evening while he was alternately dilating on this
subject and on his religious feelings, and pitying those
poor blinded creatures who seemed to take no thought
for this world or the next, Deacon Jones, whose ears
eagerly drank in such prudent and pious discourse, was
casting many a glance at the party occupying the other
end of the apartment. These were his daughter, niece,
son-in-law, Sidney Romilly, and young Cranfield, and to
judge by their lively conversation and frequent laughter,
they needed not the happiness that gold could purchase;
yet the deacon more than once reflected with chagrin,
how very foolish Annie was, thus to lavish her sweet
attractions on that fine southern gentleman, who had
never a thought of marrying her, and neglect so shamefully the hopeful merchant who might easily be secured.
But his unpleasant cogitations, Skinner's wise remarks, and Sidney's gallant speeches, were suddenly interrupted by a loud rap at the door, and Annie, who
was nearest, started so suddenly to obey the sound, her
uncle had no time to utter his accustomed " walk in."
As she opened the door, a man entered, whose appearance bespoke poverty and misfortune, and awakened
Sidney's curiosity to learn by what accident he should
be reduced to misery in a place where it was seldom
seen or felt.
This person, whom Deacon Jones, coldly offering his
hand, addressed by the name of Merrill, had a countenance clouded with anxiety and sorrow, yet the smile
that momentarily lit up his sunken, care-worn features,




250'ORTHWOOD; OR,
as Miss Redington kindly offered him a chair, spoke a
heart susceptible of gratitude and inclined to cheerfulness. As his eye wandered over the well-dressed cornpany, he drew closer around him a rusty grey overcoat,
as if to conceal the tatters visible in his own attire, and
turning to Skinner, who had only remarked his entrance
by a slight movement of the head, said, "I called to
speak with you at your store, and they told me I could
find you here."
" And what do you want with me?" inquired the merchant, in an imperative tone.
"I wanted to see if you would'nt allow that are execution to be stayed a spell. If my property is all attached now, my family must suffer, or come upon the
town."
" I have already waited much longer than I ought,"
returned Skinner, haughtily, "and have nothing more
to do with the affair. The business is all with the sheriff;
you may apply to him."
"But, Mr. Skinner, you have often said you were
willing to assist me; and you offered me the money in
the first place, or I should never have thought of asking
you. Old Col. Griper, bad as he is, would never use
me so hardly."
" Such are the thanks I always get for obliging people,"
said Skinner, endeavoring to speak plausibly, though his
face glowed with anger. " Your farm would have been
forfeited before now, if I had not advanced the money.
All I ask is to be repaid. You cannot surely call me
unjust for wanting my own."
"I don't think hard of you, sir," replied Merrill, "for
wanting your own, and I intend to pay you, but I cannot
at present, without undoing me. My wife has been sick
these four months, and three of my children are now
confined to their beds. Poor little Nancy died last week;
but I don't mourn for her;-she is better off than any
of us."
The tears that gushed to the eyes of the father, however, gave evidence he lamented his child, notwithstand



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           251
ing he was assured of her felicity. Annie, turning hastily
to the window, hid her face, and Sidney's as he glanced
alternately at her, Skinner, and the petitioner, was red
as scarlet.
Skinner, however, noticed not their emotion; he was
intent on gain, and had not sufficient sensibility to imagine the abhorrence his display of selfishness excited in
generous and feeling minds.
"Mr. Merrill," he retorted, elevating his voice, "I
have heard enough of your excuses, but they don't pay
a cent, and I want the money and must have it. If
your family are sick, you needn't blame me for it; and
really I don't see why you should always be telling
me such stuff."
"Such stuff!" repeated Merrill, starting, and shaking
his fist, while the tone of submission which conscious
dependence had compelled him to assume, was forgotten
in the anger roused by these insults:-" Such stuff! I
tell you, Skinner, you are a mean, miserly, hard-hearted
villain; and you flattered me to give you a mortgage of
my farm on purpose to cheat me out of it. I know you
did, or you would be willing to wait a few months. You
shall have good security."
"I mean to be secured," replied Skinner, trembling,
as he rose to seek his hat; but whether his trepidation
was caused by fear of his tall, gaunt debtor, who stood
with his clenched hand extended over him, or from suppressed rage, no one could determine.
He found his hat, and was hastening towards the
door, when Merrill inquired, in a more humble manner,
if there could not be some arrangement made.
"I have told you the affair was wholly with the
sheriff," replied the inexorable creditor. " Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen;" and closing the door hastily, they
heard him walk off with a quick step over the frozen
ground, as if he feared being pursued by further entreaties.
After the sound of his tread had died away, there
reigned, for a few moments, in the apartment he had




252             NORTHWOOD; OR,
quitted so abruptly, the most profound silence. And
the different expression on the faces of the group, might
have furnished a good subject for the study of those who
would attain to the art of divining the difference of temperament and character by the effect which the same
occurrence had on the countenances of the several witnesses.
The old deacon had lit his pipe at the beginning of
the dialogue, and through the whole scene continued to
puff away most furiously, apparently indifferent to all
that passed. He sat now with his eyes nearly closed,
and a huge volume of smoke curling over his head.
Ah! while his own mountain stands strong, he cares
little who bides the peltings of the tempest;-he is
selfish.
There was pity in the expression of young Cranfield's
countenance, blended with an "I don't know what to
do" air, that revealed the man of good intentions, but
rather wavering in purpose.
Silas looked up with a wondering stare, half angry
with Merrill for thus putting himself in the power of a
villain, and half hoping matters would yet be adjusted
without causing much trouble. He has lived secluded
from a knowledge of the deceitfulness of the world-he
is innocent, is happy, and imagines all men might easily
be the same.
But our hero's countenance displayed the workings of
the most powerful emotions. Nothing touched his noble
feelings like the exhibition of cruelty or meanness; and
perhaps the picture Dr. Perkins had drawn of Skinner
now arose to increase the detestation he felt for the
original. His dark eyes flashed with indignation and
contempt as the little man disappeared through the door;
then, as he turned their gaze on his victim, the expression suddenly changed to deep concern, mingled with a
determination of manner, which, had the debtor noticed,
he might have augured favorably for his own cause.
But he, poor man, was meditating bitter things. He
must return to his home, and see it despoiled of all its




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           253
furniture, and rifled of all its stores that the law permitted a creditor to attach. His cattle, too, would be
driven away-and the cold winter was approaching-his
sick family!-he could think no longer. Something between a sigh and groan burst from his full heart as he
stooped to pick up his hat, which was lying on the floor.
He placed it on his head, drew it closely over his eyes,
and took one step forward.
"Won't you stop and drink some cider?" said the
deacon, shaking the ashes from his pipe.
"I haven't much appetite for any thing just now,"
answered the other; " I can't eat nor drink now a-days;
and I must hurry home, for the sheriff is there, and he
would'nt promise to wait only two hours before moving
off my property."
" And pray how have you got yourself so involved?"
inquired the deacon, who liked to learn the causes of
misfortunes, not, however, so much to relieve the sufferers as to suggest the way in which they might have
avoided such a calamity. "Come, sit down and tell me
all about the affair."
"I can't stop to sit," replied Merrill, "but will tell
you something about it. You know I purchased my
farm of Col. Griper; well, he was a hard man, but I think
pretty honest; yet he drove me considerable hard for his
pay, and sometimes it was tough scrabbling to get the
money. But I got along till a year ago last January,
when there was a hundred dollar payment, I could'nt
make out unless I sold more stock than I knew how to
spare. Skinner heard me one day complaining about the
old colonel, and he offered to advance me cash enough to
pay him all off at once, if I would give him the same
security I did Griper, and I might pay him just when it
was convenient. He talked so fair and the colonel had
dunned me so sharp, I was glad to let him see I could have
credit, and so, like a fool, I took the money and gave a
mortgage and my notes to Skinner. The whole sum was
three hundred dollars, and Skinner insisted on having it
all in twelve dollar notes, on demand, because, he said, I




254             NORTHWOOD; OR,
could pay a small note every little while without feeling
it, and he always did his business in that manner. I have
found him out now; it is, when he intends to ruin a man,
to bring as many actions and make the cost as big as
possible-but I did'nt think of it then. Well, I was to
have three years to pay it in, and pay a hundred dollars
a year if 1 could. That was the bargain before evidence.
I have taken up eight notes, and intended to have paid as
many more this fall and winter, but last August my wife
was taken sick with the typus fever, and she ha'nt never
been able to do a chore since, and now can only walk
from the bed to the fire; and all six of my children have
had the same disorder. There's two of'em are a little
better, but the other three are very bad now, and poor
little Nancy, our only daughter, the doctor could'nt save
her. I ha'nt had off my clothes to lie a-bed as I used to
for three months; and I have had to let every thing, out
doors and in the house, go to destruction, for the sake of
taking care of my family. I could'nt find help enough to
do it, and the little ones would'nt let any body but me
take care of'em. Your niece and daughter knows how
sick they've been, for they have been up to see us
several times and brought us nice things, and they'll be
blessed for such kindness."
Here he paused a moment, and then added, "But I
ha'nt told you yet how Skinner served me. I sent to his
store to get my necessaries-and in sickness there's a
thousand things wanted-and his bill amounts to something like fifty dollars; so he pretended he was afraid he
should lose his debts, and he had twelve writs made out
against me, the whole of which, cost and all, will be as
much as two hundred dollars, and he has got the sheriff
and ordered him to attach every thing he can find. I
told the sheriff he might take every thing out doors if he
would only leave my oxen and one cow and hay enough
to keep'em, and my household furniture; but he said he
could'nt without Skinner consented, and so he told me to
take his horse and come down to see him-but'tis all in
vain I see. My property will be sold at vendue and go




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTII.          255
for half price, and my family must suffer or I must apply
to the town, and I had rather die."
" But whvy does Skinner drive you so hard, when he
hlas security and knows he can be paid?" inquired George
Cranlield.
", he calculates on distressing me so much by taking
my stock that I ca'nt manage my farm, and so he thinks
I shall be unable to make out the payment next yetr,
and then he will get my land, either by the mortgage or
at public sale, for half price."
" I wish there could be some way contrived to assist
you," said George Cranfield.
"And I wish there could," said Silas Romilly.
"And so do I, with all my heart," responded the old
deacon, solemnly.
Merrill walked slowly towards the door and turned
partly round as he reached it, probably to bid them
"good night," but he could not articulate a syllable.
"I will accompany you, sir," said Sidney, snatching
his hat and springing after him.
Merrill started at the sound of a strange voice, and
when he saw the gentlemanly figure that was following
him his features wore the surprise of astonishment.
"I have not the happiness of knowing you, sir," he
remarked in a low tone, as they walked through the gate.
"No, I presume not," replied Sidney; "but I have
heard your story, and if you will go with me to my
father's, to Squire Romilly's, I will try and assist you."
"And you are the Squire's son, then, that I have
heard so much about?" said Merrill, stopping and gazing
earnestly in our hero's face, now plainly revealed by the
bright moon.
"Yes, I am," answered the other, half laughing at the
critical survey he was undergoing.
" Well, you have a worthy father, and you look like
him, and they say you are like him, and that's praising
you very highly. I was just going to your father, for I
knew if any one advised or helped me it would be him."
He then took his horse by the bridle, and leading him




256              NORTHI  OOD; OR,
along, walked himself by Sidney's side, and won by the
kindness of his manner, he revealed so many particulars
of the sickness of his family and the sufferings they must
undergo if the property were removed and sold, that Sidney determined to prevent it at all hazards.
Sidney's attendance on the Englishman had made him
peculiarly sensible of the horrors of a long and severe
fever, and nothing makes the heart so susceptible of pity
as a personal observation or experience of sufferings
similar to those we are requested to relieve.
There were obstacles, however, which made the performance of his benevolent wishes difficult, and indeed
impossible at that time, without the aid of his father.
His journey had been longer and more expensive, owing
to his long detention in Montreal, than he had anticipated,
and his money was nearly gone.
He had twice written to his uncle, requesting a supply,
and was now in daily expectation of receiving a remittance; yet this business could not well be delayed till its
arrival, or at least Sidney did not like to entreat the forbearance of such a one as Skinner, nor could he think
of assisting Merrill with promises only. He marveled
much that his uncle should thus neglect to supply his
wants, and when recollecting he had received but one
letter from him since leaving Charleston, and that written
evidently under great depression of spirits, he could not
but fear some unpleasant or unfortunate circumstances
were the cause of this delay.
When they reached the house, Sidney took his father
aside, told him the situation of Merrill, stated his own
wishes to relieve him from his embarrassments, and then
asked his father if he could advance the money, "and I
will repay you soon," continued he. "My uncle will
certainly send me three or four hundred dollars. I started
with six hundred, and have now but about fifty remaining; this Merrill shall have, and if you can furnish the
remainder, I will take his note for the whole, and return
yours when my remittance shall arrive. I will then
leave the note against Merrill in your care, and let the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            257
poor man pay whenever he can without distressing himself."
Squire Romilly listened to his son's harangue, delivered
with all the ardor and animation purposed benevolence
inspires in youthful and generous bosoms, and his heart
beat with proud delight to find him worthy the fortune
he was to inherit.
"How I rejoice that wealth has not made you selfish,
nor prosperity hardened your heart, my son," said the
delighted father; "yet before assisting those who appeal
to our compassion, we should endeavor to ascertain in
what manner our charity will be the most beneficial.
Many people, with really good intentions, bestow their
favors so arbitrarily or inconsiderately, that they may
injure those who receive their bounty, and it is not,
therefore, to be wondered at if they miss the gratitude
and popularity they expected to obtain. Yet these remarks do not apply to the present case; perhaps you may
have been precipitate and a little romantic in forming a
scheme for assisting thus largely a stranger, but your
good genius has directed you to a worthy object, and
saved you from the mortification of learning your generosity would have been misplaced. Merrill is an industrious, prudent, good man, and the cunning of Skinner
and unavoidable misfortunes are the cause of his present
distress. I think your assistance will enable him to surmount it, and there will not, I apprehend, be any danger
in trusting him. I will let you have one hundred dollars, which is all I have on hand, and that I intended
soon to pay Silas as a part of his portion; but you may
take it, and, with your fifty dollars, I should think Skinner might be satisfied, or Merrill could turn out property
to make up the deficiency."
This plan was adopted, the money produced, and Merrill informed all that would be required of him was a
note, which he might consult his own convenience in
paying.
His surprise, as he looked alternately at the money and
then at Sidney, was extreme; but when he became con



258             NORTHWOOD; OR,
vinced his difficulties were all to be removed, he betrayed
more agitation than he probably would have done had
he seen his property under the hammer of the auctioneer.
His hand shook so violently it was some time before he
could sign his name, and Sidney saw several tears fall on
the paper as he wrote.
Then he silently placed the money in an old pocket
book, which he deposited carefully in his pocket, buttoned up) his coat, and seemed exerting himself to overcome his emotions so as to express properly the thanks
he conceived due to his benefactor. But his exertions
were of little avail. Nature and feeling could not be
conquered; and when he arose to depart, instead of a
long speech on unexpected obligations and everlasting
glatlrfte, he t-obk a  aert ianl, SShlmg a _psig
it with so strong a grasp the effect was really painful,
bowed to Squire Romilly, and hurried away without uttering a single wora.
Sidney rubbed his aching hand without speaking, while
his father, smiling, remarked, he had insured his remembrance in one heart; " Merrill," said he, " will never forget you."




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            259
CHAPTER XXIII.
A REVERSE.
Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud;
And after summer, evermore succeeds
The barren winter, with his wrathful cold:
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
KING HENRY VI.
THE story of Sidney's generosity soon circulated
through the neighborhood, and produced what the fashionables would call quite a sensation.
Merrill was as much esteemed for probity and industry
as Skinner was detested for his meanness and rapacity;
and though riches gave the latter the means of purchasing many smiles, the situation of the former insured the
sympathy of all hearts. Those who would not have felt
it their duty to have assisted him, applauded his benefactor, flattering themselves, no doubt, that to appreciate
charity was nearly as meritorious as to practice it.
There were, however, a few who felt rather mortified
that a southern man, as they considered Sidney, should
thus display his consequence-it seemed a tacit reproof
of their own illiberality, or a convincing argument of his
superior wealth. Either way it was mortifying. The
old deacon was perhaps prompted by such feelings when
he observed, very gravely, that
"Mr. Sidney Romilly knew nothing about getting
property, and it was no wonder he thought little of
spending it or giving it away. But I should like," continued he, " to see him work a few years as hard as his
negroes do, and then I guess he'd keep his money, if he
had any, in his own pocket."




260              NORTHWOOD; OR
But the sweetest praise Sidney received was from Dr.
Perkins and Annie Redington. The doctor felt every
word he uttered, and again and again congratulated Sidney on thus having an opportunity to exhibit the noblest
virtue humanity can boast-disinterested benevolence.
Then came Annie with a blush, smile and tear, to thank
him for the example of philanthropy he had so happily
displayed. " We cannot imitate it," said she to him as
he was sitting beside her a few days after the affair,
"but we will admire it."
" If it secure the admiration of Miss Redington, I shall
feel amply rewarded," replied Sidney, fixing his dark
eyes on her animated face.
She felt her cheek glow, and angry with herself foi
blushing so easily, raised her eyes, intending to reply
gaily to his compliment, but when they met his she for
got her answer, and might in her confusion have betray
ed more sensibility than the occasion could justify, hac
not their tete-a-tete been luckily interrupted by the en
trance of her uncle.
He told Sidney he had been to Skinner's store on bu
siness, and just looked into the post-office room, when
the mail was opening, and saw a large packet for hin
taken out.
" I would have paid the postage and brought it along,
said he, "only I hadn't any money in my purse.
don't have money quite so plenty as you do, Mr. Sid
ney."
" You cannot be more destitute than I am at present,
replied Sidney, smiling. "The witches might now hol<
their'jig and reel' as conveniently in my pockets as theever did in those of Burns; and if the packet you mer
tion has not brought a supply, I must e'en solicit a loa
to expedite my departure, or I shall be compelled t
quarter with you through the winter."
" Well, that would suit our young folks well enougl
I guess," replied the old deacon, with one of his signit
cant grins. " My niece, here, wouldn't be much sorry
should you, Annie?"




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           261
Annie did not dare look up, while she observed, in as
calm a manner as she could assume, "that she should be
sorry to have any one compelled to stay, but in their
limited society such an acquisition as Mr. Romilly was
certainly to be desired."
Sidney, while warmly thanking her for the compliment, thought he never saw her look so beautiful, and
on his way to his father's he recalled her words and manner, and almost fancied he could, if he pleased, rival
George Cranfield.
"And yet," thought he, "I never can be so secure of
possessing any woman's affections as Stuart was of Zemira's. He had no fortune to conceal his defects or add
lustre to his excellencies; he was loved, well and truly
loved. 0, could I be so blessed as to gain the undivided
affection of a pure and lovely being, how willingly would
I, this moment, relinquish all pretensions to my uncle's
fortune, and go forth, like Stuart, to conquer fate with a
fertle."
Immediately on reaching home, he despatched Harvey to the post-office, who soon returned with the letter.
" It is very large," said the little fellow, as he handed
it to his brother. "Pray, Sidney, who gives you all
your money?"
" My uncle-he always gives me all I ask for."
" Then I'd ask for a thousand dollars," said the boy.
" What would you do with it, Harvey?" inquired his
rather.
" 0, give it to poor people, papa. Everybody is?raising Sidney for being generous, and I mean to be
generous."
Squire Romilly sighed as he looked on the animated
>ace of his youngest son, and contrasted it with the noble
countenance of his eldest.
"Your disposition," said he, addressing Sidney, "and
Elarvey's are almost similar; yet I must educate him
lifferently from what you have been. Perhaps, howver, his happiness through life will be as well insured
is yours. If he never attain to your prosperity, he will




262              NORTHWOOD; OR,
not be in danger of those reverses to which you are
exposed."
" I have never yet pondered much on the possibility
of a reverse," said Sidney, while he pressed the rich
packet between his fingers, as if to calculate something
of the contents-and this might be pardoned, as he had
been for a few days destitute of money. " I know there
are casualties no human prudence can foresee or avoid,
and they may occur to me; yet my philosophy teaches
me it is the height of folly to anticipate evil. The man
who does so commits suicide on his own happiness."
IIe then retired to his chamber to peruse his packet.
The envelope contained two letters; the one in his
uncle's hand he opened first, and stared, astonished, when
he saw it contained no money! What could it mean!
He broke the seal of the other, and a solitary hundred
dollar note was all that appeared.
He laid it down, drew a hard breath, and pressed his
lips closely together, as if nerving himself for whatever
might be recorded, and again took up his uncle's epistle.
It had no date, and the hand-writing was scarcely legible, yet Sidney soon made out what follows:
"MY EVER DEAR NEPHEW:-The sickness that oppresses me, and which is hurrying me to the grave, is
on my heart. I am sick of the follies and vices of the
world; I am miserable when reflecting on my own. I
have longed and pined to write and confide to you all
my troubles and griefs; but I could not persuade myself
to damp the pleasures I hoped you were enjoying with
your friends.
"My physician, however, informs me I cannot long
survive. I shall never see you more, and I must write;
yet my shaking hand will scarce be commanded-and
my brain burns. Strange visions often pass before me;
my mind wanders, and I see you and hear you speak,
and say you forgive me. FVill you forgive me? I never
regretted I was not blest with a son since you resided
with me. You have been all a child need be, and I was




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.          263
proud, justly proud of your merits and accomplishments,
and intended to leave you a fortune to support the style
in which I had educated you.
" Sidney, I am now a beggar, or soon should be, and
I thank God that he is in mercy removing me from a
world where nothing now remains which I can call my
own. I would tell you the circumstances of this change,
but my weakened nerves will not permit; and Henry
Howard-you know him, he is a worthy man, and you
may trust him-has promised to write you every particular, as soon as I am gone.
"Sidney, do not blame me too severely for your disappointment-I have erred, but I have been deceived.
I suffer more than you can, for I suffer remorse and selfreproach-remorse for wronging you and my servants,
whom I had promised to leave to your care. When they
found they were to be transferred to a stranger, their
lamentations nearly overpowered me. If you ever have
it in your power, Sidney, remember them; they would
all die to serve you. I am weak, very weak, and when
I would collect my thoughts I cannot. I lie down and
think of a thousand things to tell you, but when I begin
to write they are vanished.
"Your father will advise you what to do; he has
always walked in the paths of wisdom, while I have
committed myself to the guidance of folly. Sidney, I
know you will mourn for me, and you will wish you
had been with me in my last moments; but I do not.
It would increase my distress to witness your sorrow,
and when the tribute is paid, which I feel assured your
kind heart will give my memory, I hope you will endeavor to be happy. My sight fails me-farewell. 0,
it is the hardest pang in death to say farewell to those
we love! God bless you, my son!-I have no inheritance but my good wishes to leave you, but may God
bless you, and forgive me,       YOUR UNCLE."
After Sidney had a little recovered from the first shock
of the intelligence which this letter conveyed, he took




264               NORTHWOOD; OR,
the other. It was from a lawyer, a gentleman in whose
probity and honor he could implicitly confide, and who
he was certain would " nothing extenuate, nor set down
aught in malice."
Perhaps the circumstances detailed in the letter will
be best understood by inserting the whole; and though
long, it will not be very tedious to those who feel an
interest in the fortunes of my hero.
" Charleston, Nov. 1, 18-.
MY DEAR MR. ROMILLY:-Your uncle is no more;
and his earnest request, must be my apology for addressing you, and detailing some of the unfortunate circum
stances which have occurred to him since you left the
city. It is an unpleasant office, and one I would gladly
have been excused from performing; but I could not
refuse Mr. Brainard, and I trust your good sense will not
confound the narrator of evil tidings with the unpleasant
intelligence he must communicate.
Perhaps you will recollect your uncle had not, for
several months before your departure, exhibited his
wonted cheerfulness.  This melancholy proceeded, no
doubt, partly from ill health; but more from the anxiety
he was suffering on account of pecuniary embarrassments. He was not addicted to extravagance, yet the
companions with whom he most associated had, by degrees, drawn him into expensive amusements, and he
had engaged in hazards which proved unlucky, andfor I will omit a minute detail of circumstances, which
can benefit no one by being related-in consequence
he found himself involved to such an amount that he
must sell a part of his estate to satisfy his clamorous
creditors.
The reasons he gave me for not acquainting you
with his embarrassments, were these: —He knew your
generosity would consent to any sacrifice to save him
from anxiety; but still he feared you would suffer a
mortification in thus seeing your fortune diminished,
and he loved you so entirely he could not bear to wit



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           265
ness your vexation or melancholy. He knew, too, that
you had not been accustomed to business, and could
not endure your first lesson should be the humiliating
one of studying to repair his errors and miscalculations.
In short, by keeping you in ignorance he spared his own
pride and your sensibility; and he therefore urged you
to visit your friends, intending, during your absence, to
settle his affairs, and hoping —when do we cease to hope?
— that before your return he should devise some expedient to repair his fortune, or at least prevent you from
feeling sensibly its diminution.
His whole estate you undoubtedly know he valued at
two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars; one half of
this estimate included his plantation and slaves; his city
residence and a large tract of unimproved land the other.
His debts, as nearly as he could estimate, amounted to
sixty thousand dollars. He concluded to dispose of his
city residence and wild land, pay his creditors, and, as he
saw your predilection had of late appeared for the country,
he hoped his plantation, servants, and a few thousands in
ready money, would satisfy your ambition.
Accordingly he offered his elegant house in -- street
and his city lots for sale, immediately after your departure, and soon found a purchaser. A Mr. Cox, a Philadelphian, well known here and considered rich and
respectable, appeared and bargained for the property
without a single demur at the price. The deeds I drew
myself, and your uncle took his note for sixty days. Mr.
Cox departed for Philadelphia to procure the money, and
your uncle was arranging with his creditors and flattering
himself he should leave you an unincumbered estate,
which, though not so large as he wished, would yet insure
your independence, and be sufficient for your happiness.
But who can calculate his destiny, or claim exemption
from disappointment? Before the time fixed for the
return of Cox had expired, another gentleman from Philadelphia arrived in our city and exhibited a deed of the
Droperty purchased from your uncle, and insisted on pos-,ession. The villain Cox had sold it him for twenty-five
12




266              NORTHWOOD; OR,
thousand dollars, taken the money, and absconded; and
every effort to trace him has hitherto proved unsuccessful. Your uncle's creditors caught the alarm —creditors
are a sensitive and sympathetic race, and the panic of one
is communicated to the herd with electrical rapidity
They brought suits by the dozen, and attachments were
laid on the plantation-nothing could satisfy their rapacity.
To prevent a public sale, your uncle, by my advice, consigned all his effects to Owen Dunbar, Esq. Every thing'
is to be valued by commissioners; Dunbar satisfies the
claimants, and whatever remains is to be paid over to
you, and you have one year to redeem your property by
repaying what the consignee advances. I cannot, however, flatter ydu with the hope of receiving much; indeed
I fear there will be a deficiency. The amount of debts,
costs, and incidental expenses is more than we anticipated.
Your uncle's anxiety made his last days unhappy, no
doubt, yet I do not think it hastened his death. He had
been failing during the summer, but so gradually, lie
would not acknowledge it, and never consented you
should be informed of it, or be recalled. It was not till
the day before his decease he wrote the letter I forward
with this. I saw him buried according to his desire, and
in a manner I think you will approve. With respect to
what course you can pursue, I feel incompetent to offer
any advice; yet should you conclude to return here, my
house shall be open to receive you. Whatever services
I can render you shall be cheerfully performed, and any
orders you transmit faithfully executed.
Your letters to your uncle, requesting a remittance of
cash were received by him when confined, and happening
to be present, he requested me to read them. The part
relating to the money I omitted, as it would have caused
him uneasiness, and I have taken the liberty of enclosing
a hundred dollars, as a trifle to answer your present exigencies. I would have sent more, but am myself suffering embarrassments. I hope, sincerely hope, you will yet
surmount your misfortunes, and that the time will come
when they will merely serve, by contrast, to enhance




LIFE NORTH AN-D SOUTH.            267
more fully your prosperity. Those who have never experienced reverses are but half schooled in the discipline of
the world, and know not the resources of their own minds.
I am still endeavoring to ascertain the retreat of Cox,
vet from what I can learn of his habits and resources,
there is but little hope that you will ever obtain any
thing of consequence from him. He is a gambler and
speculator, characters on which no reliance for probity
can be placed. How we were so long deceived by such
a one is now surprising, but villany so deliberate as his,
is rarely anticipated or guarded against by men of integrity. I shall, however, be vigilant to trace him, and at
least expose his baseness.
Let me hear from you soon, and believe me, sir,
Most respectfully, your servant,
HENRY HOWARD."




268               NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XXIV.
MEANS AND ENDS.
Though losses and crosses
Be lessons right severe;
There's wit there, ye'll get there,
Ye'll learn no other where.  BURNS.
THE first crush of pecuniary misfortunes is never felt
in its full extent. Those who have been accustomed to
command whatever they desired, cannot be taught,
except by experience, how keenly they will miss their
habitual indulgencies, nor how mortifying will be those
petty inconveniences to which the poor are exposed. It
is sensitiveness to these little deprivations that causes
much of the misery of those who have fallen from opulence to poverty.
The factitious wants and appetites created or fostered
by riches, are no farther essential to human happiness
than, as by becoming habits, they are hard to be laid
aside;-this truth, those who have the care of children
and youth ought always to remember.
Happily for Sidney Romilly, he was, in childhood,
inured to temperance and industry; and although his
subsequent life of luxury had enervated, it had not wholly
incapacitated him for exertion when exertion becallle
necessary. He thought, therefore, but little, and grieved
less for the loss of fortune; while tears, bitter and unrestrained, flowed fast down his cheeks as he again perused
the letter of his beloved uncle, and reflected on the pain
and sorrow that kind friend had suffered during the
summer, while he had been seeking amusement and
enjoying happiness in an expensive journey.




LIFE NORTHt AND SOUTH.           269
While he sat thus, indulging in tender and affectionate
recollections, his father, with his usual pleasant face,
opened the door, saying, " What news, Sidney?" but seeing the tears on his cheek, he added, coming hastily forward, "sad, I fear."
"Sad enough," replied Sidney, presenting the letters;
and then retiring to a window, he sat down and leaned
his head on the window frame, while his father perused
them.
Squire Romilly cast many a glance at his son, even
while reading; and when he had finished, he wiped the
dew from his glasses, sat a few moments, and then gave
a hem, which always indicated he was ready to enter on
the discussion of the subject he had been considering.
Sidney raised his head and fixed his eyes on his father.
" My son, for the death of your uncle you may well grieve;
such an affectionate, sincere, disinterested friend as he, is
seldom to be found, and his loss cannot, to you, be well
repaired. Yet, though we may mourn, we are forbidden
to repine. He is, I trust, removed to a better world;
certainly he has gone to the presence of a Being who will
judge in mercy, and the trials of earth, which he has of
late found so severe, are at an end. But you, it seems,
are fated to encounter some of them, in the disappointment of those expectations of fortune which he had
taught you to form. Yet I do not consider your misfortune as irreparable. It is true, there are advantages attached to wealth, and I would not teach you to underrate
them; yet our own happiness does not depend so much
on external circumstances as we imagine. There is usu
ally more enjoyment in the pursuit of fortune than in
the possession; and that enjornent, had you inherited
your uncle's estate, you would never have known. You
can now, with your talents and education, undoubtedly
enter on some business that will afford you a competency;
at present we shall rejoice to have your society; and
though the first disclosure will be a little mortifying, yet
I think you will not, among our people, experience any
diminution of respect."




