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 ' 

 
 LISBETH WI LSON 
 
 A DAUGHTER 
 
 OF 
 
 NEW HAMPSHIRE HILLS 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZA NELSON BLAIR 
 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 
 
 IO MILK STREET 
 BOSTON
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY LEE AND SHEPARD 
 
 AH nights Reserved 
 
 'LISBETII WILSON
 
 TO 
 
 MY HUSBAND 
 
 WHOSE LIFE IN PEACE AND WAR HAS BEEN GIVEN TO THE 
 
 HONOli AND SERVICE OF THE DEAR 
 
 OLD STATE ; AND TO 
 
 MY SON' 
 
 THIS STORY OF 'NEW HAMPSHIRE IS INSCRIBED 
 
 E. N. B. 
 
 2229177
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A DAUGHTER OF NEW HAMPSHIRE HILLS . . 1 
 
 II. WHICH MAY BE SKIPPED 11 
 
 III. MRS. LAXE VISITS AT THE KINGS' 18 
 
 IV. ONE WORD BRINGS ON ANOTHER 28 
 
 V. AT MR. WILSON'S 38 
 
 VI. SOME DOMESTIC MATTERS 48 
 
 VII. MRS. LANE'S LITTLE BROWN HOUSE .... 56 
 
 VIII. QUILTING 66 
 
 IX. MR. BENSON 80 
 
 X. HAYING 95 
 
 XI. CATECHISING CHILDREN 109 
 
 XII. MEETING BETWEEN MR. WARD AND MR. BENSON, 119 
 
 XIII. THE MORNING AFTER SINGING-SCHOOL . . . 128 
 
 XIV. DAME WILSON AND A VISIT 144 
 
 XV. ALONG BY THE POND 152 
 
 XVI. CAMP-MEETING 162 
 
 XVII. MEETING BETWEEN THE KING AND SQUIRE . 172 
 XVIII. MUSTER 181 
 
 XIX. MR. WILSON CARRIES A GRIST TO MILL . . . 195 
 
 XX. His GRIST is GROUND 205 
 
 XXI. HOYT'S TAVERN 217 
 
 XXII. AT HOME 229 
 
 v
 
 vi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXIII. SPELLING-SCHOOL AND SUGARING-OFF . . . 240 
 
 XXIV. BARN-RAISING 253 
 
 XXV. Ax MB. WILSON'S 264 
 
 XXVI. AN OCCURRENCE AT PLYMOUTH 276 
 
 XXVII. TEA AT MR. BAKER'S 285 
 
 XXVIII. MR. HOLMES BUYS LUMBER ....'... 294 
 
 XXIX. THE KING TAKES A SAMPLE TO MARKET . . 302 
 
 XXX. A LATE OCTOBER DAY 315 
 
 XXXI. PARISH VISITS 325 
 
 XXXII. MR. WILSON'S ILLNESS 337 
 
 XXXIII. FATHER BENSON CALLS ON MR. WILSON . . 349 
 
 XXXIV. THE END . 301
 
 'LISBETH WILSON 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF NEW HAMPSHIRE HILLS 
 
 UP in northern New Hampshire, on a delightful April 
 morning of the sweet old days, a rosy child, with spring- 
 time buoyancy in every motion, climbed over the stone 
 steps of a wall close by a pair of bars, sprang with a 
 hop, skip, and jump across a road, by a garden, to the 
 front door of a house, turned, and watched a flock of 
 sheep which she had just fed with corn and beans. One 
 red-mittened hand held a wooden measure carelessly by 
 its brim. 
 
 She was Dorothy Wilson, seven years old, daughter 
 to Thomas Wilson and his wife Martha, who owned the 
 dwelling and farm around it. 
 
 Curling locks of brown hair showed under a quilted 
 red hood. Her long, full cloak of black-and-white 
 checked flannel was gathered into a yoke around the 
 shoulders. It blew back, disclosing a wine-colored flan- 
 nel gown and blue linen tier. Pantalets like the dress 
 touched the instep of her high leather bootees. 
 
 1
 
 2 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The unpainted house behind her was built at a fork 
 of roads, well back from each. It was large, double, 
 substantial, and faced south. It was slightly lapped 
 on its northern side by a low shed, which ran easterly 
 nearly to one road. 
 
 The great woodyard, in the angle formed by the gable- 
 end of the house and the shed, had a couple of ox-sleds 
 on its carpet of chips, and an ox-yoke or two lying about. 
 
 Jack and Tom Wilson, aged eleven and nine years re- 
 spectively, sat on a sled-tongue. One divided sweet 
 elder sticks a foot long, grooved each half of them by 
 removing the pith, and whittled one end to fit a three- 
 quarter-inch augur-hole, thus making sap-spiles for 
 maple-trees. The other was mending a pair of old 
 trucks, and both were whistling. 
 
 At the woodpile the hired man, Mr. Tyrrell, was 
 riving tough-grained logs with beetle and wedge, and 
 keeping an eye on the boys. 
 
 On the westerly side of the house two barns were 
 joined together by a shed. The lower or little one was 
 thickly plastered by swallows' nests, till that morning 
 bare and untenanted. 
 
 Close by Dorothy's feet some robins were pulling at 
 a string to put into the foundations of a nest, and a 
 pair of pewees chattered in the blue-damson tree on the 
 other side of the front yard. 
 
 The door behind Dorothy opened ; and another girl, 
 seemingly twenty years old, came forth, saying,
 
 A Daughter of New Hampshire Hills 3 
 
 " Grained the sheep, Dorothy ? How summery it is 
 out here ! " 
 
 " Yes, 'Lisbeth. Pussy-willows are out by the brook. 
 Can't we hunt them ? " 
 
 " No ; mother needs me- to sew on the boys' spencers. 
 The hills and woods are coming alive, Dorothy. See ! 
 right here grass is pushing up by the banking, and 
 there's more out by the clumps of lilacs and roses." 
 
 Her voice was full and sweet, her complexion the 
 hue of pale mayflowers. She had a fine low fore- 
 head, rather heavy, but well-curved brows, deep sap- 
 phire eyes. Steady, faithful, righteously proud eyes 
 they were. 
 
 Her nose was delicate, mouth large but sweet, chin 
 too strong for beauty, yet curving exquisitely to the 
 perfect throat. She was tall, slender, with beautifully 
 rounded muscles, which were almost as firm as her 
 brothers'. 
 
 In body, mind, and spirit a consummate blossom 
 hanging to the healthful, if somewhat thorny, stem of 
 a new and imperial civilization. 
 
 This girl was 'Lisbeth Wilson, christened stately, 
 queenly Elizabeth, but the name shortened and made 
 practical after the manner of her day and generation. 
 
 Her dress was woollen, colored like Dorothy's, well- 
 fitted, edged at the neck with a white linen ruffle. 
 
 The child's feet ached to be off as she complained, 
 
 " I want to go. Do come, 'Lisbeth."
 
 4 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The boys' jack-kuives clicked, and Tom called out as 
 they ran to her, 
 
 " Yes, 'Lisbeth, do go. Let's have some fun. It's 
 awful poky makin' spiles and fixin' old trucks. Mebby 
 we'll catch a woodchuck." 
 
 " Huh ! " said Jack. Woodchucks ! Wait till 
 they're thawed." 
 
 " Look at the little barn ! " said 'Lisbeth eagerly. 
 " See ! a swallow ! and they keep coming." 
 
 Sure enough, the advance guard of thousands that 
 moment arrived, and twittered full of glee among the 
 brown nests. 
 
 " Jack, come back to these spiles," called Mr. 
 Tyrrell. 
 
 " Oh, I hate 'em ! 'Lisbeth, won't you go ? " 
 
 " No, boys ; mother cannot spare me, and you must 
 go back to work." 
 
 They must needs be satisfied, for obedience was in- 
 grained ; so they returned to spiles and trucks ; but she 
 rested a hand on the little maid's shoulder, and watched 
 the hills and cloud shadows flying over them. 
 
 Like hundreds of others in the State, that landscape 
 in the south-west corner of Plymouth did " snatch a 
 grace beyond the reach of art." Eastward a highway 
 came down the schoolhouse hill (which was only a 
 ridge), crossed a brook, passed over a short level, then 
 ran behind the woodpile, and came out and disappeared 
 down the little barn hill.
 
 A Daughter of New Hampshire Hills 5 
 
 Southerly beyond the dooryard was a garden, then 
 the road, with a field beyond, where lambs were skip- 
 ping and sheep sedately crunched their grain. The field 
 sloped gently down to a meadow a quarter of a mile dis- 
 tant, where, among reddish-brown knolls, they caught 
 the glimmer of a little trout-brook, as it hurried its 
 swollen current into the woods below the meadow. 
 
 The forest of mixed hardwood and evergreen trees 
 skirted the lowland all its length, and climbed in a zig- 
 zag way partly up to the long, undulating summit of 
 Smith Hill, one of the Bridgewater range. Easterly 
 Smith Hill ran into descending spurs of Plymouth 
 Mountain ; westerly it fell abruptly to the Pond. 
 
 Its north-western shoulder slanted gently toward them 
 down to a sun-blessed valley of a few acres between it 
 and the woods, which small plat of ground made Mr. 
 Moses' farm r whose weather-beaten buildings were nearly 
 on a level with the Wilsons', but the two dwellings that 
 dotted the summit of Smith Hill were considerably 
 higher. One house was owned by Ephraim Smith, the 
 other by his Cousin John. 
 
 Rippling at the foot of the hills, and sparkling north- 
 ward to Hebron, lay Newfound Lake, spoken of by all 
 inhabitants of the region round about as " The Pond." 
 
 They saw where Sugarloaf almost marked its northern 
 bound, monarch of the attending line of low peaks that 
 girt its thither shore. From the foot of the Pond, clear- 
 ing it like a wedge wide at the base and narrow at the
 
 6 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 head, and equally dividing its waters, the woody " Point " 
 reached, nearly half-way to Hebron. Across the lake, 
 and below it, tier on tier of hills and mountains rose. 
 They saw where Kearsarge turned his face to the morn- 
 ing; and way down in the southwest, on the horizon's 
 outmost brim, Monadnock's seamed and grand old fore- 
 head was flushed with sunlight. 
 
 Their dreamy silence was interrupted by the sound of 
 spirited steps crushing delicate veils of ice over tiny 
 hollows in the road behind the shed ; and immediately a 
 trim, slight woman of medium height and middle age 
 came into view round the shed. Dorothy ran to meet 
 her. 
 
 "Morning, Dorothy," was her greeting. " How's your 
 folks ? " 
 
 While speaking she pushed a long, figured, black-lace 
 veil to one side of her black-silk bonnet, which was 
 Quaker-shaped, lined with dove-colored silk, slightly 
 wadded, and tied under her chin by ribbon of the same 
 shade. 
 
 She uncovered a strong, thoughtful face, firm mouth, 
 gray eyes, and soft, light-brown hair combed carefully 
 smooth. 
 
 " Our folks are well, Mis' Lane. Come in, 'Lisbeth's 
 here." 
 
 Mrs. Lane looked gently down on the younger girl, 
 then up to the smiling elder one. 
 
 " Why, 'Lisbeth ! You to home ? "
 
 A Daughter of New Hampshire Hills 7 
 
 " Yes ; do come in." 
 
 " There ! I must for a minit ; but don't ask me to stay, 
 for I can't, nohow. I'm going to see if Mis' King will 
 swap some yarn with me." 
 
 Dorothy ran before them through front door and entry 
 into the east room, where Grandmother Wilson sat in 
 a high, handmade rocker, painted black, with gilt lines, a 
 gilt cobweb pattern on its crescent-shaped top. A snuff- 
 box and some knitting lay on her apron while she read. 
 
 She raised her eyes from an open Bible, and pushed 
 a pair of glasses above her cap-border as Mrs. Lane 
 entered. 
 
 She was a large, imperious woman, with black eyes, 
 sharp nose, strong chin. A stiff, double-quilled cap-frill 
 close about her face bristled with authority. One 
 quickly saw there could be no compromise with that 
 cap-border. But she was a noble and fitting picture in 
 that quaint room, with white curtains drawn aside from 
 small-paned windows; a tall clock in one corner, a 
 dreamy fire in the -wide fireplace, a mahogany table 
 between the south windows ; chairs standing here and 
 there upon the shining yellow floor ; and a braided mat, 
 bright with color, before the brick hearth and polished 
 andirons. 
 
 " How d'ye do ? " cheerfully inquired Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " Kinder middlin', Mis' Lane. Feel the spring some. 
 We'll go into the kitchen 'long of Thomas's wife an' 
 Lettice."
 
 8 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 A pale, sweet-voiced woman rose to receive them, 
 laying some sewing down upon a round red table as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Why, Mis' Lane, this is a real treat ! Take a chair ; 
 set right down. I know you've come for a good visit." 
 
 " No, I haven't. I'm going down to Mis' King's of an 
 errant." 
 
 "Oh, set down," pleaded Mrs. Wilson. "It's early. 
 Stop a spell. 'Lisbeth, take Mis' Lane's things." 
 
 Mrs. Lane glanced at the clock. 
 
 " Only nine 'tis early. I guess I'll stay an hour or 
 so." 
 
 She gave her things to 'Lisbeth, sat down, and took 
 some knitting from a wicker basket, casting a look of 
 neighborly approval round the neat kitchen. It went 
 the length of the house, except entry, cellarway, and 
 pantry at one end, and a small bedroom at the other. 
 
 Doors from fore-room and east room opened into it, 
 and a fireplace occupied half the south wall, and heavy 
 brands flamed between its great andirons. Above them, 
 on a crane among hooks and links, an iron teakettle 
 lazily gurgled; and over the fireplace earthen milk- 
 pans, candlesticks, and snuffers sat on the high mantle- 
 tree. The oven and jack-table were on one side of it, 
 a stone hearth for waiting backlog and forestick on the 
 other. A dark-blue dresser, prettily chamfered, and 
 painted Indian red behind the shelves, made the west 
 wall; and its broad shelf over cupboards held pewter-
 
 A Daughter of New Hampshire Hills 9 
 
 ware. On higher and narrower ones clustered cups and 
 saucers ; bowls and dishes of old blue china sat before 
 standing lines of platters and plates ; and on the highest 
 of all perched sugar-loaves, each sheathed in blue paper, 
 some bottles containing ox-gall, medicamentum, aloes, 
 balm of gilead, and other simple medicines steeped from 
 roots and herbs, combined with "rum enough to keep 
 'em." 
 
 The dusky north wall was carpentered out of matched 
 pine boards. It was broken by two windows looking on 
 the orchard, and decked with yarn reels, an extra wheel 
 head or two, some wheel fingers, a distaff and fliers, sev- 
 eral pairs of cards, traces of seed-corn, and a dark-yel- 
 low pumpkin-shell full of garden-seeds. 
 
 The well-room door opened by the pantry. 
 
 " Where's Lettice ? " inquired Mrs. Lane, after a few 
 general remarks. 
 
 " In the butt'ry ; she's baking this morning." Just 
 then that handmaiden appeared. 
 
 " Oh ! it's Mis' Lane," she exclaimed. " I can't stop 
 tew speak. I'm afraid my things is browned tew much 
 a'ready. Mr. Ward, he's comin' out tew visit mem- 
 bers to-morrer, can't see what he takes sech awful 
 dewin' for ; but I 'spect it's ole Mis' Moses, they hain't 
 looked for her tew Avinter, an if he lives tew get 
 here, we lay out he'll have a good dinner, if I dew 
 say it." 
 
 All the while she drew from the oven, with a great
 
 10 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 long-handled shovel, baking-pans full of dainty brown 
 tarts and caraway cookies. 
 
 Then she squinted hard at the clock and spoke to 
 Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " These punkin pies air about the right color, 
 they've been in a good hour." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson nodded ; and she slid them, brownish- 
 yellow and delicious, from shovel to jack-table. 
 
 They visited for an hour, asking after neighbors, con- 
 sidering lathes, reeds, harnesses, and other loom-gear, 
 the fineness of linen warp and filling for different cloths, 
 the stores of woven goods, and so on, and ended by ex- 
 amining 'Lisbeth' s new dove-colored bombazine dress. 
 
 " For the 'Cademy exhibition," Lettice remarked. 
 
 " It's real soft and and nice, I'm sure, an' 'twill be 
 becomin'," confidently asserted Mrs. Lane, adding, 
 " there ! I should like to stay all day, but I must do 
 that errand to Mis' King's; and I don't know when 
 Loizy or I can get out of our house again spring 
 work is coming on so."
 
 Which May be Skipped 11 
 
 WHICH MAY BE SKIPPED 
 
 BEFORE Mrs. Lane could roll up her knitting and rise 
 from her chair the well-room door opened, admitting a 
 man, tall, firmly knit, whose keen gray eyes lighted a 
 smooth firm face, every line of which betokened intel- 
 ligence, self-reliance, authority. 
 
 He was Thomas Wilson, 'Lisbeth's father, of direct 
 Puritan blood and creed. He inherited himself, so to 
 speak, and rejoiced in flawless heirship to that temporal 
 and spiritual dominion which belonged to his race. 
 
 As his lights revealed justice and truth to him, so he 
 illustrated them. According to ministerial parlance he 
 was " an exemplary man." 
 
 A quick smile revealed an unexpected gentleness as 
 he spoke : 
 
 " Mornin', Mis' Lane ; I've just sent one of the boys 
 up to your house after a ploughnose." 
 
 ( t Dear me ! I don't know what men folks are made 
 of. If I've spoke of that once, I have a dozen times. 
 Only t'other day I saw it in the arm of a brace, in our 
 shed ; and I says to Mr. Lane, says I, ' It's most time 
 for spring ploughing, and you better send that nose 
 home.' "
 
 12 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " 'Taint no matter, Mis' Lane ; we borrered his harrer 
 last fall when we seeded the ridge to clover, an' it's in 
 our shed chamber now. Mother," he added, turning to 
 his wife, " I've been pickin' rocks, and runnin' roun' 
 'bout fencin', an' pacin' off a potater field, till I'm gaunt 
 as a greyhoun'." 
 
 " Lettice," called his wife. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," c'ame from the pantry. 
 
 " Father wants a bite, and we'll all take a cup of tea." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, soon's my bread's in." 
 
 Lettice was a plain, middle-aged woman of medium 
 height and quite spare. Kindliness was inscribed on 
 her face, and sparkled in her blue eyes. An abundance 
 of flaxen hair was coiled high by a large horn comb. 
 She came to the Wilsons' when 'Lisbeth was a baby, for 
 " two an' thrippence " a week, which slowly increased 
 to "three an' six," and finally she earned the large 
 sum of " five an' six." Though unrelated, she still was 
 one of the family, even to the extent of giving it "a 
 piece of her mind," if necessary, but she never meddled. 
 
 Devoted to each one of the household, yet 'Lisbeth, 
 the baby whose dewy breath had been to her parched 
 heart like rain to thirsting blooms, 'Lisbeth, the loving 
 child whom she had kept warm and without fear through 
 bitter nights when winds roared and wailed down the 
 chimney, 'Lisbeth, the beautiful girl whose kindness 
 never failed, was the one love of her life. 
 
 An earthen teapot, simmering on live embers between
 
 Which May be Skipped 13 
 
 the andirons, soon sent through its nozzle the tempting 
 odor of green tea. 
 
 " What's the news ? " asked the farmer. 
 
 " Naborin' " was simply an early kind of newspaper ; 
 so, while Lettice brought Indian bread, cold meat, a 
 plateful of cookies, "I hope they're good," she said, 
 " I made 'em outen bonny-clapper cream an' all," - 
 filled the teacups, and passed the sugar, he inquired, 
 
 " What's the news ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know, skurcely," she answered ; " win- 
 ter's gone. That is good news." 
 
 " The swallows are here," added 'Lisbeth. 
 
 "Are they? Yes, Mis' Wilson, I don't care if I do 
 take another cup. This tea is well tasting very." 
 
 " Has Mr. Lane sprouted his seed potatoes yet ? " 
 inquired Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " No ; we're kinder behindhand." 
 
 So they conversed of farming awhile, till she raised 
 her cup for a final sip. She set it down, saying, 
 
 " I 'most forgot. Reuben Brown's folks have took 
 Jake Welch till he's twenty-one." 
 
 " Bound to 'em ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes. Mis' Oliver Brown run down to swap some 
 onion for some beet-seed, we agreed to, she and I, last 
 fall, and she told us. They're to give him eight weeks' 
 schooling a year, a suit of boughten clothes and one of 
 homemade, and fifteen dollars when his time's out." 
 
 " He's a poor stick must be," said Mr. Wilson.
 
 14 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " I dunno," Lettice remarked, peering over her 
 " specs." " I dunno. Even firewood ain't all knots, ner 
 red oak. Some ont's cleft/ maple. 1 hain't no doubt 
 he's a whifflin', meachin' critter, for he's been kicked 
 an' cuffed an' stomped on 'nuff tew kill ; nex' place, he's 
 kinder born so." 
 
 " Yes," answered the guest ; " as I was saying to Mr. 
 Lane, when we was speaking of it, says I, < Some are 
 born one way and some another.' " 
 
 " I hope Mr. Brown will get his money's wuth," dryly 
 commented Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " I guess he will," assented Mrs. Lane ; " but see, it's 
 past ten. 'Lisbeth, do bring my bonnet." 
 
 'Lisbeth did so, and helped her on with the long 'black 
 camlet cloak lined with deep red. She wore a dress of 
 unevenly checked black-and-white flannel ; and, like the 
 character of its owner and manufacturer, it was war- 
 ranted to wear and wash ; for God made the tint and 
 texture of both. One came from fleeces of black and 
 white sheep, and was woven with her own hands, close 
 by sweet-smelling herbs ; the other took shade and sub- 
 stance and wearing-force from spiritual causes. It was 
 fashioned in heavenly looms, and fashionable in heavenly 
 places. 
 
 Mr. Wilson and Mrs. Lane were a typical man and 
 woman. They were neighborhood advisers and directors. 
 He was of Puritan descent, she of Londonderry stock, 
 and both descendants of New Hampshire pioneers.
 
 Which May be Skipped 15 
 
 Belknap says, " New Hampshire may be considered 
 the school of stern heroism." The sons of its settlers 
 were a dominant race, born to rule as the sparks to fly 
 upward. They carried sovereignty in their bearing. 
 
 Exposure, toil, fatigue, coarse food, and couches of 
 leaves under primeval pines, had developed a breed of 
 men "strong as moose, of commanding presence and 
 even nerve. They had driven out the Indian; felled the 
 forests, and owned the land. They were quiet, genial, 
 neighborly. So, also, they were firm as rocks, flinty in 
 spots, yet possessing oftentimes a rare humor, and peace- 
 ful, except on three subjects, religion, schools, and poli- 
 tics. The granite of their nature always appeared, but 
 delicate mental bluebells filing their swinging cups on 
 many a rough ledge of character. They agreed with the 
 Athenian that " the loss the commonwealth would suffer 
 by lack of education is like that the year would sustain 
 by the destruction of the spring." 
 
 " Grand jurors were sworn and charged to present all 
 breaches of law, the want of public schools in particu- 
 lar." Insistence respecting education as the handmaid 
 of liberty created great desire for practical knowledge. 
 Unschooled men learned much from town meetings, 
 raisings, musters, or those more informal gatherings 
 where, sitting on nail-kegs in stores, they absorbed the 
 ideas of their minister, doctor, and squire. The neigh- 
 bor who took a paper gladly lent it ; and the borrower 
 carefully put it " behind the clock " between readings,
 
 16 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 and conscientiously returned it. Important speeches of 
 public men were then printed entire, and discussed over 
 hoe-handles at the end of rows, as men rested to take 
 deep draughts of ginger and water in mowing-fields, in 
 shed and kitchen on rainy days, and summer eves as 
 they sat on the dooryard grass. Each neighborhood 
 followed its superior men and women. 
 
 Mrs. Lane had kept school, and used the final g and d 
 of words, said to-morrow instead of " to-morrer," and 
 had so brought up " Loizy " and the boys. Mr. Wilson 
 had ciphered through the arithmetic, read well, and 
 knew New Hampshire history by heart. Their gram- 
 mar was not above suspicion, but their wisdom led the 
 district. 
 
 One institution underlaid all else, the church of the 
 Pilgrim and Puritan. The last, extremest loyalty of 
 every soul was given to it. Its ministry was educated. 
 Most sermons were controversial. Men of every degree 
 were polemics. Upon the altars of an inflexible creed 
 they made daily offerings of themselves and their fami- 
 lies. They believed themselves foreordained to plant 
 that very doctrine by every river and on every hill. 
 Any other sort of men would have failed, and both 
 civilization and Christianity gone with them. They 
 dealt severely with what was termed heterodoxy ; but 
 a bent bow must straighten, though the arrow fly 
 amiss. 
 
 Let those who rejoice in a loving kingdom of Chris-
 
 Which May be Skipped 17 
 
 tianity lay white lilies above where those chosen and 
 illustrious soldiers sleep, for they were knightly war- 
 riors in the armies of the Most High. Those habits of 
 mind would surely lead to examination of a new creed 
 which had appeared at the time of our story. At first 
 it was the far echo of saintly Jesse Lee, then the near 
 call of the apostolic Hedding, followed by circuit-riders 
 preaching in barns, courthouses, fields, or wherever pos- 
 sible. Their sermons defied the regular teaching. " Free 
 grace, free will, full salvation, present witness " were 
 taught with unction. If their code warred against exist- 
 ing dogmas, their manner of service offended, as destroy- 
 ing the prim solemnity of the meeting-house. Above 
 all, they allowed women to-" speak in meetin'." 
 
 Congregationalism regarded the new sect as unscrip- 
 tural. It felt the invasion of an enemy, and was sore 
 troubled, not knowing that perchance the Master him- 
 self was lopping branches, so that he might graft that 
 sturdy vine with shoots for a diviner fruitage. 
 
 In such an unpropitious day, John Mayhew and 
 'Lisbeth Wilson lived and loved she, daughter of a 
 man who was straitest of his sect, who clung to all its 
 traditions, faith, and hereditaments ; he, son to one 
 who held a tenderer faith, and taught it to his boy. 
 "When John was eight years old both parents were 
 dead, since when his aunt, Mrs. Lane, had mothered 
 him. She used half his patrimony for college expenses. 
 He had graduated from Hanover, and was a student
 
 18 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 in Squire Baker's law-office at Plymouth, and the squire 
 was Mrs. Wilson's brother. 
 
 The excellent manhood of his father, the graciousness 
 of his mother, blent in young May hew ; yet he was 
 under a cloud to Mr. Wilson, for, though he regularly 
 attended the village church and held no controversy 
 with any, he was baptized a Methodist, and through 
 this complication the little community felt all a-quiver, 
 as on the verge and imminence of social outbreak. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. LANE VISITS AT THE KINGS' 
 
 MRS. LANE went briskly by the little barn, down the 
 steep hill to its foot, thence some rods along a descend- 
 ing road, and turned sharply to the right through a 
 pair of bars, into a field. The forest crossed the road 
 below the bars, and skirted the field she entered. 
 
 She followed a wagon track towards a house not far 
 from the road. It looked homely, handy, and sunshiny, 
 but was a queer clump of carpentry, and Mrs. Lane 
 smiled in a neighborly way at the bunch of boards and 
 windows ; an old part squatting one story high on top 
 of a ridge, a new one dropping down its side another 
 story. The old part was covered by matched pine
 
 Mrs. Lane Visits at the Kings ' 19 
 
 boards, black, except for patches of lichens, twisted 
 by storms and warped by heat, yet still doing duty 
 very well. It held off resentfully from the new clap- 
 boarded part, which had a door of its own close to the 
 south corner, and a stone rolled into place for a doorstep. 
 
 Geese squawked and waddled in a muddy pool where 
 spring water bubbled over from a moss-patched trough 
 a few feet from the threshold. A shed with a long 
 cleft in its side filled with beehives hung to one corner 
 of the house ; but the barn had strayed off over the 
 ridge, only its roof being visible. 
 
 She had scarcely passed the bars when a brindled 
 dog barked loudly and ran toward her. A woman's 
 figure quickly filled the doorway, and a shrill voice 
 called, 
 
 " Bose, come back here ! " but he never looked round. 
 
 " Come back, you plaguey dog." 
 
 No. He knew a dog's duty, and was not to be brow- 
 beaten ; so he tore along till close to her, when he sud- 
 denly stopped, went to one side and examined a weed. 
 Having smelt entirely up and down it, he trotted to 
 Mrs. Lane, perfectly delighted to see her, and looked 
 up cheerily, as saying, " Where in the world were you 
 when I came out to observe that old mullein stalk." 
 
 The woman in the doorway, sixty years old, tall and 
 sinewy, waited to welcome her. One bare arm was 
 lifted, shading her light-blue eyes. Her roundish face 
 was strong, but the nose was delicate, and there were
 
 20 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 tender lines across the forehead. A descendant of set- 
 tlers, she was, like them, industrious, kind, and true. 
 Going to school through deep snows charmed her but 
 little; and when David King, sprung from a race of 
 hunters who loved the woods more than growing crops, 
 and wild life than lowing herds, strayed many times 
 into her father's kitchen, he was more to her than any 
 neighbor's son who could cipher through the "Rule of 
 Three." 
 
 Finally he married the comely girl whose family 
 liked his dogs and rods and guns. Therefore Nabby 
 King was waiting her trim visitor, who called, 
 
 "Morning, Mis' King." 
 
 " Good land ! If 'tain't Mis' Lane ! Come in, do. I'm 
 glad you've thawed out. You're goin' tew stop." 
 
 " I laid out to, if you ain't busy." 
 
 " Busy," said the dame, " I guess not, when we've 
 been jest hankerin' fur tew see somebody outen the 
 house. I want tew neighbor a mite. Take off your 
 things an' set down. Come round the road ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Stop at the Wilsons' ? " 
 
 " Yes, an hour or so, why ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothin'. Mrs. Harmon was up here yester- 
 day." 
 
 "Phil better keep his side of the hedge," remarked 
 Mrs. Lane. 
 
 "Why, you've got a new bunnit," said the dame
 
 Mrs. Lane Visits at the Kings ' 21 
 
 evasively, turning it round admiringly on one hand and 
 smoothing its soft strings, then added, 
 
 " Here, Marthy, take Mis' Lane's things, an' lay 'em 
 careful in my room." 
 
 " How's Mr.' King ? " inquired the visitor. 
 
 " Lordy ! well, I guess. He's traipsin' roun' some- 
 whares, him an' the dogs. I wanted a leech tub set up, 
 an' the ash oven cleared, an' the taters brought up an' 
 sprouted, an' nex' thing I see he was divin' intew the 
 woods yender." 
 
 Mrs. King pulled a rocker up to the smouldering fire. 
 
 "There now," said she, beating a bright covered 
 cushion, and throwng it into the chair, " set down and 
 rest ye. You've yot your knittin', and I'll take mine." 
 
 While speaking she drew her own chair into the 
 opposite corner and sat down. 
 
 The room was long, with the dame's room and pantry 
 at the end. Solid masonry made the wall next the old 
 part, broken by fireplace, oven, and doors leading up- 
 stairs, and into Mr. King's cidery cellar. Above the 
 fireplace, on small spikes driven into mortar between 
 the bricks, hung iron candlesticks, and near them an 
 inch wide strap was looped by nails, a clay pipe depend- 
 ing from each loop. Between the cellar door and bare- 
 studded end the wall was decked with gourds. Some 
 used for drinking-cups were small, and the hue of ripe 
 oranges, with delicately curved handles. Others were 
 large for household service; and some were mended,
 
 22 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 being pierced with an awl and threaded with tow string. 
 Two windows looked southerly, and a curious clock tick- 
 tocked in the corner by Mrs. King's room. Above the 
 dial was a dome-shaped arch, central in which a figure 
 of Time, clad in long red tunic over white Turkish 
 trousers, walked barefooted through the snow, his glis- 
 tening hair streaming out behind as in a February gale. 
 
 Bundles of dried herbs and roots hung from the rich 
 red beams overhead, and they were an armory as well. 
 Guns that had descended from sire to son since the 
 palefaces first peered into those warm valleys, guns 
 whose old flint locks struck fire at Bunker Hill, at 
 Valley Forge, at Yorktown, with splintered stocks and 
 bent barrels, reposed on stout brackets beside those still 
 carried on the hardy shoulders of David King. 
 
 After opening their work Mrs. King asked, " How's 
 yer man an' Loizy an' the boys ? " 
 
 " They're well as can be. I hear your wheels hum- 
 ming up-stairs." 
 
 " Yes ; we're kinder late, an' it's 'most shearin' time 
 agin." 
 
 " Speaking of wool," said Mrs. Lane, " makes me 
 think, I wonder how you're on't for coarse white 
 yarn." 
 
 " I dunno ; 'pends on how coarse you want." 
 
 " Fact is, Mis' King, we've got five skeins of blue left 
 from our frocking. Loizy don't know how it happened, 
 nor I don't, but there 'tis. We spun from good wool,
 
 Mrs. Lane Visits at the Kings' 23 
 
 fine as I practise putting into frocking," said she, pass- 
 ing the yarn. Mrs. King thrust a knitting-needle through 
 her knotted hair, and gravely examined it. 
 
 "It's nice yarn, Mis' Lane. You can see what 
 I've got on hand," bringing a bundle from near the 
 window. 
 
 " Are you going to make full cloth this year, Mis' 
 King ? " 
 
 " Dunno as I shall make nothin'," said the dame. 
 " Mis' Field, she borrered my tew and thirty reed an' a 
 harness ever so long ago, an' t'other day she sent for my 
 warpin'-bars. I sha'n't have a thing left tew dew with, 
 time I'm ready tew weave." 
 
 " They are curious people," observed Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " Gurus ? I guess so. The old woman's a witch." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Mrs. Lane, " 'tain't likely." 
 
 ]S"abby King was superstitious, as were many others 
 round about, and she replied, 
 
 " But, Mis' Lane, you know it, an' her mother afore 
 her ; an' jest tew see the childern makes me crawl. 
 They've tumbled offen high beams, an' been run over, 
 an' froze, an' sunstruck. On'y think of it ! " 
 
 " Xobody takes care of them, Mis' King ; their woman- 
 folks spend their time carrying news, and the men are 
 always to the tavern. I wish you had your warping- 
 bars ; but as to swapping yarn." 
 
 " Good land ! I'd forgot. David needs extry feetin' 
 for bis moccasins, an' I hain't time tew fuss 'n color. I'm
 
 24 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 real glad to swap, so pick out the white, an' I'll slip the 
 blue into its place. I must call them gals. It's high 
 time tew git dinner." 
 
 Immediately the drowsy whir of wheels stopped, and 
 three well-grown, wholesome-looking girls ran smilingly 
 in, each dropping a little courtesy. 
 
 "You're busy now school is done," remarked Mrs. 
 Lane. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Pretty good master, so our boys thought ; let's see, 
 he boarded here." 
 
 Mary, the eldest, grew scarlet. 
 
 " He's good 'nuff, nothin' extry," said Martha, which 
 meant that he had been " real partial " to Mary, leaving 
 the younger sisters to plod home alone. 
 
 The girls tittered ; but Mary hid her vexation after a 
 womanly fashion by taking some sewing from a little 
 table beside the clock, and sitting down to visit with 
 Mrs. Lane. They talked in undertones while Mrs. 
 King gave dinner orders. 
 
 " Lucy, come, you rake the coals forrard, an' stir up 
 the backlog, an' put a rock-maple knot on while I'm 
 dressin' our last spe'rib ; Martha may throw a Johnny- 
 cake together, an' I'll make some twisted doughnuts tew 
 eat with our new maple m'lasses." 
 
 The spit was soon inside the fireplace arch, burdened 
 with its toothsome weight. The upper part of it was a 
 a light chain that kept the roast constantly turning.
 
 Mrs. Lane Visits at the Kings ' 25 
 
 Martha put the tin oven, like a little two-shelved open 
 cupboard on short legs, before the fire, and Mrs. King 
 went to and fro from pantry to a great iron basin hung 
 on a crane hook, joining in conversation when she 
 could. After a while they spoke of 'Lisbeth's fine 
 needlework. 
 
 " She stitched the beautifullest linen bosoms for the 
 minister," said Mary ; " never drawed a thread nor noth- 
 in', an' the gown she hemstitched for the Square's gal 
 was that pritty I skurcely dast touch it." 
 
 " I see them bosoms," came a voice from the pantry, 
 "an' the stichin' couldn't a been no straighter if she'd 
 pulled every thread out." 
 
 None noticed the decidedly ambiguous statement as 
 to threads, and the subject changed to flowers and gar- 
 dens. Mary took down a gourd full of dried blooms 
 and gave Mrs. Lane some marigold and bachelor's button 
 seeds. " I'll sit down while the gals fix the table," said 
 the dame. " I dunno what is goin' tew be done. The 
 gals need new dresses." 
 
 Mrs. Lane saw the point at once. 
 " If you want Loizy a day or so, she can come." 
 " I should be dretful glad. I'll spin for her." 
 " Don't say a word," answered Mrs. Lane ; " you're 
 welcome. Have you whitened your linen yet ? " 
 "No; I'm waitin' for the apples tew blow." 
 They talked of maple sugar and swarming bees, while 
 the girls put deep blue plates, dishes of butter, and
 
 26 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 cheese upon the table, which was covered with a snowy 
 cloth. 
 
 " I wonder where David is," fretted the dame, as she 
 took the spicy roast from the spit. As if replying, 
 there was a scurrying over the ridge, an eager scratch- 
 ing at the door, and a man, followed by two hounds, 
 pushed in. 
 
 "Hello, mother; I'm st"- 
 
 " Well, David King, you've come, hain't ye ? Don't 
 bust in tew compn'y like that." 
 
 He was shamefaced a moment at blundering in upon 
 a guest ; then with rustic air and quaint smile he shook 
 hands, saying, 
 
 " I vow if 'tain't you. I'm s'prised. How's yer man, 
 an' the boys, an' Loizy ? " 
 
 " They're well as common, so be you, I guess." 
 
 " Not much I ain't. I'm all fagged out f er nothin' ; 
 'sides, I could e'enamost eat an owl, an' I'm dryer'n a 
 piece of last year's moose-meat." 
 
 " Been hunting, I guess." 
 
 " Yes ; but it's soft underfoot, an' there's nothin' roun' 
 'cept chipmunks an' foxes ; no critter wuth shootin' 
 never, no time, any more." 
 
 No Puritan blood ran in the King's veins ; yet he was 
 as shrewd and valiant as they, a good story-teller, fond 
 of company, never meddlesome, but speaking his mind if 
 any traversed his code of right, humble and reverent in 
 his way. Tradition claimed his ancestry as part patri-
 
 Mrs. Lane Visits at the Kings ' 27 
 
 cian, traceable to French seigneurs who had feasted and 
 fought in Canada, from whence his father came ; but he 
 cared no more for ancestry than for the husks that lit- 
 tered his last year's cornfield, though underneath the 
 hunter's garb and wildwood air the embers of romantic 
 fire, that had burned quick and high in all his father's 
 race, still glowed. 
 
 He kept his . hounds, his guns, his powder flasks, his 
 fishing-rods and pickerel spears. He went at will, 
 tracking coons through ripening cornfields, thick grass, 
 or heavy wheat. Where he listed to go with his dogs 
 he went, hence his nickname, the " King," or " King 
 David." 
 
 He stood quite six feet high, stooped a little, was 
 large, iron-nerved, showing, in stern lines around his 
 mouth, a force and will belied by merry black eyes and 
 round full face. His complexion was a deep rose shade 
 the color of red apples had been carried to it through 
 the medium of hard cider, some of it very hard indeed. 
 He showed no more interest in Dame King's delicious 
 dinner than if it had been bread and milk. Pushing 
 back from the table he whistled, and the dogs rushed up. 
 
 "Oho! "he said. "Hungry? Want these bones? 
 Then set down." They fell back on their powerful 
 haunches. 
 
 David King knew their strain for a hundred years, 
 tracing back to famous French kennels^ 
 
 Their beautiful heads were nearly as wide at the
 
 28 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 muzzle as the crown. Their warm black eyes were soft 
 and meditative ; over each was a golden spot no larger 
 than a wren's egg. Their pendent lips, their beautiful 
 ears that drooped to their strong fore shoulders, the 
 shining coats upon their backs, were black as night, but 
 warmed by a tawny color underneath. Their breasts 
 were white, flecked like ermine ; and the rest of them 
 yellowish black and white, as were their cordy legs and 
 feet to the long claws. 
 
 The King teased them a moment, then threw the 
 bones, saying, 
 
 "Lucy, let 'em out." 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ONE WORD BROUGHT ON ANOTHER 
 
 WHEN the door shut behind the dogs, Mr. King 
 pulled up to the fire, and took a couple of pipes down. 
 
 " Smoke ? " he inquired of Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " No, thank'ee." 
 
 He filled the bowls, tipped a coal into each, gave one 
 to his wife, and settled back for a visit. 
 
 Mr. King told woodland stories, and inquired about 
 spring ploughing, but all the time seemed uneasy. At 
 last he said, 
 
 " Speakiu' of gals an' boys, I'm feared, Mis' Lane,
 
 An Afternoon at the Kings' 29 
 
 there'll be trouble up tew Wilson's 'fore it's done. You 
 know why Nabby an' me are worried. 'Tain't no mean 
 streak in us." 
 
 " I know." There was a quaver of fear or sorrow in 
 her mellow voice. 
 
 " Heerd sunthin' new ? " inquired the dame. 
 
 " Xo ; didn't need tew, mother. There's John, true 
 an' soun' as bird's-eye maple ; next is Wilson's gal ; the 
 Lord never made a better one nor pootier." 
 
 Mrs. King laid her pipe down, saying, " David, how 
 old be ye ? " 
 
 " Sixty-one, mother ; an' I say I've been into every 
 house 'tween here an' Canady line, but my eyes never lit 
 on no gal like 'Lisbeth." 
 