270              NORTlW'OOD; OR,
"Do you consider it best to disclose the matter?"
" Certainly; and the sooner the better. Deacon Jones
is now below stairs, waiting to discover how much cash
your packet contained; we will go down, and I will read
both letters to him, and let the whole truth circulate at
once."
"But why is it necessary?" returned Sidney, whose
mind had wandered to the Deacon's niece, and to the
effect the disclosure might possibly have on her smiles.
" I shall injure no one by secresy, and why need my private affairs be matters of public discussion?"
"Because it is impossible to maintain a secret of this
kind for any length of time, without a resort to mean
subterfuges and expedients unworthy a man of honor.
Neither could you keep the secret if you would, for our
Yankees examine thoroughly every suspicious or unexplained circumstance, and they would soon unravel the
affair; and in the meantime rumors and guesses would
be circulating and giving a far worse coloring to the matter than the real truth."
"The truth is humiliating enough," replied Sidney,
whose losses appeared to increase in proportion as he reflected on the estimation in which they would be considered by others. " To be thus, at once, reduced from
independence to poverty, is not certainly a slight evil."
"No, it is not," said his father; "and yet, my son, the
evils of property arise oftener from false pride than real
wants. Dare to appear what you are. Say, I have, by
circumstances I could not control, lost my fortune, but
my merits are still, I hope, unimpaired. By seeming
ashamed of poverty, we tacitly acknowledge that riches
imparted all our consequence; and by soliciting the pity
of the world for our pecuniary embarrassments, we always invite its contempt.  Instead of complaining of
Fortune's frown, look the capricious goddess boldly and
cheerfully in the face, and she will either relax her severity, or lay aside her ugliness. Come, go down stairs with
me, and we will make an experiment on the Deacon.
He will be sorely surprised, no doubt; but if you exhibit




LIFE NORTll AND SOUTH.          271
that strength of mind which can only be displayed in
adversity, and which I think you do possess, you will
certainly rise in his esteem, as gold looks brighter the
more it is purified."
He then rose and Sidney followed him, though rather
reluctantly, to the sitting-room. The kind father felt
keenly the mental sufferings of his son, but experience
had taught him what Sidney could not well know, that
the secse of such mortifications is most in apprehension,
and that the longer the communication was delayed, the
more painful, if not disgraceful, it would become.
Mrs. Iomilly saw them enter with an exulting smile,
as fcr the old Deacon, he had just replenished his pipe,
intending to smoke away most vigorously and indiffer
ently while Sidney was recounting his golden news.
After a short preface, the Squire unfolded the tidings
of the decease of his brother-in-law; the trials he had been
called to endure in his last sickness, and then read, in a
loud, unhesitating tone, the whole of both letters Sidney
liad received.
The Deacon's eyes, at the mention of Mr. Brainard's
death, rested on our hero with a squint very much like
envy, but before the conclusion, they were opened to
their utmost vision; and his pipe, which in his utter
amazement he had taken from his mouth, actually dropped
from his hold, and was broken, not in a thousand pieces,
but only the stem a little shortened.
lie observed, as he hastily snatched it up, "that it
would answer very well yet; it was nothing at all when
compared with Mr. Sidney's misfortune. He hoped the
Lord would give his young friend wisdom to improve
such crosses to his spiritual good. IHe wondered Mr.
Brainard could take any man's note for such a laige
sum —he ought to have required bondsmen, or taken a
mortgage of the property sold; and finally wished Mr.
Si<l],ey well, and should be very happy to have him
spend a month or two in his family if he didn't find
any business to his mind, nor a more agreeable offer."
And then declaring he had not thought when he first




272              NORTHWOOD; OR,
came in, of stopping half so long, he hurried away to
recapitulate by his own fire-side the intelligence he had
just gathered.
Mrs. Romilly was sorely vexed; and while she wept
for the death of Mr. Brainard, she declared she had no
patience at all with such carelessness as he had been
guilty of in trusting Cox.
"And everybody will hear of it," said she, "and
there's some will be glad, I know. Oh, what can Sidney
do!"
" Do!" repeated her husband, " why, there are a thousand things he can do; and he has not the least reason
to feel discouraged. We will soon contrive some way
to put him in business, and in the meantime, if there
are any who rejoice at his misfortune, we will pity them.
Those persons who cherish envy, or discard humanity,
are more real objects of commiseration than the meanest
beggar; theirs is that poverty of the heart and mind
which the possession of the whole universe could not
enrich."
Although Squire Romilly treated his son's loss of for
tune with more than philosophical indifference, with true
christian resignation, yet the circumstance gave him
much anxiety. He felt there would be difficulty in inuring Sidney's mind to the idea of steady exertion and
necessary dependence; and he was not without fears
his son might do what thousands have done, plunge in
dissipation to forget his disappointments. But he determined to watch over, advise, and assist him to the utmost, and not imitate the example of those parents who
make one failure or disappointment, in what was expected for a child, an excuse for withholding further aid.
Meanwhile, Sidney's meditations were of a still more
sombre character. The longer he reflected on his situation, the worse it appeared. He had been educated to
inherit affluence, not to acquire it, and feared he could
not succeed in business which required method, and a circumspection and calculation he had never been taught to
practice. Neither could he endure to be a burthen on




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           273
his kind parents, when they had so large a family unprovided for. We are created social beings, and perhaps it is generally the case, that in sudden calamities,
the human heart, especially in youth, rarely depends on
itself; it seeks the refuge of friendship.
Sidney had a host of friends in Charleston; but after
a recollection of their several characters and pursuits, he
felt compelled to acknowledge but little dependence
could be placed on their assistance. They were his
friends forever, when dining at his uncle's, or drinking
at the club the wines for which he had paid, and his
humble servants while he was heir apparent to a rich
man. " But who will humbly serve the poor?" Sidney
felt he could not and would not apply to them.
He then thought of Stuart. Stuart, for whom he had
sacrificed his dearest wishes and conquered his love.
And Stuart had been profuse in his professions, and yet
had not, for a number of months, written him a single
line. And Stuart, too, had correspondents in Charleston, and must have heard of his Ancle's failure; and he
ought to have written and offered his assistance. So
Sidney argued, and he determined he would never become a beggar of one he had so much obliged.
Then came the Englishman, frank, noble and generous. He too had acknowledged deep obligations to Sidney; but he could not know of his misfortune. He
ought to know it, and have, at least, the opportunity of
being grateful.
" I will write him immediately," thought Sidney,
"and shape my conduct by his answer. If he remember me, and offer his assistance, and urge me to visit
England, I will go, and accept his aid; if not, I must
seek some other resource. In the interim, I will remain
here-here with my good parents; and parents, after
tll, are the surest friends."
On the following morning Sidney acquainted his fa;her with the plan he had formed; it was approved, and
i letter was accordingly written and despatched across,he Atlantic; not asking assistance, however, but only
12c,*




274              NORTHWOOD; OR,
detailing those circumstances which Mr. Frankford, as a
friend, had a claim to be entrusted with.
Squire Romilly did not expect much from the Englishman, but he felt unwilling to damp his son's hopes.
Hope seemed now all that was left him, and its fancies
might soothe till his mind was strengthened to bear more
composedly the buffets which those who struggle with
fortune must endure. In the meantime he would be
making arrangements to assist him to enter on business
of some kind, should the answer of Frankford be unfavorable.
But several months were to be passed in suspenselong winter months-and Squire Romilly knew it would
require more apathy than Sidney possessed, indeed more
than he wished him to have, to pass that time pleasantly
without employment, and engaged only in the amusements a secluded country village could afford.
" You will never be contented with us, Sidney," said
his father, " if we do not contrive something for you to
do. Nothing keeps the hypo so completely at a distance
as employment. Now what if you should instruct a
school a few months? Many very respectable men have
engaged in that business."
"And have been successful too, much more than I
should be," returned Sidney, who remembered that
Stuart was thus employed when he won the heart of
Zemira.
" But you could try," said the Squire; " and a failure
would not involve you in any serious difficulties. Yet I
think you would succeed."
"Yes, I know he would," said Mrs. Romilly, "and if
he could only keep in this district, he might board at
home. And he might have this school, only George
Cranfield is engaged; but I heard Dr. Perkins say that
George might have another."
Mrs. Romilly seldom saw any insurmountable difficulty to a favorite plan, and she argued George might
easily be induced to relinquish the school, and finally
she persuaded her husband-she could usually persuade




LIFEl'  NO-iTlI AND SOUTH.      273
him to whatever she wished-to go immediately to Perkins and get him to negotiate the exchange. No time
was to be lost, as the school commenced on the following
Monday.
Dr. Perkins had heard of Sidney's disappointment, and
had been anxiously deliberating in what way he could
serve him. He had not called to condole, for condolence
was not hisforte; but when he could devise some plan
to assist him, how lightly he would go to be a messenger
of good. He undertook the business with alacrity, and
as he knew of a school Cranfield might have, doubted
not but he should be successful.
George, however, listened to the proposal with evideat
uneasiness; and Perkins saw tie praises of Sidney,
although he assented to their justness, were far from
giving him unmingled pleasure. Nor was he long in
understanding the reason of this. Miss Redington had
smiled on the stranger, and George was too ardent and
sincere a lover to brook patiently a rival in her affections.
He told Perkins he would answer him in a few hours,
and they parted.
The doctor had now many fears that the young divine
would not abandon his situation so near the abode of his
charmer, in favor of Sidney; but had he known the
resolution the former had taken, he would not have:
doubted the issue. George had determined to declare
his love to Annie, and by her reception be guided in h:
answer to Perkins. If she favored him, he would noc,
by yielding the school, place Sidney in a situation to approach her; if she rejected him, ho should wish to be
gone as far as possible.
His fears rather outweighed his hopes; but he thought
suspense worse than a rejection.
Annie was alone when he entered her uncle's, and
musing on Sidney, whose story she had heard with deep
concern; and yet she liked to think about it. It was
something like her own disappointments, and the similarity seemed to excuse her for dwelling on his.
The emotions George Cranfield cculd not suppress at




276             NORTHWOOD; OR,
hearing her name his rival, and lament his misfortunes,
drew from her an inquiry of what disturbed him; and
to her regret, she was compelled to listen to the protestations of his love and the proffers of his hand. It was
not entirely unexpected, though certainly undesired.
She knew his worth-she believed him sincere-she
felt her own dependent situation; but her heart refused
to acknowledge him for its lord, and in the kindest
language a refusal could be conveyed, she gave him a
denial.
His face was pale as marble, and the beatings of his
heart might have been seen through the thick folds of
his coat. There was a moment's irresolution, as if he
almost determined to solicit, to conjure her pity; but
the proud spirit of the man prevailed. He arose, and
suddenly clasping her hand that was resting on the
table, pressed it to his lips, and kissing it, repeatedly exclaimed:' Annie, dearest Annie, farewell! I have loved you
better than my life, but you are not for me. I acknowledge it all right. I should, I fear, were you mine, rest
in the gift and forget the Giver. I shall go from this
town till I can think calmly on your preference for Sidney Romilly. He may deserve you more than I, but he
cannot, Annie, he cannot love you better. 0! if he
should, by a residence here, gain your heart, he will be
richly recompensed for his loss of fortune. Farewell,
farewell!"-and he rushed from the apartment.
Annie had scarcely recovered from the confusion
which her lover's strange allusion to Sidney had occasioned, when the latter appeared. He had just encountered Dr. Perkins, who informed him George Cranfield
had called and relinquished the school, and he might be
installed in the magisterial office the following week.
How soon the mind accommodates itself to its situation. But a few days had passed since Sidney would
have considered the proposition to instruct a school as
an insult; but now he received the intelligence of Perkins with more real pleasure than had ever been conferred




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            277
by the costly gifts of his uncle; and he could recollect
none who would rejoice more at this arrangement than
the family of Deacon Jones, so he dropped in to cor
municate his good fortune.
In spite of Annie's exertions to appear natural, she
could not welcome him with her accustomed frank and
easy gaiety. The words of young Cranfield made her
fear she had testified more satisfaction in Sidney's society
than she ought, and she was now silent and reserved.
Sidney noticed it, and immediately imputed it to his
fallen fortunes. So sensitive are the unfortunate! He
went home very wretched, reflecting on the selfishness
of the world, and almost despairing of ever finding that
generosity and disinterestedness which his course of
reading and romantic feelings had made necessary to his
happiness, but which he knew most prudent people considered chimerical.
iHe had not recovered his tranquility when Dr. Perkins, on the following day, called to see him.  Mrs.
Romilly, who was sorely afflicted at beholding the melancholy of her first born, entreated the doctor to use his
endeavors to cheer him; and the good natured man
readily promised his best services should be at her bidding. He visited Sidney in his chamber, where he hlad
passed the forenoon, and, after the kindest and most
friendly greeting and inquiries, succeeded in discoverilng
the cause of his present dejection. Now he had, through
the medium of his wife, who was intimate with Silas
Romilly's wife, gathered most of the particulars of Annie's
last interview with George Cranfield; and from what he
had himself observed, he doubted not that the partiality
of the fair lady was given to our hero; yet he would
not for the world have hinted such a secret to him, had
he not thought, under present circumstances, it was in
dispensable to his happiness-almost to his life.
The mecficaf practtioner had not made pills and po
tions so entirely his study as to be ignorant of the hu
man heart. He knew there was nothing, not even the
possession of power, fame, or wealth, that imparted such




278              NORTHWOOD; OR,
a feeling of self-complacency and self-respect to the mind
of a young man, as the knowledge that he was deeply,
and truly, and exclusively, beloved by a lovely, innocent, and amiable woman.
He therefore, after a little raillery, unfolded what he
had learned respecting the rejection of George Cranfield,
and suggested that the reserve of Annie, instead of being
the effect of indifference to Mr. Romilly, was but that
sweet, retiring modesty, which is fearful of betraying its
own sensibility, and even blushes lest its virtuous inclinations should be suspected.
The idea was rapture to Sidney, and he welcomed it
with ardor; yet reflection presented so many obstacles
to be overcome before he could, with propriety, be a
suitor for her favor, that he almost regretted such an
event should be considered possible, and his tone was
still melancholy, while to the doctor's suggestions he
replied," And of what consequence would Annie's partiality
be to me at this time? I must never think of a lady's
smiles, till I can secure those of Fortune; and I am now
completely out of her favor."
"You have basked in her broad sunshine till you are
unable to bear the shadow of a cloud," replied Perkins;
"but remember storms and calms are successive, and
why should you always expect a lot more favored than
your fellows? Yet, even now, I presume George Cranfield thinks you in a most enviable situation."
" Why should he?" returned Sidney, " when he knows
that even if my affection for Miss Redington were similar
to his, I should still be compelled to subdue it. You
surely would not, in my present situation, have me
make advances which might ultimately render us both
miserable?"
"0   no, no.' answered Perkins, eagerly; "I think
there ought not to be a declaration at present; certainly
not, if you succeed in procuring a situation abroad.
Annie's feelings must not be trifled with, nor her coQufidenice- betrayed.  But something  n ay possil lyV occur




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           279
which will induce you to alter your plan. You may
even settle here among us, and be a clever, contented
Yankee.  Suppose you study my profession? I will
assist you all in my power, gratis; and there are worse
situations in life than being a physician. And then,
what a sweet wife Annie would make! Yet I only wish
you to think of her instead of praying to your saints, as
I believe you have not one in your calendar more worthy
of adoration. You see I suspect you of being inclined
to catholicism; but never —never bow at her shrine till
you come with a sincere heart!"
He spoke the last sentence with an air of solemnity
Sidney had never before seen him'assume, and after he
had departed, our hero reflected long and painfully on
his embarrassments, yet a gleam of light had fallen
athwart his path that seemed the precursor of future
felicity.
Was he, then, without fortune, beloved? and could his
merits alone secure the heart of that beautiful and excellent girl? I have often, thought he, complained that I
should never be happy in love, because my riches would
prevent me from feeling secure of the disinterested
attachment of a woman; and now shall I lament the
loss of fortune when it removes that barrier to my happiness? I will exert myself to gain property, and if I
succeed I shall doubly enjoy prosperity. If I fail I will
solace myself that affection has been mine which gold
could not purchase. Stuart was poor, and yet I envied
him more than any man I ever saw. But Annie certainly exceeds Zemira in beauty, accomplishments, and
intelligence: if I gain her love, I shall be more enviable
than Stuart. I will despair no more.




280                NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XXV.
THE HERO IN A NEW VOCATION
From scenes like these my country's grandeur springs
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad;
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings;
"An honest man's the noblest work of God;"
And certes in fair virtue's heavenly road,
The cottage leaves the palace far belind.  BURNS.
THE period at which Sidney Romilly was, for the first
time in his life, to commence business for himself, arrived-a cold, boisterous December morning, for the
winter had now commenced with extreme severity; and
while he listened to the howling blast that came sweeping over the bleak lills, and shook the chamber in which
he lay, while the frozen snow rattled against the windows, his blood almost froze in his veins as he thought
of braving the tempestuous weather.   He could not but
moralize-it was an excellent time for moralizing-on
the bitter change in his own prospects.
But a little time before, and he was sporting in the
summer of prosperity; but the blight had fallen, the
blast had swept, and he was now stripped of all, and
could, in the language of the sweet but unfortunate poet
whose lines adorn this chapter, exclaim,"The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!"
He arose and looked abroad, but the scenery was not
at all calculated to raise his drooping spirits. Every object around was covered with a white shroud, even the
evergreens on the mountains were loaded with snow, and




V/\\./' V!?
/ SYDNEY AS A YAN/KEE SCHOOLMASTEZ.
SYDNEY An A VA'KEE SCHOOLMASTER.








LIFE'l NORTII ANDI SOCT1.        281
nature wore that cold, cheerless, monotonous appearance
that chills the heart, and sends the warm affections and
fancies, which love to revel amid the buds of spring and
roses of summer, back to the social hearth for smiles, and
beauty, and pleasures.
And in the kindred circle of the Romillys, warm affections and sunny looks were kindling and radiant the
whole year round. Winter came not to chill the feelings
of their kind and happy hearts, and Sidney, while witnessing their cheerful industry and the alacrity with which
the younger members of the family prepared for school,
2d S7Tf- ki"n r 2?iSLty bra Jd Jyc('Y- ctc y  I6oaiceud u vere t;fi
high snow-drifts, felt ashamed of his own effeminacy in
thus shrinking at obstacles his little brothers were fearlessly braving.
The snow had fallen several feet during the night, and
all the men in the neighborhood went abroad at an early
hour to break the paths. This they effected by means
of their sleds and what is called a drag, drawn by oxen,
and using a shovel where the snow was piled the highest,
and so thoroughly they performed their work, that Sidney found a tolerable road as he bent his steps towards
his school-house. On his way he was frequently passed
by some of his scholars, cunning, laughing urchins, who
just paused to bow lowly to their master, and then sprung
away like deer through the snow-wreaths, shouting with
delight as they often purposely fell and rolled among the
light, feathery particles.
Sidney smiled at their sports, while memory transported him  back to the days and scenes of his own
childish amusements, and he thought how little was
requisite to constitute happiness when the mind was only
contented to enjoy it; and before he reached the schoolhouse, he had firmly resolved to be contented.
When he entered the house where the scholars had
nearly all assembled and taken their seats, he found a
comfortable room, warm fire, and smiling faces to welcome him; and a sensation of pleasure, hitherto unknown,
swelled his bosom when he saw them all waiting his nod,




)82             _NOR'THWOO13; On,
and attentive to execute his commands, and discovered
that although they were legitimate born and thorough
bred republicans, yet they were very easily subjected to
the monarchical authority of their rightful master. But
Sidney Romilly was not one of those who, "drest in a
little brief authority," appear like an angry ape, and pelt
all subjected to their sway; his own kind feelings had
taught him that kindness was the master key to the
human heart, and so well did he manage to obtain the
love of his pupils, and yet impress them with the fear of
offending him, that his wishes were very soon all the
laws he needed, and to express them was to insure their
cheerful performance.
The duties of an instructor are always perplexing and
often irksome, yet there are many agreeable passages in
hours spent in imparting knowledge to the young and
ductile understanding; and the exertions the employment required, were necessary to occupy Sidney's mind,
and prevent him from indulging in useless regret, or
yielding to consuming ennui. When his daily task was
concluded, how dearly he enjoyed the tranquil domestic
bliss that brightened his father's hearth; or the lively,
intelligent, though sometimes whimsical gaiety that characterized the abode of his friend Perkins.
But there was one house whose attractions, altloulgh
lie did not, even to his own heart, dare to acknowledge
the extent of their power, possessed a charm of tenderness more exquisite still. Yet it was not the conversation of the Deacon, although he always welcomed the
sch/ool-mzsler, and exerted himself to entertain him  by
proving the orthodox validity of his own faith, and attempting to convince his auditor of his utter sinfulness
and ruin if hle did not embrace the same religious tenets.
These observations were.Slnerally introduced in the preamble that now was an excellent time for Mr. Sidney
lolmilly to examine himself, as T e was released from the
tenmptations of great wealtl, and -Im.st have seen the folly
of trusting in an arm of flestl; and they were always
concluded by a libation from his p't!her oif cider, which




Lli'E NOliTi AND SOUTh'.          288
Mr. Sidney was heartily invited to participate. Then
the old gentleman usually retired to his own room to
smnoke his pipe and plan his business for the next day.
After he and his woman, as he commonly called hil
uwifi, had withdrawn, Silas Rornilly and his wife were:ssiduous in offering every attention, and promoting
every amusement they thought would contribute to their
brother's happiness, and, assisted by Annie, seldom were
thlev unsuccessful. Her acquaintance with polished society and the forms of fashionable life, gave him  an
opllortluity of displaying his taste and sentiments on
sulljects w ith which he was most familiar, but whichl no
otlher person in the village, except Annie, would have
comprehended. Their favorite authors were the same,
and thus their sentiments were every day more closely:ssimilating their feelings, and their intercourse and
frielndship ripening into intimacy and affection.
Annie sung, perhaps, like an angel, but that is, to us,:a  uncertain comparison; certainly, however, with one
of the sweetest of hunman voices. Neither did she, by
ca)ricious refusals, endeavor to enhance the value of her
condescension; but almost always complied with Sidney's
first request for a song with such winning grace, that evel
ill indifferent execution would have delighted. Howv,
then, could he fail to be enchanted by her harmony?
Even the timid reserve that often stole over her in their
g)ayest nmoments, and her occasional evenings of silence,
were not unpleasing to Sidney. lIe well remembered
wlhat Perkins had told him, and though the universe
w-ould not have tempted him to have wounded her deiicacy by betraying a consciousness that he was beloved,
yet it was bliss to hope it. HIe had not formed any distinct purpose why he hoped it-it was like a sweet vision
which he feared to dissipate by any attempt to ascertain
its reality.
But the weeks passed rapidly away, and nothing occurred to mar the winter's enjoyment. George Cranfield
came not by his melancholy to cast a shade over their
happiness; his name, whenever spoken by Annie, was




284              NORTnIWOOD; OR,
always mentioned with respect, and Sidney never heard
an allusion escape her lips which hinted in any manner
her rejection of that amiable young man.
Ephraim Skinner now seldom intruded his busy and
important face among the cheerful group at the deacon's.
In particular, he avoided meeting Mr. Romilly there;
and though the old deacon always stoutly vindicated
him, saying he believed him an experienced man —meanilg pious-and that he only wanted his own, and t-hat
Mr. Sidney would find it necessary to look out a little
sharper before he ever acquired any property; yet he
iever could, in his own family, make any converts to lis
opinion, nor was he much more successful in the neigtiborhood.
Benevolence is a passport to most hearts, and Sidney's
generous sympathy for the misfortunes of the poor debtor,
had created a lively interest for his fate in the minds of
that unsophisticated people, which his subsequent losses,
by reducing him nearer their own level, had contributed
to increase. He was the magnet of the village. A school
master in the country is always a personage of consequence; his relation as instructor of their children giving
him a vast importance with the parents, and he was
accordingly invited to all the dwellings in the district,
and numerous parties and sleigh rides were contrived to
amuse him, and testify their deep sense of his merits and
services. At these parties the schoolmaster and Miss
Redington were almost always associated; the good folks
seeming, by common consent, to agree, that no lady,
except the deacon's niece from  Boston, was a fitting
partner for the southern bred gentleman; and proud were
they that they had amongst them so lovely and amiable
a being to grace their drawing rooms and be the queen
of their festivities.
Among those who insisted on, at least, a call from
Sidney, was his protogee Merrill. When his family had
nearly recovered, and he could go abroad without fearing
for their safety, he came to visit and make his acknowledgrrents to his benefactor. He found Sidney at Deacon




LIFE NORTlH AND SOUTH.          285
Jones' and there poured out his gratitude in the strong,
simple language of native feeling. His appearance was
so altered that Sidney, at first, hardly recollected him.
When he saw him before, his long black beard gave an
almost savage look to his countenance; while the fatigue
and anxiety he had undergone made his eyes appear
sunken and his complexion sallow, and his neglected and
even ragged apparel, affixed to his image, in the mind of
Sidney, an idea of wretchedness which he never liked to
remember.
But now he came arrayed in a neat and comfortable
suit of home made; his beard was closely shaven, and his
brisk eye and animated countenance had taken at least
ten years of age from his former appearance; and there
needed not the affirmation he gave of his present happiness to satisfy his hearers of its reality.
While he was, with tears of joy swelling in his eyes,
relating that his family had nearly recovered, and how
happy they were, and that every thing seemed now to go
right with him, as he expressed it; and thanking Sidney
again and again for his assistance, Annie wept unrestrainedly, and the old deacon wiped his nose often,
which he afterwards ascribed to a violent cold; but which
was undoubtedly the thawings of sympathy, so long congealed that the passages to his eyes were closed, and
therefore it took another course.
Merrill knew of Sidney's present embarrassments, but
delicacy forbade him to allude to them, except by telling
the arrangements he was making to refund the money his
benefactor had advanced.
"My wife and I are talking it over every day," said
he, "and I will endeavor to pay it now, if you say so,
though I sell all my stock, oxen and all. I can part
with my oxen now better than I could a month ago, for
I have been hauling up a pretty good mess of wood-I
am determined never to be short of wood again."
Sidney told him he did not wish him to distress himself to refund the money; that was not the idea under
which he had received it, adding,




286              NORTHIWrOOo ); OR,
"My assistance would be no kindness at all should I
insist on payment now; you might just as well have
satisfied the execution of Mr. Skinner."
"O! no," replied Merrill, " not by a great sight. My
family are now nearly well, and there is a great deal of
difference in our feelings about paying it to you, sir, or
having it forced from us by the cruelty of that villain.
But, Mr. Sidney Romrilly, you must come up and see us
— my wife will never rest easy till she sees you, and our
baby, poor boy, is'nt well enough yet for her to go out,
or she would have called and thanked you before lnow.
Then my boys all want to see you. Do come up next
week, and bring Miss Redington here, she's been as kindi
as an angel too. And your brother and his wife must
come, and Dr. Perkins-the doctor has promised me
already. Now won't you come up all together?"
Annie blushed and smiled, while Sidney gaily inquired if she would ride with him  and call on Mr.
Merrill; and finally the visit was settled for the Thursday evening following.
And a beautiful evening it proved, only very cold;
but wrapped in buffaloes, and with good horses, they
cared little for the "nipping and eager air," while the
jingle of the sleigh-bells formed a concert by no means
unpleasant, and quite appropriate with their rapid motion.
They soon arrived at the dwelling of Merrill, a small
one-story house, the color of the wood, and only lighted
by two glass windows, the apertures for the remaining
ones being closed with boards. There was, however, a
large, well finished barn and sheds a few steps distant,
and Perkins remarked he always noted down the farmer
as a thriving, industrious, economical man, who had a
barn larger than his house.
A bright fire shone through the small windows and
open door as they drove up, where Merrill waited to
receive them; and, after shakiing hands with every individual, and bidding them welcome, he ushered them
into the only finished room, which served for every oc



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            287
casion, introduced them to his wife, and then went out
to take care of the horses.
His wife instantly offered chairs, and assisted them to
disencumber themselves of their bonnets and overcoats,
and then they formed a circle around a fire that literally
blazed like a furnace. Mr. Merrill, thinking one essential
rite of hospitality in such a cold night, was to provide a
good fire for his guests, had contrived, by placing a
maple log, nearly three feet in diameter, at the baQk of
his capacious fire-place, and then piling small wood
almost to the mantel-piece, to have, on their arrival, what
might very well represent a bonfire. The strong light
displayed the neat room and furniture, bought for use
not show, to the best advantage, every article looking as
clean as if it were under the superintendence of those
fairies who of yore presided over the department of the
tidy housewife.
On low stools, by one corner of the fire-place, sat the
four boys, their chubby cheeks well attesting their complete recovery from the sickness they had suffered; and
looking like pictures of innocent happiness as their
roguish eyes from time to time glanced on the good
gentleman their father had told them they must love,
and then turned significantly smiling on each other.
A cradle stood beside Mrs. Merrill, in which lay her
babe, whose illness had been protracted by a fever-sore
that now threatened to destroy the use of its limbs, and
the history of which furnished her first topic of discourse,
as it certainly was the one on which she had been pondering most intently.
Over the mantel-piece, suspended on a wire hook, hung
a file of newspapers, and beside them an almanac, and
Sidney, as he remarked it, could not but relate the anecdote of Zeb, and the mirth of Frankford.
When their host returned, he was accompanied by a
stripling whom  Sidney immediately recollected as the
"Captain Luther" of the squirrel hunt, and whom thbe
elder Merrill said was his brother, and that he had come




288             NORTHWOOD; OR
there that evening just to see Mr. Sidney Romilly, and
thank him for his kindness.
"But thanks are poor pay for what we all owe you,"
said Mrs. Merrill, the tears filling her mild blue eyes.
"I intend to be paying him something more substantial, by-and-by," said her husband, briskly.  "I
rfin  my boCrs shalJJ vrcJk Sc JTexus ne-t surnmner. I
have a good farm and a good wife, and if we only have
good health, I'll soon get out of debt, and then we shall
be independent, and I wouldn't swap with a king. Yet,
we shall never forget who were our friends in the hour
of trouble. Come here, boys, and make your bows to
this gentleman."
The children all came forward, hanging their heads
and looking rather silly; yet the pleasure their parents
eljoyed while relating how well they could read and
work, and what they intended to make of them, was so
heartfelt that no one could witness it without sympathizing in the happiness that appeared so sincere and so
virtuous.
"Now here's my John," said the exulting father, nodding significantly to Sidney, and pulling his boy closely
towards him;" he is but twelve, and has never had a
very good chance to school, but he'll read anything right
off as fast as a lawyer. If I can only get out of debt, 1
believe I shall try and send him to college. I always
take the papers, for I think every man who has the
privilege of voting, ought to know what is doing in the
world, so I take'em, and John reads'em all; and some
of them congress speeches are plaguy long-winded, you
know. I'm so tired when I've done work I don't read'em half; but John, if he can get a book or paper, is
never tired. But there's a good many hard words in
them are speeches, and I couldn't tell John the trsania.r,
forI didn't know, and he teased me till I bought him a
dixonary last winter. John, bring the book here and
show it to the gentlemen."
The boy obeyed with alacrity, and soon rummaged out
his dictionary from a pile of school books, that together




LIFE NORTI AND SOUTH.          289
with a large Bible, were the ornament of an old fashioned desk.
"Now," continued his father, taking it from him and
presenting it to Sidney,-" now see how nice he's kept
it; and he's studied it too, more, I'm afraid, than his
Bible, and his mother is pretty particular to make him
read in that every day. Well, when Skinner sued me,
I felt so poor I told John I guessed I mustn't take the
papers any longer, and I must turn out his dixonary to
the sheriff, and the boy cried in a minute. And he
hadn't shed a tear in all his sickness, and had taken all
his med'son without saying a word, but when I told him
I must sell his books, he cried like a baby. And he
said I might sell his new hat and welcome, if I'd only
let him keep his dixonary. Then I thought I should
never save enough by skrimping the children's books,
and stopping the papers to make me rich; and 1 told
my wife I'd work a little harder, or drink a little less
ruin in haying time, and I don't drink much now, before I'd make'em cry so about their books. And then,
Mr. Sidney, you were good enough to help me so John
keeps his dixonary, and reads the papers every week,
and 1 don't think you can hardly pick out a word but
what he'll tell you the meaning."
The company laughed heartily, and joined in commending John's perseverance, and predicting his future greatness and the speeches he would probably make in Congress some day, when Mrs. Merrill, who felt the mother's
impartial affection for all her children, and could not
bear that one should engross so entirely the attention,
began to dilate on the excellencies of the others. In this
she was soon heartily joined by her husband, and after
they had proved that certainly, in their opinion, their
children inherited every good quality ever bestowed on
mortals, the kind father took up from the cradle his sick
boy, and holding him with the most careful attention.
declared he was the brightest of them all; "and," continued he,' though I don't expect he'll ever do a day's
work in the worid, I don't care anything about that. If
13




290               NORTUWOOD; OR,
he may only live, I'll take care of him, and make him a
minister or a doctor, and then his lameness will never do
him much hurt."
Mr. Merrill was standing, with his head a little declined
over the pillow on which lay the little sufferer, who feebly
smiled as he met the looks of kindness and sympathy
thus bent upon him. Sidney gazed on the tall, muscular
form of the father, whose large, sinewy hand and strong
arm, that seemed formed for deeds of dexterity and daring, to heave the huge weight, or hurl the ponderous
weapon, was now clasped around and supporting with all
a woman's tenderness, a sickly infant; while his soul,
that in accordance with the rough, gigantic frame it inhabited, might have been thought of a stern, rugged, and
unyielding temperament, was all dissolved in sensations
of compassion and love.
"0, these affections of the heart," thought Sidney,
"how easily they subdue the lofty or the stubborn spirit,
and make bosoms of flint gush with streams of feeling
and charity, till the disposition of the man, proud, bold,
and lion-like, is softened down to the tenderness and constancy of the meek-eyed dove."
As he finished his mental soliloquy, his eye rested on
Annie's lovely and intelligent countenance, beaming with
all the benevolence with which his own heart was overflowing; and at that moment he loved her better than
ever he did Zemira. It was the affection of holy sympathy.
But these deep and engrossing reveries were soon dispelled by the jollity of Dr. Perkins. He always liked to
see every one merry and sociable, and he related some
of his best anecdotes, and insisted on a song from Annie,
which was given, when assured the noise would not injure the poor babe.
The sweet and simple air she sung was listened to with
breathless attention, and when she finished, not the encore
of the fashionables at an Italian opera could be more expressive of approbation than were the smiles of her
auditors; nor could Jenny Lind herself be more gratified




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              291
at the applauses her " Bird Song" elicited, than was Annie
Redington when her lover-he might well at that moment
be called her lover-softly whispered,-" How charming!"
Merrill proffered around his cider with an unsparing
hand, and the little boys followed with fine mellow apples,
and they were careful to point Mr. Romilly and Miss
Redington to the largest and fairest. These, with fried
cakes and gingerbread, both as sweet as maple sugar
could make them, minced pie, pumpkin pie, and cheese,
constituted their treat; and after passing about three
hours, enjoying besides the good cheer, what might well
be called substantial happiness, as it was of a kind which
could forever be reflected on with satisfaction, they prepared to depart.
Before they went, however, Annie found an opportunity to inform Mrs. Merrill of an excellent poultice and
embrocation for the limb of her babe, and then kissing
its pale cheek, she gave her hand to Sidney; and, followed by the good wishes of this grateful family, they
entered their sleighs and were quickly whirled home.
Sidney, in spite of the din of the bells, found an opportunity to say to Annie, "What pleasure can be compared to the bliss of such domestic confidence and affections as we have just witnessed. I am a thorough convert to the sentiments of the plowman bard.'If happiness hae not her seat
And centre in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest:
Nae treasures, nor pleasures
Could make us happy lang;
The heart aye's the part aye,
That makes us right or wrang.''
Annie did not answer, but her audible sigh breathed
warm on the cheek of Sidney, as his face nearly touched
hers, listening for her reply, and assured him she approved, indeed reciprocated his feelings.