 " I guess not," assented Mrs. Lane. 
 
 "There'll be a fuss," Mr. King continued. "John 
 don't ble've in 'lection, so Wilson won't let him marry 
 'Lisbeth. It's my 'pinion he'll teach the ole man some 
 p'ints about free will." 
 
 "Mr. Wilson's a dumb fool," asserted his wife. 
 
 "Not by a plaguey sight. I a'most wish he was," 
 commented Mr. King, knocking the ashes from his pipe 
 on the andiron; "he's on'y jest incouragin' Phil Har- 
 mon 'cause he sticks tew the doctrines." 
 
 " I'm real afraid he favors the Harmon boy," said 
 Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " Favors him ? I guess so ; he's jest naggin' 'Lisbeth 
 'bout him. If folks followed the laws of the Almighty
 
 30 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 with sech a keen scent as they dew the argyments men 
 make up 'bout 'em, they'd tree their game off'ner." 
 
 " Why, David ! " exclaimed his wife, " that's dretful. 
 You're as wicked as you can be." 
 
 " I guess not," said he emphatically ; " I b'leve nigh 
 as much as Wilson does, but diff'runt. What's he 
 lecterin' John on the decrees for ? I sh'd as soon go 
 pick'ril fishin' with fife and drum. How old is John, 
 Mis' Lane ? " 
 
 " Twenty-four last November, and our 'Lisbeth's 
 twenty come May." 
 
 " That's so. Born May-day ; cur'us 'miff tew. Seems 
 like foreordination an' sich, hanged if it don't." 
 
 " Yes," she answered tenderly, " I've thought on't a 
 thousand times ; and she's sweet and pretty as May- 
 flowers ever was or ever will be. Makes me think," 
 she went on, "Mr. Wilson was to our house Monday 
 near sundown. We was speaking of old times, clearing 
 farms and so on, finally he spoke, or I did, I 'most 
 f orgit how 'twas, one word brought on another, of the 
 May hews, and then he inquired all about them." 
 
 " He's a deep one," said Mr. King, throwing one loose 
 leg over the other, " a deep critter." 
 
 " Prying round 'bout John, wasn't he ? " 
 
 " 'Course ; but I never heerd the rights on't sca'cely," 
 said Mr. King. 
 
 " You see, 'twas this way." She laid the knitting down 
 and gazed beyond the sodden furrows of last year's
 
 An Afternoon at the Kings' 31 
 
 ploughing to the restful forest of dark green pines that 
 belted the far field, laid a forefinger across her lips a 
 moment, a peculiar custom she had, and quietly told 
 the story. " His father was morocco dresser, and lived 
 way down to Boston. Thirty years ago next summer, 
 he came up to buy hemlock bark for his father's tan- 
 vats. . He come to our house and stayed, and so 'twas 
 the next year. John's exactly like his father in looks 
 and actions ; nobody could draw two lines with com- 
 passes nearer alike than them two. Lucy was my 
 twin ; 'Lisbeth always makes me think of her, some- 
 how. Two years after they was married, when the 
 cherry trees was full of blows, and lived happy as 
 could be, he bringing her home every year. 
 
 ' AVhen John was eight years old the stage threw 
 off a letter to father's door one day. Mr. May hew 
 was sick, and I went right down, and brought them 
 all home. He didn't live; and Lucy died soon after 
 him, being heart-broke, then John was all we had left. 
 His father left money enough for college, and a little 
 more. That's all." 
 
 Mr. King paxised at the door, after letting the dogs 
 in, before asking, 
 
 " What did Mr. Wilson say ? " 
 
 
 
 " Oh, he said John was a good young man, pity he 
 was a Methodis', an' so on. Then I up and told him 
 there was more of them in Boston than wha^ we've 
 got here, and they seemed to be doing well. I didn't
 
 32 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 see how folks could be better than they was; says I, 
 ( a tree is known by its fruit.' I told him plain I didn't 
 lay out to unteach John, I couldn't anyways, nor 
 let anybody else do it neither. He went home pretty 
 soon, but I see he was cross." 
 
 "It's a wonder," said Mrs. King, "'Lisbeth ain't the 
 forwardest gal in this world with so much schoolin' an' 
 praisin'." 
 
 "'Tain't in her tew be forward, Nabby," said Mr. 
 King ; " an' her father 'grees tew the schoolin'. When 
 ye wind up a clock it'll go well, and keep at it, an' it's 
 so with the mind. Mr. Wilson has been windin' and 
 windin' 'Lisbeth's mind, or lettin' school teachers dew it, 
 till it goes right along. Why, one day I ast her the 
 name of a book she was readin', an' she said 'twas a 
 history of " a comical twinkle crept over his face as 
 he pulled a hound's long ear, " she said 'twas I'll be 
 darned if it don't sound queer, come tew tell it a 
 history of Greece." 
 
 He drove his hands into his pockets awaiting Mrs. 
 King's stern remark. 
 
 " Sounds likely, David, that she spoke sech words as 
 them. If a gal with brothers, big or little, has tew read 
 'bout that, I'm beat." 
 
 Mr. King lounged on to a table corner with the dogs 
 at his heels, grimly remarking, 
 
 " Hang it, mother, she larnt 'bout some fur country 
 anuther."
 
 An Afternoon at the Kings' 33 
 
 "'Spect it's the same in fur countries as nigh 
 where there's boys." 
 
 "Well, Nabby, the p'int is, 'Lisbeth's mind bein' 
 wound up, has got tew run." 
 
 " For the land's sake, David, let it run ; but when it 
 gits tew goin' on spinnin' an' weavin', settin' hens an' 
 pickin' geese, plannin' spring work, an' gettin' ready for 
 winter, she'll be better off." 
 
 " Do you mean married to Phil ? " asked Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " I dunno ner care, somebody." 
 
 "Tain't my 'pinion, ISTabby," her husband replied, 
 pushing the hounds under the table, and catching 
 up an empty gun and snapping it, ' not by a jug-full 
 'tain't." 
 
 "Nor mine," spoke the visitor firmly; "things are 
 diff runt. Take flax ; you can't weave roller towels out 
 of the silky part, and there's only the leastest bit in 
 an acre fit to make ruffles and laid work." 
 
 " You're crazy as tew ole loons," asserted dame King. 
 '' If she was a boy 'twould seem diff'runt ; but there 
 ain't no sense, bein' it's a gal. She'll have tew dew as 
 her father says." 
 
 They were silent awhile. That a woman should obey 
 father or husband was accepted law, brought along with 
 the stakes for the first log hut. 
 
 " I dunno," said Mr. King at last ; " they've ben on 
 my mind sence I went huntin' a few days ago." 
 
 " The dame eyed him sharply from under her heavy 
 brows, asking,
 
 34 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " What 'bout foxes ? 'twas them animills ye reckoned 
 tew hunt." 
 
 "Yes, yes, mother; but a man's li'ble tew scare up 
 what he didn't load fur. Ye see, the dogs and me took 
 an ole trail over the hill back of the barn, and struck the 
 turnpike where the road forks off tew the Plains, dove 
 intew them woods beyend, an' the pups caught a scent. 
 Such a holloo ! it went tew my marrer. We trailed 
 roun' clear tew West Plymouth, when the critter came 
 out, an' there 'twas, a hansum ole striped catamount. 
 He was goin' it for all he was wuth, an' the houn's 
 close behine, noses down, an' bodies 'most touchin' the 
 groun'. 
 
 " Mighty spikes ! ye ort tew seen that run cross Baker's 
 river an' interval. They jest tore the grass-roots outen 
 them medder farms. That ole critter went clear tew 
 Rattlesnake Mounting 'fore we finished him. I whipped 
 his pelt off, an' we come down 'most tew the medder, 
 then we set down on a ledge under some pines an' took 
 our rations. After I'd smoked and watched the river a 
 spell, funny river Baker's is, querlin' all roun' the 
 medder most, I slung the hide over my shoulder an' 
 traipsed towards Plymouth, thinkin' to trade it there, 
 an' take Thurlow road home. 
 
 " After we got past Meetin'-House Hill, down most tew 
 the common, the 'Cademy shet down for the day, and out 
 tramped the boys an' girls. When we come tew the 
 corner of llussell's store off went the dogs, full cry."
 
 An Afternoon at the Kings' 35 
 
 " I'll warrant the}' see 'Lisbeth," broke in the dame. 
 
 " You've hit it, Nabby, 'twas her. I lopped ag'in the 
 store a laughin'. You ort tew seen 'em. The gals was 
 in the store, an' on the door-rock, an' runnin' away 
 screechin' an 'hollerin'. 'Twas fun now, sartin. But 
 'Lisbeth want skeert. She jest stood there pattin' the 
 houn's. She was glad to see 'em, she was. Clar for't 
 when she pushed that big bunnit back, well, 'twas 
 a picture." 
 
 The dame tilted slowly back and forth on the hind 
 legs of her chair. She was mortified. He came home 
 that night wearing his oldest hunting-jacket and pouch, 
 and she told him she " did hope he hadn't been out 
 'mongst folks with them ole duds on," and so failed of 
 the story. She brought her chair forward with a bang 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 "Did you stop there 'niongst that passle of gals an' 
 boys with that critter's skin on yer shoulder ? Dirtier'n 
 an Injin tew begin with. Don't name sech a thing to 
 me, David ! " 
 
 " Yes, mother, I did." 
 
 " An' spectin' 'Lisbeth tew speak tew ye ? I wouldn't 
 a done it myself." 
 
 He answered slowly and proudly, 
 
 " She did. Wilson's gal couldn't a been better man- 
 nered tew nobody. Xo she couldn't, not if I'd been lord 
 of the Ian' with a sable coat 'stid of that raw hide. She 
 said I'd been huntin' ; where'd I shoot the critter ; did I
 
 36 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 want tew sell the pelt ; an' did I know the storekeeper ? 
 I telled her I gener'ly traded tew Bristol, an' nobody 
 knowed me much roun' there. She spoke up hearty an' 
 says, ' Come right in ; I knows Mr. Russell ; I'll tell him 
 'bout ye ; ' an' he give me a good price, 'sides crackers 
 an' cheese." 
 
 Mrs. King smiled contentedly. It was useless to 
 fault David, she thought. 
 
 " You didn't happen to come 'cross John, I s'pose," 
 queried Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " Yes, I did ; he looked outen the squire's office 
 winder an' see that picter on the green, I see him, 
 I wish we had it nailed up over our fireplace this minit, . 
 mother." 
 
 "Yes, I wish we had, David," replied the dame, 
 somewhat confused about the propriety of it as she 
 squinted up to the pipes and candlesticks. 
 
 " Well, about John," inquired Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " As I was sayin', Mis' Lane, 'Lisbeth bought some 
 beads for Dorothy, an' sent some words tew her mother ; 
 so, when I got 'em keerful, we come outen the store, 
 an' fust I see was him. He said he'd come a piece 
 with me." 
 
 " What for special," inquired she, measuring her 
 footing leg carefully. 
 
 Mrs. Lane understood why Mr. King and his wife 
 loved 'Lizbeth, and felt there was a kind of freemasonry 
 between him and John regarding the girl.
 
 An Afternoon at the Kings' 37 
 
 He took a gun and powder horn down, and began to 
 fix the priming while he replied, 
 
 "Nothin' special as I know on. He was sober'n I 
 liked, though he ain't one of the noisy kind, anyways ; 
 but I'll bet there's trouble hitched onto Wilson's tom- 
 foolin' with doctrines. That's my 'pinion." 
 
 " John'll do right, Mr. King, he will." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, he will ; I hain't a doubt on't. Mebby 
 Wilson will tew, but I don't b'lieve it ; though if Phil 
 Harmon gits 'Lizbeth, I'll give up gunnin'." 
 
 Mrs. Lane was evidently troubled ; but she only said, 
 as she rolled up her knitting and put it in the basket, 
 ." I must go home ; our folks looked for me 'fore now." 
 
 " If you must, Marthy'll bring that root of camomile, 
 which we was speakin' 'bout 'fore dinner, out of. the 
 garden. Girls," she called, " come right down, Mis' 
 Lane's goin'." 
 
 After invitations back and forth, while Mrs. Lane 
 put on bonnet and cloak, the motherly little woman 
 took basket and camomile and went home through the 
 pasture.
 
 38 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 AT MR. WILSON'S 
 
 THERE was no loitering at the Wilsons', for spring 
 work drove them. 
 
 Mr. Wilson and Mr. Lane, going before their flocks 
 with salt measures, toled them into a pen by the meadow 
 brook, where the dam of a mill, never built, held the 
 water forming a small pond. Into that the sheep were 
 dragged and washed mid din of boys, shouting of wash- 
 ers, and crying of momentarily bereft lambs. Some 
 days after men clipped their fleeces to the merry click, 
 click of razor-edged shears and rustic songs of the 
 shearing-floor, the master tarred his initials upon their 
 sides, and sent them to the mountain pasture along with 
 young stock. Crops were breaking above warm hills, 
 sage and savory pushed green leaves through the garden 
 mould. Two webs of new linen lay bleaching beneath 
 the apple trees at Mr. Wilson's. 
 
 In the kitchen a basket of wool sat under a cool north 
 window, a pair of cards lay upon it, pats of carded wool 
 beside it. Mrs. Wilson was slicing cheese curd, and 
 Lettice brushing the hearth with a turkey's wing, when 
 suddenly Mrs. Wilson inquired, 
 
 "Where's 'Lisbeth?"
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 39 
 
 " She and Tom was wat'rin' them pink-roots by the 
 front door ; an' then I guess she's tyin' up our mornin- 
 glory vines, they're all sprawlin' roun' tryin' tew lay holt 
 on sumthin'. I see her by 'em, an' then Tom come in 
 after thrums." 
 
 " Why don't she finish netting these towels ? " 
 
 " I dunno." 
 
 " She must come in. You call her, for her father will 
 expect her to be busy now she's got home." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. I see she's been runnin' roun' all this 
 mornin'. She's dretful quiet like, though." 
 
 " Kinder tired of school," said her mother. 
 
 "Cat's foot ! 'tain't that." 
 
 "What is it, Lettice ? She looks well.'' 
 
 " She ain't in consumption, Mis' Wilson, nor sick any- 
 ways." 
 
 " Call her ; she must set down to work." 
 
 " S'posen she can't keep still, Mis' Wilson ? " 
 
 " What's to hender ? " 
 
 "Good land ! she'd like tew set right down by that 
 
 V 
 
 winder, smellin' the apple blows ; love tew dearly, but 
 she can't, in my opinion." 
 
 " Well, I never ! " 
 
 " It's her mind that can't. 'Tain't likely what we see 
 an' call 'Lisbeth can set stock still with that ruunin' 
 nigh and yender. If I was you, I'd send her an' the 
 boys up the Pinnacle for broom stuff." 
 
 " Do you need a broom ? " inquired Mrs. Wilson 
 doubtfully.
 
 40 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Yes, I do. This ole one- ain't skurcely fit tew sweep 
 the oven out with, let alone floors that's been fresh 
 washed." 
 
 A low hymn preluded 'Lisbeth's entrance. 
 
 " Where's the children ? " inquired her mother. 
 
 " They went hunting eggs." 
 
 " Lettice, call them, if you want a broom." 
 
 "'Lisbeth's goin' tew," remarked the maid. "An' 
 you'll have tew climb the Pinnacle, for hemlock from 
 up there lasts as long ag'in as the medder stuff." 
 
 " You don't want to go, it's so warm, do you, 'Lis- 
 beth ? " queried Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Yes, mother; yes, indeed I do." 
 
 " Then be very spry, for Lettice is in a hurry." 
 
 " They needn't hurry a mite," said the maid. " My 
 work ain't done up, an' the milk emptin's is riz, there's 
 pepper tew pound for the pepper-box, it's dryin' afore 
 the fire now, much as I can dew 'fore dinner. Here's 
 the children," said she, as they came up to the window 
 through mustard leaves. 
 
 " See, 'Lisbeth," one called, holding up a hat full of 
 eggs, " we've got a nest under the bay sill, one in the 
 shejep rack, one in the dock leaves, an' we've just found 
 another in the tansy close up to the wall." 
 
 " Good. Put them away and come, Lettice wants a 
 broom." 
 
 " You going, oh, what fun ! Drop that kitten, Doro- 
 thy. Come along, Tom. Lettice, give us a doughnut."
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 41 
 
 " Doughnuts ! " cried she, going as fast as she could 
 to an earthen jar full ; " I wonder what boys are made 
 of. They're always hungry 'less they're sick abed." 
 
 'Lisbeth was a goodly sight, with her blue sun-bonnet 
 dangling from an arm, her blue linen dress cut accord- 
 ing to the Puritan order that " Their sleeves shall come 
 to the wrist, and their gowns be closed about the neck." 
 
 The boys and Dorothy went before and on all sides. 
 They showed her where robins and blackbirds builded ; 
 carefully opened grasses by a rock heap, letting her 
 peep into a ground-bird's nest ; they found checkerberry 
 knolls, and examined woodchucks' burrows. 
 
 Care, fallen from them, remained at home with the 
 handmaid and matron. Lettice was fairly up in arms ; 
 so, finally, she turned upon ]\[rs. Wilson not fiercely, 
 but determinedly, as one seeks truth without apology. 
 
 " Mrs. Wilson, what is it ? " 
 
 " Why, Lettice, you're sharper'n an' axe, this morn- 
 ing ! What is what ? " 
 
 That's the pint. I'm after light on't." 
 
 " Light on it ! I don't see anything wrong." 
 
 "Folks don't gener'ly see what they keep behind 
 'em." 
 
 " Lettice ! " 
 
 " -'Tain't no use makin' b'lieve twixt you an' m^-. I'm 
 goin' tew know one thing; an' if you deal double in your 
 words, I'll find somebody that won't, so there ! " 
 
 " Why ! "
 
 42 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " We're past whyiu'. It's full as hard for me tew ask 
 as 'tis for you tew answer. Tell me what Phil Har- 
 mon's struttin' roun' here for, prompt an' high-headed as 
 ever I see or ever want tew ? A body feels like chashf 
 him down the hill with a mortar pestle. I'd ruther see 
 folks a little less forthputtin'. What's his errant ? " 
 
 " He hasn't made any to me," replied Mrs. Wilson 
 rather dejectedly. Lettice stood by the dresser with an 
 armful of plates. She gave Mrs. Wilson a queer stare 
 before saying, 
 
 "No, ma'am. Then most, probable he hain't spoke 
 tew nobody, an' you don't 'spect he has. P'raps he 
 dresses himself with a starched bosom, an' comes up 
 tew show the boys how tew sling stones at yeller birds, 
 but it don't look likely." 
 
 "He is a good, capable young man, Lettice, and clear 
 on the doctrines, that is past denying." 
 
 " Yes," said Lettice dryly ; " I persoom he'll stick tew 
 them as gives him the whip hand. Set right still, I'll 
 put this curd intew the cheese-hoop." 
 
 " I kinder thought we'd put tansy in it, Lettice." 
 
 " I would, Mrs. Wilson, if I was you. Let me run 
 out for it." 
 
 As she broke the full-flavored herb, far-off laughter 
 from the children high up on the Pinnacle, as a pre- 
 cipitous hill to the right was called, came to her. Her 
 face grew stern, and set. She began talking when she 
 reached the entry.
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 43 
 
 " As I was sayin', Phil may be good, but he's awful 
 selfish, an' gaps don't look well in a man's conscience 
 more'ii they dew in a wall or rail fence. Don't take 
 long for critters tew get in, ' little foxes that spile the 
 vines ' an' sech. I 'spose he can rattle off ' Honor thy 
 father an' thy mother ; ' but his practice ain't wuth 
 a cent." 
 
 " Not a good son ? " 
 
 " Xo, ma'am ; he ain't, as I look at it. He'd hate tew 
 see his folks hungry, or have 'em wear ragged clothes, 
 an' would send for the doctor if they was sick ; he 'pears 
 well 'fore comp'ny an' all that, but when they're alone 
 it's diff runt." 
 
 " Why, Lettice Bean ! " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; good tew the neighbors an' allus was ; 
 but there's his mother, pretty as a pink blow ever was 
 or ever will be, he's cross an' sullen tew her half the 
 time. Abigail Sweet, that lived there a year when the 
 ole lady was sick, told me how 'twas, an' I hain't a 
 doubt on't." 
 
 " I never heard him faulted so, Lettice." 
 
 "He ain't faulty entirely, for he's been brought up 
 tew think the sun riz an' set by his motions. If he 
 gits the right wife, with temper an' sense tew train 
 him, he'll be a fust-rate man ; but it'll take a al dif- 
 f'runt from our 'Lizbeth. That stent ain't set for her ; 
 an' if she tries it, mark my words, Mis' Wilson, she'll 
 be dead or wuss less'n a year."
 
 44 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Lettice put the cheese into the press and began card- 
 ing, leaving Mrs. Wilson to think a moment. Finishing 
 the first roll she began again, 
 
 " Do you think Phil cares a cent for 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " Why, certainly, Lettice." 
 
 " I don't b'lieve it, not reely. He wants tew marry 
 her 'cause all the rest of the boys dew tew, show how 
 smart he is. I've allus thought, and think still, he'd 
 pick Eunice Batchelder out of ten thousand gals if 
 'twan't for that. But there's a side tew this business 
 where he don't come in. 'Lisbeth went tew the 'Cad- 
 emy last year, you know." 
 
 " And the year before too." 
 
 " Humph ! Mis' Wilson ; fust year John Mayhew was 
 tew college, an' last he was studyin' law with your 
 brother. You'll see 'twas quite a change 'fore you're 
 through. Them tew have sot by one 'nuther seiice they 
 was the leastest mites on the a-b-c seat." 
 
 The mother drew a weary breath, saying, "Mr. Wil- 
 son never will hear one word to such a thing, never." 
 
 " P'r'aps not ; but he'll hear a toll'ble sight about it, 
 I can tell you." 
 
 "I'm sure he has given encouragement in another 
 direction, Lettice." 
 
 " Zactly. Now, who's 'Lisbeth goin' to incurridge." 
 
 "'Lisbeth!" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 " Why, I never thought "
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 45 
 
 " Of her ? Oh, no ; but I have. Are you an' her 
 father layin' out tew make her marry Phil ? " 
 
 " Make ! I don't like that word, Lettice." 
 
 " Don't matter whether the question conies back or 
 aidge. Are you plannin' on it ? " 
 
 "' Her father wants her to." 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 " Say ! say to him ! He is head of the house." 
 
 "An' pritty much all the rest on't, 'pears tew me," 
 replied Lettice. 
 
 "Lettice, you must not. Such talk is against all 
 lights and doctrine." 
 
 " I've follered both pritty close, that you know ; but 
 if they lead tew what you're plannin', them lights '11 
 seem poorer tew me than a one-wick't taller candle, an' 
 the doctrines wuss." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson gazed terrified at the usually quiet, help- 
 ful spinster, so exemplary in every respect, so suddenly 
 transformed into an independent woman, flying in the 
 face of order, duty, and religion. She answered 
 meekly, 
 
 "Mr. Wilson is head of this house by divine author- 
 ity, an' he will do right, Lettice, he will." 
 
 " Mebby he will, an mebby he won't." 
 
 " Why, Lettice ! why-ee-e-e ! " 
 
 " I don't want tew fault him, but I am skeered of 
 this whole business. I telKyou, our 'Lisbeth never '11 
 put her mind on the Harmon boy. She won't can't," 
 said Lettice fierce! v.
 
 46 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The relation of mental to muscular force was illy 
 comprehended by Mrs. Wilson ; but she felt very insig- 
 nificant as her heretofore meek help strode to the fire- 
 place, lifted a large iron kettle full of water and hung 
 it on the crane, a man's work. 
 
 " What is goin' on here ? " 
 
 The two women saw grandmother's "soldierly figure 
 and dominant cap-border framed in the east-room door. 
 Lettice made haste to say, 
 
 " The iron kittle was bilin' over on the coals, if that's 
 what you heard." 
 
 " Where's 'Lisbeth ? " demanded the old lady, march- 
 ing to a chair by one window. 
 
 " Gone with the children after broom stuff," answered 
 Lettice quickly, trying to gain a little time for Mrs. 
 Wilson, who was trembling at the signs of a severe over- 
 hauling. Laughter trilling through the orchard notified 
 the old lady that her time was short. 
 
 " Cur'us way tew bring up a gal ; it wa'n't so in my 
 day. Hemlock ! there she is up by the orchard bars, 
 with her hands full of young brakes or some sech stuff. 
 Why ain't she cardin', Marthy ? Toilin' an' spinnin' is 
 her portion, so prepare her for it." 
 
 Lettice dropped some baking-tins, that rattled over 
 the floor. She quickly picked them up, and went into 
 the pantry humming, which habit of hers was a fret 
 to the old lady, who chewed a piece of sweet-flag while 
 Lettice disappeared and shut the door.
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 47 
 
 Dame Wilson then began again, 
 
 (( She will merry the Harmon boy, for Thomas has 
 'greed tew it ; an' she needs tew know sunthin' 'sides laid 
 work or knottin' ribbins. Them Harmon women are 
 workers fust an' last." 
 
 " Her father has spoke about it," meekly replied Mrs. 
 Wilson. 
 
 " Then 'tend tew it," was the stern command as the 
 children entered. 
 
 'Lisbeth recognized a stormy atmosphere, and quietly 
 sat down by a window near her mother, whose hands 
 were combing a white fleece. As Lettice trimmed the 
 hemlock and tied it to the broomstick, she noticed the 
 girl's steady eyes looked questioningly out on green field 
 and budding clover, and half a sigh mingled with the 
 soft wind that wafted the odor of ten thousand times 
 ten thousand incense cups from the blossoming trees. 
 
 Years after Lettice said, " I never made no claim tew 
 second-sight ; but I seed it all one mornin', the day after 
 she come home from the 'Cademy, an' John studyin' law 
 in the squire's office same time. She was nettin' a 
 towel by the north winder, 'long of her mother an' the 
 rest of iis, her eyes an' hair a-shinin', an' the trees full 
 of blows."
 
 48 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 SOME DOMESTIC MATTERS 
 
 WHAT she said that morning very sharply, as she 
 jerked the new -broom into a corner, was, 
 
 "If you plan tew quilt 'fore hayin', we must think 
 about it, for the quiltin'-frames need new flannel 
 round 'em, an' the wool ain't carded." 
 
 " I lay out to quilt one, certain." 
 
 "More'n one?" 
 
 " No, unless 'Lisbeth wants hers done." 
 
 " I ? " the girl said. The suggestion awakened a 
 misty sense of something disagreeable that was better 
 antagonized at once. The granite of her nature ap- 
 peared in the firm reply, 
 
 "I don't want it finished." Then she continued, 
 cheery as ever, "But you better let me bring a basket 
 of wool coarser than this and card for yours." 
 
 A dismayed feeling overcame Mrs. Wilson, and an 
 ominous " Humph " from the grandmother alarmed her, 
 as 'Lisbeth started up-stairs. She returned immediately, 
 followed by footsteps in the entry. A hearty smile 
 beamed from Mrs. Lane's calash as she said, 
 
 . " Morning, Mis' Wilson ; morning, grandma' am and 
 all. Guess you wern't looking for me so soon."
 
 Some Domestic Matters 49 
 
 " We are as glad to see you as can be," replied Mrs. 
 Wilson. " Come to a chair and lay off your bonnet." 
 
 "I'll push it back while I set a minit. I've come 
 borrowing, Mis' Wilson." 
 
 " Why, certain, anything we've got." 
 
 " I want 'Lisbeth. You see, Loizy and I want to 
 quilt. We colored the lining last fall with good strong 
 maple dye set with alum, makes a nice dark shade, 
 so I told Loizy we'd quilt it next week Wednes- 
 day, if 'Lisbeth could help us, she has such a knack 
 for sewing linings into frames and laying on wool 
 pats." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson was perplexed. To hesitate was ill- 
 mannered ; but she feared young May hew was at home, 
 and mistrusted her husband would object to 'Lisbeth's 
 passing a day in the same house with him. 
 
 Lettice understood the situation. She knew Mrs. 
 Wilson was deciding whether she should risk blame 
 from a man she feared, or fail a neighbor. It was 
 a hard case. The growing fret puzzled Mrs. Lane, 
 and she hastened to relieve it. 
 
 "Law, now, Mis' Wilson, don't trouble yourself a 
 mite. Like enough we can git Ruth." 
 
 "Of course she can go, Marthy," broke in the grand- 
 mother ; " why don't you tell Mis' Lane so ? I s'pose 
 you're folks are all tew home an' well." 
 
 "All well, I guess: two of our boys have gone to 
 their Uncle Daniel's ; he's kinder behindhand with his
 
 50 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 work, and Mr. Lane told John he better stick to law 
 a few days longer." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson's change of expression was so sudden 
 and absolute that a demure twinkle danced out from 
 her visitor's calash, as she said, 
 
 "'Lisbeth can go as well as not, Mis' Lane, and be 
 glad to. You don't think of anything to hender, do 
 you, Lettice ? " 
 
 "No, I don't," answered she, as she went softly 
 humming to the cellarway. 
 
 Mr. Wilson came in cloudy and stern. 
 
 " Good-mornin', Mis' Lane, how be ye ? " he in- 
 quired grumpily. 
 
 " I'm well. Seems to me you ain't quite so chipper 
 as common." 
 
 " I ain't. I'm sicker'n a dog." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson rose doubtfully, but his mother rushed 
 to the dresser. 
 
 " Hand down that bottle of rum and thoroughwort, 
 Lettice. It is his liver, I know." 
 
 " Put up that bottle," said he sharply. 
 
 " Take a spoonful, jest one," pleaded his mother. 
 
 " Put it up an' set down. I ain't sick. It is sunthin' 
 wuss'n liver complaint, or fever either. 'Tain't nothin' 
 you can shoot, but it's meaner'n skunks." 
 
 " What is it ? " demanded his mother. 
 
 " A man," - they held their breaths, "a good-f or- 
 nothin' circuit rider comin' right among us."
 
 Some Domestic Matters 51 
 
 " Not exactly, Thomas ; you're sole Prudential Com- 
 mittee in this deestrick." She stood straight and defiant 
 like her son. 
 
 " I am," he said, " an' no heresy will be ranted 
 round here." 
 
 " What's his name ? who is he ? " they inquired. 
 
 " Benson, Joseph Benson. Comes from Boston way, 
 so I hear. One of the most dangerous of the lot, nigh 
 as I can make out." 
 
 " I've heard of him," said Mrs. Lane. " Charity 
 Brown, she 'twas Charity Smith, told me she heard 
 him down below. His singing is beautiful, she says, 
 tenor voice, and his appearance is powerful as well as 
 his preaching." 
 
 " Yes," said Lettice, putting a fresh stick on the fire ; 
 " there ain't nothin' feeble about 'em, that is one fact. 
 Them Methodis' fellers gener'ly go at it hammer an' 
 tongs." 
 
 " What ! " Mr. Wilson looked so fierce she caught 
 hold of the mantel-tree. " Are you tarred with that 
 stick, Lettice Bean ? " 
 
 Her spirit equalled his as he very soon learned. 
 
 ' Xobody but the A'mighty has a mark on me, an' 
 that I'll let ye know, Thomas Wilson. As fer doctrines, 
 I've stuck tew 'em, an' 'spect tew; but I can't help 
 thinkin' the new ones would make us all full as 
 comf table." 
 
 " Xever let me hear another word of that kind while
 
 52 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 you stay in this house, Lettice. What are your opin- 
 ions, Mis' Lane ? " 
 
 "We are told to prove all things, and hold fast the 
 good. We haven't proved this, have we ? " 
 
 " I am surprised at such talk from you an' Lettice. 
 Are you upholdin' these errors, Mis' Lane ? Certain 
 you talk like it." 
 
 " You would uphold anything wrong quick as I 
 would, Mr. Wilson ; but neither of us can pull weeds 
 afore they grow. In a corn-hill Our folks gener'ly let 
 corn-sprouts and weeds come along together high enough 
 to tell them apart, and then weed out." 
 
 His scowl darkened as he said, " I'm afraid you're 
 tamperin' with the souls of them boys of yourn, keepin' 
 John Mayhew, an' so harborin' sech ungodly doctrines." 
 
 She smiled firmly but soothingly while replying, 
 
 "The boys won't learn bad principles or practices 
 from him, that I know." 
 
 " Makes out what I was a-sayin', " went on the 
 farmer. " Doctrines are bein' let go of everything 
 tew loose ends. John seems good, but it's a deceivin' 
 thing born in him, wuss for him than anybody ; 'tain't 
 real religion, 'cause he hain't got none." 
 
 " Law, now, Mr. Wilson," said she gently, " you're 
 clear mistook about John. Our folks never see a sign 
 of his thinking himself good ; no, I guess not. But our 
 old house seems kinder dark when he goes away, an' 
 none of us ever heard an unbecomin' word from him in
 
 Some Domestic Matters 53 
 
 this world. He ain't a ' sissy boy,' either. He sticks to 
 what he sets out for. There's no let go to John, if he 
 don't talk so smart." 
 
 Her remarks nettled him more. Persistency was a 
 quality he preferred the young man should lack. He 
 threw a domineering glance towards 'Lisbeth bending 
 over her work, saying, " Children are gittin' out of 
 control, settin' up for themselves. It is entirely wrong, 
 an' I hold tew the old ways of family authority. No- 
 body will gainsay the decrees in words or actions in 
 this house while I live an' stay in it." 
 
 " Where is this minister going to preach ? " inquired 
 she, hoping to turn the subject. 
 
 " Minister ! he ain't one, he's nothin' at all, wuss'n 
 nothin' ; but sech as he is he's coming tew the Hill 
 school house." 
 
 " There, Mr. Wilson, I wouldn't borrow trouble, not a 
 mite. Our folks come here to find a spot where they 
 could think as they'd a mind to ; and it don't look well 
 in us, 'pears to me, to be browbeating the first ones 
 that disagree with us." 
 
 " Don't you believe in our church ? " he asked 
 severely, feeling sure that she entertained heterodox 
 views as to the obedience of wives, at least. He knew 
 she and Mr. Lane reasoned together, but doubted if her 
 husband had ever really laid a command upon her. She 
 touched a finger to her lip, looked thoughtfully through 
 the apple blossoms a moment, then answered,
 
 54 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Yes, I do believe pretty much as T was taught, but I 
 put the Bible above the Catechism." 
 
 " Don't you s'pose the learned doctors that made the 
 Catechism understood all mysteries an' knowledge?" 
 
 " Skurcely, but law, that's nothing against them. No 
 man can see it all. Do you, or I, or anybody ? " 
 
 Mr. Wilson was terrified, really so. He obeyed the 
 law, he adored it; and Mrs. Wilson judged it by ordi- 
 nary mental processes. It was dreadful in his eyes. 
 
 " Mis' Wilson ! " he exclaimed, " how dare you ? 
 Them men was given to know what is too hard for us, 
 let into great mysteries an' all of 'em. You must 
 persoom so." 
 
 " Mostly, I lay out you are right, Mr. Wilson ; but 
 I read,/ His ways are past finding out.' So far as Latin 
 and so on goes I've no fault to find ; but when they 
 undertake to explain what *God thinks, and his ways, 
 I don't see as it would make much difference who was 
 laying hold on what nobody could find out, you, or I, or 
 them. I guess if I should say to our quilting, Loizy 
 and I are going to have, that I knew the Lord's plans, 
 and how He is meaning to carry them plans out, there'd 
 be some cur'us looks across them quilting-frames." 
 
 Mr. Wilson rose, white and resolute. " I've dreaded 
 it," he said, " an' I do still, Mis' Lane; seems, as if the 
 very foundations was movin', but then they ain't. They 
 are sure, havin' the seal. Trouble is threat'nin', a sight 
 of it, but the elect shall possess the earth," and he
 
 Some Domestic Matters 55 
 
 strode out with the mighty air of one who fights for the 
 Cross on any field. 
 
 " Pity I said a word. It's too bad I did, Mr. Wilson 
 is so stirred up," said Mrs. Lane. 
 
 ' We better not s'arch," said the old lady imperatively ; 
 " we better set right down an' set there. My folks, nor 
 gran'sir Wilson's, never dreampt of sech Avorks, never." 
 
 The steady voice of another warrior came from the 
 pantry. 
 
 " Sayin' we nmst'nt s'arch intew the new doctrine 
 ain't sense. We shall have tew, so will Thomas Wilson, 
 an' we better go at it sorter reasonable like." 
 
 " O dear, I hope it won't be so bad a time," said 
 Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " We sha'n't want it any wuss, I'll warrant," Lettice 
 replied, adding, "'Lisbeth, won't you run intew the 
 garden, an' nip off a mite of green sage for this stew, 
 an' mebbe you tew women better finish up as tew 
 quiltin'." 
 
 " The main thing was 'Lisbeth ; an' you thought she 
 could come, so I understood, Mis' Wilson," said the 
 visitor as she rose to go. 
 
 " Yes, I'm glad she came home in season to help 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. Lane pulled her cala'sh on, and reached the outer 
 door where she paused, turned back, and said, 
 
 " Seeing you're cabbige plants in them boxes makes 
 me think that Mr. Lane told me to be sure and ask if
 
 56 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 you can spare some. Our seed never come up, not a 
 seed." 
 
 " Why, yes, certain," answered Mrs. Wilson, going 
 back with her visitor ; " and don't you want some house- 
 leeks ? this banking is full of them. Take all you want ; 
 they grow better for weeding out. Here is a little bail 
 basket of Dorothy's on the chips ; you can take them 
 home in it." 
 
 "Loizy'll be glad of them. The snow was so thin, 
 most everything died under our fore-room window but 
 the sweet pinks and southernwood. When are you 
 going to put in your camlet quilt ? " 
 
 " Some time 'tween now and haying." 
 
 " I would. I'm much obliged for the roots and cab- 
 biges, and Loizy'll be glad to help any time. I guess 
 she may run down with the basket towards sunset." 
 
 " We're always pleased to see her, but don't put your- 
 selves out about the basket." 
 
 CHAPTEK VII 
 MRS. LANE'S LITTLE BROWN HOUSE 
 
 DAY was young when 'Lisbeth went out into its 
 splendor on the morning of quilting-day. No clouds 
 threatened, only a few fleecy pennons unfurled above 
 the northern hills.
 
 At Mrs. Lane's 57 
 
 Underfoot smartweed showed its rosy specks of bloom, 
 and pale blue innocence jostled against patches of chick- 
 weed, whose white atom flowers played hide and seek 
 among its yellowish leaves. 
 
 Little knolls by the wayside were pricked out by hair- 
 like stems and fragile heads of robin-wheat. 
 
 Buttercups lifted their golden chalices to the golden 
 sun,and swung with graceful nodding on their slender 
 stems. White and red clover emptied censers on the 
 lightly moving breeze ; white and red roses, tangled in 
 walls, exhaled perfume. 
 
 Deep in each rose heart, pendent to flower and weed, 
 hung to green blades, sparkled tiny jewels, shading 
 through all the prismatic tones. From grass-spire, bush, 
 and tree chorussed choirs of birds. She loved even the 
 homeliest life about her. 
 
 She felt a faithful devotion to lake and sentinel 
 mountain, to rugged steeps with moss-patched boulders 
 bedded into their sides ; she loved the network of brown 
 roots in gravelly banks. Trees, flowers, and birds, all 
 were hers, the full, undeeded riches of a wholesome life. 
 Travelling unbonneted up the northern road, every move- 
 ment replete with the free grace of the hills, suddenly 
 she paused by the orchard bars, and inhaled a slow 
 breath. A look of delight came over her as if she felt 
 all beauteous things waited upon her that perfect day. 
 
 She pulled her calash on, and hurried to "the half- 
 way mark," which was a grove of yellow birches mid-
 
 58 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 way between her father's house and Mrs. Lane's. In an 
 open central space among them, a gnarled trunk had 
 bent while growing, forming a seat, above and around 
 which a tall sweetbrier grew. 
 
 The spice of its swelling buds had beckoned 'Lisbeth 
 at the bars ; and she hastened into the nook, caught a 
 low limb, and swung to the seat. She pulled the brier 
 twigs down, and plucked some flowers for her bodice 
 and some for Mrs. Lane, then went into the road and 
 over a sounding ledge that echoed each footfall like the 
 beat of a far drum. 
 
 There the weather-beaten Lane homestead was in 
 sight, sheltered northerly by the fertile slopes of Kidder 
 Hill. It nestled close to the long western face of the 
 Pinnacle. On that stony height cows and a cosset 
 lamb were feeding. A huge rock seemed carefully 
 driven part of the way into its side, and standing upon 
 it a black-and-white cow unconcernedly cropped her 
 breakfast from around it. One was persuaded that only 
 a giant mullein-stalk, rooted at the boulder's foot and 
 bracing hard against it, prevented rock, cow, and all 
 from tumbling into the road and dooryard. 
 
 The Pond, with verdant field and hill, lay westward, 
 and Smith Hill cinctured the southern horizon like a 
 green zone. 
 
 Mrs. Lane's house was one story high, with eaves to 
 the road. Its dovetailed boards were warped and black, 
 and spotted with tree-moss. A door and two windows,
 
 At Mrs. Lane's 59 
 
 one high up, broke the gable end ; two windows opened 
 on the road. 
 
 At the house corner, by the door, an immense post 
 rose higher than the eaves, upholding a well-sweep which 
 seesawed on it, as a dangling pole carried a bucket 
 down into the well and back. 
 
 The yard was full of mallows and short-stemmed 
 clovers, over which fluffy little chickens tripped them- 
 selves in their first efforts for a living. 
 
 Mrs. Lane stood at a bench by the well-curb, patting 
 butter into golden bricks, as the girl came up. 
 
 " Morning, 'Lisbeth, brier roses ? " 
 
 " Good-morning, Mrs. Lane. Yes ; I picked them and 
 some brakes coming along." 
 