292              NORTHWOOD; OR,
CHAPTER XXVI.
GOING ABROAD.
" My native land, good night."
CHILDE HAROLD.
THE term, four months, for which Sidney had engaged to teach the school, was now expired, and he closed
with the love and approbation of both parents and scholars. Not a murmur against him had been heard excepting from one individual. This man, it seems, agreed to
furnish wood for the school during the season, for a certain sum, and he now complained of the quantity consumed.
" There had been a confounded sight burned," he said,
"and he hoped the committee would never employ
another master who had been used to living in a warm
climate; they were all as cold as frogs, and couldn't live
here to the North, without their house was kept as warm
as an oven."
But no notice was taken of his complainings, and the
district unanimously voted to employ Sidney the following winter, if he should be disposed to engage. To this
proposition he could not return a definite answer. He
was yet in uncertainty respecting his own fate. Recent
letters from Charleston destroyed the hopes he had entertained of receiving at least a small sum of surplus
money from the sale of his uncle's plantation; while they
also expressly stated Cox could not be discovered. A
return to Charleston, therefore, was not to be contemplated.
He was impatient for letters from England, not that he
really wished to embark for that country; he now felt




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTHT.          293
that to leave Annie would require as great an exertion
of self-denial as he had practiced when resigning his
hopes of obtaining Zemira; but as he knew not what
plan to pursue, he was anxious for every item of information that would flatter him with the hope of success
Sometimes he thought and talked seriously of commencing the study of physic, and he fancied Miss Redington listened well pleased to a scheme that would fix
him near her. Then came the recollection of the long
preparation requisite before he could commence business, and the strict application necessary to insure success, and how long he must struggle with poverty, never,
perhaps, to be surmounted.
These were painful reflections to one educated as he
had been, in the lap of luxury; nor did the hope of being beloved by Annie at all allay his inquietude. She,
too, had been accustomed to elegancies. O! could he
only command such, how rapturous it would be to confer them on her, and meet her smile of gratitude when
again raised to the rank for which nature seemingly designed her. But now to take advantage of her partiality, and urge her to share his poverty and dependence,
honor, generosity, love forbade it.
He passed two or three weeks in such uncertainty of
purpose and struggles of mind as made him exhibit more
dejection of countenance and manner than he had ever
before worn, and his mother was seriously alarmed, lest
he was inclining to a consumption, when the long wished
for packet from England arrived, and opened once more
a prospect of success and prosperity.
Mr. Frankford's offers exceeded in generosity anything
Sidney had ever anticipated. After declaring lie could
not regret his friend Romilly's misfortunes, as they promised to afford him the satisfaction of displaying his
gratitude, he bade his preserver welcome to share his
fortune; but fearing his independent mind would revolt
at receiving charity, he considerately stated an offer of a
certain situation he had reserved for Sidney, which




294              NORTHWOOD; OR,
would insure him competence and respect, and he conjured him to embark immediately for London.
He also sent, with his cordial love, some small token
of affectionate remembrance to each member of the Romilly family; but Sophia's, a beautiful string of pearls,
was far the most costly and elegant.
Sidney, while perusing the letters, turned so pale that
his father apprehended unpleasant intelligence; but after ascertaining the contents, he easily divined the agitation of his son arose from the necessity he found there
was of relinquishing either his love or his ambition.
Squire Romilly was a man of kind feelings, and he
prized the dear domestic affections and tranquil happiness of home as more inestimable than the treasures of
Ophir; but he knew his son had been differently educated; he knew that riches and rank were essential to his
felicity; and feared that should he now yield to his passion for Annie and forego for her the offers of Mr.
Frankford, he would in a short time regret it as folly,
while the obstacles to his advancement would then be
insurmountable. But should he now depart and secure
the smiles of fortune, and his love endure the test of absence-a severe trial of the affections-he might renew
his intercourse with the lady at some more auspicious
period. He therefore seriously, and even strenuously
advised Sidney's acceptance of the Englishman's offers.
Mrs. Romilly wept at the thought of her child's departure, and going, too, such a vast distance, and across the
boisterous ocean, but to the arguments and reasons of
her husband, she yielded without clamorous opposition;
and the voyage was in a short time fully determined
upon.
It was now a question with our hero, whether he
should, before his departure, declare his love to Miss
Redington, and bind her by a promise to be his when he
could return to claim her, or whether to delay expressing his sentiments till he reached his destination, and
discovered what expectations of ultimate success he might
rationally form. There were good reasons for both




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            295
plans, but finally, after all his studying, he was, as men
often are, compelled by incidents he could not control, to
adopt a different course from the one he really intended.
When Annie learned his intention of departing in a
few days, her mind suffered the most cruel agitation and
disappointment. She felt what had been hitherto unknown to herself, the deep strength of her affection for
him —an affection she had incautiously cherished, at first
under the name of admiration of his talents and accomplishments, and then of sympathy for his misfortunes, or
esteem for his virtues. But the certainty of a separation
at once betrayed the tenderness of her feelings and the
truth of her love; and in the hopelessness of her heart
she accused Sidney of dissimulation and cruelty, in thus
winning her affections and then leaving her to regret.
A little reflection, however, made her exculpate him;
he had never adopted the language of a lover, though
some of his compliments had been more ardent than mere
friendship usually dictates; but she had misinterpreted
his meaning-he was only, what he had professed himself, her friend; and there came such an humiliating
sense of her own weakness, in thus indulging a partiality
for a man who was, probably, totally indifferent to her,
that she wept with vexation and shame, and firmly resolved never to see or speak with him again.
But lest such a proceeding might be noticed and excite
inquiries she felt unable to satisfy or evade, she finally
concluded to see him as little as possible, and on no
account to allow him a moment's separate conversation,
lest she should betray to him her emotions. Therefore,
when Sidney called at her uncle's, which he did often,
she was always engaged except when the whole family
was present, and thus the time passed till the evening
preceding the day fixed for his departure, and he had not
spoken one word to Annie on a subject that occupied, at
least, half his thoughts.
On that evening he repaired to the deacon's, determin
ing to come to an explanation, for the nearer the time
came for his journey, the dearer Annie appeared, and he




296              NORTHWOOD; OR,
felt an expression of her love and promise of her constancy, were indispensable to his enjoying peace of mind
during his absence.
But when he arrived at the house he found her engaged
in conversation with George Cranfield, apparently very
willing to receive his attentions; and her affability to
George, and reserve or even coldness to Sidney was so
apparent, that the latter, indignant at what he thought
unpardonable coquetry, for he was confident she must
know his affection for her and certainly had given him
encouragement to hope it was returned, addressed but
little conversation to her, or indeed to any one, and soon
rose to depart.
He was now to bid farewell.
The old deacon took his hand and made a long harangue,
in which he failed not to bestow advice and warning
and exhortation; his wife then offered her sincere and
benevolent prayers for his present and future happiness.
Silas said he would not bid " good bye" now-he would
see him again the next morning; Priscilla's soft blue
eyes swam in tears while she whispered "farewell" to
her brother-in-law, and George Cranfield proffered his
hand with frank and hearty wishes for the success of his
friend-wishes certainly not the less sincere that their
realization would detain Sidney in a foreign land.
Who could blame him when such a prize as Annie
was hazarded, if not lost, should he stay much longer in
New England?
Miss Redington sat last in the circle. Sidney paused
a moment before her as she rose gracefully from her seat,
and, without raising her eyes, extended her hand to his.
It trembled like an aspen in his grasp, and her cheek was
white as snow, but she spoke " farewell, Mr. Romilly,"
with a calm, steady voice, and when she looked up, the
only form she wished to see was just quitting the apartment. She left it almost immediately; she had overacted her part, and felt wretched when reflecting he would
probably accuse her of caprice, despise her for her inconsistency, and banish her from his memory.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           297
George Cranfield went home sighing, both for himself
and Annie. He saw she loved Sidney, and thought her
affection unreturned; and he knew the sorrow of hopeless love.
Neither were Sidney's reflections of a much more
serene character. His anger, however, soon subsided,
and he imputed Annie's apparent indifference to her
exertions to prevent a display of feeling which might
have been suspected as favoring him; and this conclusion,
which he drew while leaning from his window and gazing
on the still landscape, now tranquilly sleeping in the soft
rays of the moon, for a moment subdued his resolution,
and he hesitated whether to undertake his journey. He
was leaving the calm, certain enjoyments of sequestered
life, to engage in the tumultuous scenes of a flattering but
heartless world.
He gazed on the distant mountains, whose shadowy
outline was just visible in the horizon, and he could trace
the course of the stream by the wreath of light vapor that
rested on its surface, looking in the calm moon beams
like a soft pillow spread invitingly for the weary children
of sorrow to come and sink to repose.
It was a delicious spring evening; and the young buds
then swelling beneath the influence of the genial dews,
would soon expand in beauty, the sweet flowers would
come forth, but his eyes would not greet them; he would
be far away-and would Annie, while straying through
those fields, and reposing in those groves, ever wish him
near her to twine a garland for her fair brow, or quote a
sentiment expressive of the sensations of her heart?
He hoped it, and yet there were remembrances that
convinced him a change in his own wishes might occur,
and why not in hers? He had loved before, and yet had
found it necessary and practicable to conquer his passion;
and circumstances might soon arise which would render
a connexion with Miss Redington incompatible with his
duty, and, in the nature of things, impossible.
When reflecting thus he rejoiced there had not been a
solemn engagement between them. If Annie really loved
13*




298              NORTHWOOD; OR,
him, absence would increase her affection-it always did
that of a true woman-and when he knew what his destiny was to be, he would write to her and his friends.
With such anticipations for the future, he at length
reconciled himself with the present, and retired to bed
beneath a roof which the morning sun would see him
quitting, perhaps, forever.
CHAPTER XXVII.
DEATH OF A GOOD MAN.
The chamber where the good man meets his fate
Is privileged beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.
His comforters he comforts; great in ruin,
With unreluctant grandeur gives, not yields,
His soul sublime, and closes with his fate.
YOUNG.
SIDNEY slept till a late hour on the following morning,
and was at length wakened from his heavy and somewhat
perturbed slumbers, by a sound which he at first imagined
to be a shriek; but listening a moment and hearing no
further noise, he concluded it was the coinage of his own
disturbed brain; and therefore again laid lhis head on the
pillow, thinking before he rose he would arrange in his
own mind the proceedings for the day, and summon fortitude to support his spirits in what might possibly be an
eternal separation from his friends.
His friends-at that thought his fancy rested on Annie.
He had bidden her adieu, but might he not call again,
tempted by the beauty of the morning to a walk? He
had not decided, when a loud and yet louder bustle below stairs made him again start to listen. He now plainly
distinguished groans, and voices apparently in agony.
"What has happened?" said he, as his door was
thrown open with violence by little Harvey, who, with




LIFE NORTII AND SOUTH.           299
pale face, eyes staring, and limbs trembling, stammered
out, "Oh! Sidney, come down, come down, pa' is dying!'
"Dying!" repeated Sidney, springing from his bed
and seizing his clothes, "what-how-what ails him?is he sick?"
"He's killed!" shrieked the child in an agony of grief,
that now, for the first time, found vent in tears. "He'll
die! he'll die! and who will take care of me?"
"I-I will," said Sidney; "don't cry, Harvey," and
the tears stood in his own eyes.
"But you are going away," said the child; "oh! Sidney, don't go F"-and he was proceeding to urge his stay,
when the voice of their mother, calling on Sidney to come
down, silenced, in Harvey's mind, every thought except
of his father's danger, and he flew down stairs with the
quickness of thought.
Sidney followed him in trepidation, and on entering
the sitting-room, saw at once the confirmation of his worst
fears. His father, covered with blood, and apparently
nearly exhausted, was extended on the couch; around
him stood his terrified, horror-struck children. His wife,
although ready to faint with grief and terror, was bathing
his temples, and endeavoring to hope he might yet be
spared to their prayers and exertions. As Sidney, awed
and silent, advanced to the couch, his father opened his
eyes and endeavored to stretch forth his hand, while he
fi tl SaiZa --'-Aiy sozn, you Z 2usl c2e?]y Jyour jozrney ~or
the present-I am taking my departure before you. I
am going to my long home-a journey I shall never tread
back."
He paused, while his wife's tears fell fast on the hand
she held in hers; and Sidney hastily inquired why they
did not send for a surgeon?
"We expect Perkins every minute," said one.
"And lie is coming now," said another.
"But he cannot save me," replied the dying man.
" My bounds are set, and I have just reached the goal. I
feel it;-I should-for my family's sake-have been glad




300              NORTHWOOD; OR,
-to have lived-a little longer. But God's will be done.
I am resigned to die."
The Doctor entered.
The apathy which familiarity with scenes of suffering
and danger creates in the minds of those accustomed to
wrestle with disease, and watch the approach of the king
of terrors under every appalling form, was conquered
when Perkins beheld that good and benevolent man, in
whom every child of sorrow and trouble found a counselor and friend, now stretched on a bed of suffering,
and read in the contraction of his features, and the ghastly
appearance of his countenance, the probable issue-of his
misfortunes.
But his concern, although evincing itself by a half
smothered groan and quick change of color, was not of a
kind to induce despair or inactivity. He made immediate preparations for an examination of the wound, which
Sidney now learned had been occasioned by his father's
being thrown from his wagon while descending a steep
hill about half a mile north of the village. He had been
abroad at an early hour, on business, and was hurrying
to reach home, on Sidney's account, that he might spend
a little time with him before his departure, when his
horse, while trotting very fast, chanced to step on a rolling stone, lost his footing and fell headlong, and the bolt
that confined the wagon being forced out by the violence
of the shock, Squire Romilly, with the body of the vehicle, was precipitated down a steep bank, and thrown on
a sharp stick or root of a sapling that protruded near a
foot above ground. The stick entered his back, just below his left shoulder, and it was probable had penetrated
some vital part.
Fortunately, two pedestrians were descending the hill
at the same instant; they saw the accident and hastened
to offer assistance, raised the nearly inanimate body,
staunched the bleeding wound, and the wagon, which
had not been broken, being prepared, he was laid in it,
supported by one man while the other led the horse, and




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.          301
thus brought back to the home he had lately left in health
and cheerfulness.
Dr. Perkins requested the family would withdraw
while he made the examination, fearing a sight of the
wound and blood would draw forth lamentations augmenting the distress of the wounded man. The children
all obeyed. Squire Romilly looked on his wife.
" I shall not leave you," said she, calmly.
"But you must," he replied; " it will overcome you.
Go, Sidney, go and support your mother."
"My husband," she replied earnestly, "you must not
bid me go; I cannot leave you. I shall not faint; I can
endure anything better than to know you are suffering,
and I am not by to watch over and relieve you. And
it is my duty," she continued, seeing him about to speak,
" and if you do not wish to make me miserable, you will
not drive me from you."
There was no more said, and the doctor proceeded to
examine the wound.
Mrs. Romilly appeared during the whole process with
astonishing composure; she prepared the lint and bandages, watched every change in her husband's countenance,
and administered cordials to support him, and it was not
till from the agitated manner of Dr. Perkins she became
convinced he thought the wound a mortal one, that her
fortitude forsook her. She gazed on her husband, then
turned her eyes on the doctor. Sidney saw her agony,
and sprung to her support, but she fell senseless before
he could reach her.
" My poor wife," said the Squire feebly, as Sidney
bore her from the apartment. " My children, where are
they? Death is coming like an armed man, and I would
say a few words-my lips will soon be closed forever."
The doctor entreated him to be composed.
"You cannot give me any hope of life," said the
wounded man; " and if you did, my own feelings would
contradict your words. It is no time for deception-my
race is run. Call my children, then, that I may give
them my last advice-my dying blessing."




302              NORTHWOOD; OR,
The doctor could no longer oppose it; from the symptoms he was convinced his recovery was impossible;
indeed he thought his dissolution very near, and that to
deprive him of the opportunity of bidding his family
farewell, would be cruelty.
The news of this fatal accident had circulated through
the village. Squire Romilly and his family were universally beloved and respected, and the sympathy which
spontaneously burst forth on hearing the distressing tidings was sincere.
The Rev. Mr. Cranfield was one of the first who reached the house of sorrow. It was his office to comfort the
afflicted; but his compassion needed not the spur of
duty. His flock were his children; he felt all their calamities, and to comfort the mourners and bind the broken
heart was not with him an artifice to gain popularity.
Not that he might boast of his faithfulness, or complain
of the pressure of his parochial duties; but he came to the
bedside of the sufferer to assuage pain, strengthen hope,
teach submission, and to prepare the dying for that world,
where he hoped and prayed to meet all his congregation;
while with the fondness of a parent bird, he
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way."
Mrs. Romilly engaged his first attention. He consoled
her grief, he calmed her agitation; not by telling her of
the uselessness of sorrow, and illustrating it by referring
to the sovereign power of that Being who "killeth and
maketh alive at his own good pleasure." No: he spake
of the piety of her husband, of his fitness for the great
change, of the glory and happiness awaiting him, of the
infinite gain when leaving a world of change and sorrow
for one of secure and unfading bliss, and of their reunion
so shortly to occur. Why should a christian shrink at
death?  It is because faith is weak, and cannot look
within the veil. Who can grasp the infinite, or comprehend the mysteries of that world which no created eye
bath seen?
When Mr. Cranfield had, in some degree, succeeded in




LIFE NORTHf AND SOUTH.           803
calming the first torrent of grief which nearly overwhelmed this affectionate wife at the terrible certainty of being
deprived of him who had been the light of her path, her
guide and counselor and friend, Sidney informed her of
his father's request to see them. She dried her tears,
and endeavored by her composure to restore that of her
children; and then, supported by Mr. Cranfield and her
son, she again entered the apartment of death, followed
by all her family.
Squire Romilly's countenance had undergone a great
change. The severe pain which had, during the operation, distorted his manly features, was much abated;
and something that at first had appeared like impatience
or anxiety, was wholly past. All was now faith, hope
and peace.
IIis high and expanded forehead, which time had but
lightly touched, and where neither care nor grief had
ever stamped a furrow, looked calm as a summer sunset; his dark expressive eyes were lighted up with the
radiance of joy, so calm, so benign, that their glance
spoke at once of heaven; and the smile of benevolence
and love hovered on his parted lips, as if the dear affections and kind feelings he had cherished on earth were
rendered dearer and kinder by the purity of the region
which his spirit could even now anticipate.
Mr. Cranfield looked; and that look sufficed at once
to inform him of the situation of his dying brother. Hope
had till then whispered that he might be saved; and he
entered the room with a secret belief of being able to impart the same confidence to the sorrowing family. But
now he could only press the hand of the sufferer, and silently ejaculate-" God, thy will be done!"
Squire Romilly was the first to break the impressive
silence. He cast his eyes around and saw those he most
loved were all assembled. They surrounded the bed.
The whole apartment was now nearly filled by the sympathizing neighbors, who came silently in awe and grief.
The doctor, with a face of anxiety, leaned at the foot of
the bed, steadfastly watching every symptom of change




804              NORTIHWOOD; OR,
in his patient, and studying if there were any further
means he might attempt for his preservation; but the dejection that clouded his usually gay countenance, declared he had no hope.
"You have come," said the Squire, addressing his
pastor in his own mellow and placid tones, "you have
come to witness my death, or rather my entrance on
eternal life. A short, a very short time, and I shall be
admitted to the society of the blessed. I know in whom
I have believed," continued he, elevating his voice, and
grasping closer the hand that rested in his-" I feel an
assurance of heaven-and would my beloved wife, and
these dear children but acquiesce in the dispensation of
Providence, would they resign me without tears or murmurs-oh! how willingly, how joyfully should I, at this
moment, yield my breath!"
lie paused, and clasped his wife's trembling hand-the
sobs and sighs of the children became audible; while the
deep commiseration of the spectators evinced itself in that
profound silence, maintained to prevent the expression of
feelings which might augment the grief it would strive to
tranquilize. Many shaded their faces, and many a heartbreathed prayer ascended to supplicate for his recovery,
or, (and their tears flowed while anticipating such an
event probable) if that could not be, that the immortal
soul might be received to mansions of glory. Ah! the
sight of death makes the spirit eloquent. Many prayed
there who never prayed before.
Squire Romilly resumed. "I could have wished for a
little space to have arranged some affairs, that I must now
leave unsettled. The world stillclings to the heart of the
husband and father; but the Christian" —and his eye
beamed upward with angelic lustre-" the Christian can
trust in God.  To his care I resign thee, my wife,
my best beloved; —trust in Him and you will need no
other protector. And, my-dear children, if you have
ever loved your father, I charge you to honor his memory
by obeying and cherishing your mother, and living in
peace among yourselves; Grave it on your hearts to treat




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            805
all with whom you have intercourse as you wish to be
treated. That is a rule you may always follow; a principle you can always apply; a command of God which
if you do, in heart, and spirit and action obey, you may
be certain of happiness, of eternal blessedness. O! it is
not professions —I have been a professor these twentyfive years; but that recollection is of small importance
compared with the thought that I have, to the best of my
ability, endeavored to perform what appeared to be my
duty in the several relations in which I have been placed.
Yet do not mistake me —I plead no merits of my own;
— I have done no more than my duty —nay, I have often
come short —and I rely entirely on the mercy of my
Redeemer for pardon and salvation. But I feel a sweet
assurance of acceptance in his sight; and I feel a serenity
while reflecting on a life spent in endeavors to serve Him
and promote the happiness of my fellow creatures. 0!
the wealth of the whole world could not impart such consolation!"
Here a faintness came over him, and for several minutes
they thought him expiring. The wild grief of the younger
children, who were witnessing this awful scene, is indescribable; and their cries and sobs became so agitated that
not a person in the room could refrain from tears.
"My dear, dear father!" shrieked the little girls, while
Harvey, without uttering a word, clasped his neck, and
kissing repeatedly the pale face he loved more than all
the world, sunk nearly insensible on his bosom.
Mrs. Romilly had been lifting her soul to God in mental
prayer for strength and resignation to endure what His
will appointed her; but the sight of her children's grief
overcame her anew; and for a little time such a loud
wailing was heard as is only called forth when the spirit
is broken with anguish, and wholly subdued by the suddenness and intensity of its sufferings.
The soul of the dying saint seemed arrested in its flight.
Making a strong effort, he again looked around; a smile
so sweet, so animated, lighted up his features, that in
spite of their ghastly whiteness, those who gazed almost




306               NORTHWOOD; OR,
fancied he was reviving to life. He laid his hand on the
head of Harvey.
"God bless you, my darling boy-my wife, my children, give me your hands once more; —there —Father in
hleaven, protect and bless them. You must not mourn
thus for me-O that you did but know what joy, what
unspeakable rapture is mine!-then your lamentations
would be turned to songs. I see my Redeemer-he is
extendiiig his arms to receive me! Farewell, my wife!
-Sidney, be a father to these little ones, and protect
your mother.   0 Jesus! I come, I come.   Farewell,
earth; welcome, welcome heaven I"-and he expired!
*    * -  *     * *  -      *       *     *
"Pray how is the Squire now?" said Deacon Jones,
with an impatient tone, as he came puffingup to the door
where Doctor Perkins had retreated to conceal his emotion,
Rhe-'he is gone forever," replied the doctor, taking
his handkerchief from his eyes.
" Dead!" exclaimed the old deacon, with a convulsive
start.
"Yes, he is."
"Dead! do you say," and he twisted his face into a
variety of strange contortions, intending to express grief,
while he looked on the doctor's manly face all bathed in
tears. But tears were a melting of the soul in which the
deacon had seldom indulged, and not a drop could he
make start.
"W~ell now, I did'nt think of finding him dead. I
have been up to Jerry Sprague's this morning to get him
to come and kill a calf. He is the best hand I know of;
and when I come home my woman told what had happened, and I started right off-hem! I have come so
fast I can hardly breathe —hem. How did the Squire
die? easy?"
" As easy as an infant falls asleep," replied Perkins.
"! I don't mean his bodily pain.  How was his
mind composed?" inquired the deacon, eagerly.
" As heaven: if there ever were a saint he was one."
"Well, well, I hope he was," replied the deacon, with




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           807
a shrug; "but there was a few questions I should liked
to have asked him before he died. HIe was a good man
-but on some points a little too lax-hardly what you
might call orthodox in principles."
"I don't know to what principles you allude," said
the doctor, warmly; " but I do know there never was a
more upright man, nor one who more scrupulously performed all his duties, than the Squire. If such as he
are not admitted to heaven, I should doubt whether any
would be. He lived like a Christian, and had you witnessed his death, you would have acknowledged he died
like one."
"O! well," replied the other, "I'm glad on't; but I
do wish I'd been here a little sooner, just for my own
satisfaction."
" If you could feel dissatisfied with his life," observed
the doctor, drily, "you would not probably have been
more charitably disposed by what he said at his death."
"Why, yes I might," replied the pertinacious deacon:
" I don't hold moral actions to be a sufficient evidence
of grace in the heart. We must, doctor, be sound in
doctrine. We must hold fast the faith once delivered
to the saints, before we can feel assured of the pardon
of our sins. And those who are thus rooted and grounded
in the truth certainly live a life of godliness, for, saith
the Savior,' If any man will do his will, he shall know
of the doctrine.' 
" But they must do the will, before they are to know of
the doctrine," returned the doctor; "and so, according to
your own principles, practice must precede faith. Or, in
other terms, let a man talk as long and loudly as he
pleases about conversions, and confessions, and creeds,
yet, if he do not perform the requisites of a Christian,
if he do not'deal justly, love mercy, and walk humbly
with God,' we have not the least reason to credit his
assertions of his own superior sanctity, or believe him
elected to be an heir of eternal salvation."
The deacon's little grey eyes flashed forth the holy
indignation of his spirit at hearing these Arminian




308              NORTHWOOD; OR,
heresies; but Warren Perkins was an obstinate fellow,
and one whom he did not like to provoke to argument;
so he settled his lank visage with a most determined and
dolorous expression of sadness, and walked forward to
enjoy the spectacle of mortality, and impart his ghostly
comfort and advice to the bereaved family within.
"I would," said Perkins, walking hastily along the
avenue, and flourishing his handkerchief as if in derision
of his adversary,-" I would, as a nostrum to fit me fir
heaven, give more for a single grain of Squire Romillyas
practice, than I would for a pound of the deacon'sfait;,}'
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A COUNTRY FUNERAL.
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of wo.
HAMLET.
THE death of Squire Romilly occurred on Tuetday
morning, and the funeral was appointed to be observed
on the Thursday afternoon following. The interval was
not so long, perhaps, as is allowed in some countries,
but is assuredly sufficient to testify respect to the dead
or insure safety to the living.
The time was spent in preparing for the solemnity;
as a full suit of mourning apparel, and every requisite
which can be supposed to express the grief such an occasion should call forth, is seldom omitted by the Yankees. But with the present afflicted family it was not a
seemingy show; they needed no "inky cloaks" to tell of
the sorrow that was weighing down their almost broken
hearts in the dust, and which would totally have unfitted
them for the necessary preparation, had not their kind
neighbors assisted them to the utmost.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           809
Everything which could be devised to express regard
for the virtues of the deceased or commiseration for the
mourning relatives, was performed by this compassionate
and friendly people. The services were all voluntary
and gratuitous. There are no undertaker's men neces
sary, nor are the funeral expenses of much consequence
-nothing but the coffin is to be procured; the hearse
and grave are provided at the expense of the town, and
every other service is rendered by neighborly affection.
The women and girls in the village came and arranged
the house, prepared the mourning apparel, and endeavored to anticipate or fulfil every wish Mrs. Romilly
could have breathed. And yet all was done in quietness
and decorum; not a smile was seen, nor was scarcely a
loud word spoken in the house of wo. All felt and
sympathized in the affliction of this worthy family, and
joined in deploring their loss.
Goodness may live without exciting uncommon regard-it may even meet with ingratitude, and be treated
with neglect; but when death selects such characters for
his victims, their worth is instantly acknowledged, and
they are praised with sincerity by the living when it can
be done without envy or self-reproach.
Thursday morning came, one of those soft, sunny May
mornings, when spring, breathing her sweet influence
over the earth, disposes all nature to love and gayety
and happiness.
Sidney walked forth to try whether the calm and enjoyment abroad might not tranquilize his tossed mind,
and restore his composure, before engaging in the melancholy solemnities which duty demanded. Everything
around was breathing of life and hope.  The birds
from the thickets, or while winnowing the calm blue
air, poured forth their songs of gladness; and what can
be more expressive of gladness than their spring notes,
when they lift up their voices in concert, to rejoice that
the winter is past and gone?
O, I never listen to their exulting strains without a
Feeling of gratitude to the good and glorious Being who