 " I'm real glad you did, for our garden blows are 
 skurce yet. Loizy," she called, "give 'Lisbeth that 
 cracked pitcher off the dresser." 
 
 Louisa was a bright little woman with black hair, 
 black eyes, and round rosy face like her father. She 
 made a mock courtesy to the young girl, saying, " You 
 can reach the dish for that pretty posy as you come 
 out of mother's room, when you've hung your bonnet 
 up." 
 
 'Lisbeth went through into Mrs. Lane's room. Part 
 of a great chimney filled one corner, and numerous 
 shelves were nailed to it. High, brass-handled chests 
 and drawers hid the unplastered Avails. Live-geese 
 feathers gave a lightsome fliiffiness to the high bed,
 
 60 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 where a linen sheet was smoothly turned over a white 
 and indigo coverlet, woven fox-and-geese pattern. 
 
 Returning, she filled the pitcher on the high window- 
 sill, the lower sash being thrown up and held by a 
 wooden button. 
 
 The kitchen was wainscotted to the beams. Two 
 unbanded linen wheels with full distaffs waited under 
 the north windows. 
 
 When 'Lisbeth was carrying the nosegay to the fore- 
 room Mrs. Lane called, " You may slice this curd ( fore 
 you sew in the lining, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 A wooden tub sat in the entry; and across it were 
 four thin slats, mortised together, each two crossing the 
 other at right angles, the whole named " cheese-tongs." 
 Upon them sat a square, shallow cheese-basket, lined 
 with a sheer strainer that held the amber curd. She 
 took a thin, sharp knife, and drew it gently through 
 the soft mass, time after time, streams of whey follow- 
 ing each delicately drawn seam, until the curd was in 
 blocks half an inch square. When it was properly 
 finished, she asked, 
 
 " Where is the caraway seed, Mrs. Lane ? Louisa 
 wants me to pick over some." 
 
 " In that cupboard behind you, right side, in that 
 broken teapot. Set right down on the doorstep where 
 it is cool, and pin up them spandy clean sleeves out of 
 the dust." 
 
 At that moment Phil Harmon came round the house,
 
 At Mrs. Lane's 61 
 
 sauntering up to the curb with a free-and-easy air, and 
 regarding the scene quite approvingly, as he said " morn- 
 in'," to no one in particular. Once for all, he really did 
 not love 'Lisbeth, but her distant kindliness piqued him. 
 
 What right had she to hold herself aloof from him, 
 who owned flocks and herds. He had asked Mr. Wil- 
 son's consent to marry her because he coveted the love- 
 liness that ranked itself so far away. He would like to 
 see those beautiful hands milking his cows. Affairs 
 would have been different had Mr. Wilson compre- 
 hended the real situation ; but he believed that fatal 
 heresy that a woman once married would be content, 
 and trusted Philip, who was himself half-blinded by 
 his pride. 
 
 Mr. Wilson was a bigot, unmeaningly and unknow- 
 ingly ; he simply strove to save his child to his own 
 church, and to such meagre chance of heaven as election 
 afforded. 
 
 Two such men combined against the peace of one girl 
 put her in sorrowful plight. 
 
 Curious though it was, yet as he gazed Philip feared 
 that troubled, downcast maiden. Had she risen and 
 stretched one hand towards him he would have started 
 off down the lower field, regardless of flower-beds or 
 hills of early potatoes. He chose no speech with her, 
 but asked Mrs. Lane, 
 
 " Where's your man ? '' 
 
 "Down in the cornfield, hoeing."
 
 62 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Where's John ? " 
 
 "Spying on me," thought the girl, and she was ex- 
 actly correct. 
 
 "To Squire Baker's office, where he's been going on 
 two years, fur's I know," answered Mrs. Lane. 
 
 " I'll find Mr. Lane." She would have inquired if his 
 mother was coming that afternoon ; but the King's 
 hounds bounded under the well-sweep and up to a stone 
 bowl full of water beside the curb, followed closely by 
 their master, who grounded arms, leaned against a door- 
 post, and pulled his slouch hat off, exclaiming, 
 
 "Phew! we've had a run, the dogs an' me." 
 
 Mrs. Lane smiled peculiarly, asking, 
 
 " Why, Mr. King, you are out hunting again. What 
 in the world is becoming of your corn ? " 
 
 " Corn's dewin' well. Crop'll be 'round this fall all 
 right. 'Praps not so many ears, ner so big as your'n, 
 but there's allus 'nuff. Fact is, Mis' Lane, I reckon the 
 Lord 'lects tew tend tew ole fools like me, an' I 'spect 
 He will. I've been linin' a bee this mornin', an' I took 
 my gun along fer kingbirds. Ye see, they're worryin' 
 our hives, an' bees need as much 'tention as corn or 
 'taters. Let a kingbird find a bee out on a clover-head, 
 wet with dew, why, the little 'tarnal '11 set right down 
 on a herd's grass stalk nigh tew it, an' swing, an' throw 
 up his head, a-singin' till all creation seems chock full 
 on't, then, whist ! he jumps like a flash an' there's a bee 
 less every time."
 
 At Mrs. Lane's 63 
 
 " Did Phil go out with you this morning ? " 
 
 " Phil ! he ? " pointing to a head disappearing down 
 the sloping field. " That is the curiousest idee I ever 
 laid hold on. He couldn't line a woodchuck if it bur- 
 rerred thirty rod off." 
 
 Both women laughed, and Mrs. Lane said, 
 
 " If you are done picking over them seeds, won't you 
 give Mr. King a nutcake, an' a piece of ole cheese. 
 Coffee-pot is by the fire, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 " Sit here by this cool window," 'Lisbeth said, as they 
 entered the kitchen. "Did you find the wild swarm 
 you were tracking ? " 
 
 His eyes kindled. " That's just like a gal, trackin' 
 a bee ! Dy'e think he leaves footprints in posies ? " 
 
 " Line a bee, is it ? One seems as sensible as the 
 other to me." 
 
 ' " No, little gal ; ye see, when a bee is loaded with 
 honey, an' starts for home, it flies Straight as sight. If 
 ye want to find whatsomever it lives in, take a pot of 
 honey an' set it down in the woods an' watch. Soon 
 a bee comes, takes what' he can carry, an' flies home 
 true as any line. Foller him tew a tree or rock with 
 your eye, fur as you can see ; then pick up the honey 
 an' set it down again by what you sighted. It'll come 
 back, an' bime-by you'll lead up tew what you're lookin' 
 for." 
 
 The King had been pondering upon Phil's doggedly 
 wilful appearance as he came under the well-sweep.
 
 64 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 He slowly smoothed his shiny head as he thought it 
 over. 
 
 Phil was usually busy such days, when hoeing was 
 driven by haying. He queried over it while eating his 
 nutcakes, and finally decided to find out one thing cer- 
 tain, proceeding immediately in his way. 
 
 " Them's plaguey good fried cakes, 'Lisbeth. Helpin' 
 Loizy with her quiltin', be ye ? I wonder if that was 
 Phil's errant tew ? " 
 
 She replied absently, 
 
 " No, I don't s'pose it was." 
 
 " Nor I nuther. Look a-here, do you like tew have 
 him roun' ? Is he makin' trouble anyways ? " 
 
 She was silent, and he continued soon, 
 
 " David King don't meddle ner make ; but he 'mem- 
 bers the blessin' you brought tew his house, an' he can't 
 see sorrer comin' tew you that he can hender." 
 
 Still she was dumb. 
 
 " Gal, you know David King can be trusted, an' if 
 you call he'll hello back every time. I'm feared of 
 sunthin'. S'posen Phil Harmon sh'd ask you tew merry 
 him ? " 
 
 She gazed at him, gray and flinty, replying with un- 
 quivering voice, 
 
 " He never will dare, Uncle David ; " then slowly, " I 
 should hate him." 
 
 " Then don't let nothin' ner nobody drive you tew it. 
 I'd ruther see you dead, fer I sh'd know you wan't
 
 At Mrs. Lane's (>"> 
 
 twenty years dyin', and you'd be in God's worl' some- 
 wheres, though I don't rightly see what would become of 
 the rest of us." 
 
 The girl's thankful look rewarded that faithful soul. 
 Hearing a step in the entry, he called out, 
 
 " Fust-rate fried cakes an' coffee, Miss Lane. I'll 
 'member 'em when I take up the swarm. Come 'long, 
 pups, 'less mother won't roast no p'taters for us." 
 
 Louisa appeared with some quilting-frames, brought 
 from the loom shed. 
 
 " There," she said, " I've got all, I guess. Frames 
 they need the flannel round 'em fastened in a few places 
 lining, and wool. I laid some thrums on a chair in 
 the other room." 
 
 Somehow, as 'Lisbeth sewed the lining in, and spread 
 the wool pats, she was happy. Reliance on a powerful 
 ally made the outlook quite hopeful ; so she sang at her 
 work, while Louisa finished the tart covers, and Mrs. 
 Lane emptied the creamy white curd into the cheese- 
 hoop, and put it into the press. 
 
 " I guess we will have our dinner a little early,' 4 said 
 she to Louisa, coming in, bringing a large noggin of pota- 
 toes, and burying them in red-hot embers between the 
 andirons. 
 
 Opening the fore-room door, 'Lisbeth called, " Now, 
 if you both will help me, our quilt will soon be ready." 
 
 The quilting-frames, fastened securely together by 
 gimlets, one at each corner, lay upon the floor, with the
 
 66 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 lining sewed in and wool-pats laid upon it, ready for the 
 patchwork. They raised the frames to four kitchen 
 chairs, one under each gimlet, thus supporting the work 
 conveniently for the quilters. They spread the patch- 
 work on so deftly that no pat was misplaced, and pinned 
 it evenly all around the edge, and it was ready. 'Liz- 
 beth cut a fine white skein of linen and one of blue into 
 small hanks, braided, to prevent snarling, and laid 
 them, along with some boughten red thread, needle- 
 books, wax, and shears upon it ; then she moved the 
 flowers to the top of a low, spindle-legged bureau. Mrs. 
 Lane wiped the gilt-framed looking-glass, and pushed 
 Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Progress " and Foxe's " Book of 
 Martyrs " farther on the claw-footed table, with mosaic 
 of fine woods round its bevelled edge. 
 
 After a final survey of the room they left the discon- 
 solate mourning woman, pictured above the fireplace, to 
 watch for merry matrons and maids who should sur- 
 round the quilt. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 QUILTING 
 
 BY one o'clock they began arriving. Mrs. King, 
 Mary, and Mrs. Harmon walked up through pasture and 
 field, meeting the Kidder women from the hill in the 
 dooryard, and waited for Mrs. Wilson and Lettice, who
 
 Quilting 67 
 
 were across the ledge ; and just behind them Mrs. Wil- 
 lard and her daughter Ruth, with Mrs. Batchelder, 
 walked beside Mrs. Batchelder's saddle, or strayed back 
 a little to Mrs. Smith's boat-shaped wagon, bringing 
 herself and Lavina. 
 
 Such a chatter as there was, such a mild and self- 
 composed to-do as they came in and put on their caps. 
 
 " Take some chairs," said Mrs. Lane. Here, Mis' 
 Kidder, you look warm, take this peacock fan ; and 
 Mis' King, here's this gray goose one. Aunt Seth 
 looks as cool as a cucumber." 
 
 Mrs. Batchelder (Aunt Seth) wore stiff, double-plaited 
 cap frills, which emphasized her incisive speech. They 
 all felt much respect for that black-haired, reliant per- 
 son, and blue-eyed Uncle Seth adored her in his silent 
 fashion. 
 
 " How be you go in' tew quilt this ? " inquired one. 
 
 " Loizy and I don't skurcely know. Some of you 
 help us out." 
 
 They surrounded it, and one advised herring-bone, 
 one cat-a-coruered work, and so on. Finally Mrs. Lane 
 said, " Lettice, you plan it." 
 
 She studied the quilt, and gave an opinion. 
 
 " If this was mine, Mis' Lane, I sh'd put in a pine- 
 tree pattern intew these large blue squares, with brick- 
 red corners set in sasser fashion, an' quilt the corners 
 'cordin' tew their shape. As tew the other squares of 
 small patchwork, bias is as good as any way, nothin' '11 
 show."
 
 68 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 She and Louisa marked prescribed lines and curyes 
 as far as they could reach ; the women passed their 
 snuffboxes, and then drew around the quilt. Several 
 were left out of work. 
 
 " Fact is," observed Aunt Seth, " I brought some 
 linen ; nothin' tew dew but our Dan must have a 
 stitched bosom, so I thought if we couldn't all git round 
 the quiltin'-frames mebby 'Lisbeth would full as soon 
 stitch." 
 
 " Certainly," replied she. " Shall I trace some leaves 
 on the edge ? " 
 
 "Not a leaf. As I tell Seth, childern larn struts 
 and furbelows soon 'nuff. I want jest a plain back- 
 stitch." 
 
 Fine needlework was considered an accomplishment, 
 therefore the request was a compliment in that unique 
 social world, where living was co-operative in an excel- 
 lent sense. 
 
 " Let every one of you be mindful of the things of 
 another," was honored as a strict command which 
 hushed every family if one suffered ; which brought 
 women home at dawn pale with vigils beside a sufferer's 
 couch. Everything except speech was free to a needy 
 soul or body. The joy, sorrow, success, and failure of 
 each was the common possession of all. 
 
 " Ruth may take this sleeve and sew in the gusset 
 and fell the seams, and I'll give the rest some harnesses 
 to mend," said Mrs. Lane.
 
 Quilting 69 
 
 The door darkened, yes, darkened ; that Avord is used 
 advisedly. All persons, men and women, who are like 
 the fiery, stub-nosed old maid who entered, are pre- 
 ceded by shadow and followed by gross darkness. She 
 could do every kind of work, and, bless us all, how she 
 could scold ! 
 
 She was a Methodist, more to be odd than anything, 
 Aunt Seth declared ; but no matter why, she was. 
 Truly, she did seem to be crushed forever and com- 
 pletely, but it was only her way. She hid no light 
 under a bushel, but exhorted, prayed, shouted, lost 
 her strength, called every son of man brother, and 
 each of womankind sister, till everybody was sorry 
 or wicked, or both. Mr. Wilson said he did "not 
 give her credit for piety, it was just to be aggravat- 
 ing.' 
 
 Aunt Rachel, a sweet, disappointed woman, declared 
 mildly that she " would ruther, any day, sit by a clump 
 of Canady thistles than Huldy Moses." She was a dis- 
 tant relative of the Moses family and resided with 
 them. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Huldy," said Mrs. Lane, and a nod 
 all round the quilt greeted her. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Sister Lane, Sister Wilson, I hope 
 I see you well. Don't git up, Sister Lane, here's a 
 chair ; an' I'll hang my bonnet on the post." 
 
 She nibbled a sprig of southernwood, which seerned 
 most appropriate.
 
 70 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " I was setting these spare hands to mending har- 
 nesses, Huldy," remarked Mis. Lane. 
 
 " Anything, Sister Lane ; it's close work, but I don't 
 wear specs yet," throwing a sidelong glance at Aunt 
 Rachel, who did. 
 
 Mrs. Lane gave her a harness and some harness 
 thread, a fine double-and-twisted linen yarn. She took 
 them, inquiring, 
 
 "What kind of a pattern are you going to weave, 
 Sister Lane ? " 
 
 " Bird's-eye, most likely, or fox-and-geese." 
 
 " I s'pose you'll make a linen web, Sister Wilson ? " 
 
 " We're not planning to." 
 
 Huldah sighed, a habit of hers, and asked 'Lisbeth, 
 
 Goin' tew the 'Cademy this fall, Sister 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 " I met your boy this mornin', Sister Harmon, an' ast 
 him why he didn't go to the 'Cademy hisself." 
 
 " Phil ! our Phil go to the 'Cademy ! Well, I never ! " 
 
 " We're ready to roll up," broke in Mary ; and the 
 women pushed back, chatted, and smelled their posies, 
 while the girls, superintended by Louisa, rolled the 
 quilt over the frames as far as it was finished. 
 
 Drawing up again, Mrs. Willard inquired, 
 
 " Any of you folks heerd a word of Cynthy Brown, 
 she 'twas married Dave Smart ? " 
 
 " She was a sweet pritty bride as can be," said Mrs. 
 Harmon, "when they 'peared out. I see for myself."
 
 Quilting 71 
 
 "I have," answered Mrs. Oliver. "You know the 
 Browns air kinder in our family. Rubin's fust cousin 
 married hern, let me see, yes ; that is the how on't. 
 They're gittin' pooty much down at the heel, tenerate. 
 The props seem tew be tumblin' round 'em dretful 
 fast." 
 
 " Props don't help them that can't stand 'thout prop- 
 pin'," said Aunt Seth emphatically. 
 
 " She ort tew knowed better than tew marry him," 
 pursued Huldy. " He allus was a poor stick, nothin' 
 tew him but a glib tongue an' never was. 'Sides he'd 
 courted more'n one gal 'fore she ever see him, that 
 could be swore to." 
 
 Eunice nudged Lavina and both tittered. Huldah 
 sighed and Mrs. Batchelder remarked, 
 
 " Swearin' is master ticklish business, as I tole Seth 
 when he was bent and determined on givin' in testi- 
 mony 'fore the squire at Plymouth, 'bout Jones's colt. 
 One fall the colt didn't come in from paster' with his 
 other young stock. He thought he see it goin' down 
 the turnpike in a drove some time after, and asked the 
 drover who he bought it of, then sued the man who sold 
 it. He wanted Seth in describin' the critter tew swear 
 it was dark red an' had a white stripe in the forrard, 
 an' not another white hair on him. I tried to head 
 Seth off, an' tole him plain Jones hadn't any sich colt. 
 His had a star in the forrard, one white foot, and I 
 didn't know but more. But, good land ! 'twant no use,
 
 72 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 not a mite. He flared up smart as tew wimmin tendin' 
 tew their own affairs, an' not mixin' up with law, till 1 
 was completely tuckered out an' let him alone, he was so 
 high-headed and sot. Summons come, an' Court mornin' 
 he was ready airly, starched bosom, black stock, blue 
 weddin' coat, brass buttons an' all. When he got all fixed 
 up I says to him, says I, ' Seth, afore you make a fool of 
 yourself, le's smoke.' He give me a middlin' queer smile, 
 but filled the pipes agreeable an' lighted 'em. We hadn't 
 smoked skurcely a whiff when Jones's boy pranced 
 through our cheese room entry yellin', ' Pa's found his 
 colt.' Then I spoke up to the boy, says I, l Star in the 
 forrard ?' -' Yes, ma'am,' says he. ' One white foot ? ' 
 says I. ' Yes, ma'am,' says he. I eyed Seth, and he 
 won't forgit it tew his dyin' day ; but that was all I 
 said. His meet'n' duds come off quick metre, an' he 
 stomped out of the house. I followed him fur as our 
 cheese room, carryin' his ole white hat he'd forgot, an' 
 heerd him mutter, 'Them folks air the alfiredest set 
 of dumb fools I ever see,' an' I didn't blame him a 
 grain." 
 
 Again the quilt was rolled up, and they went on dis- 
 cussing Aunt Seth's medical skill, Mrs. Smith's June 
 butter, Mrs. Kidder's tansy cheese, Euth's fine netting, 
 and so on, to hope of daily stages and the great fact 
 that four weekly newspapers reached the district. Mrs. 
 Oliver Kidder said that Jake Drake's father had given 
 him his freedom, a horse and cart, and some runners,
 
 Quilting 73 
 
 and he had commenced, teaming to Concord and back. 
 Those topics were momentous ; for they well remembered 
 when all mail sent to northern New Hampshire was 
 carried by post-horses once in two weeks, and one news- 
 paper, so infrequently received, was carefully carried 
 from house to house and read as a rare and precious 
 privilege. About four o'clock several young girls went 
 home to prepare supper for their men folks, leaving 
 their mothers to follow them at evening. It was then 
 that Huldy and Aunt Seth came to blows, as it were, 
 when the latter asked, 
 
 ' " Our minister will come round before long, won't he, 
 Mis' Wilson ? " 
 
 " To catechise the children ? Yes, soon, he said." 
 A short sniff and long sigh preceded Huldy's ques- 
 tion. . 
 " Is there trouble, sister ; backslidin' or anything ? " 
 " I don't know nothin' 'bout backslidin'," said Aunt 
 Seth, " once in grace, allus in grace." She had taken 
 the last stitch within her reach, and leaned back in the 
 high rocking-chair, pushed her spectacles high up on her 
 forehead, and spoke in a heavy counter voice. 
 
 ' Huldy, you've been sisteriii' an' msiniwatin' all 
 round the lot this whole blessid afternoon. Now, I 
 hain't no feelin' as tew this matter, fur as Abbygil 
 Batchelder is concerned, not a mite ner grain ; but I 
 must mind what's writ, stick tew the law none of 
 us can run from, that's the p'int."
 
 74 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Huldy put on a lonesome expression, intended to be 
 martyrlike ; but it lacked beatitude. 
 
 " Go on, Sister Seth." 
 