310              NORTHWOOD; OR,
hath formed all creatures capable of enjoying happiness.
Spring is the season of happiness for all, and Sidney
saw the young lambs and cattle gamboling over the
fields; even the green trees and shrubs looked joyful,
as their young, fresh leaves and buds quivered in the
breeze that came with such gentle breathings that but
for their motion it would have been imperceptible. But
his heart was sick within him, and his fancy could not
dwell on the calm of nature he witnessed abroad, for he
contrasted it with the sorrow which had entered the
abode of his father. Spring could not wake its inmates to
gladness; the morning of their year had been darkened
by an awful calamity-the storm had swept, the sheltering tree had been prostrated, and dear affections were
sundered, and fond hopes crushed, and warm expectations blighted.
Such were Sidney's reflections, as he pursued his way
along the banks of the stream where he had walked
with his father and Frankford, endeavoring to reason
and conclude what course he ought to pursue. He could
not endure the thought of leaving his mother while thus
overwhelmed with grief, and saw he must, for the present, suspend his intention of going abroad; indeed,
from his father's last expressions he could not but infer
he wished him to continue at home. Yet how could he,
without sacrificing every hope of success, and every aspiring of ambition.
His father had left no will, and after the allowance of
the widow's right of dower, a division of the remainder
of the estate among the children would give but a small
share to each individual. And even this share Sidney
did not feel it honorable to accept. He had never assisted his parents, and he knew, in permitting his residence
with his uncle, they expected to have secured him an
inheritance far beyond what their other children would
have enjoyed. Hie had been disappointed, but not by
any fault or miscalculation of his lamily; and he could
not but consider it unjust now to exert a claim which




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           811
would diminish the small dividends of his brothers and
sisters.
Perhaps there are economists who would have censured his scruples, and told him he was too regardless
of small gains, and that the most useful lesson he could
learn would be, that farthings formed pounds, and mills
dollars. But such persons will never be corrupted by
his example, for they have not souls to understand his
character. He was generous, perhaps, even to excess;
still he was never extravagant or improvident in his own
expenditure; and the keenest mortification he had yet
experienced from the loss of his property was nothing
so severe, as was now the thought that he could no
longer exercise his beneficence. How he wished he had
his estate, that he might provide for his dear, afflicted
family! His mother should possess everything she could
desire-his sisters should be educated and dressed like
ladies. Silas was amply provided for, but he should
have something as a remembrance; James should be a
physician, he had not the health to labor; Sam and Oliver might, when they arrived at a proper age, share the
farm between them; and Harvey, "ah! Harvey," exclaimed he aloud, " I will always keep him with me."
The earnestness with which he pronounced the last
words broke his reverie, and he could not forbear smiling at the absurdity of thus bestowing ideal riches on
others, when he could not provide necessaries for himself. Sadder thoughts, and images of cold reality soon
arose, and throwing himself on the turf, exactly opposite
the place in the stream where he had once so narrowly
escaped drowning, he melted into tears while he sighed
in bitterness.
"I am nothing, for I can do nothing; I am neither
educated for a profession, nor have I habits of industry
to gain a subsistence by labor-and he is wretched indeed, who, depending on his fortune alone for support
and a favorable reception in the world, finds that resource suddenly and unexpectedly withdrawn. 0! how
I wish I had perished here-here in this calm stream,




312              NORTHWOOD; OR,
instead of living to weep the loss of my dearest friends,
and endure the miseries of a life of dependence."
As he lay thus agitated by a whirl of contending
thoughts, now hoping with all the ardor of youth, and
now abandoned to wild despair, the violence of his emotions at length exhausted him, and he insensibly yielded
to repose. I-e slept heavily, and his dreams were confused and terrific. Many changes came over his visions,
but all were indistinct or disjointed; now the dying
words of his father seemed repeated-then his uncle's
form stood before him-and next he was bidding farewell to his friends and departing on a journey whence
he was never to return.
At last he thought he was standing on the spot where
he then lay, and gazing on the stream which appeared
whirling and agitated as if some substance had just been
dashed into its waters. Presently a child rose to the
surface and sent forth a terrifying shriek. Sidney
sprung to save it, but found himself rooted to the
ground.
The child sunk-then rose again-another shriek, but
fainter, it was almost spent;-how he strove to rescue
it, and could not move one finger. It sunk again.
"  God!" cried he, in an agony, " should it rise again,
I must save it."
It did rise, and he saw it gasp-quiver-'tis gone!
No, a man burst through the thicket, and plunged
into the stream-he has caught the child —he has reached the shore-he presses the little sufferer to his bosom!
Sidney looked up in an ecstacy of joy to thank that generous man, and beheld his father!
"My son," said he, mildly, but most impressively;
"it was thus I snatched you from death, and I then
besought my God, that the life so preserved might be
devoted to Him! I could only pray for such a consummation-you can accomplish it. Wisdom is not showi
in repining at the past, or in planning for the future; but
in improving the present. I know the difficulties sur
rounding you; but I also know that energy and perse




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           813
verance will overcome them. But remember, Sidney,
whatever sacrifices it may cost you, and do your duty;
then may you expect happiness. And you will be happy,
happier than you now dare hope, happier than I now dare
reveal; for were we sure of obtaining the reward, one of
the most powerful motives for human exertion would be
rendered nugatory. Think not that to give money is
the only way in which you can express your generosity,
or confer favors on your friends. Your time, your tenderness, your love, are treasures more valuable than the
mines of Mexico ever produced. In short, let yourheart
and not your purse be the objectof yoursolicitude. The
bad may be rich, the good only can be happy."
As he ceased a strain of music stole by, so soft, sweet,
and ravishing, that, uttering an exclamation of rapture,
Sidney started from the ground, and gazed wildly around,
expecting to see his father, and hardly doubting but he
yet heard his voice.
" It was nothing but a dream after all," said he; yet
so powerful was the impression of the scene on his mind
that it was long before he could convince himself it was
but a dream. "I will stay with my mother for the present," he continued, as he walked towards the house,
" and I will stay cheerfully, and endeavor to assist her
without a single murmur at my altered fortune."
The funeral services of the deceased were to be performed in the meeting house, as the numbers expected to
attend would be greater than could conveniently be
accommodated at his late dwelling.
A funeral in the country towns of New England
usually attracts all who can possibly leave their business;
it being considered a duty thus to evince their respect
for the memory of the dead, and testify their sympathy
with the sorrows of the mourners. The inhabitants of
the village, and indeed of many neighboring towns, first
assembled at the house of the deceased, where a fervent,
solemn, and pathetic prayer was offered by the reverend
pastor. The coffin was then placed on a hearse, and
14




814               NORTHWOOD; OR,
attended by six of the most respectable church members
as pall-bearers, and followed by a procession consisting
of the mourning relatives, then the members of the
church and society, next of the elderly part of the
assembly, and lastly the youth and children, was carried
to the meeting-house; and there, being taken from the
hearse by the pall-bearers, it was borne into the place of
worship, and set down in the space before the pulpit.
The mourners were rApectfully seated in pews as near
it as possible, and the whole congregation having taken
their seats, Mr. Cranfield arose, and after again invoking
the compassionate regard of a God who doth not willingly
afflict, he proceeded to the sermon. In a discourse from
the text, " The memory of the just is blessed," he set forth
the virtues of the deceased, and the certainty of blessedness to such humble and heavenly piety. At the conclusion he pathetically addressed the widow and children,
suggesting so many reasons for their rejoicing, even under
the severe bereavement they had suffered, and so many
considerations which ought to reconcile them to the dispensations of Providence, that Mrs. Romilly, although
she wept unceasingly during the whole service, was all
the time resolving to repine no more.
When the service was concluded, the coffin was carried forth and placed on a bier, standing on the green
before the church. Here repaired allwho wished to look
upon the face of him they were soon to behold no more.
There was a marshal appointed to order the procession,
and superintend the proceedings; all were satisfied with
the arrangements except Deacon Jones. He could not
forbear secretly lamenting that his connexion with the
Romilly family, in consequence of the marriage of Silas
with his daughter, rendered it fitting he should take his
seat with the mourners, otherwise he might have had an
opportunity of securing the marshal's office to himself:
The mourners at length came forth to take their last
farewell of the remains of their beloved and tender friend.
Sidney supported his mother, and the others followed
and circled around the bier.




LIFE N (!;;! ANI  D SOUTH.       815
Where is the person who cal witness, unmoved, the
sorrow of the widow and the fatherless, when their crushed
hearts are pouring forth the bitter tears of the final separation? Those who do not pity them can hardly claim
to be allied to humanity. The mourners gazed long,
and wept in silence. There was no loud murmuring, no
passionate exclamation; all was the solemn stillness of
deep, sacred and resigned grief; sorrowing, yet not
despairing: grieving for the wound, yet adoring the
Being who had inflicted it.
" Dust to dust" is the sentence pronounced against all
the children of men. It will be executed. Beauty and
talents, riches and power, wisdom  and majesty, all, all
lie down beneath the clods of the valley. No one can
escape; nor can subterfuge, or entreaty, or artifice, evade
or delay the doom.
Look on that clay; it was but now inhabited by a
noble spirit; it lived, it acted-ye saw its smile, ye heard
its voice;-where has that spirit fled?
Could that question be truly answered, death would no
longer be the king of terrors. It is the uncertainty, the
darkness and doubt and shadows resting upon it that
make the terrible in death. Yet who could gaze on that
serene, manly countenance, so pale and so tranquil, and
not feel the grave was a safe retreat from the storms of
life-a resting place for the weary, a refhge for the
oppressed, a place of repose, of sanctity and security?
The coffin was at length closed and borne to the
church-yard, the procession still following; but when
the coffin had been deposited in the earth, the family
withdrew, as it was believed Mrs. Romilly would be too
much agitated should she await the filling up of the
grave.
Deacon Jones, however, remained behind to make the
speech; after the officious assembly had, by taking turns,
filled the grave, and laid the turf; he took off his hat,
and his example being imitated by all the by-standers,
he returned them, in behalf of the afflicted family, his
sincere thanks for the assistance rendered on the melan



816              NORTHWOOD; OR,
choly occasion; and all then departed to their respective
homes, musing on the solemn scene they had witnessed,
or conversing on the merits of the deceased, and on the
probable consequences that must ensue to his wife and
children.
Most of the speakers joined in opinion that Sidney
would still adhere to his plan of going abroad, as he
could not, should he stay, be of much service to his
family, not having been bred to labor; but Mr. Merrill, who happened to overhear the conversation, instantly put his veto on the matter without qualification.
"He'll not go, faith," said he; "I can tell you so
much. Sidney has too kind a heart to leave his poor
mother in her troubles. And what if he don't know
how to wNork quite so well, he can oversee the boys;
and while I can lift a scythe or a sickle, I'll lend him a
hand in haying and harvesting with all my heart."
"And so would T," said one, "only I should be
plaguey'fraid he'd think he was driving his negroes
again. Deacon Jones says he don't doubt but all Mr.
Sidney's losses of property, and these troubles are a
judgment from heaven, because his father allowed him
to go and be a partaker in the sin of slavery, that abonination of the South."
"Deacon Jones," replied Merrill, in a very exalted
tone, "had better clear his own eyes of the beam, before he
pulls the mote out of his neighbor's eye. Squire Romilly
was a saint on earth, and he is now a saint in heaven,
and that is a place I guess the deacon will find it pretty
hard to get to. But I don't mean to judge him, though
I do think money is the god he has always worshiped
yet."
"You speak your mind pretty freely, I think," replied
the other.
"I tell the truth," retorted Merrill, "and that is more
than Deacon Jones always does. I could tell of some of
his tricks if I'd a mind; and faith I would, if I handn't
promised the poor Squire not to mention it. I'spose he




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             317
wanted to keep the deacon's character as fair as possible
after they were connected."
This intimation of a secret which would affect the deacon's character, awakened the curiosity of the man whom
Merrill was addressing, and he exerted all his eloquence
to persuade him to reveal it, and to prove that the information would be perfectly safe with him.
But Merrill was staunch to his word, and fearful of
offending Sidney, whom he adored, and nothing further
could be elicited from him concerning the affair.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE DIGNITY OF LABOR.
Oh, friendly to the best pursuits of man,
Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace,
Domestic life in rural labor passed.
COWPER.
AMONG the crowded assembly who had witnessed the
interment, perhaps there was no one who retired with
such mingled sensations of sympathy and anxiety as did
Annie Redington. She had not since the death of the
Squire, repaired to the house of sorrow to offer assistance, for she felt unequal to endure the scene in the
presence of Sidney; but she had made various articles
of the mourning apparel for the family, and her reiterated and eager inquiries concerning them discovered the
strong interest she felt for their situation, and her restless eye and colorless cheek betrayed the mental anxiety
her heart was suffering.
The event which had cast a gloom over even the most
thoughtless ones in the village, was peculiarly calculated
to excite Annie's sensibility. Her mother had often described to her, most pathetically, the scenes which fol



318              NORTHWOOI); OR,
lowed the death of her own father. The cold courtesies
of those gay acquaintances, who, like swallows at the
approach of winter, instinctively fly those who are threatened with adversity; the rapacity of the ruthless creditors, bringing forward every claim which ingenuity or
fraud could bring to bear on the insolvent estate; the
seizure and sale of the property, even thos  nrftieles
which dear associations rendered almost sacred;-all
dispersed, sacrificed, and the unfeeling world looking
on with apatlhy or exultation.
Ah, these were arrows whose barbs could never be
withdrawn from the bleeding bosom of Mrs. Redington,
and it is not strange she had imparted to the mind of
her only child a shade of the deep anguish and sad
forebodings their remembrance awakened!
Annie never could hear of the decease of a father,
without instantly recurring to the misfortunes and privations the death of her own had caused, and weeping
tears of pity and terror, lest the path of each fatherless
child should be thorny as her own. But concern for the
family of the Romillys was not now wholly unrningled
with solicitude for herself. She could no longer disguise
the interest Sidney had gained in her heart; and though0
pride and prudence, reason and delicacy, had all been
summoned to aid her in the parting, which she strove to
consider a final one, yet hope seldom entirely deserts our
bosoms, and there had, in spite of all her struggles to
overcome them, still been a secret belief that she should
meet him again. In vain she endeavored to banish the
idea; in vain her understanding told her it was weak
and chimerical to expect that in the new and brilliant
scenes to whlich he would be introduced, a remembrance
of the lowly orphan, far, far distant, would dwell on his
heart and influence him to return.
She loved-and when does hope vanish from the
horizon of a true lover?
And Sidney had been detained, and she had seen him
again-seen him piously performing his duty to the
living and the dead. Never had he looked so interest



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           819
ing, so noble; never had she loved him with such fervent, confiding affection, as when she saw him stifling
his own emotions, while he sedulously strove to calm the
agitation of his mother, and watching over the little
fatherless ones with all the tender solicitude of a parent.
" They cannot part with him," said she mentally; "he
will not leave them i"
A blush warmed her cheek, her heart throbbed, and
she pursued the subject no farther. She returned from
the funeral in that state of anxious uncertainty, when
hope and fear are so nearly balanced that the mind is
only intent to gain evidence which may confirm its hopes
or its fears, and impatiently awaited the return of her
cousin. from whom she expected to learn something
respecting the arrangements of Mrs. Romilly, and whether
Sidney was still intending to prosecute his journey.
But Silas and his wife did not return till a late hour,
iand then exhausted by grief and fatigue, they scarcely
spoke; the deacon and his wife had already withdrawn,
and Annie dared not hazard a question on the subject
nearest her heart, lest she should betray her own anxiety
labout an arrangement to which she wished to appear
indifferent, and she saw them retire without ascertaining
the future proceedings of Sidney.
When the family, the next morning, assembled at the
breakfast hour-always an early one, as the deacon was
fearful his workmen would lose time, and on that account
he omitted family worship during the summer, except
on Sabbath mornings-Silas was absent; Annie inquired'the cause, anA received for answer that le hlad gone to
his mother's. "Some arrangements they have to make
respecting Sidney," said the deacon, peevishly; "I wish
they would let him go away-I don't see what good
they expect from keeping such a gentleman to manage a
farm."
Annie glanced at her uncle; his countenance was
naturally ungracious, but she thought he now looked
most enviously ugly; and yet his speech was music to
her ear, for she had learned that Sidney's stay had been




320              NORTHWOOD; OR,
the subject of discussion, and long before the meal was
finished-which certainly suffered no diminution on her
account-she had settled that for his family to permit
his departure was impossible.
The Romillys were all of her opinion. Sidney hardly
knew why he was not sorry to be detained; but the
secret was, his duty and inclination exactly coincided,
and conjoined they easily overcame, though they could
not entirely silence his ambition.
It was really a " heavy declension" for a young man,
bred with the expectations, and accustomed to the ease
and elegance he had been, at once to renounce all his
towering hopes, and voluntarily lay his hand on the
plow; and, at the age of twenty-four, resign himself, for
life, to the retirement and occupation of a Yankee farmer.
These were the dark shades of the picture. But then he
would fulfil his father's injunctions, give joy to his
mother's widowed heart, gratify his brothers and sisters,
and "though last, not least," there arose the idea of
Annie Redington-might not she be willing to relinquish the gay world and consent to share his retirement?
He would then be satisfied his wife did not marry him
because he was rich and distinguished; and the romance
of love in a cottage was what he had always liked to
contemplate; might he not at last realize it?
But these motives, or rather these thoughts, were confined to his own bosom. He told his mother, and sincerely too, that he would willingly relinquish all clainm
he might have to a share in his father's estate, and pursue his intention of going abroad if she would consent.
But this proposition she could by no means approve
She had always been averse to the plan of a foreign
destination, and would have seriously opposed it, had
not her husband insisted that, considering all circumstances, he could devise nothing which promised so well
for their favorite son; and his deliberate opinions were
arguments she seldom attempted to controvert.
But he had, with his dying breath, expressed a different sentiment, and she would have deemed the infringe



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           821
ment of his last injunctions almost a sacrilege. Still she
knew the portion to which Sidney was, by law, entitled,
was inadequate as a reward for the sacrifice he must
make in foregoing all hopes of eminence by consenting
to a residence in that secluded place; and she was meditating on the difficulty, when Silas approached to inform
her he had been offering Sidney, if he would stay and
reside on the farm, to relinquish all his claims on the
estate, and James would do the same, provided he could
have some assistance in boarding and clothing while pursuing the study of medicine, on which he was intending
to enter, as his sickly habits made labor, for him, impracticable.
"And I tell brother Sidney," continued Silas, "he
can portion off the girls when they are married, and put
one of the little boys to a trade, and manage to pay all
that will ever be required of him without selling much
of the farm-one of the wood-lots, perhaps-but there is
enough on the other to last these fifty years."
Mrs. Romilly doubtless thought fifty years was quite
sufficient to anticipate the want of wood; if she did not,
she was more provident than most of her countrymen
appear to be; as the destruction and waste of fuel in the
New England States cannot be accounted for on rational principles, and doubtless has proceeded from the
conviction of their occupiers that the world would expire
with themselves.
However, Mrs. Romilly declared herself well pleased
with the generosity of her sons; and after a long consultation, and many protestations on the part of Sidney
against his brothers' resigning to him their inheritance,
they answered by declaring they considered it no sacrifice at all, if it would induce him to reside at home.
Everything was at last arranged apparently to the satisfaction of all parties that could have any interest in
the decision-except the deacon. He protested in a
most formal and spirited manner against the whole proceeding, as not only extremely absurb, but very detrimental to every individual.
14 




322              NORTHWOOD; OR,
He said it detained Sidney in an unprofitable calling,
when his education qualified him to shine in a higher
sphere, and make money in some easier way. And he
thought the boys, under the superintendence of Silas,
might manage better without him, as'he never knew a
man of learning good for anything when deprived of
his books. Thus he advised Mrs. Romilly, and harangued Sidney, and lectured Silas; but all in vain-each
one having determined on a course to pursue, his interference only served to confirm them more fully in the propriety of their arrangements by the arguments which
they were thus compelled to advance in their justification. Silas knew, and his mother suspected that the
motives of the deacon were entirely selfish. He had already more land than he could cultivate or superintend,
but was not satisfied; and he calculated, if Sidney
could be prevailed on to depart, Silas would eventually
secure his father's estate.
The search after earthly happiness is not confined to
the young and gay. The aged and the grave, those
whose professions and callings would appear to place
them above the temptations and vanities of the world,
are often its most devoted slaves. It is not the love of
pleasure, or the taste for amusements that most trammels the soul. Mammon was the lowest among the
fallen angels-if Milton's authority may be trusted. The
love of money is an insidious vice, for it often assumes
the name and obtains the credit of a virtue. It is called
prudence, foresight, economy, and good management.
If property be obtained the end has sanctified the means;
and the prosperous are deemed good, and the rich happy, or at least in a very desirable situation;-for what
covering so effectually conceals faults and follies, as a
mantle of gold?
But there is no vice more opposed to the benevolence
and charity which the word of God represents as being
iditspetabe to the Ocristidc^acter, thu this ~cSlly-mindedness.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a




- LIFE NORTH ANID SOUTI.        323
needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of
heaven."
%      %      -X     -X-    *?      ^
Sidney was now, in all probability, permanently established: and the duties and labors consequent on his
new vocation, gave him sufficient employment to occupy
all his time, and consequently ennui, that demon of the
idle, never approached to torment him. There was, to
be sure, a strange contrast between the life he now led,
and the one to which he had been accustomed while residing with his uncle. There, he had only to breathe a
wish, and it was instantly gratified,-issue a command,
and it was promptly obeyed.
Now, he must put forth his own strength, and depend
on his own exertions. Yet, strange as it may seem to
those who connect felicity only with wealth, splendor
and distinction, he was never, in the proudest moment
of his prosperity, when he was the star of fashion and
minion of fortune, so cheerfully and equally happy as
now, while confined to labor and living in obscurity.
Happiness can never be compelled to be our companion, nor is she oftenest won by those who most eagerly
seek her. She most frequently meets us in situations
where we never expected her visits; in employments or
under privations to which we have become reconciled
only by a sense of duty. There she meets us and infuses that peace and sunshine of the mind, that sweet
serenity which a consciousness of innocence and rectitude can alone confer, and which is true pleasure, because we can enjoy it without remorse or regret.
That our hero was now in possession of this " sober
certainty of waking bliss," some extracts from a long
communication he forwarded to his friend Frankford,
will demonstrate. After detailing the circumstances of
his father's death, and his own resolutions to obey what
he conceived his last wishes, he proceeded:
*      *      X*     X              *
"I have thus relinquished, perhaps forever, my intention of visiting your merry old England, and prosecu



324             NORTHWOOD; OR,
ting those schemes of aggrandizement, in which you so
generously offered me your assistance. That I have
submitted to these disappointments with perfect equanimity I dare not assert; indeed, I confess I have often
murmured at my wayward fate, and if the stars ever
deign to listen to complaints from this dim sphere, they
have undoubtedly heard me lay some grievous sins to
their charge. Now really, Frankford, do you think
there are many modern heroes who have experienced
greater vicissitudes than myself.
As a fair parallel I will mention Napoleon, the Great.
Like him I was taken from humble life, to be the heir
of a sovereignty; make what exceptions you please to
my use of the term sovereignty, the southern slaveholder is as absolute in his dominions, or plantation
rather, as the grand seignior, and when I had become
accustomed to command, and my mind was weakened
by indolence and enervated by dissipation, I was suddenly thrown back to my former insignificance, and compelled to dig for my daily bread. "0, what a falling
off was there!"
I must think no more about it; neither do I think so
lightly as I have written. There is a pleasure in fulfilling what I believe were my father's last wishes that
makes, what otherwise would be a sacrifice, a triumph.
You may call it a weakness, but I feel as if his eye still
regarded my actions; as if his spirit still hovered over
those objects he so fondly loved.
And then my labor is not like the servile drudgery of
the body, when the mind can exercise no volition and
the heart enjoys no participation. When 1 return from
the field, covered with sweat and dust-by the way,
Homer's heroes were often in the same predicament,
though not exactly from the same cause-it is so gratifying to be met with approving smiles, and see every
thing prepared that loving hearts and ready hands can
furnish to relieve my toil, and make me forget my weariness. And then exercise gives me such an excellent




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            825
appetite; and you know we have plenty to satisfy its
cravings!
I wish you could see with what deference and affection
I am treated, when, at evening, we assemble in domestic
conclave. Then our plans are proposed, arrangements
formed, and successes congratulated. Even failures and
disappointments'are not mourned by us as inevitable
evils. Neither do we waste our time in moralizing on.
such occurrences for the behoof of others; but like wise
philosophers, endeavor to make them subservient to our
own. We examine the causes which contributed to the
reverse, and sometimes, like other theorists, are so fond
of establishing a favorite hypothesis, that we consider any
inconvenience tending to that result as a blessing in disguise.
There is, however, one sacred remembrance that binds
all our hearts and minds in unison, a recollection of the
excellent friend we have lost forever. We seldom men
tion him, and yet I do not believe his idea has scarcely,
since his decease, been absent a moment from the minds
of even the youngest of our family. Why is it that
those recollections and ideas which most engross the soul
are seldom communicated?  Undoubtedly because we
know they cannot be participated. Yet that is not our
fear; but each individual struggles to stifle or conceal
emotions whose expression would awaken that painful
sympathy we cannot endure to see exhibited. And thus
we converse with calmness and cheerfulness; sometimes,
indeed, with gaiety when together, yet, were we with
strangers, we should be silent and melancholy.
And the activity we are compelled by our situation to
exert, also operates to dispel the gloom of grief. Employment is an excellent comforter, and fatigue the best opiate
in the world. I never slept so soundly since my childhood, and my slumbers are most refreshing. I awaken
in the morning without any solicitude save just the business of the farm. I have no appointments to keep, or
engagements to escape; no punctilios of honor or intrigues of love. In short, could I fairly forget the last




326              NORTUWOOD;; 01R,
dozen years of my life, I think I might now enjoy the
best felicity of which mortal men can, on earth, be partakers. And that I am not thus happy is owing no
doubt to the prejudices I have imbibed, and those habits
which long indulgence makes it difficult, indeed almost
impossible wholly to alter. How often I wish I could,
with the philosophical serenity of Anaxagoras, at once
reconcile myself to the change from luxury to plainness.
You see I am deep in antiquity, yet deep learning,
you know, was never my fault; and you will easily pardon this reference to the ancients when reflecting that I
am deprived of all intercourse with the moderns. Plutarch was my father's favorite author, and I have lately
been reading it most attentively, partly to imitate my
worthy parent and partly because no better or more
interesting books are within my reach; and the examples of heroism and lessons of self-control there recorded,
often make me blush for my own pusilanirnity. But,
Frankford, I am confident those stern, stubborn old
Greeks must have been furnished with nerves of the size
and toughness of a cable, and mine, I know by actual
admeasurement, are no larger than a whip-cord. What
a degeneracy! Whether this superiority of theirs was
imparted by nature or their gymnastics, I am now endeavoring to ascertain; pray heaven it prove the latter, and
then I think my daily exercise will soon assimilate my
firmness to their example."
X    *    * *          q *    *    *    *
" In your letter you insinuated a suspicion that my
free spirit was yielding to the omnipotence that even
republicans dare not resist. And do you really think,
my dear Frankford, that Cupid's chains possess sufficient
tenacity to bind a veteran? Have I not once cast them
off like scorched flax? and will you not allow I found
sufficient gall in the honeyed draught of love to make
me temperate for the future?
Yet 1 frankly confess I never saw a woman more deserving of admiration than Miss Redington, nor one with
whom I think! life would ptlss so happily. But disap



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           327
pointment and experience have taught me caution; not
enough to make me wise, but just sufficient to render
me fastidious; and the suspicions I formerly entertained,
that I might be accepted for my wealth, are now changed
to fears that I shall be rejected for my poverty. True,
Annie is as poor as I, and I am thankful for that. I
should not like to have it thought I was influenced by
pecuniary considerations in the choice of a wife, yet
where such a possibility exists, the inference is usually
made, the worst construction always being most obvious
to the million.
But now I have begun the theme, I will be candid,
and so I confess that although I did not stay in New
England because I was in love, yet I shall be in love because I stay. Annie treats me just as she ought, if she
intended to make me her captive. IIer kindness has increased with my misfortunes, and since my father's decease and the consequent arrangements, she has shown
such sympathy of countenance, and approbation of manner, and'tis in her face and air her soul speaketh, that I
have more than once been tempted to declare my affection, and solicit her to share my destiny."




328               NORTHWOOD; OR.
CHAPTER XXX.
LOVERS.
If heaven a draft of heavenly pleasure spare,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In others' arms breathe out the tender tale,
Beneath the milk white thorn that scents the evening gale.
BURNS.
SIDNEY ROMILLY seemed now fast approaching the
crisis which, by the universal consent of authors, rounds
the period of a novel hero's historic existence; and the
sage reader, no doubt, anticipates his exemption from
further trials, and that he is soon to be consigned to marriage and obscurity.
Whether such    anticipations will be realized, time
and this authentic memoir will finally decide; but certain it is that the whole village were sanguine in the belief an attachment between the young Squire Romilly, as
by courtesy they called Sidney, and the fair Annie Redington, and that their union was considered as a matter
certain as the coming of the Fourth of July; not that
they ventured positively to assert that their wedding
would be celebrated on that important day, though the
probability of such an event was actually hinted.
Nor would one have inferred from the equanimity,
not to say triumph, with which Sidney listened to the
raillery of his friend Perkins, and the sly hints of his
own family, whose smiles, whenever the subject was alluded to, spoke their entire approbation, that he was at
all chagrined at bearing the appellation of a lover, nor
that he had any aversion against assuming a still tenderer
and more sacred title. But when he felt nearly secure




IIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            329
of possessing the affection of Annie, and only waited a
favorable opportunity to urge his suit, a circumstance
occurred which again plunged him into perplexity and
distrust.
The partner of Mr. Redington, Annie's father, died
about this time, and on his death-bed made a disclosure
of the fraud and villany he had practiced against the
widow and infant of his friend. In his will he left seven
thousand dollars as the sum to which Annie was entitled in behalf of her father, and three thousand as a
reparation for the wrong helad done, in thus retaining
so long, her just inheritance. Such an event was unparalleled in the annals of Northwood, and created matter of conversation, inquiry, and wonder, at every
tea-party and gathering in the village for a long time
after.
But the old deacon was the person most affected by
the intelligence, even more than Annie. The letter
bearing the glorious, or rather golden news, was directed
to him, and in the first transports, occasioned by being
invited to come to Boston and receive such a large sum
of money, he forgot he was not the owner thereof.
The disagreeable truth, however, soon occurred, and
after meditating a while on the affair, he came to the
determination to keep the management of the property
in his own hands as long as possible. For this purpose
it would be necessary to discourage the attentions of
Sidney, and prevent his marrying the heiress; this he
determined to attempt. It would, he feared look a little like selfishness, as he had of late expressed great
partiality for the young man, and shown that he sanctioned the connexion that was to unite him to his niece.
This approbation proceeded, not from a wish to promote the happiness of either, but because he should, in
the event Annie's marriage, be freed from the duty of
providing for her.
These things, however, he kept and pondered in his
own mind; to Annie, he was all indulgence, frequently
declaring he felt more gratified she should thus have an




330              NORTHWOOD; OR,
independence secured to her, than at anything which
could have happened, except to witness another reformn tinn, nnd coe h r n-nrC] hiQ cwn cLf].Zngtor botlh partazkc-rs
of the outpourings of divine grace.
For neither Annie's sincerity nor gentleness, her unfeigned desire to understand her duties, and her scrupulous exactness in complying with every command,
and enduring every sacrifice they demanded, were of
any avail to satisfy the rigid requirements of her uncle's
creed. She had never, as he could learn, (she was an
Episcopalian,) been specially awakened, and could not
tell the precise moment when heart was changed from
stone to flesh, consequently she was still in the gall of
bitterness and bonds of iniquity; and all her excellencies were only the effect of education, or
----   " a milder feature
Of our poor sinful corrupt nature."
Annie, meanwhile, was not indifferent to the prosperity which awaited her; but Sidney was connected with
every plan of future happiness her bright fancy was industriously forming; and to meet the declaration which
she hoped —hoped while blushing at her own hopes —he
would soon make, with candor and kindness, was the
sweet yet agitating thought which oftenest occurred.
" I must not now," thought she, "affect indifference;
his sensitive mind would instantly ascribe it to the pride
and vanity of newly acquired wealth-and what is wealth
in the scale of one who truly loves! I never esteemed
Sidney less for his accidental loss of fortune, and shall I
wrong him by thinking its accidental possession-for I
can claim no merit of acquiring it-will, in his estimation, add lustre to my merits, or ardor to his affection?"
Thus the lovely heiress reasoned and determined; but
her lover was not in haste to avail himself of her partiality. In truth, however strange it may appear to the
real fortune-hunter, lie was sorry she had become an
heiress. He felt humbled to think he should appear like
one obliged by her acceptance; and the fear, lest she




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.             331
should entertain the same doubts respecting the purity
of his attachment now there existed a motive which
might possibly excite it independently of her merits, as
he had done while possessing a fortune, made him feel a
painful diffidence, a kind of self-reproach in proposing
himself, which he could not well overcome.
Neither was this diffidence at all removed by the behavior of the deacon. He had, all at once, assumed an
air of distance and even dislike to Sidney, so palpable
and pointed that the latter could not misunderstand it;
and though the good graces of the old gentleman were
not greatly to be coveted, yet the thought that such rudeness might be sanctioned by Annie to discourage his
pretensions, gave him exquisite pain. He never credited.
such fancies, yet to think them possible mortified him,
and to complete his chagrin, Ephraim  Skinner again
commenced his regular visits to the deacon's, and fortified
1by lis own impudence, and his interest supported by the
authority and favor of the uncle, he was not without
hopes of obtaining the smiles of the niece.
Annie's treatment of this intruder was as cold and
contemptuous as common civility warranted, butstill he
persevered, and always being aided by the (leacon, he
usually, in spite of her ill-concealed disdain, contrived
either to obtain the seat next to her, or prevent Sidney
from occupying it.  Indeed the agitation of the latter
often utterly incapacitated him from offering those little
attentions to Miss Redington which he could so gallantly
have performed had she been totally indifferent to him;
and thus his embarrassments, her delicacy, Skinner's impertinence, and the deacon's cunning, seemed every day
to increase the difficulties of the lovers' coming to an explanation.
This state of things was soon penetrated by Dr. Perkins, but as he had discovered the state of Annie's affections, and knew that Sidney would ultimately be successful, he determined not to interfere, but let him
manage to win the fair lady himself, who was certainly
worth all his exertions. He was even a little mischievous,




332              NORTHWOOD; OR,
for he whispered to Sidney, in great confidence, that he
fancied Miss Redington's accession of wealth had already
begun to make her feel dissatisfied with a residence in
that unfashionable place, and that he presumed she would
soon depart for Boston; but when he perceived the serious dejection of her lover, and knew with his sensitiveness of feeling he was refining away both his own happiness and hers, the good natured physician, pursuing his
vocation of relieving pain, thought it would be but
charity to attempt a plan for bringing them together.
Sidney's daily occupation on his farm left him but little
leisure for calls or visits; and during the month which
had elapsed since Annie became an heiress, he had not
once been to deacon Jones' without encountering Skinner,
who would never depart till he saw his rival fairly off;
and so, in all that time, there had never occurred an opportunity of private conversation between the lovers.
But now the doctor, having previously arranged who
were to form the party, proposed a stroll, to visit a certain cave or den, where tradition reported a celebrated
Indian warrior once resided. The company assembled
and set off without Skinner's once surmising the excursion, as the doctor feared, should he learn it, he would
join them, though he should come an uninvited guest.
They had, as such parties always have, a most delightful time, and on their return, while they were slowly
pursuing the meanderings of that identical stream which
has several times been mentioned in this history, Perkins
by some specious pretense, contrived, when Sidney and
his partner had walked a little before the company, to
detain the others till the lovers were fairly out of sight;
and then he proposed walking a little distance in another
direction to examine and procure some water from a curious, boiling spring. He praised the purity of the water,
and regretted exceedingly, Sidney and Annie were beyond call, as they must now be deprived of an opportunity of partaking it; and so well did he play his part,
that not one of the party, not even his wife, suspected
the motives by which he was actuated.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            333
As for the lovers, they would not have regretted being
deprived of the waters, had the spring been the genuine
Helicon, or flowing with the elixir vilar; while, with her
arm fast locked in his, they trod the flowery path, sometimes conversing with animation, but oftener yielding to
that delicious silence, the heart's deep enjoyment in the
presence of the beloved object.
They heeded not their separation from their party, till,
on reaching a spot always sacred to Sidney, the place
where he had dreamed of his father, and where, since
his death, he had often retired, but always alone, he
looked back and saw no one following.
"' We will pause here," said he, "till they overtake
us. Perkins is doubtless delivering some of his botanical
or mineralogical lectures; but I do not, at this time,
regret being deprived of listening to the display of his
eloquence. Miss Redington, will you sit down? you
must be fatigued with your long walk."
Annie assented, not by an answer, but by seating herself where he directed her. This was on the trunk of a
tree close to the margin of the stream, and shaded by the
wide spreading branches of a lofty elm, that threw its
gigantic shadow nearly across the water, while beneath
its shade on the bank where they sat, the herbage
assumed that deep green color and softness of texture
that it always wears in such sheltered situations.
The sun, though now fast declining, threw a rich lustre on the long line of forest trees, stretching to an almost
interminable length in the distance before them; and the
bold summits of the far off mountains shone like molten
gold, while the blue mists already gathering around their
sides, were softened in the distance till they resembled
fine veils, spread to conceal the recesses in the dark cliffs
from the intrusion of mortal eye.
The air was perfectly still, and a calm seemed reigning
over all nature; and though from the adjacent thickets
the voices of a few birds were heard at intervals, their
notes were low and languid, compared with the full,




334              NORTHWOOD; OR,
sprightly, joy-inspiring chorus they pour in the season of
spring.
Even the waters appeared to share in the calm of
repose which nature was enjoying, as the stream, with
scarcely a ripple, stole along, while the sun-beams seemed
to sleep on its still surface. But one spot looked deep
and dark; it was where the stream was suddenly compressed by a huge rock that projected into the bed of the
river, and on that dark spot Annie's eye was resting, as
Sidney, who watched her glance, observed, "I never
look on that place without an involuntary shudder."
" And why? I see nothing very terrible in its appearance. 
"' Not in its appearance. The terrible is in the recollections it awakens. Perhaps you may have heard I
was once very near meeting my doom in that water."
"I never heard the circumstance," said Annie. "Pray
when did it occur?" 
"Long, long ago; it is a remembrance of my childhood, and often comes over my mind like the impressions of a frightful dream. If you will permit me to be
the hero of my own tale, I will relate the incident."
He sat down close beside her, while she looked up into
his face with an expression that not only promised attention, but such an interest in his narrative, that for a few
moments he forgot what he had promised to relate.
She reminded him at length, and he began and described minutely and pathetically, the thoughts and feelings which had agitated him when he felt himself drowning, and related the manner, of rescue by his father;
then his dream caine so vividly on his fancy he could
not but proceed to detail it. Never before had he mentioned it to mortal; it was one of those hallowed impressions, awful, mysterious, yet soothing, which the heart
broods over in silence, and while watching for the fulfilment of the prophecy, feels the oracle must be incommunicable.
But Annie could understand it, and she listened with
breathless attention, her color, and the expression of




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           335
her beautiful countenance varying with every change in
the story; now pale with terror —trembling with anxiety
-eager with expectation —flushed  with hope-and
radiant with joy!
Had Sidney watched her changing cheek he would
not have made the desponding observation with which
he closed his history.
"And I confess to you, Miss Redington, weak as it
may appear to give heed to an airy dream, that the
assurance of happiness, my father, in that vision gave
me, has supported my courage and lighted my path
while pursuing the course which I fancied his injunctions
suggested. But shadows are gathering, and lately hope
has hardly deigned even to cheat me with the promise
of future felicity."
As he ended he turned to gaze, and met her soft blue
eyes glistening with tears of sympathy; the blush, the
tremor of her hand, that unconsciously to himself he had
taken, all conspired to awaken a sudden revulsion of
feelings. His pulse throbbed violently; but the animation of hope and joy flashed from his dark eye and
lighted up his fine features, as bending towards her he
softly whispered,
" Annie-Miss Redington, O! would you but condescend to be my friend, my companion, life would indeed
be a flowery path! Tell me, may I not hope?"
What answer Annie gave I have never been able to
learn; but that it did not sentence her lover to immediate banishment may be inferred from the circumstance
that although they passed nearly an hour on the same
spot, yet neither thought of the progress of time, the
protracted absence of their party, nor indeed of aught on
earth, save of each other. From this dream of love and
bliss, they were at length aroused by the loud, merry
tones of the doctor, calling out, as he advanced, laughing,
towards them.
" Well, Sidney, have you surveyed the stream with
sufficient accuracy? or are you intending to wait the




336              NORTHWOOD; OR,
rising of the moon, and watch how sweetly her soft
beams will rest on the waters?"
" We shall have to wait the rising of the sun, I believe,
if we wait the coming of our party," retorted Sidney,
with a face of such happiness that no one could mistake
the feelings that inspired it. "Pray where have you
been loitering so long? Miss Redington""Has been impatient at our stay," interrupted Perkins, looking on her blushing cheek with a most provoking inquisitiveness; "and you have both passed the
time in surmises on what could possibly detain us, and
every minute has seemed an hour."
" No, no, you need not, Warren, imagine your presence so essential to our happiness. We have neither
thought nor spoken about you," said Sidney.
Nor of any subject, I presume; you have undoubtedly been in one of your musing moods, and though I
would not undervalue'divine contemplation,' yet I must
confess a man, while under her infllene, is dull compony for me. I willingly resign him to the stars and his
own fancies. And now Annie, I know by her countenance, is of my opinion; she must have found it tedious
sitting there so silent and gazing on the water. Romilly, though you are inclined to be a Zeno, I beg you
would not attempt to make proselytes to your sect; certainly we shall not permit Annie to be one. And I am
beginning seriously to fear for her spirits, as she is nothing so gay and sociable as she was before becoming
acquainted with you. I believe I must prohibit your
access to her society; come, Annie, take my arm, and I
will conduct you to our party, and let this philosopher
follow at his leisure; he will doubtless prefer a lonely
ramble."
"I shall ramble alone no longer, Warren," replied
Sidney, putting back the offered arm of the former, and
drawing Annie's closer within his own; "Annie has
promised to share my journey-for life."
The doctor's face, that usually seemed the reflection
of a merry heart, wore an air of serious and unaffected




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTI.          337
emotion, while he congratulated them on the happiness
awaiting their path; and with fervency offered his best
wishes for their permanent felicity.
*      X      *      *         * 
The intelligence soon circulated through the village,
but nearly all who heard it declared they were not in
the least surprised; that it was just what they had been
expecting; and several asserted the engagement was made
in the spring, when Sidney concluded to stay. One or
two even hinted they had learned such an arrangement,
at that time, from the parties themselves. And the approbation of the measure, with one two exceptions,
seemed unanimous; the people agreeing that Sidney,
for generosity and kind behavior to his family, merited
as good a wife as Annie, and as rich.
Merrill was in ecstasies at the news. It was reported
that hearing it while reaping, he instantly threw down
his sickle, changed his dress, saddled his horse, and
rode over to congratulate his patron; but Merrill always
asserted he did a good day's work before he went.
Though for his own part, he said, he should not have
valutd spending a week in rejoicing, if it would. have
added to the happiness of the lovers; yet, as he knew it
would not, and guessed they would much rather look at
each other than at him, and feared the boys would be lazy if he was away; and so he didn't go over to see the
young squire and wish him joy till just about sundown.
But the envy, rage, and thirst for vengeance of merchant Skinner were too potent for control, and he
expressed his feelings in such unseemly language and
unchristian wishes against both parties, and especially
Sidney, that the deacon, although his own spirit was
sorely vexed on the occasion, did feel it his duty to admonish him, warning him against the sin of wrath and
ungodly swearing, and entreating him to consider the
inprofitableness of yielding to such angry passions.
"Though," said he, "I am as much grieved as you
can be, yet I consider it my duty to be still. Indeed, I
mourn more for the child than myself, for Annie seems
15




338              NORTHWOOD; OR,
as near as my own daughter, and I always intended to
be a father to her. But I have told her if she will marry
Sidney Romilly, though I confess he has some good and
agreeable things in his character, yet being brought up
away there among slaves and papists, I think his principles are little better than the heathen, and so I told Annie, if she would marry him, and did ever come to want,
as I thought most likely she would, she needn't apply
to me. I had cleared my conscience in advising her, and
I never would assist her with a cent."
And thus, in the midst of this happy and rejoicing
family, the deacon maintained his obstinate opinion that
Annie was throwing herself away; and if one of his favorite texts of scripture may be literally understood,
namely, "that by the sadness of the countenance the
heart is made better," he was certainly very fast progressing towards perfection.
Many philosophers have asserted that the earth has,
ever since the creation, contained the same quantity of
matter; what, at any time, appears like loss in one element or object is compensated by an equal gain in some
other element or object.
If such be the equalizing principle in the material
world, can we not imagine its influence extended and
regulating the moral world likewise? From the misery
and disappointments of one individual may, and indeed
we know there often does, arise an increase of felicity and
fortune to another, and the overthrow of a mighty kingdom shall prove the means of aggrandizement to a rival
nation; and consequently it might be inferred there is,
in every period, the same aggregate of moral worth and
human happiness.
Could this position be established, the melancholy of
the deacon would not demand our sympathy, because
the increasing felicity of the lovers more than counterbalanced the pain of his chagrin. The happiness of Sidney will need no other confirmation than a letter which
he wrote to Mr. Frankford immediately after his explanation with Annie, and a copy of which I shall insert, as




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           339
his feelings and sentiments are much more vividly and
touchingly displayed by his pen than mine.
" Northwood, N. H., Sept. 10th, 18-.
MY EVER DEAR FRIEND,-It is but a short time since
I despatched you a packet so voluminous that it might
undoubtedly claim the respectable name of folio, and I
then promised I would not again intrude under, at least,
a quarter; but I must write, for there are feelings irnpossible to be restrained when we are blessed with a
friend to whom they may be communicated.
I recollect an old gentleman, a man versed in the wisdom of proverbs, once told me, if I ever meant to succeed in business, to acquire a habit of conveying my
thoughts with brevity, especially when writing, as nothing was so abominable to your matter-of-fact people,
who usually manage all active business, as receiving a
long epistle, written in a flowery style, with plenty of
dashes and parentheses, and, to finish the climax, penned
in most vile and unreadable characters. He said he had
known many such letters thrown in the fire by those
who received them, when had they been written legibly
and succinctly the petitions they contained would undoubtedly have been granted.  Instructed by the wisdom of this sage, I shall make my letter short, as I wish
it all perused, and attentively too, it containing the
history of my happiness, and the fulfilment of your
prophecy.
You already anticipate my tale. I am a lover-an
accepted one-and happy as your fancy can make mne.
I told you in my last of the fortune which had fallen
4o Annie, and my fears lest it would prove an obstacle
to my advances; I knew the suspicions I had myself
entertained of interested attachments in the days of my
prosperity. I trembled lest the sweet girl should yield
to the same suspicions. But her nature was too noble,
and her principles too pure; she had not seen human




340               NORTHWOOD; OR,
nature under the same aspects I had, and she trusted at
once-and she shall not be deceived. All the affection,
tenderness, and esteem, my heart is capable of entertaining, are hers, hers undividedly.
0, there is rapture undefinable in the thought of possessing such a friend, and feeling secure the attachment
and connection will continue through life! Let the
world change as it may, my heart's treasure is secure.
And perhaps I prize this confidence more dearly than
most men, for I have been exceedingly distrustful; but
my doubts are all happily removed, and my anxieties
richly compensated. My fortune is now, I think, settled; Annie has consented to give me her hand on our
annual Thanksgiving, which is usually held the last of
November. I urged her to name an earlier day, but
could not prevail; and so to occupy the interval, I am
making-so.ne alterations in our dwelling, to render it
more worthy to receive her.
What vicissitudes have been mine within the last
year, or since you and I explored the route to my father's
house in that old wagon! How different now are my
feelings and sentiments, my hopes and plans and pleasures!  How distrustful was I then of woman, lovely
woman-whose heart is fashioned in sincerity, constancy,
and generosity; and if she ever appears artful, selfish,
and false, it is a lesson imbibed by the corrupting influence of the world.
You will probably inquire the effect my vicissitudes
and changes of sentiment have had on my character and
happiness. Well, sir, I am metamorphosed from a gay
man to a grave one;-not sad, only considerate-and
instead of strutting the gentleman, with a score of servants waiting my commands, I am a plain farmer, plan.
ning business for my help.
Such are the outlines,-now the filling up of the contrast. I am more respected and less feared; better, far
better beloved, yet less flattered; have fewer followers
and firmer friends; enjoy better health, a better appetite,
with less leisure, and no ennui at all. And so, if from




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           341
the foregoing facts you can form a correct estimate, you
will set me down as far happier and more useful in my
humble retirement, than when parading the streets of
Charleston, the reputed heir of two hundred thousand
dollars.
Does fortune, then, when so universally the object of
pursuit, confer no advantages? Yes, many; but men
are seldom qualified to improve or enjoy them rationally,
without that moral, intellectual, and physical discipline,
to which the inheritors of wealth will not readily submit. Were I now to recover my fortune, how differently should I enjoy it from what I did in my prosperity!
Yet I do not covet its possession, and if-why must there
always be an if?-it were not for certain recollections
respecting its disposal, I think I should feel perfectly
happy.
My uncle was an indulgent master; he loved his servants with almost parental affection, and they worshiped
him; and when I think of the change they are probably
feeling, my blood runs cold in my veins. The change
of masters is frequently a terrible evil to the poor slave,
and that system must be evil, on the whole, which subjects them to the occurrence of such a calamity.
There was one negro, Cato by name-did you never
think of the absurdity of freemen conferring the names
of those ancient champions of liberty only on their
slaves/-who was particularly attached to me. I have
no doubt but he would freely have laid down his life to
insure my happiness. He was a merry creature, and
laughed the loudest of any person I ever knew; in a
still evening he might be distinctly heard a mile. When
I was about starting on my tour, I recollect saying to
Cato, who was officiously waiting near me,'Well, Cato,
I hope you will be industrious and faithful while 1 am
absent, and live merrily and laugh heartily.'
The poor fellow looked me in the face, and tears stood
in his large, shining eyes, and there was an expression
of deep sorrow in his countenance as he plaintively an



342              NORTHWOOD; OR,
swered,'Cato nebber laugh loud when mas'r Sidney be
away.'
Frankford, if I am ever able, I intend to go south,
purchase that negro, bring him to New Hampshire, and
give him his liberty. Heavens! how he will laugh to
see me. I almost farcy I can hear him now.
What an unmerci ul letter to tax your patience with,
and I only sat down to write a billet, informing you of
my intended marriage. Well, excuses would only, by
lengthening it, add to my offense, so health and happiness
attend you. Farewell 
S. ROMILLY."
CHAPTER XXXI.
A YANKEE SIBYL, AND OTHER MATTERS.
She dreams on him that has forgot her love.
Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
IT would be impossible, by description, to do justice to
the joy and bustle pervading the habitation of the
Romillys. That Sidney, their pride, and hope, and stay,
should be thus blessed and fortunate, seemed like a particular interference of Providence, to reward him for his
virtues, his cheerful sacrifices to the wishes and happiness
of his friends.
There was but one shade in the picture-the father no
longer lived to rejoice in the felicity of. his son; but it
was a consoling thought, that he would have approved
Ills choice-and he was then rejoicing in a state of bliss
and glory far beyond what any earthly pageant or transacttion could bestow.
An-d Mrs. Romilly, though she fondly and faithfully
\\welt on the memory of the deceased, yet felt, in witnessing her son's prosperity, that gladness might still
become her.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           343
Thus passed a few weeks, when one day, as Sidney
was sitting in the house, conversing with his mother on
the improvements they were about making, a gentlemanly looking stranger, ushered by Harvey, entered;
and as soon as the civilities of the occasion were exchanred,
requested to speak with Mr. Romilly alone. They retired
to Sidney's apartment, and after the absence of more than
an iour, which Mrs. Romilly passed very unquietly,
fearing, she knew not why, or what, her son returned,
and informed her the gentleman was from the south, and
had brought information which rendered an immediate
journey to Charleston unavoidable.
The mother, with the quickness of apprehension
natural to her sex and character, eagerly inquired the
news.
"' I cannot now impart it," answered Sidney, smiling:
yet his mother saw he was agitated, and fancied he was
affecting gaiety to conceal trouble.  "You shall hear
from me as soon as I can arrange the business I go to
perform, or see me, perhaps before a letter could reach
you. But I must start immediately."
" Not till you have seen Annie," said the mother.
" No, no, I am going to call on her now. Sophia, do
do put my clothes in my trunk; and mother, will you
see the gentleman has refreshments, while I am gone to
bid Annie adieu. We must be off soon, or we shall lose
the stage."
Mrs. Romilly felt more than a woman's inquisitiveness,
a mother's yearning, to know the business that was, at so
important a time, taking her son on a long journey; but
the delicate considerateness of her feelings forbade her
questioning the stranger on a subject which her son had
initnated was a secret; and though she made several
inquiries which night have been designed as an opening
to any communication he was inclined to make, he did
not appear to understand her hints, and gave her no
satisfaction.
Meanwhile Sidney reached the house of the deacon,
and found Annie, with her aunt and cousin, busily




344              NORTHWOOD; OR,
engaged in preparing some bed-quilts; and though his
affairs demanded haste, when looking at her he forgot
his hurry, and only thought they must part, and might
it not be forever? He could not tell Annie " farewell,"
in the presence of witnesses, and entreated her to walk
in the garden for a few moments; she complied, and
there, while she was innocently and sportively detailing
the history of a plant whose rearing had been a source
of vexation to her, Sidney, who was attentively gazing
on her, but heard not a word, said, abruptly,
" Annie, I called to bid you good-bye, I am just starting for Charleston."
"Indeed!" said she, looking up, while her cheek
waxed pale, and her lip trembled, "your resolution is
very suddenly taken."
"Yes, it has been, and it must be as suddenly executed. I must go, but I shall, I hope, return in a short
time. At any rate you shall hear from me soon; say
four weeks. You will not in that time forget me, love,"
passing his arm around her waist and pressing her to his
bosom.
She tried to smile, while she faintly inquired if he
went alone.
"No, a gentleman from Savannah accompanies me,
and he is now waiting at my mother's, I must be gone.
Annie, keep this kiss sacred till we meet," and he
pressed her to his bosom, kissing her cheek and lips, a
freedom he had never before attempted. With an expression of countenance where a tear, smile, and frown,
were equally blended, she broke from him.
" Go, go now, I entreat you."
"Yes, I must go now, Annie, farewell;" and he hurried out of the garden.
She gazed after him till the distance shut him from her
view, and then retired to her chamber in wonder and
perplexity. What could have induced him to take such
a sudden journey? was her first inquiry. She could not
answer it. She lamented she had not asked him. She
thought his mother might probably know; and after




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.          345
wearying herself with conjectures, she put on her bonnet
and walked to Mrs. Romilly's. But there she learned
nothing, or at least nothing to quiet her, as she plainly
saw his nother felt more anxiety on his account than
she would express. However, as there appeared to be
no better remedies than time and patience, Annie tried
calmly to wait the explanation of what she could not
but think was a mystery of some importance.
All the family spoke cheerfully and encouragingly
on the subject, excepting her uncle. He certainly tried
to augment her fears by hinting that it was not for any
good Sidney was thus suddenly summoned away. These
remarks were usually spoken to Mr. Skinner, who had
again begun to drop in to the deacon's occasionally.
But Annie heeded not Skinner; her mind was constantly with her lover, fancying his situation, employment, even his thoughts-and she blushed while believing them fixed on her. At the close of each day she
rejoiced the hour was drawing nearer for his return.
This looking and waiting for the return of an absent
friend, is a sickness of the heart in which man can seldom sympathize, as he rarely feels. He could not endure it with the patience of woman.
The four weeks had nearly expired, when one fine
day Mrs. Watson entered the store of Skinner to make
some trifling purchases, and remarked she was going to
Deacon Jones' to make an afternoon visit.
"And I haven't been invited there this many a day
before," said she. "Miss Annie heard something I said'last winter about her liking young Mr. Romilly too well;
and so they pretended to be angry, and quite neglected
me. But the story I told was a true one, and now he is
gone, they are mighty good again. And Miss Redington sent over word for me to come and drink tea to-day;
but I can guess the reason why."
" And what do you guess?" inquired Skinner, always
interested when Annie was the subject of conversation.
" 0, she wants me to tell her when her spark is coming
back! You know, Mr. Skinner, the young people say
15. 




346              NORTHWOOD; OR,
I can tell fortunes; and may be I can guess right sometimes; but I don't intend now to tell her one word.
YThey'l make a good dish of tea, and I'l drink it, and
say'tis against my conscience to tell fortunes; and so it
certainly is; and Annie is such a tender-hearted chicken
she'll never urge me, if she thinks it will make me feel
bad afterwards."
So far the conversation was overheard by Deborah
Long, a girl who resided with Mrs. Perkins, and then
Skinner, under pretense of showing a fine piece of premium linen, drew Mrs. Watson to a far part of the store,
where they conversed for some time in a low tone, but
apparently with great interest.
*      X      *      *      *      *
Mrs. Watson was the gossip of the neighborhood;
that term, in her case, implying a person who gathers
and retails all the news of the town, occasionally making
alterations where they can be done to evident advantage, and even adding items to fill any hiatus which
threatens to spoil a good story. She was not naturally
malicious, but the love of tea and of talk made her often
guilty of saying evil, or at least uncharitable things
about those to whom she bore no ill will, or none except what was created by her own slanders; it being
morally impossible for the person who thus injures another, to feel a perfectly complacent, friendly temper towards the individual they have villified.
Yet Mrs. Watson had her good qualities and kind
feelings too. She was an obliging neighbor, and an excellent nurse; whenever there was sickness she was sure
to be wanted, and seldom did she refuse to watch by the
bed of pain and affliction; it being indeed her pride to
exhibit her skill on all such melancholy occasions. Some
good women who never could leave their families to officiate as watchers or nurses, endeavored to depreciate
the credit Mrs. Watson thus obtained, by saying her
chief motives in going were to gather news and eat
good things.
However, though such accusations were frequently




LIFE NOKTH AND SOUTH.            347
made, and perhaps generally by the villagers when they
were in sound health, no sooner did sickness occur than
her credit was instantly restored, and she was welcomed
as a comforter and a friend; people usually assent to the
proverb, that " a friend in need, is a friend indeed."
While this habit of making herself useful recommended her to the notice of the elderly part of her acquaintance, she had other qualifications which ingratiated her
with the young. She was an oracle in all affairs of the
heart, and a living chronicle of every courtship and msr-..S. g Tric hl had occurred in the vicinity since her child
hood. And, moreover, it was asserted she could, when
she pleased, tell fortunes as well as a conjurer; and many a good cup of tea was made by the young maidens,
to treat her, that so they might have an opportunity of
"turning up a cup" and hearing her, after an examination of the tea grounds, explain their future destiny.
As she is introduced in the important character of a
sibyl, the reader may probably wish to know something
of her personal appearance and habits of life; but I feel
much diffidence in attempting a description of either.
She was, indeed, a very unclassical priestess of futurity;
very unlike, also, the witches of Macbeth, or the more
modern Nornas and Megs of popular romance. Those
remarkable women are represented as enormously tallstature being an essential requisite-with long, skinny
arms to match; sunken features; weather-beaten, sallow, shriveled skin; black or grey eyes, exhibiting flashes
of a demoniac spirit; and then their hair, such a frightfully grizzled, disheveled, matted mass! How I have
wished the ingenious authors, rich as they are in invention, could have afforded them a comb!
Neither is their dress in a more seemly style; but
haud ye there," I'll not repeat the description of a costume, the like of which no Yankee woman ever saw, and;he like of which our fortune-teller would not have picked
ip in the streets, unless she saw it contained some cotton
)r linen articles which she might have converted into
)aper rags.
Indeed, truth compels me to record that in taste and




348              NORTHWOOD; OI:,
dress, habits of life, and personal appearance, Mrs. Wat
son was totally unlike her celebrated sisterhood. She
was a short woman, stoutly formed, and inclined to corpulency; and though her arms might, by wearing her
sleeves tucked up when engaged in her dairy, or housework, have been a little tanned, yet they were plump,
round, well-shaped arms.  Her hair, as she was past
fifty, was doubtless grey, but it was never exposed, being
combed and confined on the top of her head, and always
covered with a neat, fashionable cap, she being very particular about her dress, and reputed one of the neatest
women and best managers in the village. And many
wondered how it happened that though she went abroad
so much, she generally contrived to have her own work
done in season, and quite as soon as her neighbors. But
she always enjoyed good health, and was very strong;
and those women who have neither her sleight to work,
nor constitution to endure fatigue, must not imitate the
worst part of her example-gadding.
She had quite a fair complexion for a woman of her
time of life, light blue eyes, regular features; and the
only mark of her superior sagacity, or divining skill,
was a very knowing wink, and a ready nod, which she
had always at command, and which she had practiced so
long and often, it sometimes gave her the appearance of
trembling. She would, too, when listening —which she
never willingly did-to the discourse of another, betray
a restless agitation; this was not caused by the inspirations of the goddess of Fortune-telling, but merely by
the chagrin she endured to be one moment debarred
from the free use of her tongue. She was, indeed, an
everlasting talker, and never, as I could learn, in the
whole course of her life, was known to have a fit of
musing, abstraction, or obstinate silence.
Such was the woman now in close conference with
Mr. Skinner; and though I am aware the present wise
philosophers of the old world may ascribe the difference
between her and their own race of sibyls to the effect of
that depreciation of character, and even size, which many




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           849
of their elder brethren maintained was inseparable from
the climate of America; yet I am confident Mrs. Watson would not have exchanged situations with those
cummers their writers have so elaborately described to
have been as tall as a light-house, with arms ii e a windmill, and the hair of a Medusa. HIow her decent pride
would have revolted to have been seen in their mean
habiliments!-as with a significant toss of her head she
tied her new green bonnet in a faster knot, drew her
handsome red shawl closer around her shoulders, smoothed down her rich black lutestring that rustled at every
step, while her new morocco shoes replied in creaking
chorus, drew on her gloves that she had thrown aside to
examine the texture of the linen, and giving Skinner
half a dozen winks and as many nods, said, as she turned
to leave the store," Never fear; I'll manage the matter, and call and
look at that cloth again, some day."
The merchant gave a most malicious grin as she disappeared; and then drawing up the corners of his cravat
with a sudden jerk, as if meditating the pressure his
neck deserved, returned smirkingly to his counter to receive the orders of Miss Deborah Long.
Deacon Jones' wife was a woman of few words; and
neither her daughter nor niece cared a fig for the conversation of Mrs. Watson; so they minded their work
and let her talk, and she had an excellent visit. When
they had nearly finished drinking tea, she said, turning
suddenly to Annie," Come, Miss Redington, if you'll turn up a cup I'll
tell you when that handsome man is coming back, that
you want to see so much. You needn't blush so, my
dear; I am sure you ought to wish to see him. Come,
shake it well, and turn it round and round, and then
over quick, and wish for what you want most."
Annie, laughing, did as she was directed.  It was
indeed her intention when inviting Mrs. WatsQan, Mg-y
had asserted she could reveal the future, and though
Annie had'not any faith in such reports, yet the mystery




350              NORTHWOOD; OR,
that overshadowed her lover's motives for his journey,
and the uncertainty respecting his return, kept her mind
in such a state of feverish anxiety as made her resort to
means her reason told her were absurd, to remove it.
"Now," said the fortune-teller, taking the cup, "I'll
warrant you good news. La, what a looking cup! I'm
sure you might have turned a better one. There's no
good news here.".0, toll mw  thle bad then, " said Annie, carelessly
smiling.
"The bad-well-I don't know. Here's your sweetheart; but he aint a coming home very soon, as I see.
There is something hinders him, and it looks to me like
aI woman, and a sick one too."
" Will he not write?" inquired Annie, earnestly.
"0, yes, yes, there's a letter; but that is not such a
one as I like. And you have no good wish neither.
Poh!'tis an ugly cup, and you shall turn up another,
and see if you can't have better luck."
Annie willingly obeyed, and her heart beat quick as
she earnestly and silently breathed a wish Sidney might
either write, or return within the month.
"Well," said Mrs. Watson, "now you hav'nt done a
bit better. Your cup is all hurly burly, and there is something looks like a disappointment. But, la! you must'nt
mind what I tell you; for I don't know much about fortune."
"It will not trouble me in the least," said Annie. But
her cheeks, that all the afternoon had looked like damask
roses, now wore the hue of the lily.
"These cups may mean what is past," continued the
sibyl. " They say it is a sickly place away there to the
south, and like enough you worry a good deal about your
sweetheart; I warrant I should in the same case. So I'll
just call these two cups nothing at all, and you shall turn
up another. Come, Priscilla, do shake the tea-pot, and
turn out some more grounds. I call you Priscilla yet, for
I can't think of Mrs. Romilly half the tiie, though
every one can see you are a married woman."