 " I want tew ask a few p'inted questions. Did this 
 new seek come fust singin' free grace ? Did they fight 
 Injuns, an' make paths through old-growth pines ? Did 
 them Methodists set fire tew trees, pull up the stumps, 
 an' dig the fust crop of p'taters that growed 'mongst 
 their roots ? If they did, none of my folks ner Seth's 
 ever heerd on't." 
 
 " Have you 'tended any meet'n's, Sister Seth ? Do 
 you know if they have the Sperit or not ? " 
 
 "I never darkened a door tew a Methodis' meet'n', 
 but I've heerd all I want tew. We can't make it 
 out, Seth ner me." 
 
 " Well," snapped Huldah, " I s'pose you can say what 
 you're mind to 'cause you're 'lected, tenerate." 
 
 "I don't b'leve things wantin' tew, an' as for sayin' 
 I'm 'lected, no sech word was ever spoke by me." 
 
 She swayed meekly back and forth in the great 
 rocking-chair, humiliated that such arrogance was im- 
 puted to her. 
 
 " It's hard judging," said Mrs. Lane ; " some Methodis' 
 have lived fit for copy." 
 
 Aunt Seth knew the story of John's parents, and 
 replied very gently, 
 
 "Yes, Mis' Lane, sech as you speak on is 'lected 
 whether or no."
 
 Quilting To 
 
 The women moved away when the last rows of quilt- 
 ing were reached, and all the girls engaged in fair contest ; 
 for whoever set the last stitch would be married first. 
 
 " 'Lisbeth's hanging back," complained saucy Eunice. 
 
 " We all know who she's thinking of," remarked 
 Huldah with a very sour countenance and a shivering 
 sigh over such folly. 
 
 'Lisbeth had been given a long chalk line by Mrs. 
 Lane, and came near being last, so there was sincere con- 
 gratulation in her call as she clipped her thread, 
 
 " There, Eunice, shake the quilt, and we will all be 
 at the wedding." 
 
 They stopped when it was partly ripped from the 
 frames, at hearing a step in the entry, a salutation to 
 Louisa; and, gazing at the doorway, their faces, even 
 Huldah's, brightened, for John May hew was framed 
 for a second there. He was tall, finely built, with , 
 smoothly shaven face, clear complexion, dark-brown 
 hair, having a glint of gold in it, round his fine white 
 forehead and temples ; eyes brown, keen, constant, and 
 sunny ; and nose both delicate and strong. 
 
 Free grace and foreordination made way before one 
 so true. He received the loving favor of all by right 
 of eminent domain. The scion of a courageous, G6M- 
 fearing ancestry, his strength was chastened and refined 
 by the bitter sorrow of his boyhood. Strange how it is 
 that by wasting, white-hot conflagrations the spirit-fields 
 are fallowed for rare harvests !
 
 76 ' Lisbeth Wilson. 
 
 After speaking to his aunt he inquired about all 
 the neighbors, especially Uncle Seth's rheumatism, the 
 King, his bees and hounds ; begged a leaf of sweet 
 mint from Kuth's bodice ; helped shake and fold the 
 finished quilt; tossed a ball of yarn back and forth 
 with Eunice, and invited himself to her wedding. If 
 he heard a sweet voice talking to Louisa in the kitchen 
 no one perceived it. When his uncle and the boys 
 came to their supper, Mr. Lane asked him to go down 
 to Mr. Wilson's, and say if he would help them finish 
 hoeing the next day, they would help him when he 
 began haying. After the men's supper was cleared 
 away, the long table was quickly set with creamy, 
 green-sprigged china. Platters of cold meat, deli- 
 cately browned biscuits, crimson tarts, and dark plum- 
 cake, made a notable feast, presided over by Mrs. 
 Lane, as she poured cups of balmy green tea, w r ith 
 a dignity that would be faultless anywhere. When 
 the sun hung low above Sugarloaf, John saddled their 
 horses and led them to the stepping-stone, or fastened 
 the clumsy traces to their arklike Avagons ; trimmed 
 two stout sticks for the Kidder women ; promised to 
 go here and there in cool evenings ; and finally those 
 remaining stood in charming old-fashioned way watch- 
 ing roads and fields adown and across which guests 
 were departing, then smiled regretfully at one another 
 because so happy a day was done. 
 
 "Now," he said to 'Lisbeth, who leaned against
 
 Quilting 77 
 
 the curb, calash in hand, " I'll go with you if I 
 may." 
 
 She smiled gravely, and they walked silently along 
 over the chord ant ledge, down the road to the half- 
 way mark, where many a time he had pulled the 
 roses down within her reach, and broken palm-ferns 
 for her fans, and opened spiny beechnut burrs for 
 her ; then he said, intending to declare his love, 
 
 " Come to the old seat, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 They went together among the birches, under the 
 sweetbrier, and leaned against the bended trunk. 
 Gold and rose and violet flung flaming banners up 
 the western sky ; touched the trees overhead and round- 
 about ; mellowed fields and verdure-clad hills ; glowed 
 on the mountains, and threw its gorgeous blazonry 
 deep into the very heart of the Pond. 
 
 He understood what love of independence, what de- 
 sire for freedom as her brothers - were free, what shy 
 high spirit, informed that girl ; he perfectly under- 
 stood the strong personality of that womanhood ; but 
 still he asked no more than he gladly, proudly gave. 
 It was a life for a life. 
 
 What he said straightfoinvardly and simply, was, 
 
 " 'Lisbeth, I love you," unconsciously putting out a 
 hand and brushing back a curling lock blown across 
 her brow. For a moment her steady eyes shone into 
 his own, searching, challenging a soul that dared de- 
 mand return of love from her; then they grew liquid
 
 78 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 soft, making answer fair and true, but her lips only 
 said, " John ! " Then she grew pale and cold, and 
 turned away. He expected hesitation at relinquishing 
 freedom, but not that manner ; she was actually going 
 away from him. 
 
 " Have you no word for me, not one ? " 
 
 "No," she sternly replied. 
 
 He laid a hand upon her shining hair. 
 
 " I saw an answer when you looked at me but now." 
 
 " It was folly only." 
 
 "'Lisbeth, it was the veriest truth of your soul." 
 
 " It cannot be ; you know it cannot be. My father 
 would see us both dead first. What right can you 
 urge to him in asking my life ? v 
 
 " This, 'Lisbeth, that I gave you mine unasked, and 
 am glad that it is so bestowed. My right is God- 
 given. He alone can cancel my just claim." 
 
 He was gazing straight into those proud eyes, and 
 she felt that so he would have claimed a disputed 
 crown had he been born to it. 
 
 "Whether your father consents is nothing now. 
 Answer for yourself, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 She shrank against a tree. He went close, and 
 smoothed the wavy tresses, saying, 
 
 " I am not worthy of this blessing, dear, but I 
 have coveted it for longer than I can tell. I remem- 
 ber nothing to the contrary. If I dream of legal 
 success, you are part of the vision. If I hope for
 
 Quilting 79 
 
 honor, the best thought of all is you will be a proud 
 wife ; and I am poor indeed if I cannot win your love. 
 After all, I shall. live and die a beggar, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 She raised her head. He had taken a step backward, 
 the caressing hand fallen at his side, his noble features 
 turned to the melting heavens, seemingly unmindful of 
 her. What right had she to wound him so, Avhen he 
 was so chivalric and true, comeliest of all she had ever 
 known, and exalted as to character, yet winningly gra- 
 cious ? Should she hide her heart from him, and make 
 him a perpetual beggar ? No ; her father might do 
 as pleased him, .but he should know the truth. She 
 touched his sleeve, and whispered, " John." The call 
 was tremulous as summer winds across the dewy clovers. 
 His gaze fell full to her shy, radiant face, and great joy 
 illumined his ; for he saw the perpetual miracle of love 
 was wrought in her sweet soul. 
 
 There was no speech between them for a little while ; 
 then with the lofty serenity of 'one who takes a delib- 
 erate and irrevocable oath, he said, " Till death us do 
 part ; " and soon they went hand in hand through the 
 glorious dusky eve toward the Wilson farmhouse.
 
 80 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 MR. BENSON 
 
 THERE was no regular Methodist preaching at Plym- 
 outh village ; but occasionally an evening service was 
 held in a hall on Haverhill pike, over the brow of the 
 hill above Russell's store. 
 
 Bishop Hedding, grand and saintly, had nearly lost 
 his life proclaiming the Word among those hills ; and 
 close by where he was so ill, a neat brick church had 
 risen in a shady nook near Eben Blodgett's at West 
 Plymouth. Before it was built, Mr. Blodgett's house or 
 barn had been for almost twenty years a stated preach- 
 ing station on one side of the village, and Mr. Mudgett's 
 in Holderness on the other. 
 
 Methodism was unfashionable all about there. One 
 blessing it enjoyed, the friendship of Judge Livermore, 
 who resided across the river from Plymouth, and was 
 a republican lord paramount. He was a devout Episco- 
 palian, and regarded Methodists as first cousins ; some- 
 what down at the heel, perhaps, but still belonging to 
 the family. 
 
 The fact of severe antipathy to the new sect remained, 
 however, and was strengthened by Huldy Moses with 
 her sharp tongue, and by boisterous men like her third
 
 Mr. Benson 81 
 
 cousin Israel, who, finding both speech and grace free, 
 shouted their appreciation much after the manner of 
 enthusiastic militia-men who massed under their cap- 
 tain's window muster mornings before daylight, and 
 fired tremendous blank cartridges for the twofold pur- 
 pose of waking him up, and of reasserting their own 
 freedom. To be sure, all churches were burdened by 
 faulty members; but one so radically new as the Wes- 
 leyan was much despoiled by any inconsistency. 
 
 Men and women from leading circles that is, from 
 the controlling denomination came slowly to its fold 
 and faith. 
 
 It was not considered aristocratic nor good form to 
 be a Methodist, simply because ruling people were Cal- 
 vinist to the backbone ; and the Calvinists considered 
 the miracle of their planting and upspringing here posi- 
 tive proof that themselves alone were heirs to spiritual 
 dominion in the country, and by parity of reasoning to 
 temporal riches and power. They tolerated no rival 
 doctrine, and only once in a Avhile were they bereft of 
 a valuable member, who was influenced to such action 
 by that moving sympathy which is developed in fine- 
 grained minds towards a cause having for its object 
 the betterment of humanity not an elect few, but 
 all. 
 
 Besides, there was, and please God always will be, 
 a fellow-feeling for the under dog, provided he be an 
 honest and respectable one, whether he be a social, civil,
 
 82 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 political, or scientific canine. Such an one never dies. 
 He may have a hard time of it, but he will live, grow, 
 and be a better and bigger dog because of his battles. 
 
 Lawyers as a class were kindlier than any other. 
 Love for fair argument and free expression of opinion 
 made them often greatly helpful, court-houses being 
 frequently opened to meetings. Plymouth was in a 
 comparatively serene and Christian state from the fact 
 that the pastor was son to one of Whitefield's friends, 
 and he inherited a spirit of toleration. 
 
 Lenity was confined to negatives mostly ; as, for in- 
 stance, Mr. Benson preached in the Hill schoolhouse 
 the Sunday after the quilting, not exactly by consent, 
 but because no one objected. 
 
 A daytime Sabbath service occurred very rarely ; and 
 it brought from long distances those who accepted the 
 new faith, together with others whose hearts needed the 
 balsam of hope. 
 
 The circuit-rider was new to them and to the State. 
 
 He was a man of ready and abundant humor, like 
 most of his class ; for, though one said of an itinerant 
 preacher that " he could not pray if the wind was in the 
 north-east/' and Father Taylor recorded of another that 
 " though he was a leader and commander in Israel, 
 there were times when he was all pikery and worm- 
 wood," such men were uncommon among them. 
 
 Service was set for one o'clock, and by a little past 
 twelve those who had journeyed many miles began ar-
 
 Mr. Benson 83 
 
 riving singly, in groups, on foot and horseback, and in 
 lumbering wagons ; coming up the hill from the turn- 
 pike, down from its summit under cool maples, along 
 the Bristol highway that tapped the Hill road by the 
 schoolhouse, across pastures and fields. 
 
 Saddles and harnesses were thrown over the wall here 
 and there ; horses were tethered -to bar-posts, trees, and 
 bushes. Then the people grouped on shadowed stones, 
 fringed by brakes and clumps of hardhack and sweet- 
 fern; the women opened their baskets, and all took 
 luncheon, while they inquired after each other's health, 
 children, and crops, or discussed important questions 
 of spiritual welfare, personal and churchly. 
 
 A couple of women crossed the road and went 
 through the bars into shade and coolness. They sat 
 upon a fallen tree, and talked low, with a far-away air. 
 Their white leghorn bonnets were lined with black silk, 
 and tied with black ribbon. 
 
 There had been no compromise with Grandmother 
 Wilson's cap-border that morning no attempt at any. 
 It had its own way from its first stately shake as she 
 emerged from her room at breakfast-time, clad in black 
 bombazine, till it finally settled after a grand fashion 
 into the deep bonnet that barely showed above the 
 back seat of the wagon as Mr. Wilson drove out of 
 the dooryard, leaving Lettice and Dorothy alone. She 
 cast one long look across the meadow to the opposite 
 hill, as if searching for some sign of dissent to the
 
 84 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 heresy about to be proclaimed, or a token of ill-omen 
 in the smiling sky. 
 
 She had drilled Dorothy in a catechism lesson, and 
 left her seated in the east-room with back to doors 
 and windows, till she should memorize a psalm, and 
 repeat it to Lettice without mistake. 
 
 Golden-belted bumblebees, brilliant humming-birds, 
 fretted and called outside among the flowers, but she 
 kept to her task till it was done; then she moved 
 her little red chair close to Lettice by the vine-trel- 
 lised door. 
 
 Mrs. Willard and Ruth started for meeting quite 
 early. They spoke a good-morning to Lettice and 
 Dorothy as they passed, going down through the lower 
 field by a farm road to the meadow. They .crossed 
 the brook on a pine log, and went into a forest by a 
 wood-path. 
 
 Soon Dorothy saw them emerge from the wood, and 
 cross Mr. Moses' field into a road along which some 
 people were travelling. She knew them well enough, 
 the King and his family, dogs and all. They seemed 
 walking through a rosy sea, so high and strong the 
 clover billows rose and fell. 
 
 Two little children, twins, and heirs to the Moses 
 estate, were chasing butterflies over the clover-patch, 
 but demurely fell into line when their parents and 
 Huldy joined the church-going group as it passed their 
 door.
 
 Mr. Benson 85 
 
 She watched them wind around the white-birch grove, 
 and climb the sloping hillside more than half way to its 
 summit, then turn shortly and follow a beaten path 
 along its stone-specked shoulder, finally disappearing in 
 the far dense growth of sugar maples. Then she saw 
 them no more. 
 
 When they were nearly through the close-set trees, 
 so as to see the red schoolhouse beyond, men and 
 boys moved along, while women and girls halted, sat 
 down on logs and stones, removed their heavy shoes, 
 and put on low calfskin or morocco ones. One or 
 two showed handsome knitted patterns on ankle and 
 instep of thin, fine stockings. Young girls fastened 
 on fresh pantalets like their dresses, and falling to 
 their shoes. 
 
 Putting the discarded foot-gear out of sight, they 
 went briskly to the bars, where Mr. King had dropped 
 a middle rail to let them through, and stood by to put 
 it up. Euth pulled a wild rose growing over the wall, 
 and tucked it into her bodice as she went by. Across 
 the road stood the schoolhouse, in a tangle of high 
 grass, daisies, buttercups, thistles, yarrow, and cara- 
 way. They broke some seeding caraway heads, and 
 took them in to nibble. 
 
 The King sauntered along, giving a familiar nod to 
 one or another whom he knew, the hounds following 
 their master to his seat, then lying down between him 
 and the desk.
 
 86 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 As in the Wilson schoolhouse, the floor rose gradually 
 from front bench to rear wall. 
 
 The long back seat. was devoted to older scholars, 
 flirtations, and heart-burnings. It was also the singers' 
 seat. Thither went Huldy, who sang counter well and 
 truly ; thither, also, went sweet-voiced Ruth, her mother 
 sitting by a window that looked over a great patch 
 of mulberry, way down to the blue ripples of New- 
 found. 
 
 Quaint little Mrs. John Smith sat on the girls' low 
 front bench. She wore a leghorn bonnet lined with 
 white silk ; a figured lavender-colored ribbon went over 
 its crown, close to the flaring brim, and tied under her 
 chin by a carefully knotted double bow. 
 
 A delicately tinted crape shawl was thrown loosely 
 around her shoulders, brightening the dark taffeta dress. 
 She carried a nosegay of sweetwilliams. 
 
 Tall, angular, white-headed Mrs. Sampson came in 
 with taller, sharper, white-headed Mr. Sampson. She 
 sat down after a sideways fashion, near Mrs. Smith ; he 
 clattered along, stubbed his heavy boot toes against a 
 floor crack, stepped on a dog's tail, and at last swung 
 into a seat next the front one. He leaned both elbows 
 on the desk a moment, then settled back, and took a 
 pinch of snuff. 
 
 The women generally wore big bonnets, their best 
 for years, with long veils tied over them, which they 
 drew to one side, or folded upon them, at the entry door.
 
 Mr. Benson 87 
 
 Their dresses \Vere made with short, wide-belted waists, 
 large sleeves, and narrow skirts. 
 
 Part of the men were dressed in blue, with brass 
 buttons, and some wore summer frocks. Girls in home- 
 made dresses, tiers, pantalets, and cape bonnets, and 
 bo} r s in spencers, long trousers, and mostly barefooted, 
 completed the hushed audience that slowly fanned itself 
 on the women's side with peacock or soft gray goose 
 feather fans to the music of a stony brook under the 
 west windows. 
 
 Only a brief time before service, John and his aunt 
 passed along outside, and composedly entered the full 
 room. A slightly increased flutter of fans showed she 
 was an unusual attendant. She had said to Mr. Lane, 
 
 " I guess Loizy and the boys will go to meeting with 
 you, and I'll run over with John." 
 
 She remarked to her daughter on Saturday, 
 
 " It ain't no use, Loizy, not a mite, to set stock-still. 
 Old roots are hard to dig up, and changing opinions in 
 Mr. Wilson's- mind is pretty much like pulling up 
 knot-grass, and setting vi'lets in. It will take pretty 
 stiddy cultivation. I'm going to stand by Lucy's boy, 
 and I shall begin by going to meeting with him to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Her calm Friend face, gray taffeta gown and figured 
 white crape shawl, even her heavy gold beads, were 
 carefully noted, and received complimentary mention 
 after meeting.
 
 88 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Soon after Mrs. Lane and John were seated, a hand- 
 some gray horse came in sight, up the Bristol road. 
 His rider sat him like a guardsman, and saddle-bags 
 depended 011 either side of him. 
 
 Two brethren, who waited outside, hastened up as 
 he halted, and welcomed him. He took a Bible and 
 hymn book from the saddle-bags, and went in ; while 
 they quickly threw the saddle off the horse, removed 
 the wearying bits, tethered him to a strong sapling 
 by a long halter, and followed Mr. Benson into the 
 house. 
 
 The new preacher was five feet, ten inches high, 
 erect, rather slender. Physical and mental strength, 
 endurance and energy, those shrewd people saw in 
 their first keen search of him. 
 
 Formerly captain of a military company, when he 
 dropped sword and epaulets for holy weapons, he still 
 retained a martial bearing that suited him well. His 
 countenance was very thoughtful, noble, and sternly 
 mild. 
 
 His features were fine, with very deep bliie eyes, and 
 broad white forehead marked by heavy brows. His dark 
 hair was long, according to custom, combed back without 
 parting, and rolled over the coat collar. He wore a 
 clerical suit of black, buttoned closely, and a high white 
 stock about his neck. 
 
 After entering he kneeled on the floor by the teach- 
 er's desk a moment, then rose, and, seating himself,
 
 Mr. Benson 89 
 
 remained with folded hands till the last loiterer was 
 still. 
 
 He read the hymn beginning, 
 
 " Come, ye sinners poor and needy." 
 
 Every eye was fastened on him he read so well. A 
 singing-master of the valley afterward said of him that 
 " his voice was tuned to viols, whether he sang or 
 spoke." 
 
 A good choir sang; for the Pemigewassett Musical 
 Association was twenty years old, and its instructors 
 had come from that society. 
 
 One of the Smith boys led. Nipping the tuning-fork 
 between his teeth, he got the pitch, and gave it to the 
 rest, Kuth sounding the treble note from him, Huldy 
 the counter ; and finally all blended together as they 
 rose. 
 
 After prayer and reading of Scripture they sang 
 
 again, 
 
 "Ho! every one that thirsts draw nigh." 
 
 During the last verse the people adjusted themselves 
 to listening attitudes. 
 
 Mrs. Smith smoothed her long lace veil from bonnet 
 to shoulder, and down under her arm, then folded her 
 hands meekly over the sweetwilliams, while others 
 loosened their shawls or shut their fans. On the men's 
 side, Mr. Field took out his snuffbox, rapped it very 
 quietly for him, helped himself, passed it across the
 
 90 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 aisle to Mr. Sampson, nodded invitations to several 
 near and remote, smothered a sneeze in his immense 
 meeting bandanna, and, after some scuffling of feet, 
 returned the box to his trousers pocket. 
 