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           351
The face of the young wife blushed like scarlet, and
she obeyed the directions of the gossip without looking
up.
"There now, that's a plenty. La! you needn't turn
out the whole tea-pot. Now, Miss Redington, be pretty
larticular, and I'll warrant I'll tell something to please
you."
She looked peeringly in the cup for some time, turning
it round, and examining every speck with scrupulous
attention. Annie sat watching her in silence and trepidation; anxious to hear her tell a good fortune, and
angry with herself for the weakness she was indulging.
" You are not in luck to-day, Annie," said the sibyl,
in a tone of more solemnity than she had hitherto spoken.
" You will have a letter though; but it won't be such a
one as you expect; and you won't see the person you
wished to very soon; I don't see as he thinks of coming
back, and there's somebody, and it certainly looks like a
woman, hindering him. But, la! what does that signify?
I guess you won't care much about it; there's plenty
more men in the world; and you'll find a good fish yet
as ever swum in the sea."
"You need not tell me any more," said Annie, reaching out her hand, that trembled like an aspen, for the
cup. "I am quite satisfied."
Mrs. Watson resigned the cup, and endeavored to
maintain her usual volubility, but the depression felt by
the others evidently embarrassed her, confident and careless of the feelings of others as she usually was when an
opportunity of talking occurred; but silence was a worse
penance for her than any of the Romish ritual could have
enforced, and she soon took her leave.
" Iow foolish I was," said Annie to her cousin, "to allow:mlyone an opportunity of thus exciting my emotions.
A\ nd then it was flattering Mrs. Watson too, with a show
(,- dependence on her skill, as if heaven would permit
such a one as she to know those secrets of futurity the
good and virtuous cannot penetrate.  I deserve to be
punished. But she was malicious and meant to tell me




352              NORTHWOOD; OR,
a bad fortune, and I will not allow her nonsense to trouble me. I am now satisfied she knows nothing."
"Well," said her cousin, "I hope we shall not be
honored with another visit from her at present, she is so
bold and loquacious, I think her a most disagreeable
woman."
But though Annie intended not to feel troubled, she
could not forbear thinking of what Mrs. Watson had told
heI, and s e waited for the arrival of intelligence from
Sidney with an intense anxiety that deprived her of
sleep by night and quiet by day. That some fearful
calamity was impending over her or Sidney, was impressed on her mind. She tried to think her fears were excited by Mrs. Watson's foolish hints, or her own weak
fancies; but if they were, she had not the mental strength
to shake them off. She could trust unwaveringly in the
promise that " all things should work together for good,
to them who loved God;" but she knew earthly prosperity and happiness were not, certainly, implied in that
promise. Her path had hitherto been through the valley
of humiliation and suffering, and she had pursued it unwaveringly, with the submission of a Christian; but a
bright scene had lately been disclosed; and 0, how she
did tremble, lest it was about to be involved in gloom!
And how earnestly she entreated she might be spared a
trial she felt unequal to sustain.
As she was sitting, one day, by the window, wrapped
in such meditations, Silas came merrily along, and
raising the sash, threw a letter in her lap saying-" There
is yours, Annie; and I have one for mother also. I
shall carry hers over, and see what Sidney is about, as
yours will have too many honeyed words to be exposed
to vulgar eyes." And he ran off to carry the letter to
his mother.
Annie was pale, but her eyes shone with joy, as seizinlg the letter, she exclaimed:
"WVhat a treasure! Priscilla, you must rejoice with
me, yet you cannot feel the same happiness; you have
not known the same fears." She had broken the seal.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           853
" How briefly he writes!" she continued, " I expected a
full sheet; but he is no doubt coming soon;"-and she
eagerly applied herself to read the contents.
Priscilla turned from her a moment to examine some
work; she heard a deep sigh, started to look at her cousin, and saw her falling from her seat. With a wild
shriek she sprung to save her, and the family, alarmed
by the noise, all rushed in. The deacon groaned most
grievously when gazing on her pale face and apparently
lifeless form; and gathering from the exclamations of
Priscilla that the letter had caused the swoon, he soon
picked it up from the floor where it had fallen, and sat
quietly down to learn what terrible things it contained,
leaving the care of Annie to his wife and daughter. By
the time she recovered he had managed to make out
most of the letter, though some of the long words puz.
zled him sadly; and turning to her while she was inquiring for it, he said" Here, here's your paper; I've made bold to read it,
and I think Mr. Sidney has just shown himself out; but
I never thought any better of him, though."
"0, father," whispered Priscilla, seeing the agitation
of Annie, "don't say anything. She cannot bear it."
" Well, well," said he, in a very loud tone, as he was
leaving the room, "I can hold my tongue; but when a
man shows himself a villain, it is against my conscience
to say a word in his favor. I like to do justice."
He did not recollect that " in the course of justice
none of us should see salvation."
" What has Sidney written?" inquired the soft-hearted
Priscilla, her tears flowing as she gazed on her weeping
friend. Annie held out the letter. Her cousin took it
and read as follows. There was no date.
"MY DEAR MISS REDINGTON,-I hardly dare write
what necessity compels me; and yet I know, in my situation, sincerity is the most atoning virtue I can practice. Let me then spare all circumlocution, and briefly
state that our connexion must, from this time be at an




354              NORTHWOOD; OR,
end. Circumstances which I cannot explain make it
impossible I should ever visit New England again, or
not till a distant period. I lament I ever saw you; I
lament our engagement. But these reflections are now
too late. Write not-forget me-or think me unworthy
your affection. May heaven bless you. Farewell!
SIDNEY ROMILLY."
Priscilla had just finished the perusal when her husband, accompanied by his mother, suddenly entered.
Mrs. Romilly came for comfort. She could not believe
Annie's letter was like hers; it must, at least contain
some excuses, or expressions of sorrow for thus leaving
them; something that would palliate-justify it he could
not-his conduct.
But when she saw the agitation of that fair, innocent
creature, she burst into a violent passion of weeping;
sobbing out, as she rocked herself backwards and forwards in her chair, " 0 Annie, Annie, what shall we
do? Sidney says he shall never return; and the boys
may take care of the farm, and have all his part, for he
has money enough. I wonder what he means!-I wonder who that man was, and what he told him to make
him go away. I wish that fellow had been in the Red
Sea before he came to make us all so much trouble.
Sidney, I know, would never have staid away of his
own accord; he would be afraid it would break my
heart-and so it will, it will; I depended on him. He
was my pride, my darling; and he has been so kind
since his father died; and so fraid I should be worried!
And now he says he shall never come back! 0, what,shall I do-what shall I do!"
Silas saw the grief of his mother was overcoming Annie, and fearing she could not endure such emotions
without serious consequences, he kindly bore her to her
chamber, where she passed several days in seclusion and
sorrow. To be parted thus from the man she expected
so shortly to marry, would in any case have been a mortification; but her grief was not the repinings of morti



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           355
fled disappointment. It was the deep throbbings of a
tender heart, whose dearest affections were suddenly
torn from the object to which they had fondly clung; it
was the dark melancholy of the lone spirit, feeling it had
forever lost the society and friendship of the being more
prized than all the world beside; it was the bitterness
of reflecting she had given her confidence and heart to a
man unworthy her trust, that caused the acuteness of
her anguish. She could not excuse the part Sidney had
acted towards her, nor reconcile the mystery in which
he appeared to wish to involve his affairs, but by admitting he had before he came to New Hampshire, been
guilty of some breach of confidence or honor which he
was now compeled to repair.
"Had he but died," she said to herself a thousand
times-" 0, had Sidney but died, I would not have murmured; I could have resigned him, had it been the appointment of heaven. I should then have reflected on
his virtues; I might have cherished my affection for his
memory without a blush; I might have wept his loss without self-reproach. Now, nothing, nothing is left me but
to lament his infatuation and ruin, and mourn my own
folly and deception."
Sidney Romilly's letter to his mother was a counterpart of the one Miss Redington had received. He just
briefly said his return was impossible; wished his brothers to share his property; and desired his family not
to think about him, or disturb him by letter or expostulation.
But they were not thus to be silenced. His mother,
Silas, Dr. Perkins, and George Cranfield, all wrote and
despatched their letters immediately, conjuring him to
return, or let them know the cause why he had thus abandoned his friends. These letters were most pathetically
written, and Mrs. Romilly comforted herself with the
hope that they would be successful. Annie did not
write-she could not; but she awaited almost in an
agony of anxiety the application of the others.
Meanwhile the affair made a terrible bustle in the vil



356              NORTHWOOD; OR,
lage, and the report thereof went forth to the ends of the
whole town. Sidney appeared fated to make a talk for
the neighborhood. Ever since he came to Northwood,
there had been a quick succession of singular events
occurring, and seemingly connected with his destiny.
Most people thought he had now run his race, and though
pitying his mother and Miss Redington, they generally
came to the conclusion he had better not return. They
allowed he had some good in him, buthe had been badly
brought up, and they feared his principles were not very
strict; and finally they declared, every individual of that
fickle crowd, those who but a few days before had called
Sidney a pattern of perfection, that they always mistrusted he would turn out bad at last.
But in this general defection one honest heart still
retained its faith in the integrity of our hero. His own
mother and affianced bride trembled and doubted and
mourned; but Merrill stood firm, and repelled with scorn
and indignation, every insinuation urged against his
benefactor.
It was a few days after the affair had become public,
and when it was literally in every one's mouth, that the
sturdy farmer entered the store of Mr. Skinner. The
merchant had, for some time, treated Merrill witl particular civility; and though the latter had, in his anger,
declared he never would trade with him again, yet his
was not a temper to retain resentment after the provocation which had excited it was removed, and he had of
late purchased some articles, always paying down, however, and qualifying his meaning of not trading with him
into a resolution never to get in his debt again.
And well would it be for many a farmer in our country, if they would imitate the example of Merrill, and
after a merchant has once sued them, keep out of his
books.
The farmer had now an inducement to call often, for
his brother Luther, a shrewd, subtle, spirited lad, had
lately entered the store as clerk. When the elder Merrill stepped into the shop, he heard Skinner, who did




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           857
not notice him, descanting eloquently on the unpleasant
affair which had occurred, concluding with, "I have
heard many other conjectures, gentlemen, but the most
probable one is, that Mr. Romilly was arrested for counterfeiting. Some think it was a love affair. You understand me. Others say he is already married, and his
wife sent for him; but I think there's no doubt but the
person who took him away was an officer, and that he
has been guilty of some crime."
"But I think there's some doubt of it, sir," said Merrill, loudly, and coming forward; "and I should like to
know who tells all them are stories."
" O, I hear them every day," replied Skinner, stepping
backward as the other advanced. "Mrs. Watson said
here, yesterday, that Mrs. Greene told her that Colonel
White heard that Mr. Holmes, the landlord, saw the
warrant for Sidney Romilly's apprehension in the strange
gentleman's hand."
"I heard," remarked a by-stander, "that it was a
paper folded just like a warrant."
" And what else could it be?" said Skinner, triumphantly laughing. "It was certainly something that made
the fellow step pretty quick. I suppose he made no
resistance that the matter might be kept a secret."
Mr. Merrill was perhaps as prone to give heed to the
testimony of that viperous slander that "rides on the
posting winds and doth belie all corners of the streets,"
as his neighbors, and he might, by the list of very respectable names quoted as aiding to give currency to the
report, and the appearance of credence among the bystanders, have thought it, at least, a politic thing to
believe it, had not every feeling of his grateful heart
revolted at such a charge against Sidney. And as he
could think of no arguments or facts to disprove the
opinion and authorities of Skinner, he elevated himself
to his full height, which was plump six feet, shook his
brawny, clenched fist, and exclaimed in a voice like
thunder,
"'Tis a devilish lie, the whole of it; and the first man




358              NORTHWOOD; OR,
I hear say Sidney Romilly is a villain, why, I'll knock
him down, if he's big as Goliah!"
Merrill was close to the counter as he ended, and
Skinner as far back as the space permitted; and his face
was pale as marble, but whether it was caused by fear,
rage or guilt, no one could determine. The by-standers
could not but admire the farmer's bold defense of Sidney.
It was dictated by gratitude, a virtue all men applaud,
and so in deference to his feelings, or in fear of his fist,
they urged the matter no further, and the conversation
soon glided to other subjects.
But those who talk most, feel the least. It was not
the villagers who lamented the faults or fall of Sidney.
It was his mother in her home, now seeming so solitary
and deserted, and where the name of that beloved, lost
child, was seldom mentioned, never with invectives; it
was his own Annie, sitting lonely by the window where
they had so often sat together, or on the seat by that
soft-stealing stream where he had first talked to her of
love.  How beautiful then was the landscape! how
cheerful every creature around! how happy her own
fond heart! But beauty had fled from the prospect,
and cheerfulness from the grove. It was cold October;
the leaves were falling, the birds bad flown; and her
own hopes were withered as the one, and sad as the
other. That place was now her daily resort. There,
gazing on the water, and apparently lost in abstraction,
she would sit whole hours. But she was thinking of her
lover; recalling every word he had there spoken, or
reading again and again the cruel letter which had forever blasted her happiness.
"Why could he not have written more kindly?" she
often thought. " He does not even seem to lament the
separation; 0, he never did love as he professed! I
cvtd not thus carelessly lhave wounded him."
Annie Redington had loved Sidney with more than
the usual devotedness of tbhe f~ooJnJ Ja<,- fr pacre
was no earthly being to divide her affections. She had
neither parents nor near frie',; ad  er ter.de sensi



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            359
bilities and ardent feelings, which had long been chilled
and checked, found in him, as she fondly believed, a
congenial object, and they had clung around and hovered over. him with all the joy, tenderness, and constancy of the dove, when received to the ark after her
lonely, unresting banishment.
Man never gives his whole heart, even to the object
of his choice, with the entire, unreserved devotedness of
woman. It is not in his nature. His soul is abroad in
the world, seeking its employments and riches and
honors. He has his cares and companions, his pursuits
and pleasures, independent of the idea of her.
She sits at home and thinks of him the live long day.
All her arrangements are made in reference to his return;
and she feels that without him the world and her history
would be a blank. And life looked indeed like a blank
to poor Annie.  Her friends, among whom  the kind
physician and wife ranked first, tried every method their
hearts could suggest, to divert her mind from dwelling
on her disappointment; they urged a journey to Boston,
offering to accompany her, and used so many persuasions
she at length reluctantly consented. This acquiescence
wvas wholly caused by her sense of duty; for the society
and amusements of the "literary emporium" had now
no charm to which she could look for happiness.
She felt the sin as well as weakness to which she was
yielding in thus indulging a passion she knew to be hopeless, and allowing her mind to become a prey to grief,
for the desertion of an inconstant-she would not say
criminal-man; and she resolved to exert the fortitude
her mother had so often warned her she might find indispensable in her earthly pilgrimage.
"0, my mother I" said Annie, mentally, as she had
finished her reflections and arrangements, "your lot was
bliss to mine."
The evening before she was to depart she went to her
favorite seat beside the stream, hallowed to her heart by
a thousand tender recollections. It was the last time she
ever, intended to allow herself the indulgence, and she




860              NORTHWOOD; OR,
sat long, as if she could not tear herself away. The
evening was cold and raw, the stream, swollen by the
rains, looked deep and dark, and a damp fog was rising
from the waters; but she thought not of danger to herself while weeping for him. The next morning she was
to start on her journey; but her throbbing head and
aching limbs, made her departure impossible. She had
caught cold, and combined with the agitation her spirit
was suffering, it soon threw her into a fever. This did
not, at first, appear violent, yet the doctor feared, as he
saw his medicine could not check its ravages.  He
attended her with the most vigilant care, and her case
exciting universal sympathy in the neighborhood, all
the young ladies offered themselves as watchers by night,
or attendants by day.
The readiness of those services was no doubt prompted
mostly by the tenderness of their natures; but there was
a lurking curiosity among these rural fair ones to see a
lady who was, as they firmly believed, dying for love;
and they secretly hoped she would impart to them her
sorrows; and how delightful it would be to see her weep,
and sympathize in her distress! But they were disappointed. Miss Redington had never been heard to mention her lover's name during the four weeks of her confinement. She had been endeavoring to devote her heart
to heaven; and though she often thought of Sidney, and
prayed earnestly for his happiness, her hopes no longer
centered around his idea when anticipating her own;
and in her sick chamber she passed many an hour of
perfect peace in meditating on the calm, blessed kingdom she expected shortly to inhabit.
The Rev. Mr. Cranfield made her several visits, and
was always accompanied by his amiable son, who joined
his father in his pious conversations, with the feeling
and enthusiasm of a Christian. Annie never saw the
young gentleman's excellencies in so fair a light; still
such reflections only made Sidney dearer, by increasing
her anxiety that he should, like his friend George, follow
righteousness.  How often she thought, "O, if Sidney




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           361
Romilly had only possessed religion, he would have been
a pattern of perfection-it was all he lacked."
Mr. Skinner also seemed much moved with the event
of Miss Redington's illness, which indeed appeared to
affect every one, and he daily sent her some present of
fruits or wine. He was often assured she could not take
them, yet he would persist in sending, just to show his
good will; for though, as he frankly declared, he was
glad Sidney had been brought to justice, he pitied her.
Dr. Perkins had never, till within a day or two of the
expiration of the four weeks, despaired of Annie's life;
but then he found her disorder had many fatal symptoms. He called at the deacon's one Wednesday morning at an early hour, and the report of his wife, who
had been watching there, made him tremble. He ascended to the chamber and softly approached the bed.
The pale, emaciated girl, looked up with a sweet smile.
"How do you find yourself, this morning, Annie?"
he inquired.
"Happy, happy," she softly answered. "I am going
-and I go willingly. One earthly remembrance alone
dims my felicity. Sidney Romilly-I have loved him
too dearly-I love him still;-but it is the affection of
benevolence, the wish to see him happy. You have
been my friend and his-will you, when I am gonewill you send him this ring?"-and she took it from the
trembling, wasted finger, and reached it to Perkins.
" Send it after I am gone," she continued, " and write,
and assure him of my forgiveness, my entire forgiveness; and when you tell him of my death, do not dwell
on the grief his faithlessness caused me. This poor heart
will then be still and cold. Tell him, my daily prayer,
on my sick-bed, was for his happiness on earth and in
heaven."
Perkins and his wife. wept like children. And after
depositing the ring in his pocket-book, he gave his patient
a composing cordial, while he said, " Annie, your wishes,
in the event to which you allude, shall be complied with;
16




862              NORTHWOOD; OR,
but you must not indulge this depression; you will recover."
She shook her head. He saw she was nearly exhausted, and after preparing some medicine, and telling his
wife to tarry till some of the family arose to watch by
Annie, and then she had better return home and endeavor
to procure some rest before their children awaked, as he
was obliged to go to a distance that morning, he left the
chamber.
As he reached the street-door, the old deacon popped
his lank, wrinkled face out of an inner apartment, saying, "How d'ye do this morning, doctor-pray how is
Annie!"
"Very sick," replied Perkins.
"0, yes, we know that well enough; but will she
live?"
"Why, I have fears-many fears; but I have some
hope."
"Well, I can't say I have one bit," said the deacon, in
an awfully solemn, lengthened tone. "I have been
thinking ever since I heard you go up-stairs, how cruel it
was to make that poor child take so much medicine. It
can do no good, and I raly think you'd better let her
die in peace. I have given her up, and feel truly reconciled to the Divine will."
As he ended, he caught the doctor's glance; suspicion,
contempt and anger were flashing from his kindling eyes.
The deacon's sunk beneath them-he drew back his head
and closed the door.
Perkins bit his lip, pressed his hand on his forehead a
moment, as if in anxious thought, laid down his medicine-bag, and hastily re-ascending the stairs, beckoned
his wife from the room.
"Do you feel able to stay here through the day,
Mary?"
"How can I leave the children?" was her answer.
"0, 1'll go home," said he, "and see to them, and
charge the girl to take good care. You are an excellent
nurse, Mary; just such as a physician's wife ought to be,




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.               863
and such a one as Annie needs now; her life hangs on
a brittle thread. I have left her some medicines which
will help her, if anything will; but they must be given
with great exactness. Do stay till I return, which will
be by noon; and don't leave Annie alone one moment.
We must save her. I'll go home now and see the children."
"Then I will stay, for I love Annie like a sister."
Her husband left the house, saying to himself, "Well,
Annie shall live if care can save her, and enjoy her property herself; and then we'll see if her old avaricious
uncle is reconciled to the Divine will!"
CHAPTER XXXII.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
The bridegroom may forget the bride
Was made his wedded wife yestreen;
The monarch may forget the crown
That on his head an hour hath been;
The mother may forget the child
That smiles so sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And a' that thou hast done for me. BURNS.
LEAVING Miss Redington to the care of her devoted
friends, such as every person in her critical condition
needs, you and I, kind reader, will go South, and learn
what has befallen her recreant lover.
How suddenly Sidney left his farm and his fiancee
has been already related. The gentleman, with whom
he departed, was from. Georgia, and brought letters
causing Sidney much astonishment. The first he opened
was from his friend Charles Stuart, who had, he fancied,
forgotten him. The startling intelligence it contained,
will be better understood by the insertion of the letter
than any explanation I could give. It was dated at




364              NORTHWOOD; OR,
" Charleston, S. C., August 20th, 18-.
MY DEAR ROMILLY, —ThiS is the third letter I have
written you since the misfortunes and decease of Mr.
Brainard, your excellent uncle. To the two others I
have received no answer: had they reached your hand
you could not have neglected me, so I flatter myself;
and I must believe they miscarried. To obviate all possibility of a like fate befalling this, I have engaged Mr.
Tracy, who is on a tour to Boston, a friend of mine, and
one well entitled to your confidence, to take a trip to
New Hampshire and deliver it into your hands.
The manner of your late uncle's failure you know;
and also the arrangement he made with the gentleman
to whom his estate was consigned. In those letters I
forwarded you were enclosed drafts on a bank in Boston
to the amount of four hundred dollars, two hundred in
each letter. The money I conjured you, in the name of
our friendship, to receive, and entreated you to come to
Savannah, and consider my home as your own. But
when I received no answer, I sometimes feared you were
offended at the liberty I had taken. I knew your independence of spirit; I knew from experience how mortifying are pecuniary obligations to a mind of nice and
delicate honor; and I thought the most acceptable services I could render you, (and I owe you all I can perform) would be to attempt the discovery of the retreat
of Cox, and the security of the vast debt he owed your
late uncle's estate.
All my efforts were, however, for a long time unavailing; but a few weeks since I heard of him, and that he
was at New Orleans. I hastened to Charleston, and consulting with your agent there, we despatched a trusty
person to ferret out the villain if he were above ground.
The man we employed hastened to New Orleans, and,
the goddess of chance being propitious for once to honest
men, he found Cox at a gaming-table, where, by an extraordinary run of luck, he was literally'lording it over
a heap of massy gold;' and he satisfied your whole de



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           865
mand, not only without grumbling, but even with exultation; saying,'that he liked, at times, to clear scores
with the devil by an act of honesty.' And thus your
fortune is now once more at your command.
I need not say how much I rejoice at this; how much
I want to see you, nor with what unfeigned congratulations you will be welcomed back to our section of the
country. Do come immediately; your presence is necessary on account of your own interest; and it is indispensable to the happiness of your friends. Your agent
writes, and therefore it is needless for me to detail those
particulars which must, with your benevolent feelings,
induce you to visit Charleston with the utmost despatch.
I shall wait here till the twenty-fifth of September, in
expectation of embracing you.
Zemira is well, and I am the father of a fine boy. We
call him Sidney Romilly.
Yours, forever,    CHARLES STUART."
The other letter was from H. Howard, Esq., and ran
thus:
" Charleston, S. C., August 21, 18-..
MR. ROMILLY, —Sir, we have traced Cox to New
Orleans, and recovered the money. It is all safe in my
hands, waiting the disposal you shall order. I hope it
will be convenient for you to come here immediately;
indeed, it is absolutely necessary if you intend to redeem
the estate of your late uncle. Dunbar was a good man,
but he has transferred the property to another; subject,
however, to the articles of redemption he entered into
with your uncle.
The man who is now in possession, is one of those
cruel, unfeeling wretches, whose actions are a libel on
the name of man. Beneath his iron sway, your uncle's
servants are groaning worse than the Israelites did in
Egypt. They are looking for you as their Moses, and I
need say no more. Your heart is their guarantee of release from their rigorous bondage. Should I recount the




366              NORTHWOOD; OR,
cruelty of this monster, your blood would chill; come,
then, and fulfil the anxious desire of your late uncle, and
gratify the wishes of your numerous friends here, by
fixing your residence among us. To judge by the
anxiety now expressed for you, there is not a man of
respectability in the city who would not be happy to
serve you; and though a part of this extraordinary civility
may undoubtedly be ascribed to the recovery of your
fortune, yet you are, independently of that consideration,
very highly prized by your acquaintance, and you have
one such faithful friend as but few men ever obtain. I
allude to Charles Stuart. He has been indefatigable in
his endeavors to serve you; it was by his efforts that
Cox was finally discovered, and all the expense has been
borne by him, as he would neither allow me to contribute,
nor will he receive any repayment from the money he
has thus recovered. He is, indeed, a tried friend; and
long may you both enjoy the prosperity you equally deserve.
With the most profound respect,
I am, sir, your obedient servant,
HENRY HOWARD."
" P. S.-You must be here before the twenty-fifth of
September, or the bond will be forfeited, the year expiring at that time; and the fellow now in possession, being
loth to relinquish his bargain, he will take every advantage possible. The delay of one day beyond the stipulated time will bar your claim forever..  H. H."
Such was the tenor of the intelligence that decided
Sidney Romilly instantly to visit Charleston. He thought
it not best to communicate the particulars to his betrothed
or his family until after he had, from actual inspection,
adopted some plan of conduct. If the servants were
thus miserable, he should, at all events, redeem the estate,
but to say so would cause his mother unceasing anxiety
during his absence; she would anticipate his own removal
to the south; and he knew too well how highly he was




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            367
prized at home to think they would willingly resign him.
He would not thus trouble them, unless absolutely necessary, and it might be, some other arrangement would, on his
reaching Charleston, appear more fitting. And when all
perplexity and uncertainty respecting his affairs was
over, he would write or return, and his friends, finding
matters actually settled, would acquiesce, especially when
they found how liberally he was enabled to provide for
them.
On his arrival at the city he found Mr. Stuart waiting
to welcome him, and the pleasure of embracing that
estimable friend, and meeting his former acquaintances,
was as exquisite as sincere; and yet the meeting with
the servants of his late uncle was far more touching to
his heart. When he arrived at the plantation, they
crowded around him, and their tears, exclamations, and
almost frantic gestures, formed a picture of wild joy that
cannot be intelligibly described. To be understood, it
must have been beheld. And an examination of their
condition determined him at once to redeem the estate.
The wretch who had purchased it under an impression
Sidney would never return, was highly enraged; but,
after much altercation and the interference of many
friends, he was at last brought to terms, and everything
settled to the satisfaction of Sidney and the servants at
least. Their countenances and manners underwent a
complete transformation when they found he was again
their own mas'r! Their tears were literally turned to
songs, and their groans to such loud peals of laughter as
made the whole neighborhood ring. Cato, in particular,
justified Sidney's encomiums on the tone of his lungs;
at the sight of his young mas'r, he would laugh so obstreperously that he incurred some serious reproofs; and
the servants reported he was heard the night after the
articles concerning the estate were settled, to laugh in his
sleep, if he slept, nearly the whole night.
After all arrangements were completed, Sidney wrote
to Annie and his mother, detailing the particulars with
exactness, but dwelling most minutely on the situation




368              NORTHWOOD; OR,
of the slaves and the events which had made his repurchase of his uncle's estate necessary, indeed indispensable. He also entreated Annie to be in readiness to
give him her hand immediately on his return, which
would be in a few weeks; to his mother he sent two
hundred dollars, to procure the children apparel for his
bridal solemnity.
Why these letters were never received, will be explained hereafter.
He did not, in either of the letters, directly mention
that he designed residing at the South; but he hoped,
from the tenor of his remarks, they would infer it; and
that when reflecting, as they must do, it was necessary
for the comfort of his servants, and would conduce to his
interest, their scruples might be overcome. He found,
indeed, the measure more congenial with his own feelings than he had imagined, while residing in New Hampshire, it ever would be. But it was in Charleston his
habits had been formed, opinions imbibed, and friends
selected; and though he had yielded to necessity with
philosophical firmness, and had labored with his hands
without much repining, yet but few voluntarily subject
themselves to the penalty of Adam; and I confess my
hero felt very willing to lay down the spade when he
found to dig was no longer necessary. He was intending
to work in another way.
The inhabitants of Charleston have always been distinguished for their urbanity and hospitality, and their
city as a pleasant place of residence; and in the first
circles, in which our hero moved and now found himself
flatteringly caressed, there was that union of intelligence, politeness and refinement which constitutes the
charm of social intercourse, and which was so congenial
to his taste.
It was true his fondest affections were centered in New
Hampshire; but he thought if Annie would consent to
accompany him to Charleston, and perhaps some of his
own family also, he then should enjoy independence, and
the advantages and pleasures of elegant society, com



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           369
bined with that dear domestic bliss which makes the
heart's best, truest felicity. He thought, too, that such
was the happiness his father's predictions had indicated;
and he renewed with eagerness his acquaintance with
many excellent families, who he knew were worthy his
confidence, and to whom he anticipated, with proud
eight, the Intrbo&uction of his lovely and beloved bride.
And many a dream of future happiness floated round his
pillow by night, and brightened his smiles by day.
At length he was ready to begin his homeward journey,
or rather to visit the home of his friends; his own he
considered already settled at the South.  The night
before his departure two letters post-marked Northwood,
were handed him; he recognized the writing of Annie,
and instantly opened hers, smiling as he did so, while
anticipating the sweet congratulations on his prosperity
it must contain. But judge of his consternation when
reading as follows:
"SIR-I have received your letter, and am glad of
your good fortune; but I think it my duty to inform
you our correspondence must be at an end. I know you
will want me to reside at the South; but to go there and
be a partaker in the sin of slavery is what I will not do.
You can doubtless find, in Charleston, some fair lady
more worthy your love, and more congenial to your
manner of life than my education and principles would
permit me to be. You need not write, for my resolution
is taken.
Farewell,       ANNIE REDINGTON."
Sidney gazed wildly on the paper-re-read it-tore it
in a thousand pieces and crushed it beneath his feet; and
then, pale, and trembling with contending passions, he
sat down to peruse the other letter. It was from his
mother, and briefly said she rejoiced he had recovered
his estate, and thought best, all things considered, he
should reside at the South. The boys had found they
could manage the farm, and he had too much money to
16*




370              NORTHWOOD; OR,
want to work, &c. &c.-and finally, she added that
George Cranfield was very attentive to Miss Redington,
and it was thought they would soon be married.
Such a confirmation of Annie's perfidy he could
scarcely support.  He was nearly frantic with rage,
jealousy, and a thirst for vengeance; but when his
angry passions, by exhausting his strength, had partly
subsided, the recollection of his love, the thought of her
tenderness, now no more to be cherished, overcame him,
and he wept like a child. The disappointment of his
wishes concerning Zemira was nothing like this. Then
he never received assurance; now he had indulged the
confidence of reciprocated affection. He had thought of
Annie as his wife; he had associated her idea with every
plan of earthly happiness; he had even hoped her piety
would, like the pure-falling tears of an angel's tenderness, blot out his transgressions, and her example
strengthen his weak faith and guide his erring steps in
the way to eternal life. She had disappointed, cruelly
disappointed, deceived, betrayed him. She had not only
destroyed his hopes of happiness, but his confidence in
human virtue, for could he ever expect to find more
seeming purity, sincerity or piety, than she had exhibited,
when "all was false and hollow?"
How he cursed the fickle, faithless, cruel sex; and
vowed never again to trust their smiles, or seek happiness from their affection.  He would not return to
Northwood; and to remain at Charleston would inevitably subject him to the humiliation of having his disappointment made public; as he had openly revealed his
engagements, and indeed boasted of the lovely, amiable,
intelligent bride he was intending to introduce to his
friends. 0, it was too much! now that the cup of happiness was seemingly within his grasp, thus to have it
dashed from his lip. But he would go far, where no one
knew his story-he would go to England, visit Frankford,
and, plunged in the whirl of dissipation, forget his home,
friends, love, every thing! Such were some of his wild
ravings.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           371
At length he became more calm; but then he could
form no plan so likely to succeed in restoring his serenity
as a voyage to Europe. He determined on it; arranged
his affairs, and took leave of his friends. To them he
stated business made his visit to England necessary, and
that, in consequence, his marriage would be delayed till
spring. How few have courage to tell the whole truth
to the world!
Sidney wrote a tender letter to his mother, for he
would not part with her in anger, though he felt wounded
by the indifference she had manifested in hers concern,
ing his change of residence, and in his letter he enclosed
another two hundred dollar note as a present to herself.
To Annie he did not write —he thought her conduct
merited silent contempt. He then took passage on board
a packet ship bound for London, and ready to sail the
first fair wind. It soon blew a favorable gale, his baggage was already on board, and followed by his faithful
Cato, our hero ascended the vessel that was to bear him
to a distant region; but he could no longer flatter himself with the hope of there finding felicity.
How the dissolution of one single tie will loosen our
grasp from the world;-the disappointment of one expectation darken the sun of our prosperity! But a few
days had passed since Sidney thought the whole world
smiled upon him, for Annie loved him. Now there was
" none so poor to do him reverence," none to lament his
fate should he throw himself headlong into the dark
waters beneath. He shuddered as the temptation to do
so rushed powerfully on his mind, almost bearing down
the instinctive dread of death implanted in our nature,
and for a moment entirely sweeping away the mounds
of prudence and principle.
But the thought of his father, so calm and happy, came
over him. He felt reproved for such sinful and violent
indulgence of his passions. IHe knew his father would
have told him that the trials and temptations of men
were mercifully allotted for the perfection of their virtue,
and that to endure unavoidable misfortunes with firmness




372             NORTHWOOD; OR,
and resignation, was their duty, and one which, if they
did perform, they might enjoy, if not happiness, certainly
tranquillity. He turned from the contemplation of the
deep waters, and pacing the deck, inquired, in an impatient tone, why they did not sail? and received for answer, they were waiting the arrival of some articles
expected every moment, and then they should weigh
anchor immediately.
But Sidney at last grew weary of pacing the deck,
and gazing on the bright heavens' and dancing waters,
and hearing the laugh of the seamen; these objects were
all too placid and happy to accord with the tone of his
feelings, and he retired to his state-room, and there, seated
in gloomy reflections, he waited impatiently for the vessel
to depart. While he sat thus, Cato entered with his usual
laughing look, to say a man wanted to speak with mas'r.
"Who is he? what does he want?" inquired Sidney,
in a stern tone, that for a moment awed the smile of the
favorite servant, and he bowed his head like the humble
slave while he answered.
"Me don't know what he want; but he say he must
speak wid mas'r. He look queer."
"Look! why, how does he look?"
"O, he great, rough, dirty fellow. No gentleman,
mas r. 
"I won't speak with him, Cato. Tell him I am engaged. "
Cato departed, but soon returned, saying, "He no go
away till he see you, mas'r. He must see you,'cause he
big news to tell, mas'r."
"Well, let him come, then," said Sidney, roused by
the mention of intelligence.  " But then," thought he,
" there can be no joyful news. I am at least freed from
suspense. I know my fate." He sat with his eyes fastened on the door. Cato threw it open.
" Here be de man, mas'r."
" Heavens!" exclaimed Sidney, starting up, and rushing forward with such a look of amazement as actually
frightened his servant. Cato thought his master was




,l 
T:  E METN   I jE  TT  ]0M
TTHE MEET[N   IN- THE STAiTE R00M.








LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.          373
angry with the man thus introduced; but he was undeceived when Sidney caught his hand.
" Merrill, my good friend Merrill, can this be you?
Where in the name of wonder did you come from?"
"Why, from home, from Northwood, to be sure,"
replied the genuine Yankee, returning the pressure and
shake of his patron's hand, with more than lawful interest. "And I look as if I had, I guess. It's a pretty
long road, I call it, and most of the way darnation dusty."
And he brushed the dust from his sleeve, and shook his
hat, as he seated himself in a chair Cato officiously offered-for Cato began to think, from seeing his master
shake hands so familiarly with the stranger, that he
might be a gentleman.
Sidney sat trembling with a thousand anxieties; at
last he said to Merrill, who was still brushing his clothes,
as if he had nothing else to think of," Why, Mr. Merrill, what could induce you to come
such a journey?"
" 0, I came to find you, Mr. Sidney Romilly; all the
way to find you. And, God be praised, I have found
you, and my fatigue is now nothing at all."
Our hero could not inquire why he had thus been
sought; an indefinite feeling, compounded of hope, wonder, and incredulity, took possession of his mind. He
sat like one in a stupor, hardly crediting his own eyes,
or acknowledging the identity of Merrill; and then to
think he had made the journey solely to see him.
Merrill broke the silence. "Well, now I'spose you'd
like to hear about your folks; and they are all pretty
well, only very mcloncholy."
"And what should make them melancholy?"
"0, because they think you an't a coming home."
"Did they send you after me?"
"0, no, sir, no-they didn't know I was coming, nor
any body else for that matter, only my wife and brother
Luther."
" And what do you want with me?" asked Sidney,
beginning to doubt the sanity of the farmer.




374              NORTHWOOD; OR,
"Why, it's a long story, the reasons that made me
come; but I'll tell you all, only I should like to ax you
a few questions, and have you answer'em right up and
down."
" Well, ask away; I'll answer as many as you please."
" Did you ever write to your mother and Miss Redington that you wa'nt coming home, and didn't intend
to marry her?"
" No, never to Annie; I wrote to my mother I should
not return, but it is only four days since, and the letter
has not yet reached her!"
" Ah! there it is now-just as we thought! But did
you write to them that you had got back all your money
and was coming home to be married, and in your mother's letter send some money to buy fine things?"
"Yes."
"Well, now I'll tell you all about it." He then related what the reader already knows; the arrival of those
cruel letters, the consternation they caused, and the conjectures they excited; and then he proceeded to narrate
-I would give it in his own language, but fear the
reader would feel something of Sidney's impatiencethat his brother Luther, who was a clerk of Skinner's,
had seen him, instead of putting the letters of Mrs. Romilly, Dr. Perkins and George Cranfield into the mail
bag, deposit them in his desk; and afterwards saw him
write and superscribe some letters to Sidney Romilly.
The lad, who, his brother affirmed, was a hawk-eyed
chap, suspected foul play, and watched till he found an
opportunity of obtaining the key, and then, on searching the desk, he found those he had mistrusted were
there, and two others from Sidney, directed to his mother and Miss Redington. The remaining part of the
story shall be given in his own words.
"And in them. letters was all about your good fortune,
and then Luther hnew the whole trick; and he took the
letters, and as soon as Skinner was gone to bed, he came
posting right straight up to my house, and called my wife
and me both out of bed and told us the whole affair. And




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.          375
when we read the letters, we knew Skinner had kept
back the right ones, and forged others, on purpose to
keep you away; he always hated you ever since you
helped me so much. And there was your mother a'
most crazy, and Annie, poor girl, sick and like to die."
"Die!" exclaimed Sidney, starting up, while his face
was white as marble, and his knees smote together.
"No, no," replied the farmer, eagerly, frightened at
the lover's agitation; " no, she won't die, I don't think;
but she's some sick with a fever. But she'll be well
again as soon as ever she sees you."
There was that in the conclusion of the honest man's
speech, that sent the warm blood through Sidney's heart
with such a gush of tenderness, that hardly able to support the tide of hope rushing thus at once upon his mind,
he sank into his chair and covered his face with his
hands. After a moment's pause, he again looked at
Merrill, who was watching him anxiously, and said in a
low tone, "Go on, go on, I can hear you. You concluded to come after me."
"0, yes, I did. We talked the matter all over and
over, and my wife said something must sartinly be done.
And if we sent a letter to the post-office Skinner would
destroy it; and if I carried it to some other one it might
miscarry, or you might be sick as Annie was."
Sidney groaned.
" 0, she'll live, Mr. Sidney Romilly. It can't be, as my
wife said, but that this villany is all brought to light to
make you happy. And so I concluded to start right off.
We did'nt like to tell of the matter till I'd got you
home, and then we thought Skinner would feel pretty
blue. And I happened to have fifty dollars that I'd just
sold some cattle for that very day. It seemed like a
providence; and Luther made me take six dollars of
him,'cause he said you gave him so much, about a squirrel hunt, and he never forgot it. I didn't like to take
it, for it was all the money he had, and he'd been saving
it up a long time; but I thought I might be sick on the
way. My wife was a little afraid I should get into trou



376              NORTHWOOD; OR,
ble, and she warned me to keep clear of disputes, for she
had heard your gentlemen here made no more of killing
a man in a duel, than she would of killing a chicken
for dinner. Howsorever, I told her not to fret. I
guessed I knew how to shoot as well as the best of'em.
And I started on foot, for I thought folks would wonder if
I t     took the stage; but I rode in the stage most of the way,
only when I was too tired; and I got here at last, safe
and sound, but black and dirty enough."
"How did you learn where I was?" inquired Sidney,
who felt a restless anxiety to learn every particular.
0, when I got to the hotel, I spoke to the landlord,
and he sent a man where you used to lodge; for I felt
a little queer in such a fine city, about going out till I
had taken off my beard, and brushed up a little; but
just as I was beginning, in came the fellow to say you had
gone on board the vessel, and so I got him to come down
and show me the ship pretty plaguy quick. I was afraid
you would be off to sea."
"And what would you have done had the vessel been
actually sailing away?" inquired Sidney, half laughing,
while he anticipated what would have been the honest
fellow's distress.
"What!" repeated Merrill, opening his eyes with a
wide stare, at the proposal of a dilemma he had made no
provision to obviate. "What!-why I suppose you
must have gone. I am no Peter to walk on the water;
I hav'n't faith enough for that. But I had enough to
think I should find you on the land."
"And we will be on the land soon," replied Sidney,
rising. "Cato, see my baggage unloaded and sent back
to the hotel. I am not going to sea, Cato; you are glad,
I presume."
" Yes, yes, Mas'r; me berry glad you stay in de land
ob liberty," replied Cato, grinning with joy as he sat
about executing his master's orders.
Sidney then, after arranging matters with the captain,
left the vessel, with feelings at his heart very unlike those
with which he had entered it, and accompanied by Mer



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           377
rill, proceeded to his lodgings in the city. There was a
mingling of many emotions in his mind; but hope, sweet,
love-whispering hope, predominated; and while the recollection of Annie's danger made him hurry his departure for Northwood, he had caught a portion of the faith
of Mrs. Merrill, and could not believe he was now to be
mocked with the phantom of happiness. He made Merrill relate minutely every particular he had heard concerning Miss Redington's illness. It was by the blunt
farmer, ascribed entirely to pure, pure love, and Sidney
very complacently listened to his opinion on the nature
of her malady; and though pitying her, and cursing
Skinner, yet he felt, were all things once more happily
settled, he should, from the trials he had endured, find
his felicity more perfect.
" And this," thought he, " is the true art of being happy; to be able to extract good from evil, and trace the
bow of mercy still resting on the darkest cloud that dims
our horizon."
Early on the following morning they left the city.
Merrill said he should raly like to stay a few days and
look about the country; he thought the place and the
people too looked pretty smart, much better, and more
civil than he expected, and he raly liked them both very
well.
Sidney thought he had better stay a week and rest
himself, and,then follow in the stage; but Merrill would
not see his friend depart without him. Besides, he said
"he must be at home; he feared his wife would work
too hard, and women had never oughter do anything out
of doors." And then he wanted to see the blotw up of
Skinner, and much he anticipated from the exposing of
that consummate villain.
The travelers never halted, except with the stage,
Sidney being too anxious to reach lhome to think of fatigue. As for Merrill, in accomplishing so happily the
object of his journey, he had entirely freed his mind from
care, and he slept as comfortably, and snored as soundlyexcept when receiving a kick fron some fellow traveler,




378             NORTHWOOD; OR,
who doubtless envied him his somnolency-in the stage
as he ever did in his own quiet dwelling.
On the way, Sidney, while meditating what method
would most unequivocally detect the guilt of Skinner,
recollected the bank notes enclosed in those letters he had
sent his mother. These notes the merchant would undoubtedly offer at the bank on which they were drawn,
to be exchanged; and Sidney determined to call there
and leave a description that would lead to the detection
of the person presenting them.  Accordingly, on his
arrival at Boston, which was without accident of any
kind, he went directly to the Suffolk Bank, and describing the notes, inquired if they had been presented.
The cashier replied in the affirmative, adding, "they
were presented here, sir, about half an hour ago."
" How unlucky!" interrupted Sidney.
" Not all, sir; they were not changed. I was engaged,
and the gentleman proposed calling again after dinner,
or in about two hours. You can procure a warrant
and officer if you think proper, and be here at that
time."
Sidney made further inquiries, and became convinced
the person presenting the notes was no other than Skinner
himself; and Merrill was so overjoyed at the near prospect of blowing him up, he could scarcely eat his dinner.
Everything was arranged, and the proper officer, with
Sidney and Merrill, were stationed in an inner apart-ment. Presently they heard some person enter the
counting room; and in the next moment Sidney recognized the voice of Skinner, speaking in his most insinuating tone.
"There," whispered Merrill, laying his hand on Sidney's shoulder, "there, just so palavering the rascal
spoke when he flattered me to give him the mortgage
of my farm. I'd rather hear a man speak as loud as
thunder."
The cashier made some inquiries relative to the manner in which he obtained the notes; and Skinner an



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           379
swered they were a present to him from a brother residing in New Orleans.
"That may be," replied the cashier, "but here is a
gentleman claims these notes as his property."
Skinner started quickly around as the triumvirate advanced from their hiding place. Had he beheld the
Gorgons he could not have appeared more like a statue
of stone than when his eyes met those of our hero. The
officer instantly arrested him, and told him he must go
before the magistrate to be examined.
Sidney's heart beat quick to hear from Annie, but he
could not bring his tongue to make the inquiry of Skinner, so much he detested him. As for the prisoner, he
maintained a dogged silence, nor would he deign a reply to a single question proposed by the magistrate.
Sidney identified the notes, and his and Merrill's testimony
were sufficient to establish a conviction of the prisoner's
guilt in the minds of all present, and the magistrate ordered Skinner to recognize in the sum five thousand dollars, or he must stand committed for further trial.
It was then, for the first time since entering the court,
that the culprit appeared to feel a sense of his situation.
His countenance underwent several changes, but finally
a deadly paleness overspread it, and his voice trembled
as he said,
" I am guilty, I confess it; but I was not prompted by
the desire of gain. It was envy and revenge against
you, Mr. Romilly. I knew you were beloved by Miss
Redington; I loved her myself, and I intercepted the
letters to prevent your union. They contained money
-this I was obliged to keep or destroy. I brought it
here, and now I am detected. But you, sir, will suffer
as well as I. If I must lose my liberty, you have lost
your love; for Annie Redington is dead."
" Dead! is she dead?" exclaimed Merrill, "is she dead?"
"Yes, she died the day before I left home."
"0, God!" said Sidney, in a voice that thrilled the
hearts of the hearers, as gasping for breath he leaned
against a table for support. " O why did I not reach




380              NORTHWOOD; OR,
home sooner! Skinner, it was you that destroyed her,
and your soul will answer it."
"I'll risk that," replied the villain, with an insulting
laugh. "I am glad she is dead. She was not for me,
and I rejoice she can never be yours."
" Wretch!" vociferated Sidney, seizing Skinner by the
collar and shaking him as if he had been a rag, " wretch!
you have murdered her, and I am tempted to dash you
to atoms!"
" Hurl him to the devil, Sidney!" cried Merrill, fiercely, "where he should have been years ago. I wish I
had hold of him."
The magistrate and by-standers were obliged to rescue
Skinner, or Sidney in the wrath of his roused spirit,
might have fulfilled the bidding of his faithful Merrill,
who would indeed have gladly lent him a hand to avenge
the wrongs the unfeeling monster had inflicted. After
they were separated, Skinner still continued his taunts
till Sidney was forced from the room, and supported by
those who saw and pitied his emotion, conveyed to his
lodgings. There he passed the night in a kind of sullen
apathy, refusing all refreshment, and only replying to the
inquiries of Merrill by a motion of his hand or a monosyllable. The next morning, though scarcely able to sit
up, he resolved to proceed, seeming to imagine if he could
only reach Northwood he should see Annie again.
Merrill drew many a sigh during their ride, and wore
a most dolorous expression of countenance, which did not
become his visage at all. And all he could say, which
he thought would be acceptable to his patron, was, that
"this was a world of trouble, and it was the duty of
every one to prepare for a better. For his part, the only
comfort he had was that Skinner would sartinly go to the
State's prison."
But there was no comfort for Sidney, and he continued
sunk in the deepest dejection, and scarcely spoke from
the time he left Boston till the stage stopped at the well
known tavern of Landlord Holmes.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              381
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE PRIZE IS WON.
The rose is fairest when'tis budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest wet with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
LADY OF THE LAKE.
DR. PERKINS was half reclining on his horse before
the door of the tavern, as the stage drew up, and conversing with the landlord, who held his horse's bridle, as
fearful the man of physic would depart before answering
all the inquiries which had been proposed to him. The
most important were those a physician is always bound
to answer-questions relative to his patients; and Perkins had been of late more strictly catechised than usual,
as every person who ever heard of Miss Redington appeared interested in her fate.
The penetrating reader has doubtless surmised, the
tender hearted one must have hoped, that the story of
her death was a sheer fabrication of Skinner's to torment
his rival. She was still living, and Perkins, to the inquiries of the landlord, stated he had some hope, though
but very faint, of her recovery.
"I left her this morning early," continued he, "with
my wife to watch and tend her till my return, and I must
hasten to see her."
"What a cruel hearted fellow that young Romilly is,"
said Boniface, still holding fast the bridle, "to leave such
a sweet lady, and so in love with him too! Don't you
think he'll never come back?"
" How can I tell?" said Perkins, peevishly, and striving




382              NORTHWOOD; OR,
to free the rein from the landlord's grasp that he might
not listen to further invectives against Sidney, whom he
could not justify, and yet to hear him condemned always
went to his heart. " I should never have thought of his
going away so, and( he may return as unexpectedly. And
there-by Jupiter!-there he is now!'
"Who?-where?" cried the landlord, jumping round
as briskly as the weight of a quarter of a ton of flesh
would allow.
"Why, Sidney, Sidney Romilly! Heaven, I thank
thee!"-and the next moment he had vaulted from his
horse and was grasping the hands of his friend! Sidney
returned the pressure, but his wo-begone countenance
sufficiently testified to his heart's sorrow; yet Perkins
did not notice it while loudly exclaiming ", "  Sidney!
how welcome you are; how joyful we shall all be; and
Annie-Annie will recover!"
"Recover " echoed the despairing Sidney, while his
whole soul seemed rushing forth in his eager accent.
" O, Skinner said she had died-she was dead!"
"No, no; she is not dead-she is alive-she will live!"
said Perkins.
The truth flashed at once upon the heart of our hero.
He wrung the hand of his friend with almost as violent
a pressure as Merrill once did his own-tears of joy
gushed to his eyes-while his expressive countenance
was lighted up with such a glow of surprise, gratitude,
and rapture, that the farmer, who had just alighted from
the stage, cried out, " Well, well, Mr. Romilly, I'm glad
to see you look alive again; I sartinly hav'nt seen you
smile before since we left Boston.  But there's that
Skinner-hanging is too good for him."
" Why, Merrill, are you here?" said Perkins, offering
his hand. "I did not notice you before. Why, where
have you been?"
" 0 I've been a plaguy long jaunt, I can tell you that;
and glad I am to see New Hampshire again; as cold and
rough as'tis, it looks warm and pleasant to me. Though
I like away there to the South, too, better than I expect



LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           383
ed; but here are all my friends and family, and now I've
got Mr. Sidney Romilly back here, I guess you won't
catch me away from home again in a hurry."
This speech led to inquiries and explanations, equally
satisfactory to all parties; and then, borrowing a horse
fronm the landlord, Sidney departed with his friend Perkins, after charging Merrill to call on him as often as possible, and assuring him, that though intending to reward
him liberally for the services he had opportunely rendered, yet he should always consider him entitled to his
warmest gratitude.
The farmer, however, disclaimed all merit in the affair,
declaring, with an emphasis as sincere as Deacon Jones
ever used, he had only done his duty, and that all the reward he desired was the opportunity of being present at
his patron's wedding.
"And now," said he, "I must step home and see my
wife and boys, and I guess they'll be as glad to see me
as Miss Redington will you, only may be they won't be
quite so surprised, as they never thought I was gone
clear off."
On their way to his mother's, Sidney asked his friend
what motives, he thought, induced Skinner to torture
him with the report of Annie's death.
" O, he meant to make you suffer Purgatory before enjoying Paradise, I suppose," returned Perkins, laughing;
" or, perhaps, he was even more malicious, and calculated
on keeping you in Purgatory forever; as your despair
would probably lead you to take the lover's leap; and
the person guilty offelo de se is, I believe, by the universal vote of mankind, excluded from all hope of mercy."
"I cannot tell what I might have been tempted to do,"
said the other, " had I found Annie was actually in her
grave. Though I never doubted the report of her death;
indeed, how could I disbelieve what was so positively
affirmed! yet I still felt as if, on reaching Northwood, I
should see her alive. My mind was in that state of indefinite horror which a frightful dream sometimes occasions, and which, while yielding to its influence, we know




384              NORTHWOOD; OR,
is but a dream, and strive to awaken that the phantoms
may disappear. But I-I have awoke to hope, joy, life!"
The meeting of Sidney with his family was a scene
very touching and affectionate. They had been suffering
for him the most intense anxiety and keen mortifications,
and yet love and pride had forbidden them to complain
of his conduct or seek sympathy for their sorrows. And
they had smothered their feelings, or only indulged them
in secret. But Sidney came-every suspicious circumstance was explained-every fortunate occurrence related
-and he was still the same noble, generous, exalted
being; their hope, and pride, and boast; and their tears,
so long restrained in grief, now burst forth in floods to
express their joy.
Annie he was not permitted to visit till the following
day; the Doctor and his wife in the meantime having
apprised her of everything she could desire to exculpate
her lover, and finally informed her of his arrival.
Their first meeting was too affecting for description,
especially in the last chapter of a work that was designed
to leave none save agreeable or useful impressions on the
mind. But the visit, though tender and tearful, was a
cordial to poor Annie's heart, and she appeared through
the whole day so evidently better, that even her uncle
took courage, and in his evening orisons, returned his
solemn thanks for the unexpected and undeserved mercy
vouchsafed them in her amendment.
It was, indeed, curious to see the management of the
Deacon, and how easily he transferred his favor and his
conscience from the falling to the rising fortune. Our
hero's merits were no longer equivocal. One hundred
thousand dollars established the worth of his character
beyond suspicion; and though the Deacon lamented the
total depravity of human nature, yet he acknowledged
Skinner's crime could plead no extenuation on that score,
and he raly hoped he would receive exemplary punishment. And an event soon occurred which entirely reconciled him to the loss of the merchant's society.
The store of Skinner being closed, the villagers expe




LIFE NORTI AND SOUTH.            885
rienced much inconvenience in procuring those articles
he used to furnish; and Sidney thought the opportunity
a favorable one for his brother Silas to commence the
same business. Silas was a very ready accountant, and
by exertion, and the aid of Luther Merrill, might soon
succeed in understanding its details sufficiently for a
country trader. He offered to advance his brother four
thousand dollars, on condition he would pay the interest
yearly to his mother, during her life, in such articles as
she required; and at her decease the principal to be
divided among all the remaining members of the family;
Silas to have two shares, and the other individuals one
each.
This offer was too liberal to be rejected; but the difficulty was in obtaining a room suitable for their purpose.
Skinner's store was not then to be procured, and they
wished to go into business immediately, before any one
should anticipate their design. Finally, Deacon Jones
offered his Conference Room, till a more convenient one
could be erected; and they proceeded forthwith to make
such alterations as were deemed necessary to fit it for the
accommodation of their intended business.
The Deacon remarked, that though "folks might talk
about it, he had fully answered his conscience in providing so long for the meetings of his brethren, and now it
belonged to the others to fulfil their duty.".
The store was completed, goods purchased, and a large
sign, bearing the inscription of "Silas Romilly & Co.,"
in flaming letters of gold-leaf, displayed over the street
door, opening into the Conference Room, within less than
a month after Sidney returned. So well did Silas manage to please his customers, that not a desire was ever
uttered for the return of his predecessor. But many
wished the term of Skinner's confinement to hard labor
in the state prison could be doubled, like that of Jacob's
servitude, and then, instead of seven years-the time for
which he was sentenced-he would be kept safe fourteen.
The "Co." on the sign was generally supposed, in the
17 




886              NORTHWOOD; OR,
neighborhood, to include the Deacon; yet whenever such
a hint was suggested to him, he always would shake his
head, look grave, and say he had enough of this world's
goods already, and should let the young folks manage
the business; it was all done to please Mr. Sidney, who
had been so kind and generous to his family, they felt
bound to do pretty much as he wished."
Sidney did, indeed, appear to his friends like their
guardian angel.  None were forgotten by him. He
made-ample provision for James to pursue his studies;
and hired a steady man to manage the farm, with the
assistance of Sam and Oliver, who were,&if they did well,
to share it between them. Sophia and Lucy were to be
placed, for two years, at a celebrated school for young
ladies, in Hartford, Connecticut; and after their education was completed, t the two younger girls were to enjoy
similar advantages. Harvey was to accompany his brother to the South; and the widowed mother had, indeed,
everything bestowed on her she could wish for.
Nor while providing thus amply for his own relatives
did Sidney forget his faithful Merrill. He canceled the
note the latter was owing him, and bestowed on him a
sum of money sufficient to clear every debt he had incurred, and the farmer declared he was "independent,
and wouldn't swap with a king."  And, moreover, Sidney left funds in the hands of Dr. Perkins, to furnish all
the little Merrills with an ample supply of books; and
should any one of the number exhibit sufficient genius
to make it probable a liberal education would be for his
advantage and happiness, he pledged his assistance to
enable him to attain it; at any rate, he should consider
the fortunes of one of the boys as depending on him for
advancement.
Miss Redington, too, when she had sufficiently recovered, ordered a variety of presents for Mrs. Merrill and
the children, till this worthy family, from being universally pitied, as they were but one year before, now
became as universally envied. The favor of the lovers
was really a matter of mighty consequence to all who




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           387
wished an opportunity of attending the wedding, for
which preparations were making on a magnificent scale.
Mrs. Romilly said she was willing the invitation should
be extended to every person in the town, except Mrs.
Watson. To be sure there were some others who had
credited and reported the stories about Sidney and joined
in the censure against him, but they were deceived;
whereas, Mrs. Watson had combined with the villain
Skinner to tell Annie a frightful fortune, and propagate
the slanders which he forged.
The sibyl urged in her own defense, that she did not
know the design of the merchant; that she told him she
was going to visit Mrs. Jones, and should probably tell
Miss Redington's fortune, and then he offered, if she
would tell that young lady her lover was not intending
to return, and was probably engaged to another woman,
he would give her the nicest shawl which could be purchased in Boston, and a pound of his best Gunpowder
tea! That she did tell her so, and after the thing seemed actually to come to pass she was so frightened she did
not dare reveal the secret. However, her plea was not
admitted as a justification of her offense, and she received
no call to the marriage-feast; which mortified her so sensibly she was heard to declare, to the deep regret of all
the young ladies of the village, that she never would in.
terpret another dream, or tell another fortune, if she lived
as long as Methuselah.
New-year's day was appointed for the wedding, and a
happy and proud day it was for the Romillys. The celebration was got up in far the most splendid style ever
witnessed in Northwood, or its vicinity; and long furnished topics of discourse for all who had the privilege
of attending it. The noble countenance and rich attire
of the bridegroom, and the sweet face and elegant ornaments of the lovely bride, were themes that could never
be uninteresting to those who beheld this amiable pair,
when standing before the holy priest, they plighted hands
and hearts in a union as dear as their affections, and
indissoluble as their lives.