 When the hymn ended, young men gave their waist- 
 coats a pull, touched the knots of their wide checked 
 neckkerchiefs ; one of the hounds turned over,- and all 
 was silence. 
 
 Mr. Benson had improved every moment studying 
 those people so new, belonging to a social world hitherto 
 unknown to him. At last he concluded that they 
 rightly belonged to those rocky, sunkissed hills, those 
 towering pines and rooted oaks, to those rough fields, 
 where herd's grass and clover, waiting the mower, bil- 
 lowed around and over great rocks. They seemed to 
 him mighty, honest, purposeful, yet intensely unique 
 and dramatic. 
 
 He rose and read a text, " Come unto me all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 
 Wesley's call was to " all who desire to flee from the 
 wrath to come and lay hold on eternal life ; " and there 
 his successors left it. 
 
 Free grace, free will, knowledge of sins forgiven, and 
 a life meet for such blessing, they daily taught, and it 
 was the substance of that day's sermon. 
 
 Scarcely an amen interrupted till the preacher sat 
 down and folded his hands, adding soon after, in a 
 primitive, Methodist, good-time-for-all fashion,
 
 Mr. Benson 91 
 
 " There is liberty, brethren and sisters ; speak, sing, 
 or pray." 
 
 Israel Smith, who felt in a blind way that something 
 must be done, drew the air in through his closed teeth, 
 and shouted, " Hallelujah! hallelujah! glory ! " in ascend- 
 ing scale. 
 
 Mr. Benson looked searchingly from beneath those 
 heavy brows at the powerful shouter. 
 
 A low, distinct hiss from one of two young men, 
 strangers, brought his head erect, and gave a martial 
 vibration to the words, " There is liberty for worship 
 here," accenting the word worship. It sufficed. 
 
 A half-hour was occupied by various exercises, that 
 grievous error of the new sect, allowing women to 
 " testify," obtaining without hindrance. 
 
 Huldah, who possessed a deep voice, and was called 
 gifted in prayer, petitioned heartily for the "scoffers 
 who set in the middle seat by the aisle." The amens 
 to her request were numerous and forcible, especially 
 when she besought that "their hearts might be broke, 
 till the fine flax, if there was any, should be separated 
 and made fit for use." 
 
 Their speech, especially upon religious topics, 
 abounded in figures drawn from their environment, 
 and even their language excelled that day. Song 
 abounded, and many a saintly hymn floated out and 
 died away on far breezes. Subdued amens and glories 
 were frequent, for it was a day in a thousand to the 
 worshippers.
 
 92 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Notices, not being regarded as a devotional exercise, 
 were given after meeting; so he pronounced the bene- 
 diction, and then said, 
 
 " Providence permitting, there will be a meeting this 
 evening at early candlelight in Brother Mudgett's barn. 
 Next Sunday I shall be at West Plymouth, and in six 
 weeks I shall be here again." 
 
 Then they heartily welcomed him. A hand touched 
 John's sleeve, and his aunt said, 
 
 " Let me go with you, and speak to him." 
 
 He had hoped she would; but in accord with the 
 respect shown toward elder people, he left her to do as 
 she was minded. He stepped quickly into the open 
 space, saying, 
 
 " I am John May hew." 
 
 " John ! the name of one beloved." 
 
 " My aunt, Mrs. Lane." 
 [ "I am glad to see you, Sister Lane." 
 
 A contradictory, cheery smile made denial of such 
 relationship. 
 
 " You are not a Methodist ? " 
 
 " No ; but I mistrust truth is truth, and I've heard 
 it to-day. Come home with us and have a cup of tea, 
 and rest till it is cooler." He hesitated. 
 
 "Tain't a mite mor'n half a mile farther to where 
 you are going, and there is a nice path for horses the 
 way we come, John and me. John," she added deci- 
 sively, " go out and saddle Mr. Benson's horse."
 
 Mr. Benson 93 
 
 She waited till the minister picked up his books ; and 
 when they came out, the King, who had helped put the 
 beautiful iron-gray in marching order, was remarking 
 while pulling up the last buckle, " Travellin' all the 
 time, is he, an' this is his house an' home ? It's a 
 powerful underpinning" said he, drawing back and ex- 
 amining the horse, " an' master well built ; but as tew 
 the rest, it's a plaguey poor tavern for a rainy day, with 
 no cover 'thout's that ole white surtout." 
 
 Mr. Benson, smiling gravely, said, " I look for a bet- 
 ter house," and added, packing his Bible and hymn 
 book into the saddle-bags, which contained wearing- 
 apparel, books, and writing materials, " You see my 
 storehouses are safe and dry, brother." 
 
 John introduced them ; and the King remarked, " I'm 
 a middlin' poor brother, that's a fact ; but I liked your 
 sermon, an' sensed it tew." 
 
 Again, while he jumped into the saddle, those prim 
 people crowded around him, their good-bys following to 
 the bars. 
 
 Girls and women going towards Mrs. Lane's had pre- 
 ceded the preacher, changed their shoes, and were ready 
 to join the little company winding slowly along down 
 the steep hillside, by clumps of sweet fern and feathery 
 brakes. The King took delight in pointing out fields 
 of corn, potatoes, wheat, and oats, explaining their dif- 
 fering shades of green. He named the owners of farm- 
 houses perched on rugged hills, or nestled at their feet,
 
 94 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 and of mountains that girded the lake. He told the 
 circuit-rider, " That big house yender, acrost them woods, 
 a little lower'n us, an seems set in grass an' trees, is 
 Thomas Wilson's. He ain't reely a Metherdis, that can 
 be swore tew," added he with a twinkling eye. 
 
 The Moses family stopped at their own house, and 
 the Kings said good-by where the others turned into the 
 forest road. 
 
 Never had Mr. Benson passed over such a route, 
 fringed by pale marsh-rosemary blooms and tiny cells of 
 flowering mosses, the rose-purple of nightshade, and gold- 
 thread's trefoil leaf. Milk-white heads of moose wood 
 flecked the brown depths far and near. 
 
 Partridges whirred off so quickly, they only caught 
 the flutter of speckled wings ; and red-bonneted wood- 
 peckers flew about, laying sharp ears against gray tree- 
 boles for sound of any wood fretter ; while squirrels 
 flitted over logs. Mr. Benson's expressive features were 
 radiant with enjoyment ; even the iron-gray blinked 
 knowingly at the happy dwellers in those bosky coverts, 
 as they whisked or flew from close by, where, at each 
 step, he sank below the fetlock into spongy turf. 
 
 After tea Mr. Benson sat with the Lane family an 
 hour out of doors, beside stalks of bursting hollyhocks ; 
 then he besought a blessing on that house, and went his 
 way, John walking beside his saddle. By the brook 
 beyond the Wilson house they met 'Lisbeth and her 
 father, who had walked the last two miles of hilly road
 
 Haying 95 
 
 coming home from church ; and John introduced them. 
 Some quality in Mr. Wilson's greeting, John's evident 
 anxiety, and 'Lisbeth's slight confusion, carried intelli- 
 gence to his intuitive mind, and he felt strangely drawn 
 to thought of them. Beyond Mr. Batchelder's he said, 
 
 " I know my way very well now, and you must go no 
 farther. If I am spared, in six weeks I shall see you 
 again." 
 
 John had removed his hat, and stood beside the saddle. 
 Father Benson laid a hand upon his head and blessed 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 HAYING 
 
 THE Monday after the meeting Mr. Wilson began 
 haying. He did not swing a scythe beside younger 
 men, but he carefully overlooked the work. 
 
 For help he had Mr. Tyrrell, who worked for him 
 year in and out, and two young men from across the 
 pond, engaged for haying and harvesting. 
 
 "Wholesome an' gritty, well-lookin' an' mannerly 
 fellers," Lettice said. 
 
 His extra men were Francis and Robert Lane, Phil 
 Harmon, and John Mayhew. Mr. Wilson took them to 
 the starting point before six o'clock that morning. 
 
 " This is goin' to be a great hay-day," he said. " We'll
 
 96 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 take the orchard first; this timothy is jest ripe. Can 
 you mow a square piece up to the Injy wheat, cross to 
 the ledge, back along the clover, an' up here, by ten 
 o'clock, Mr. Tyrrell ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; easy." 
 
 "Then begin right here, this side of the yeller dock 
 an' pigweed. Who goes first ? " 
 
 One of two was sure to lead, Phil or John, for both 
 were skilled athletes in field or rustic sports. 
 
 Neither replied, though either held himself as a bent 
 bow, ready for release. Phil made no sign, scarcely dar- 
 ing to assert superiority, and then, having won 'Lisbeth, 
 it was polite to give his rival the lead; and John was 
 silent, for he did not care. 
 
 They were a goodly pair, waiting with hats pushed 
 up above their foreheads. Each rested the heel of a 
 snath on the ground, and leaned on its bow-shaped 
 length. Beside the feet of each a curved blade, whetted 
 to a hair edge, flashed upward in the sun. 
 
 They were clad in blue trousers and white shirts, 
 smoothly ironed. A leathern belt girded each waist, 
 leaving their arms and shoulders easy, and their collars 
 were loosened for freedom and coolness. 
 
 At last Mr. Lane said, 
 
 " Well, John, you used to be good for sunthin' days 
 like these ; strike in : Phil will foller." 
 
 " Yes, sir, " answered both, raising themselves erect 
 at the word.
 
 Haying 97 
 
 Mr. Wilson kept pace with the eager, even steps of 
 the comely mower whom his mind favored, but his 
 foreordained conscience disallowed. He was distinctly 
 proud of John's learning ; and then, how he would like 
 to go to the village, and, while mother stayed with 'Lis- 
 beth, go into court with high head to hear John argue 
 before the jury. 
 
 If 'Lisbeth married Phil, she would be like other 
 women in twenty years, he told himself; then thought, 
 " Would she ? Was she like other girls ? While she 
 skimmed milk or spun linen for Phil, would not the 
 pathos of those tender eyes turn to the sadness of an 
 endless loss ? " 
 
 "Now aim for that great rock, keepin' close to the 
 clover. I'll be there," he said, and pulled his hat down 
 hard, and strode across the field. He could not give 
 her to error, though a lifetime of sorrow were the con- 
 sequence. There must be no infringement of divine or 
 family law, if every human hope were traversed. 
 
 " She must marry Phil, that's all ! " he said half- 
 aloud, as he sat down on a projecting edge of the 
 boulder. 
 
 The two young men were also musing of 'Lisbeth. 
 As for Phil, feeling sure he should marry her, he was 
 thinking how much better he should like her if she 
 was more like well Eunice, who was so full of 
 spirit, so unambitious, who would run contentedly by 
 his side, never asking questions ; but then, John and
 
 98 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 everybody else should know that when Phil Harmon 
 took his pick he selected the best. 
 
 John was waiting, sure of being right ; so, when they 
 met the farmer at the rock, each man was settled in his 
 mind. Opposite him the mowers paused and struck 
 the ends of their snaths firmly on the ground, thus 
 throwing the blades high as their shoulders. They 
 carefully wiped them from heel to tip with a wisp of 
 grass, and immediately their scythes rang musical and 
 clear from the rasp of whetstones. It was a heart- 
 some, pastoral symphony ; and, being finished, John 
 asked, 
 
 " Where now ? " 
 
 " Take a bee line for the wash-rock." 
 
 An untoward word, for both men saw 'Lisbeth framed 
 in the well-room doorway just beyond the rock, one 
 hand on Dorothy's head, and Lettice behind them, watch- 
 ing their work. The effect of the picture upon Phil 
 was very soon manifest. 
 
 " Gosh ! " said Tom under his breath. 
 
 " Land sakes alive ! " exclaimed Lettice. " Phil's 
 plannin' tew take John's swath, an' fust time round, 
 tew. 'Tain't fair. It's meaner'n dirt." 
 
 They saw the forward man made no haste to take the 
 challenge up. 
 
 " Dear me, suz ! he'll come by," whispered Lettice ; 
 but Jack drove one hand into his pocket, and holding 
 a sling with malice aforethought towards a blackbird
 
 Haying 99 
 
 in the other, said, important as one of mankind always 
 is, be he callow or gray, 
 
 " Ain't you scairt ! John'll begin to lay out that 
 grass 'fore long. He ain't mowin' yit." 
 
 Swish, swash, swish, swash, went the scythes in regu- 
 lar cadence, rhythmic and true ; but not until the glitter- 
 ing blade of his antagonist flashed beside his heel did 
 John give any sign ; then, as Jack predicted, he began 
 to mow. Honey-bees flew angrily away from full stores 
 of nectar. The robber baron bumblebee, clad in black 
 and gold, clung to his cup of clover sweets until its 
 stalk fell under him, then with deep curses pursued his 
 quest. The bobolink, free of the tormenting boy, swung 
 from a head of herd's grass, twinkled his merry eyes, and 
 poured a whole throatful of laughter over the battle- 
 field. The young men worked fair and true. There 
 were no straggling spears standing behind them, and 
 nowhere in that mowing land did any man perform his 
 task smoother, evener, or better. Before them the ripe 
 grass trembled rank on rank as it felt their cleaving 
 strokes. Heavy-headed herd's grass, feathery redtop, 
 and rosy-celled clover bent and fell in straight rows 
 beside their path. 
 
 Their hats were pushed from their beaded foreheads, 
 the light locks of one and warm brown of the other 
 were wet as if they had been plunged into dripping 
 dews. Their strong chests heaved and sank to the 
 deep, regular, rapid breath. They gripped the hafts of
 
 100 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 the snaths vice-like ; the sinews of their arms showed 
 beneath the moist, clinging sleeves, hard and tense as 
 ropes, and the veins swelled out like whipcords from 
 neck and temples. 
 
 " That's jest like boys ; they need gardeens, both on 
 'em," said Lettice ; " not a mite of breakfast, an' cuttin' 
 up an' actin' like that. I can't take my eyes off of 'em, 
 an' I darsent look, nuther ; dew tell, is Phil comin' by ? " 
 
 "No," said 'Lisbeth quietly. 
 
 " Praise be tew massy ! Well, I never did ! An' 
 there's my coffee bilin' an' sizzlin' over onto them coals, 
 an' the biskit a-burnin' in the baker, an' here I stan' 
 seein' them boys makin' fools of themselves." 
 
 " Let 'em burn, an' bile over, an' sizzle," screamed 
 Jack ; " who wants breakfast, anyway ? " 
 
 " John's kinder pullin' his heel-taps outen the way," 
 remarked one of the men ; for all had kept alongside the 
 combatants. Exactly so; he drew away inch by inch, 
 so when he reached the goal Phil was four strokes 
 behind. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " shouted Tom and Jack, turning somer- 
 saults on the dewy windrows. 
 
 "Yer darned smart critters, that's all I've got tew 
 say," commented one of the men, as they turned back 
 to finish their swaths ; and Mr. Wilson remarked dryly, 
 " You boys better fling them scythes down by the grin'- 
 stone, an' keep still till breakfast. I shall want both 
 for pitching this afternoon."
 
 Haying 101 
 
 Shouldering the dulled scythes, they went through the 
 well-room where 'Lisbeth was. The first one smiled 
 contentedly as he passed ; but she gave him no compli- 
 ment, though she said, " That was splendid, Phil," to the 
 other. 
 
 " The upshot is," Lettice told both, " you won't have 
 a single mouthful fit tew eat 'thout Mrs. Wilson's seen 
 tew it while I've been standin' here like a nat'ral born 
 fool, watchin' your silly pranks, an' lettin' everything 
 spile." 
 
 " Never mind," said John ; " it will take a good deal 
 to ruin one of your breakfasts." 
 
 " It's my 'pinion, John Mayhew, that after you've 
 tried tew wash down burnt biskits with smoky coffee, 
 you'll feel an' act some slower," said she, stepping down 
 into the kitchen. 
 
 After breakfast Tom and Jack with spreading-sticks 
 threw the grass evenly and thinly about to dry upon the 
 stubble. When it was cured, the men raked it into knee- 
 high windrows, which they divided into heaps. At last 
 Mr. Wilson drove his six-foot oxen, tackled to a great 
 cart, between the heaps, and pitchers on each side threw 
 them in, to be trodden down hard by frolicking boys, 
 and then drawn to the barn and stowed away in the 
 deep bay. 
 
 At early twilight, when the men were resting prone 
 on the greensward by the east door, or fitted new teeth 
 into broken rakes, or cut fresh heel-straps for scythe
 
 102 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 snaths, young Symonds went to help Lettice at milking. 
 Phil went home, and John caught sight of Mr. Wilson 
 beyond the upper field-bars, by a thick blossoming 
 clump of red and white roses, and leisurely crossed to 
 him. After a- short talk on general topics, John quietly 
 but proudly stated his special errand. 
 
 " Mr. Wilson, I came here to ask for 'Lisbeth." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I wish to marry your daughter," he replied, breaking 
 a rose from its stalk. 
 
 " You don't want no such thing." 
 
 " I am sure I do." 
 
 " An' I know better. Jest look at it. You're goin' to 
 be a lawyer, prob'ly be let in next November ; then you 
 want to begin housekeepin'. Is that sense ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir, you mistake my judgment." 
 
 " What then must wait for cases ? She may be 
 gray and I dead afore they come." 
 
 Love, in the sense of affection for a sweetheart, Mr. 
 Wilson had dutifully lived through, and been none the 
 worse for it, nor much the better ; but its memory had 
 grown to be quite like the lavender scents of the great 
 linen-chests which once held his wife's household mar- 
 riage portion, goodly enough, but faint and uncertain. 
 
 To his mind money and duty were the chief good. 
 He knew no duty of loving thought, as against his iron 
 will; but obeying dogma and church behests, that was 
 duty.
 
 Haying 103 
 
 " Considering what I ask, an exact statement of my 
 prospects is fair and right," said John, unheedingly 
 pulling off the crimson rose-petals one by one. " Squire 
 Baker proposes a place in his office at reasonable terms 
 of partnership. You know that means competence ; 
 and my first thought will be given to making a suitable 
 home for 'Lisbeth." 
 
 Mr. Wilson was fascinated ; there was no denying it. 
 Such straightforwardness, simple honesty, and faith in 
 himself were fetching, and a delicate affection that 
 quivered in the lover's voice as he finished drove a keen 
 shaft well through Mr. Wilson's iron-mailed prejudices, 
 and almost touched his heart ; but he gathered himself 
 together and went on, 
 
 "You're a glib talker; but s'posen there ain't busi- 
 ness enough for two, what then ? 'Tain't like turnin' 
 furrers for a livin'." 
 
 "There is now, and will be, sufficient for both; if 
 not, Squire Baker would help me in Portsmouth or 
 Boston." 
 
 " 'Tain't no use talkin' ; you don't reely know what 
 town you are goin' to live in. Do you s'pose, with 
 every feller round here and t'other side of the pond, 
 down to the foot on't, over to the Plains, an' out to 
 the village, plaguein' an' pesterin', I'm goin' to keep 
 'Lisbeth forty years for anybody ? 'Tain't likely." 
 
 " Suppose we leave it to 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 "We won't fool any longer. You're a good man
 
 104 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 mostly, but you won't suit for a son-in-law. 'Tain't 
 possible, fur as I see. No man can have my gal that 
 sets the doctrines behind him. If I knew this would 
 kill us all three, I would not change a syllable." 
 
 " Wait, Mr. Wilson. If I promise that in all matters 
 of belief she shall be absolutely free, how will you 
 answer ? " 
 
 " Jest the same ; 'twould resk it all : an' I tell ye 
 ag'in I'd speak these words if I knew 'twould kill 
 us." 
 
 Each syllable was spoken deliberately, mercilessly ; 
 but an undaunted face fronted him. 
 
 " Shall I renounce my mother's creed ? " 
 
 " Believin' it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then every living soul ought to despise you for 
 a low-lived critter." 
 
 " So, indeed, should I be ; a perjurer in my own 
 sight, in yours, in 'Lisbeth's, and before heaven it- 
 self. Plainly and truly, it is most dear to me; but 
 my mother enjoined as a rule of life, careful respect 
 and toleration for religious opinions. If 'Lisbeth casts 
 her lot with me she shall be entirely free in respect to 
 these things." 
 
 "Never utter another word on this subject. Do you 
 hear ? Never." 
 
 "But I am sure to." 
 
 "Why, wh "
 
 Haying 105 
 
 " Love for your daughter will compel speech." 
 
 "No; you'll stop right here. It's wastin' breath." 
 
 " Very well. I shall speak till one of us is dead." 
 
 " Mean you won't give this up ? " 
 
 " Precisely, Mr. Wilson." 
 