888.            NORTHWOOD; OR,
Mr. Merrill, whose agency in accelerating this happy
denouement, gave him an undoubted right of exultation,
could not conceal his triumph. He whispered his next
neighbor, that " the bride was sartinly a very beautiful
creature, but then she was none too good for Mr. Sidney
Romilly, for sartin he didn't believe there was his equal
in the United States."
And what does not often happen to eulogists of living
merit, his praises of his patron were listened to, not only
without a single shrug of incredulity, but his sentiments
warmly responded.
George Cranfield again officiated as bridesman, with
Miss Lucy Ioomilly for a partner; and to some inquiries,
why her sister, who was the eldest, was not associated
with him, it was wh.ispered that Lucy was his favorite.
And here I will just mention the surmises that floated
among the young ladies of the village, after the Miss
Romillys had departed to their boarding-school.
"That Miss Lucy was educating for the wife of the
young clergyman; but that Miss Sophia would never
find a beau to her mind unless that grand Englishman
should return, which, as her brother kept up a constant
correspondence with him, it was pretty likely he had
engaged to do, as soon as she was sufficiently accomplished to appear like a grand lady."
Soon after the solemnization of the nuptials, Sidney
having made every arrangement which he thought could
conduce to the comfort and happiness of his mother and
her children, and followed by their affectionate blessings,
and the good wishes and kind adieus of all his Yankee
friends and acquaintance, departed with his bride for
their home in South Carolina.
A constant correspondence was mutually promised,
and the young couple engaged to make a visit to New
Hampshire every two years; and thus, with such flattering expectations for the future usefulness and rational
felicity of her son, Mrs. Romilly was reconciled to the
separation that duty and convenience seemed alike to
impose, and she consigned little Harvey to the care of




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.              389
his brother without one bitter sigh, though tender tears
she sought not to restrain. And she even tacitly consented to Sidney's proposal, that when, with his wife, he
made his contemplated visit to New Hampshire, one or
both of his sisters, whose education would then be completed, should accompany his return.
The good people of Northwood then thought, what
the kind readers of this story are, probably, now thinking, that Sidney Roomilly had attained all he could wish
to make him happy.    Still there was one heavy anxiety
resting on his mind. A solemn responsibility, he could
not evade rose before him. How this might be met and
fulfilled, in the right manner, was the question?  The
way he solved it will be hinted in the next and last
chapter.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.
Oh! love of loves! to thy white hand is given
Of earthly happiness the golden key!
Thine are the joyous hours of winter's even,
When babies cling around their fathers knee;
And thine the voice, that on the midnight sea
Melts the rude mariner with thoughts of home,
Peopling the gloom with all he longs to see.
Spirit! I've built a shrine; and thou hast come,
And on its altar closed-forever closed thy plume!
CRoLY.
AND now they are at home;-Sidney and Annie Romilly are at home! To them the word is full of meaning-significant of Love, of Hope, and of Happiness.
By the light of Love they will be able to look Truth
steadily in the face; Hope shall make them strong to do
the Right; and the crown of their work shall be Happiness for themselves and for others.
" Two are better than one; because they have a good




390              NORTHWVOOD; OR
reward for their labor,"-that is, sympathy with each
other. This implies full, trusting confidence, between
the wedded pair.  They must be fiiends as well as
lovers.
Sidney Romilly had reflected much on this; for he
had a most uncomfortable impression of the domestic
discord between his uncle and Aunt Brainard. - It had
not troubled him much while he was expecting to reside
in Northwood, because there his manner of life was
known to Miss Redington; but after he had resolved to
settle at the South, he could not help the intruding
thought-that Annie might feel a repugnance to the
measure. She had never been in a Slave State; she
knew their peculiar institutions chiefly by the reports of
those who sketched from fancy, or colored with fanaticism; and Sidney knew, from the example of his Aunt
Brainard, how difficult it was to overcome such prejudices. He resolved, therefore, to have a clear understanding on this subject, and wrote the following letter
soon after his return to Northwood-as soon, indeed, as
he thought Annie sufficiently recovered to read and
reply.
Putting the letter in her hand, he said, gravely, yet
with deep feeling in his voice,-"I have made a full
confession. I hope, dear Annie, you will be as frank in
expressing your own views. Let us begin by an unreserved confidence; if we do not maintain it we may live
together, but we can hardly be happy together!"
The letter, that Annie read with eagerness, ran thus:
You know, dearest Annie, that I am a slaveholderperhaps I shall continue one-for I cannot desert the
duty imposed on me by my late uncle.  Mr. Brainard
left his servants to my care, to support and protect. I
am responsible before. God for the charge; and you, my
love, would not counsel me to abandon it. I have, to
be sure, plans for the future welfare of these negroes
which my uncle never entertained. Still I may not be




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           391
able to do what I would. I never shall execute my
plans unless you, dear Annie, aid me.
Enclosed is the Journal of my father, that I found in his
desk after his decease. It was directed to me, and evidently written at intervals, when any thought, bearing
on the sulject of my welfare, had moved his mind. You
will find in it his opinions on the momentous subject of
slavery. I would draw your notice to two points, particularly, " What the Bible says of servitude," and " Religious
instruction for the slave." Dear Annie, if this teaching
is ever done, to any purpose, with my servants, (will
they not soon be our servants?) it must be done by my
wife.
You will see how highly my father estimated the religious influence of woman in her family. He illustrated
this to me, only a few days before his death, in a very
interesting way. You know he was a Congregationalist,
and that this denomination do not kneel in prayer. I
had never, when I left home for the South, seen my
father on his knees in family devotions. When I returned, after twelve years' absence, I found he used this
posture altogether. He told me the cause of the change
was this: "Your mother," said he, "after your departure,
united herself with the Methodist Episcopal Church. She
had been brought up in that faith-converted, as she
trusted, under that ministration-and she desired to be
baptized by immersion. This our clergyman, Mr. Cranfield, would not consent to do; and he advised her to
join the church to which her conscience inclined. I
willingly g    y gave my consent," continued my father, "and
your mother became a member of the Methodist Church,
though usually attending public worship, except on Communion. Sabbaths, with me. But one change was apparent: she knelt at prayers; and soon the little children, following her example, knelt around her. I stood'upright for some time-your mother never making a
remark or breathing a word to induce me to changebut, at last, I can hardly tell how, from sympathy probably, I sunk down on my knees among them."




892             NORTHWOOD; OR,
To my inquiries, which posture he thought the right,
or most consonant with the Bible?
He replied,-" Both are consonant with Scripture, but
neither is material to salvation. It is the heart that
prays-not the knee nor the lip. And in this heartworship women are more pure-more sincere than men.
We arrange forms-they mould affections; we give rules
-they set examples; we command in the householdand they govern; for the influence of love is mightier
than the power of law. Therefore, Sidney," said my
father, in conclusion, "be sure, when you marry, that
your wife is a real believer in the Word of God. The
woman who takes the Bible for her guide, will be a true
light in the house of her husband-leading him and her
family on gently but surely to happiness and heaven."
I have given you this long story, dear Annie, prefatory to the task I must beg you to undertake. I have a
household, including the plantation hands, of one hundred and forty-nine servants;-more than a third of these
are under fourteen years of age. This great family is to
be fed, clothed,' and instructed. The latter duty will, I
fear, fall chiefly on my wife. I am not fitted for the
task; and it has been sadly neglected.
Will you, dear Annie, help me in the plans of improvement I intend to begin immediately on my return
South? With your aid, and the blessing of God, we
shall succeed.
This letter had the effect Sidney had hoped for.
Annie's reply was brief, but warm with sympathy for
his feelings, and assurances of her co-operations.
And now they are at home with hearts overflowing
with love, hope, and happiness.
" Mas'r Sidney" has been welcomed with such loud
demonstrations of hearty joy as mark the return of the
beloved friend. And their new "Missis" has shaken
hands with every individual negro, old and young. And
she has opened her week-day school for the children,
taking, as her assistants, two of the most intelligent




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           393
among the young colored women. And a Sunday-school
for all the negroes is also established, where Sidney
assists the good chaplain he has brought from the North,
in teaching the men servants; while Anniend her
assistants have care of the women and children. Then,
when the school is over, all together, form a congregation, and kneel in worship of that holy God who is Lord
over bond and free; and responses of prayer and songs
of praise are participated equally by master and servant;
and the sermon, from the servant of Christ, announces
to both, on equal terms, the Great Salvation.
Sidney Romilly was not mistaken in the way he took
to promote the good work of freedom. It is not, as
some would counsel, the tearing up of the whole system
of slavery, as it were, by the roots, that will make the
bondman free. The life-blood of the Union might flow
in such a struggle, but the black man would still be, in
our land, a servant.
Never will the negro stand among men as a man, till
he has earned for himself that title in his own countrymagnificent Africa-which God has given him as a rich
inheritance.
These ideas were enforced in the Journal left by Squire
Romilly; and Sidney and his wife read it with the reverential attention such a memorial of thoughtful benevolence for the improvement of society and affectionate
interest for his son, could not but inspire. A few extracts are all we can give.
Of Faith.-There are two kinds of faith —one in God
-the other in man. Some people of undoubted piety,
having faith in God, do yet despair of the progress of
mankind in goodness. On the other hand, we have,
even in our Republic, philosophers and reformers-so
called-of both sexes, who put their trust in humanity
alone. Those who deny the authority of God's Word,
and claim to be governed by other moral laws than those
the Bible sets plainly forth, may be zealous in their way
of reform-we may admire their genius and enthusiasm
17*




394              NORTIIWOOD   OR,
-but we cannot recognize them   as Christian philan.
thropists.
Of Jleform.-One cheering proof of the world's progress is the earnestness of those now working in the
cause of humanity. Men and women are seeking for
light in the path of duty. In our country the most dangerous hindrance of true progress is-activity wrongly
directed. Those who urge onward the car of change,
should bear in mind that moral reforms cannot be made
as physical improvements are-by the power and skill
of the agent that acts: there must be, also, spontaneous
movement in the subject acted upon.
Even God, reverently speaking, could not, by force,
compel His rational creatures to be, in heart and soul,
obedient to His law. Therefore He sent His beloved
Son to die for us, and thus, by His love, to move us to
love, which includes obedience in return.
In short, as the Creator placed in the firmament but
two orbs of light to dispel the darkness of the physical
world, so in the moral world there are but two sources
of real soul enlightenment, viz.: Love and Truth; and
Truth borrows its radiance and holiest beauty from Love,
even as the moon does her light from the more glorious
sun.
All real reforms in society must be grounded on these
two principles of Love and Truth, acted out and brought
to bear in daily life and through the influences of moral
and religious instruction.
Of Slavery and its Reformeers.-The great struggle now
going on for civil and religious liberty is, in our Republic,
complicated by the system of negro servitude, established
here by British power, before the true principles of freedom were understood anywhere.
To overthrow this system by any means, and at any
cost, is the avowed intention of some Reformers.
Slcavery is, no doubt, a great evil; so is despotic power;
yet anarchy is worse than despotism; and to kill prison




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTIH.              395
ers of war, or allow the poor to perish of hunger, is
worse than servitude.
Domestic slavery was, probably, first established to
remedy greater evils,-when these are removed, that
should be abolished; yet not in a manner to cause more
ills than it cures.
Can Christians, pious men and women, favor the employment of fraud, falsehood, or force, rather than wait
God's time for the liberation of the slave?
What the Bible says of Slavery.-Taking for granted
that a true Christian believes the Bible to be the Word
of God, that in it IIe has prohibited, expressly, those
acts which are absolutely in their own nature sin, let us
see if slaveholding is included.
It is not forbidden in the Moral Law; therefore it cannot be sin in the sense that image-worship, profane swearing, Sabbath-breaking, murder, theft, adultery, and false witness, (or slanders of brethren) are sins.
To hold slaves is not, in any part of the Bible, denounced as sin, though servitude is threatened as a punishment for sin.
Men established domestic slavery, as they did all
human institutions; and in all things ordained by men,
there is more or less of evil; but as this particular institution was allowed and regulated by the authority of God
among His chosen people, it could not, at that time,
have been a sin to be condemned.
The Hebrews, when settled in Canaan, had bondservants or slaves, and we will give the exact ordering
of the matter by Divine authority.  See Leviticus, chap.
xxv., from verse 39 to the end.'" And if thy brother that dwelleth by thee be waxen poor, and be
sold unto thee. thou shalt not compel him to serve as a bond-servant:
"But as an hired servant and sojourner he shall be with thee, and
shall serve thee unto the Jubilee.
A.      ma      ~        *       *       *
"Both thy bondmen and thy bondmaids, which thou shalt have,
shall be of the heathen that are round about you: of them shall ye
buy bondmen and bondmaids.




396               NORTHWOOD; OR,
" Moreover, of the children of the strangers that do sojourn among
you, of them shall ye buy, and of their families that are with you
which they begot in your land: and they shall be your possession."
Thus this chapter goes on, regulating slavery, and not
a word in condemnation of the system as it then existed,
is recorded.  The "possession" spoken of must have
meant the right of property, in servants as truly as in
land, or any other thing.
Again in Deuteronomy, chap. 15, verse 12, the selling of
the Hebrew men and women into servitude is regulated.
*    -      -       -X-,* 
But the abolitionists exclaim-" All these wicked laws
were set aside, and the holding men in servitude became
sin immediately on the promulgation of the gospel!"
"Love your neighbor as yourself"-and "Do unto
others as ye would they should do unto you," are indeed
gospel principles, bearing on every phase of the Christian
life, applying equally to our treatment of master and of
slave, and giving no countenance to the bitter denunciations breathed against the former, nor to any fraudulent
or violent means of freeing those who are held in bondage. The gospel is one strain of "peace on earth, and
good will to men." The Saviour lived in the midst of a
slaveholding world; he never denounced this particular
form of evil; but he did denounce hypocrisy, covetousness,
evil speaking, and all violent means of reform. He taught
but one way-that of overcoming evil with good.
X         *         -x- X     *         *
The Apostles preached before slaveholders and their
servants; both classes received the word of divine truth,
and became Christians. Did the Apostles order the believing master to free his bondman? or tell him, even,
that the gospel required it? Consult St. Peter, 1st Epistle, 2d chap., verse 18, to the end.
"Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear; not only to
the good and gentle, but also to the froward.
" For this is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God
endure grief, suffering wrongfully.
"For what glory is it, it' when ye are buffeted for your faults, ye




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTIL                  397
shall take it patiently? but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye
take it patiently, this is acceptable with God."
Then turn to St. Paul and read his injunctions to both
master and servant-not breaking the relation between
them, but regulating its duties.
" Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to
the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of heart as unto
Christ;,
" Not with eye service, as men pleasers; but as the servants of
Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;
"With good will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men;
"Knowing that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same
shall he receive of the Lord, whether he be bond or free.
" And, ye masters, do the same things unto them, forbearing threatening: knowing that your Master also is in heaven; neither is there
respect of persons with him."-Ephesians, 6th Chap.
Then turn to Colossians, 3d chapter, 22d verse, to the
end, where the same obedience of servants is taught.
Then read the charge to Timothy, 1st Epistle, 6th
chapter; but this is so full and seems so pertinent to the
solution of the gospel doctrine of peace and love, that I
give it entire.
" Let as many servants as are under the yoke count their own
masters worthy of all honor, that the name of God and of his doctrine
be not blasphemed.
" And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them,
because they are brethren; but rather do them service, because they
are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit. These things teach
and exhort."
Also, in the Epistle to Titus, 2d chapter, verses 9 and
10, a similar charge of teaching obedience to servants, is
enforced; and nowhere did the Apostles attempt to disturb the relations they found existing between master
and slave.   They preached the gospel of peace, believing
its truth, through divine love, would overcome the errors,
wrongs, and evils of society.
Is American Slaveholding sinful?-Every age must be
judged by the light it has received, and every nation by
the opportunities it enjoys.   The American Republic is
favored, above every nation, ancient or modern, with




398               NORTHWOOD; OR,
civil and religious liberty; her people should, therefore,
lead the world in diffusing these blessings.
Holding slaves is a great hindrance to the diffusion of
American principles; this the true patriot must deeply
lament.
Though slaveholdirng is not, in God's Word, denounced
as sinful, like Sabbath-breaking, profane swearing, and the
other flagrant sins forbidden by the holy Law, yet, from.the system of slavery in our land, evils and sins of awful
magnitude do result; and though no Christian has any
Bible warrant for denouncing his slaveholding brother
as criminal, yet all should unite in diffusing the true
spirit of the gospel-its Truth and Love-which will,
eventually, break every bond.
Tfow the Slave is to be made Free.-That the system of
servant and master is not the best for Christian advancement, is indicated by the great Apostle in his Epistle to
the Corinthians, chap. 7th, verse 21st.
"Art thou called, being a servant? care not for it: but if thou
mayest be made free, use it rather."
Mark the words-" if thou mayest be  ade friee:" —the
Apostle does not counsel the escape or even the discontent of the servant. Freedom may come to him-it is
the best condition, because he can "use it;" therefore it is
to be desired.
Christian slaveholder, is it not your duty to place, so
far as you are able, every Christian servant in this best
cocndition?
And what shall the Christians in the Free States do?
How help their brethren, both master and servant?
Thanks be to God, the way is clearly indicated.  The
Bible is the oracle to consult when, apparently, conflicting duties are before us. Read St. Paul's Epistle to
Philemon, whose servant, Onesimus, had escaped and
fled to the Apostle. It appears that this runaway slave
had been converted under the teaching of the Apostle:
Philemon, too, was a believer; and thus runs the letter
that the returned slave bore to his Christian master:




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.                   399
"I beseech thee, for my son Onesimus, whom I have begotten in
my bonds:' TWhich in time past was to thee unprofitable, but now profitable to
thee and to me:
" Whom I have sent again: thou therefore receive him, that is,
mine own bowels:
" Whom I would have retained with me, that in thy stead he might
have ministered unto me in the bonds of the gospel:
" But without thy mind would I do nothing; that thy benefit should
not be as it were of necessity, but willingly.
" For perhaps he therefore departed for a season, that thou shouldest
receive him forever;
" Not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved,
specially to me, but how much more unto thee, both in the flesh and
in the Lord?
" If thou count me therefore a partner, receive him as myself.
" If he hath wronged thee, or oweth thee aught, put that on mine
account:
" I, Paul, have written it with mine own hand. I will repay it."
*^      ^       *       *       *       *        *
Let the pious friends of the slave imitate the example
of the Apostle, teaching those who come to them for aid
their duty, as the BIBLE sets it forth, first to God, then
of obedience to their own masters; then, turning to
these masters, entreat them, in all kindness and brotherly love, to deal tenderly with the returned servant;
and, should it be necessary, and these northern friends
of the southern slave are real Christians, will they not,
remembering the promise of St. Paul, rather pay for the
slave, and thus free him, than connive at stealing him, or
even concealing him from his master?
Of the Bible and the American Constitution.-There is a
remarkable agreement between them in some important
points.  Neither established slavery-both regulate it. The
Bible authority we have quoted; here is that of the
Constitution; all that it says of slavery, except to appoint
the time when the slave trade should cease in 1808, and
regulate its political power.
CLAUSE III.-" No person held to service or labor in one State,
under the laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in consequence
o( any law or regulation therein, be discharged fron such service or
ilbor!, but shall be delivered up on claim of the party to whom suen
service or labor may be due."




400              NORTHWOOD; OR,
The Bible, in the gospel, establishes the law of brotherhood, which will finally, by its influence break the bonds
of servitude in every land.
The American Constitution makes imperative the law
that " guarantees to every State in the Union a republican form of government;" a brotherhood. Also in the
"Preamble" is set forth the indefeasible rights of
humanity. These principles must, in time, blot slavery
from our escutcheon of liberty.
Slavery among the Hebrews was permitted and regulated by Divine authority, to prevent greater evils.
Negro slavery in the United States was permitted for
a similar reason. Without this-evil it may well be
called —the union of eight slave-holding states, and fivue
free states could not have been effected; the very existence of popular freedom would have been periled by
the strifes and wars of brethren, and this Republic, now
the asylum for the oppressed of Europe, would never
have spread her protecting banner of stars.
The gospel humanizes those who live within its sound,
though they may not participate in its hopes or privileges.
American institutions are imbuing the minds of our
slaves with the true principles of civil and religious
liberty; these they will yet carry to their fatherland,
and there teach and exemplify, till that dark continent
shall become radiant in the white lustre of truth and the
warm beams of love.
Heathenism never looks so foul as when contrasted
with pure Christianity.
Slavery in America seems monstrous because the true
freedom is here. Letting in the light shows the dustwhen the sunbeams are excluded, as in Russia, for
instance, where all are slaves, no one heeds the filth.
But the first and indispensable step in purifying an apartment or a people is to let in the light.
Of instructionbfr the slave. —Religion is the one thing
needful for all mankind. Instructed. in Christianity the
slave on earth has the key of heavenly freedom; and the
one who is really a Christian should bless God for the




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.            401
privileges that American slavery has conferred on himself and on his race. The slaveholders have an awful
responsibility resting on them. The souls of their servants, will they not be required at their hands? And
the sins these poor, ignorant creatures have committed,
which the master might have hindered, as well as those
he has stimulated, for these sins will not the just Judge
hold him responsible? Oh, it is a thought to freeze the
blood —this of responsibility!
Every gift, every privilege possessed and misused will
rise up in judgment against the offending soul.
The acquiring or holding property is not sin-but
"the love of money is the root of all evil," and through the
temptations thus arising from wealth, it may be all but
impossible " for a rich man to enter into the kingdom
of God."
Thus the system of slavery increases the temptations
to sin, and only the most resolute courage in duty and
humble reliance on Divine aid can struggle on successfully against the snares of evil around the slaveholder.
Remember that on the conduct of one master or one
mistress hangs, perhaps, the immortal destiny of a hundred souls! To teach the slaves their religious duties,
must be insisted on, as the imperative obligation of every
American slaveholder. It is not indispensable that the
servant should read in order to be well taught, though it
would be much easier to teach such an one. Three
hundred years ago there were no books; all Christendom
had been taught orally; and now, in three-fourths of
Christian (so called) Europe, very few among the masses
ever read, or even see the Bible, and a large proportion
cannot read at all. Therefore those nations need not
taunt us with the ignorance of our slaves, who, at least,
see the Bible, and hear it read, and are often able to
repeat texts and chapters with the greatest facility.
To instruct the slave in his Christian duties is the best
means of fitting him for freedom, indeed the only way to
insure that he will not, by his liberty, injure himself or
others. When Israel was fieed from Egyptian bondage,




402'NORTHWOOD; OR,
it took a long and weary pilgrimage in the desert to
train the people for their religious duties —all the adults
died in the process: Americans must take warning by
this example and train their servants to worship the
true God before their emancipation.
In this soul education pious women are the most efficient instructors, because they, more often than men,
enforce their lessons by examples of goodness and disinterestcdxness. They have, too, that sympathy with the
young, and patience with the ignorant, which the other
sex often lack. And then they love the Saviour more
trustingiy, and the angels are with them to help their
humble efforts, when men are proudly relying on their
own strength.
The Bible, history, experience, all show the mighty
influence of the mother's teachings; the religion of the
household and of society is mainly woman's. How finely
that Shakspeare of Christianity —John Bunyan, illustrates this. His hero Christian, with all the man's power,
knowledge, and force of will, could hardly hold on his
way to the " Celestial City."  What doubts beset him!
What dangers, and delusions! He went alone, and only
one soul joined him on the long pilgrimage. But when
the woman, Christiana went, she took the children with her.
She drew nearly all she met to join her, and angels led
them on through pleasant ways to heaven and eternal life.
Nearly three years are gone since Sidney Romilly
and his wife first read together the Journal I have just
placed before you, kind Reader. They read it with resolves to do what they could for their servants and the
cause of freedom-and they have done much.
And now they are returned from their first visit to
Northwood, whither they went to witness the twin marriages, as it were, of both sisters, Sophia and Lucy Romilly. For the English man had proved his admiration of
America, or of one of her fair daughters, to be sincere,
and had come over the wide ocean to claim his Yankee
Bride.




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           403
It seemed to him that the New World, as if to welcome his coming, put on her bridal robes. The Old
Granite State that, when he saw it first, had looked like
a fortress of rock-ribbed hills keeping guard over the
dying forests around, was now, in the "leafy month of
June," Nature's Green-house, carpeted with flowers and
roofed by the sky.. But the change in his bride was more astonishing still.
He had, or he thought he had kept the image of Sophia
Romilly in his heart-he had sent her his own miniature
and received hers in return six months previous to his
arrival; and he fancied he could see exactly how she
would look when he met her. He knew she was beautiful, exceedingly-tall and sylph-like, with a slightly
bending figure that seemed so charmingly to woo his
support. Such she was in his fancy. She appeared now
in another guise. The slight, drooping form of the girl
had rounded into the graceful majesty of womanhood.
Her mind had been developed and disciplined, and its
pure free light seemed to irradiate her face with intelligence, and gave a lustre to her eyes that made their deep
tenderness, as they met his passionate gaze, seem less of
earth and more of heaven than mere mortal love.
Mr. -Frankford was absolutely awed as he approached;
and he did not dare do what he had intended-clasp her
in his arms and kiss her sweet lips-he bowed before
her, took her offered hand, and pressed it softly between
his own. He felt in his secret soul that he must honor
as well as love her-and strictly guard his own life to
be worthy of her love; and that he should be a better
man for the companionship of a woman so pure and
noble.
A few days afterwards, the " Old Granite State Gazette" announced the marriages of "Spenser Frankford,
Esq., of London, England, with Miss Sophia Romilly"and of " the Rev. George Cranfield with Miss Lucy Romillv-both brides being daughters of the late James
Romilly, Esq., of Northwood." It was further announced that the newly wedded left on the morning




404             NORTHWOOD; OR,
of the marriage-the first named couple for England,
the other for Detroit, where the Rev. George Cranfield
had lately been settled as pastor over a Congregational
Church." A hint was added, "that England, now despairing of conquering the sons of America, was planning to capture and carry off her fairest daughters;
therefore the Republic must be on its guard."
The weddings were strictly private, as poor Mrs
Romilly could not bear any bustle, being quite overcome with the parting from two daughters at once. It
is doubtful if grief would not have preponderated over
the thankfulness she felt that they were both so happily
married-to good men, as she hoped-if Sidney, Annie,
and their dear little boy, Charley Stuart, a babe of a year
old, had not remained behind to comfort her.
Sidney Romilly passed the summer in New England,
traveling through the country, examining the improvements, and collecting the best implements for agriculture, and all the new labor-saving machines, both for
household and out-door work, that could be used at
the South. He also engaged a living labor-saving instrument, an ingenious Yankee machinist and practical
farmer, who was to reside with Mr. Romilly and see,
experimentally, what could be done to improve and facilitate the labor on a Southern plantation; and also, for
the introduction of white laborers.
The plans, then, that Sidney and his wife are now discussing, this second time we find them in their own
beautiful Southern home, relate to these improvements,
and to the number of servants they hope to be able to free
by this mode of emancipation. They have resolved that
every slave whose services are not needed to keep up
the present income of the estate, shall be well fitted out
and sent to Liberia. And thus, gradually, without disturbance to society, or danger of suffering to their servants, they hope to make them all, eventually, free, and
prepared to do good by and with their freedom.
These plans had, in part, been suggested by Charles
Stuart, Sidney's friend in Georgia, with whom he kept




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           405
up a constant correspondence. A few extracts will show
Stuart's opinions and doings.
"You inquire if I am intending to emancipate any of my
slaves? Yes, I say, but not till I can fit them for freedom, and send them where they will be free. Two races,
who do not intermarry, can never live together as equals.
Frame laws as you will, the white race, being naturally
superior to the colored, in all that constitutes moral
power, the Anglo-American will be master over the
Negro, if the latter is near him. So I am intending to
help colonize Liberia. What a glorious prospect is there
opened before the freed slave from America! If he has
been religiously instructed-as most of the slaves are in
this State-he goes forth a priest, bearing the Ark of
God's Covenant mercy to Ethiopia. Millions on millions
of his black brothers will bless his name. And if there
is a country on earth where some future hero, greater
even than our Washington, may arise, it is Africa. The
real negro has never yet done anything for himself or for
humanity; but in the future, as a Christian, he may win
the palm from the world."
*      *      *      *       *      *
" What am 1 doing to prepare my slaves for freedom?
Well, on week-days, I am careful that they work. Industry is the lever to move the world, and Hope the propelling power to uplift the soul. I have found the way to
educate and elevate my people. I have opened an account with all my field hands, over twenty-one years of
age. Each has a daily allotted task; for every hour of
over-work, I pay a stipulated sum; this is returned to
me and credited to the individual. I also allow for conduct; good behavior through an entire week, entitles a
servant of either sex to. a premium of twenty-five cents;
extraordinary merit may claim fifty. I pay the money
on Saturday evenings, into the hand of each, that they
may have the pleasure of looking on the present reward
of their labor-I think this a material point-then I keep
it for each, as his or her banker, to be accounted for when




406              NORTHIWOOD; OR,
they shall have earned their own freedom, or to be paid
over to whomever, among their fellow-slaves, they wish
to free.
"In this way I am not only preparing my servants
for freedom, but insuring it. All know their price;
indeed, nearly all priced themselves. In many instances
I cut down their own valuation, telling them it was more
than they were worth. By this increase of industry and
faithfulness, I shall be able to realize profits to fit them
out for Liberia, as they become free, without much loss;
and the negroes will be immensely benefited by this
course of training in self-exertion. On Sundays everything is done for their moral improvement that my chaplain and I can devise. My wife is as zealous as I, and
instructs the female slaves most faithfully. In short, we
are working earnestly, and trust that, before many years,
the majority of the planters will follow our example."
*      *      *              * *
Will Slavery ever come to an end in America?-Yes,
because, wherever established it has proved a burden
and a curse on the general welfare. It lowers the tone
of morals; checks learning; increases the ignorance and
helplessness of wanen and the idleness and dissipation
of men; in short, it injures the white race more than it
benefits the colored-so that there is an actual loss of
moral power in humanity. Let me illustrate by the single example of langucage. The negro is imitative and
capable of speaking the English language correctly; as
a slave, he will never be taught to do so-but allowed tQ
go on in his own idiomatic jargon. This he communicates to the children of his master, and thus our noble
tongue is vulgarized and rendered disgusting to the
scholar and people of refined taste. I have met southern
ladies, elegant looking women, whose manner of speech
and intonation were so "niggerish," that it required a
knowledge of this peculiar dialect fully to understand
them.
" These are the mothers of our great men, the inspirers
of Southern chivalry! Men free themselves, in a greater




LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH.           40 7
measure than women do, from this early vitiation of
speech, because of their more liberal education. But
they return from their college course, where they often
give promise of great talent, to smoke cigars in a veranda, or lie in the shade reading cheap novels!
"It is the curse of slavery that it crushes the talents
and dwarfs the soul of both master and servant. Never
will the native genius of our noble Southern people be
developed till the system of free schools, which cannot
be carried out to much purpose, where slavery exists, is
established, and the masses are educated.
"There are, in this old State of Georgia, founded by
philanthropy and guided by philosophy, where Learning
was to have her seat: there are here thousands of free
white persons more ignorant and far more degraded and
miserable than any slave. Forty-one thousand while adults
who cannot read! and the number of children, whose parents are not able to send them to school, is upwards of
thirty-eight thousand!
" While in New Hampshire, there are onlyforty-one
persons in the whole State who cannot read and writeand these are foreigners.
" Such is the difference between freedom and slavery
in our land!"
And now, kind reader, we part in friendship, I hope.
Mine is no partizan book, but intended to show selfishness her own ugly image, wherever it appears-north ox
south: and, also, to show how the good may overcome the
evil.
"Constitutions" and "compromises" are the appropriate work of men: women are conservators of moral
power, which, eventually, as it is directed, preserveh or
destroys the work of the warrior, the statesman, and the
patriot.
Let us trust that the pen and not the sword will decide
the controversy now going on in our land; and that any
part women may take in the former mode will be promotive of peace, and not suggestive of discord.




408             NORTHWOOD, ETC.
The reverend clergy have an important work to do in
this crisis; to promote brotherly love and Christian progress is their especial vocation. They can teach the way
of peaceful emancipation, and help to provide the
means. One mode might be this. There are in the
United States about forty thousand churches: on the
Annual Thanksgiving Day, let a collection, for the purpose of educating and colonizing free people of color and
emancipated slaves, be taken up in every church in our
land. If the sum averages but five dollars per congregation, the aggregate would be two hundred thousand dollars! And if this mode is found productive of beneficial
effects, as it surely would be, the sum raised could be
annually increased, the slave holding states and the
general government would after a time, lend their cooperation; till, finally, every obstacle to the realfreedoqn
of America would be melted before the gushing streams
of sympathy and charity, as the ice of the polar seas
yields to the warm rains of summer.
Africa-word of wonder, fear and mystery, telling of
a land where nature is an Eden run wild, and man
darkens under the shadow of chains and death; where
science has never softened the primal curse, nor the sun
of righteousness broken the gloom of sin!
"The night cometh, and also the morning." Is not
thine, sad Africa, near? Over thy western shore the
day star of liberty has risen with lustre caught from the
stars of the New World. God grant that the light may
spread, and the millions of thy heathen children may
find true liberty through the ministry of those who have
in the house of bondage, learned to know and worship the
true God. Liberia has solved the enigma of ages. The
mission of American slavery is to Christianize Africa.
THE END.