 "I'm goin' to settle it right here, once for all. I'm 
 tired of bein' tormented. Seems as if I hadn't stepped 
 off'ii our door rock this six months, lumberin', plantin', 
 sowin', to mill or to meetin', 'thout bein' follered up. 
 One is awful forrard helpin' chain a log, another hops 
 out of the woods as I'm footin' it alongside of the oxen, 
 or comes in nigh dusk to swap some seedlin' p'taters 
 or cat-eye beans ; an' every livin' one hantin' me to ask 
 the same question you've dogged me across the road for. 
 Why don't they try the old fashion of goin' to spellin'- 
 school, an' parin'-bees, an' huskin's, an' askin' to see a 
 gal home, instid of chasin' me up garrit an' down cellar, 
 into the cornfield, an' all over the lot." 
 
 John smiled in spite of himself, remembering a shy 
 girl in camlet cloak and big hood, who always left 
 them all behind the others because she did not love 
 them, and him because she did. Her father, unmind- 
 ful of such wandering thoughts, went on, 
 
 "I'm tired out, an' so I've put a stop to the whole 
 business." 
 
 How ? " 
 
 " By tellin' the last one before you to marry 'Lisbeth, 
 an' let me alone. Now I hope you'll take no for an
 
 106 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 answer, an' ain't layin' out to bother me all along 
 consarnin' it." 
 
 "I know I shall, Mr. Wilson." 
 
 " Why must you fuss an' trouble us ? But you 'pear 
 sot that way. If you b'leved the doctrines, you'd be 
 the very one mother 'n' me would pick out for our 
 child; for we are sure that humanly speakin' there 
 ain't a weak spot ner a mean one in ye. If any 
 man sh'd say John Mayhew wronged a soul, I sh'd 
 know he lied; but 'tain't no use, John, not a grain, 
 for you go where error is taught, an' foller it. You 
 can't be a hypercrite, ner see the sin of your ways, 
 neither one ; an' I can't run counter to the command- 
 ments, so I've put temptation out of the way." 
 
 "You have consented to marriage if this man gains 
 her consent ? " 
 
 " I have passed my word." 
 
 " To whom, may I ask ? " 
 
 " To a likely feller with cattle and sense to boot, 
 Philip Harmon." 
 
 " Has he spoken to 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 "I'm sure I dunno, nor care; he's goin' to marry 
 her, an that's enough." 
 
 John felt an icy grip at his heart as he dwelt on the 
 almost absolute power of such a father, augmented, as 
 it was sure to be, by churchly admonition and reproof. 
 She was a loyal dweller in Mr. Ward's priestly fold, 
 and subject to its discipline. Himself and the girl
 
 Haying 107 
 
 were in sore straits, and he was silent for some time, 
 weighing the matter carefully, and concluding what 
 further words he had better speak. 
 
 "Truly," thought Mr. Wilson, "John is very pale 
 indeed, but quiet and wise." He could tell 'Lisbeth 
 truthfully that he relinquished her easily. Every thing 
 appeared so much better than when they reached the wash 
 rock that morning. Steadily John commenced again, 
 
 "Phil has not visited 'Lisbeth?" 
 
 " I dunno ; " he began to be anxious. 
 
 " Suppose she refuses him ? " 
 
 "That is out of the case."- 
 
 " It would make a difference ? " 
 
 "Not a particle." 
 
 "Do you propose marriage between them in any 
 event ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Compelling her if need be ? " 
 
 "We're all under law; my child is no exception." 
 
 "Then obedience will be demanded?" 
 
 "Her mother an' me know best what's right, an' 
 she'll be told. Neither parents nor children can set 
 aside parental authority ; it's above both." 
 
 A quick fear seized Mr. Wilson, and he strode close 
 to his brave opponent. 
 
 " Look here, if you run to her you'll both git inter 
 trouble. She's goin' to marry Phil. If he's feared of 
 her, I ain't. If he dassent ask, I'll see to it. Keep
 
 108 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 your own side of the hedge, will you, and let my 
 
 child alone?" 
 i 
 Somehow Mr. Wilson felt half beaten in spite of 
 
 his high phrases ; for surely he had not found such a 
 very pliant boy as would run up the road simply be- 
 cause he was ordered to go. 
 
 " Your warning comes too late, Mr. Wilson ; I have 
 spoken to her, and she sent me to you." 
 
 Fiercely her father demanded, 
 
 "Is that all? Did she speak for herself?" 
 
 "She did. If Phil has your promise, 'Lisbeth's is 
 pledged to me." 
 
 "You can't hold her agin my authority, an' you 
 shall not." 
 
 "All law, all righteousness, Mr. Wilson, condemns 
 what your intolerance proposes. I will not bind my- 
 self to silence, and my reply is this : Without yield- 
 ing my own belief, with a sacred regard for 'Lisbeth's, 
 respecting your lawful rights as her father, and zeal- 
 ously guarding them all, what I can win I shall take 
 in proper fashion and in open day." 
 
 The last vestige of sympathy and admiration was 
 smothered in the elder man by such a reply. 
 
 " Your free will seems to need a little guidin'. 
 You've kinder taken the bits between your teeth, an' 
 kicked over the traces. WJiat do you mean?" 
 
 "You heard my answer," said John, breaking an- 
 other rose from the full stock, and starting homeward.
 
 Catechising Children 109 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CATECHISING CHILDREN 
 
 JOHN came to the house no more, but Mr. Wilson's 
 tactics were direct. He set his house in order, lest 
 his opponent's declared persistency should overcome at 
 last. 
 
 The lovers met occasionally at a neighbor's, and for 
 the rest, waited with what grace they could for a change 
 in him who so sternly traversed their hopes, not certain 
 that reversal of opinion would ever come. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Benson was gaining ground to the 
 extent of a secure and lasting foothold. His singing 
 and commanding presence mightily supplemented the 
 winning proclamation of a love unshackled, unpriced, 
 and all-embracing. Barriers to Calvinistic preserves 
 were certainly breaking down in places. That, of 
 course, made no end of trouble for the lovers, each de- 
 fection imbittering Mr. Wilson more and more. He was 
 not quite consistent, however ; for he so delighted in 
 argument, that as often as the iron-gray passed up and 
 down the road, so frequently he found himself with 
 only a stone wall between him and its rider. The stern 
 " Good-morning, sir," ran into controversy as naturally 
 as water runs down hill 3 and many a time the dirt was
 
 110 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 dry round a half-hoed hill of corn or potatoes before he 
 returned to it. 
 
 Admiration of one who overcame in argument was 
 a hidden law written in his members ; therefore, that 
 sweet-spirited man, skilled in polemics, possessed a defi- 
 nite power over him. He often went back to hoe, rake, 
 or waiting oxen, rubbing his eyebrows perplexedly, 
 wondering if he had really lost a perfectly plain argu- 
 ment. At such times he snapped Mr. Tyrrell very 
 shortly, or frightened the patient cattle by a fierce 
 whip-cut that sent them pulling through their bows ; but 
 he was sure to call, " Wa-hish, Bright, whoa there, 
 Golden," and leave them to chew their cuds and lazily 
 switch flies while he went, oxgoad in hand, to the wall 
 the next time that white hat and martial rider showed 
 above it. 
 
 Mr. Wilson failed to see that he held human deduc- 
 tions with a tenacity and loyalty owed only to divine 
 law. He did not consider that men degrade omnipotent, 
 immortal primal reason when they fear harm to the 
 living word from discussion of any human theory 
 whatsoever. Blest be that hastening day when dogma, 
 with intolerance and hate, its twin offspring, shall make 
 way before the overcoming grace of lives modelled by 
 the one perfect creed, the Master's Sermon on the 
 Mount. 
 
 In the August following Mr. Wilson's encounter with 
 John by the rosebushes, he called upon his pastor, Mr.
 
 Catechising Children 111 
 
 "Ward, and laid the whole case before that worthy and 
 exemplary man, who listened to the statement sincerely 
 grieved for such a gracious member of his flock and 
 her much-tormented father. 
 
 Mr. Ward was the pastors of that church had ever 
 been rare men a person of genuine piety, and of 
 superior wisdom. 
 
 The severer doctrines of the creed distressed him ; but 
 he was a loyal soul, and as he had heard, so he taught 
 faithfully, to the great edification of the congregation, 
 except one of the deacons, and perhaps a male member 
 or two, who deemed that he expounded faith to the 
 detriment of cardinal dogma, predestination, and the 
 like. As minister, he was next friend to all church 
 members and their families ; the ordained sharer of 
 their cares and hopes ; their helper, and, if need be, their 
 chastiser. The trouble of 'Lisbeth's touched him deeply ; 
 for she was the earliest fruit of his priestly harvests, 
 and had always been a teachable, happy girl. 
 
 He had already determined to make a pastoral visit 
 to that corner of the churchly heritage, catechise the 
 children, and pray with some ailing members of his 
 fold ; so he told Mr. Wilson the visit would be paid 
 immediately, and he would find opportunity for speech 
 with 'Lisbeth at the same time, as the children were to 
 meet at Mr. Wilson's house. 
 
 On the day set, all household preparations were early 
 made, so no domestic confusion should disturb the half-
 
 112 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 religious day. A Sabbath air gradually enveloped the 
 household, as wheel and loom were left, cards and reels 
 hung up before ten o'clock. The children were clad in 
 their best ; and Dame Wilson, prim and stern, clothed 
 in a lilac-sprigged calico gown, her cap- border tied down 
 peacefully with lilac ribbon, rehearsed them in cate- 
 chism and psalms, after which they were allowed to go 
 circumspectly into the front yard ; but out of respect 
 to the visitor, and also to their Sunday garments, they 
 must not run nor be noisy. After a while Mr. Ward ar- 
 rived. The boys pulled their caps off, and bowed, while 
 Dorothy courtesied very demurely. He patted their 
 thick locks, drew his eyebrows together anxiously, and 
 said to Mr. Wilson, " I do hope, Mr. Wilson, I do hope 
 these young children of yours will never know the dis- 
 aster sure to follow church doctrines lightly held or 
 openly defied, but I have grave fears for the rising 
 generation." 
 
 The boys looked up at him awestruck, dimly con- 
 scious of belonging to some mysterious force or other, 
 which was advancing to be confronted by another ter- 
 rible power, whether bodily or not was a question ; li- 
 able at any moment to break forth in some unknown 
 fashion, from what place they could not tell, and stalk 
 up and down those roads to the general detriment. 
 
 Those little catechumens sat down on the front door- 
 step after he went into the house, full of misery from 
 a mixture of emotions, caused partly by solemn thoughts
 
 Catechising Children 113 
 
 revolving in their minds, the general state of repression 
 about the house, and their Sabbath clothes. They were 
 moved, also, very acutely after a while by the fact that 
 it was a dreamy, hazy, golden day, and gem-tinted butter- 
 flies were flying over the sweetwilliams and canterbury- 
 bells; and again, there was a leather sling in Tom's 
 pocket, while a chipmunk whisked hither and thither 
 over and through the high stone wall opposite. 
 
 Mr. Wilson had not confided to his wife the principal 
 reason for that ministerial visit ; but he determined to 
 take time by the forelock, and transfer her to some scene 
 of usefulness other than the fore-room, so the most 
 important matter relating to 'Lisbeth's besetment and 
 duty might be reached and settled before dinner. 
 
 " Mother," he said, after a reasonable time for general 
 inquiry after each other's health, and so on, " Mother, 
 where's them boys an' 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " The boys are on the doorstep, and 'Lisbeth just 
 stepped out to put a tier on Dorothy." 
 
 He went into the kitchen, returning immediately, hat 
 in hand. 
 
 " I guess Lettice needs you, mother, so 'st to git 
 dinner goin' a little faster ; an' I'll run out to call Mr. 
 Tyrrell, an' help him put up the oxen." 
 
 Passing out of the door, he said, " 'Lisbeth, your 
 mother's busy, an' I'm goin' into the field a minute ; you 
 go into the fore-room an' visit with Mr. Ward." 
 
 Yes, sir."
 
 114 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Lettice, having donned new cap and apron, was pre- 
 paring the midday meal in a subdued fashion ; % but she 
 found time to read her employer like a book. She had 
 distrusted him since he told them that his children and 
 those of families in the vicinity were to be catechised 
 at his house. 
 
 She happened to be at the dresser when he sent his 
 wife into the kitchen, and her alert understanding took 
 in the truth. 
 
 Her first thought was to say that no assistance was 
 desired, but she finally concluded to let matters alone 
 at present ; and so 'Lisbeth was left to the counsel of 
 a sagacious overseer. 
 
 Once, when Lettice went to the dresser for a large 
 blue platter, she saw through the open door the girl's 
 pale face at one side of the west- window, gazing 
 painedly far up through the red-fruited cherry trees ; 
 and on the other an equally anxious and disquieted 
 countenance, whose large gentle eyes were fixed en- 
 treatingly on his listener. What after passed between 
 them she did not note; but Mr. Ward brought to the 
 bountiful table the appearance of one whose duty is 
 well performed, and 'Lisbeth was in better spirits than 
 had lately been her wont. 
 
 Children's meeting in the afternoon was exceedingly 
 quaint and sweet. All were dressed in Sunday suits 
 and manners ; so were their parents. 
 
 Mr. Tyrrell unharnessed and unsaddled the horses,
 
 Catechising Children 115 
 
 put them into the barn, and backed the wagons to one 
 side, as neighbor after neighbor arrived. 
 
 Lettice received the people in the east-room, and paid 
 special attention to the children ; bright, clear-faced, 
 strong-willed lads and lasses they were, every one. 
 They trod softly on the shining yellow floor, and hushed 
 their voices replying to Lettice as she took off their 
 hats and bonnets, smoothed them out generally, settled 
 the women's caps, and marshalled them into the fore- 
 room, where the children Avere seated in a semi-circular 
 row, with their parents behind them. The first-comers, 
 while waiting for the rest, amused themselves by observ- 
 ing their tow locks and rosy faces in the mirror between 
 the south windows, and the exciting hunting scenes 
 pictured on the walls. They were much awed by a 
 mourning-piece, so called, that hung high on the wall 
 in a mahogany frame, where, beneath the most flourish- 
 ing but pathetic willow, a female mourner, clad in fault- 
 less weeds and low-cut bodice, leaned on a tombstone, 
 and held in one long hand an immense handkerchief, 
 ready to cover her face as soon as the admiring specta- 
 tors should realize her grief and how beautifully she 
 bore it. 
 
 Upon a high mantel were two brass candlesticks, 
 and above them hung a copy of the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, in a narrow frame. 
 
 A delicate lustral bowl filled with sweetwilliams and 
 bachelor's buttons was on the spindle-legged table, and
 
 116 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 beside it lay a large Bible, a copy of Watts' s hymns, and 
 Bunyan's immortal parable. 
 
 Several books of history, philosophy, and essays stood 
 on a tall desk between the west windows and a corner 
 china closet, whose glass door disclosed Mrs, Wilson's 
 new mulberry set, .and some finely cut glassware. A 
 huge fireplace was filled with fir boughs, that scented 
 the room with balsamic odors. 
 
 For two hours Mr. Ward listened to recitals of cate- 
 chism and psalms, sometimes altogether, sometimes 
 singly. He questioned one and another; told them 
 stories of good children and a little Bible history. 
 
 "I think," said the excellent pastor, his fine face 
 beaming upon the children, " I really do think you 
 have tried to learn and understand, and you have 
 greatly cheered my heart. 
 
 " Our duties are many, and next to love for God and 
 our parents is love of country. I want all of you, the 
 boys in particular, to learn the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence before school opens. I shall visit your school 
 soon after it begins, and when examinations are over 
 I will instruct you concerning it and the men who made 
 it. I am pleased to bring a notice from Mr. Mason, who 
 desired me to say he will begin singing-school in this 
 district the second Monday evening in September, at 
 early candlelight." 
 
 He gave a gracious word to each child as it went out, 
 then congratulated the parents for that they had been
 
 Catechising Children 117 
 
 so strenuous in matters of instruction as to doctrine, 
 and also that many of the little ones were in the 
 psalms ? 
 
 " Our Jim couldn't help that," said Mrs. Powell. 
 " He's in mischief pretty much all the time ; an' we 
 makes him set right down an' say all he knows, an' 
 learn ten more bran-new verses. That's his punish- 
 ment, reg'lar." 
 
 Who hears him ? " 
 
 " Mr. Powell's mother. She's kinder old, an' her 
 time ain't wuth much, but she's trooly great on 
 Scripter." 
 
 Jim appeared at the door that moment. " Come here, 
 my little man," said Mr. Ward. "Do you know most 
 of the psalms ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I hear your grandmother instructs you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, " shamefacedly, and tugging with all his 
 might at a brass pants button. 
 
 " I hope you love her ? " 
 
 Mrs. Powell's anxious appearance was a study ; so was 
 Jim's. He had repeated catechism and chapter fault- 
 lessly, now it was " no fair," he told himself, to be teas- 
 ing a boy that way. He was honest too ; so he pulled 
 harder at the button, and a high color flew to the roots 
 of his hair, as he answered defiantly, 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Why, James ! "
 
 118 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " I don't ; ner I don't like psalms, an' if I grow to be 
 a man I won't never read a single one ! " 
 
 The poor boy ran out during the amazed pause that 
 followed his short speech, and said to the boys, 
 
 " Mother'll warm my jacket, but I swanny, I'm glad 
 I said it, lick or no lick." 
 
 "Here, James," called 'Lisbeth, who had followed 
 him out ; " come back and tell Mr. Ward you were sorry 
 when grandma was sick a while ago." 
 
 " Course I was, she had such pain, an' couldn't sleep, 
 ner nuthin'; but if she could die 'thout bein' sick, she 
 might, an' welcome, for all me." 
 
 " James, you would care if she died ! " 
 
 " Mother says she'd be better off, an' an' I 
 shouldn't care a cent, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 'Lisbeth returned to assist in passing refreshments. 
 Mrs. Harmon must have the receipt for Lettice's fruit- 
 cake before she went home, and she went into the 
 kitchen to get it, followed by more women, who had 
 other varieties of domestic solicitude, receipts for 
 pickles, jellies, and barberry marmalade, borrowing a 
 little alum to set a color, or a small piece of indigo to 
 strengthen one. While they were receiving those com- 
 mon attentions, Mr. Ward discoursed to his male mem- 
 bers as to unsettling of doctrine and kindred dangers, 
 and expressed satisfaction for the zeal of that district 
 in such respects ; yes, he was glad in his heart for that 
 exemplary part of his charge. He was a goodly shep-
 
 Meeting Between Mr. Ward and Mr. Benson 119 
 
 herd, standing there among his flock after the women 
 returned. 
 
 He was tall and slender, having fine large features 
 and dark-blue eyes. He possessed "a heavenly tem- 
 per, and was so pure in life no evil thing could be 
 said of him." He was also very gracious in manner, 
 and fairly glowed with the inspiring visit, perfect, ex- 
 cept for Jim's defection in the matter of psalms and 
 his grandmother. 
 
 There was a definite note of satisfaction in good- 
 bys spoken when the sun hung an hour high above 
 Sugarloaf. 
 
 Mr. Wilson walked beside his pastor's saddle some 
 distance ; and as they went by some children gathering 
 sweet flag beside the brook, the little ones bowed and 
 courtesied. Mr. Ward raised his hat, saying kindly, 
 
 " I see you mind your manners, children." 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MEETING BETWEEN MR. WARD AND MR. BENSON 
 
 As soon as they were beyond earshot Mr. Wilson began 
 discourse as to what would bring 'Lisbeth out of danger, 
 and graft her firmly to a branch of church stock, to the 
 neglect of a stately young alien vine, which displayed
 
 120 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 such alarming inclination toward climbing over sectarian 
 walls. Mr. Wilson, having a hard kind of philosophy 
 accepted by a wilful sort of men, said, 
 
 "It's no use beatin' round the bush, better settle it 
 once for all ; " but his minister, kind and manly, in- 
 sisted against coercion. 
 
 " I am opposed to immediate marriage, Mr. Wilson, 
 and also to positively commanding such a contract with 
 Mr. Harmon. Leave her free." 
 
 " But I've give my word to Phil." 
 
 " What ! " He drew the horse up sharply, and ob- 
 served the speaker severely, then started again, say- 
 ing, 
 
 "You did not so inform me. Does even Elizabeth 
 fully comprehend ? Have you been plain with her ? " 
 
 "Yes; that is, she understands well 'nuff." 
 
 Mr. Ward's countenance did not soften, for he felt 
 the exact truth. Evidently neither man had spoken to 
 the girl ; nor had Harmon paid her any loving tribute 
 of unselfish attention to win her favor. He asked 
 the' proud girl of hef father, yes, demanded her life, 
 without one token of tenderness towards herself. It 
 was as if she belonged to those two self-willed men, 
 like the horses in their stalls, and the lambs of their 
 folds. 
 
 All the fatherhood of his loving heart went out to 
 that defrauded child. The law demanded obedience 
 of her ; yet he saw how warped and twisted and
 
 Meeting Between Mr. Ward and Mr. Benson 121 
 
 unnatural such authority became, wrenched from its 
 gracious design. 
 
 Had he consulted his heart as to which of those 
 young men should be intrusted with 'Lisbeth, he would 
 have replied, " God can keep his elect anywhere ; for 
 love and truth's sake let John Mayhew seek his own." 
 He might not command contrary to law, but he might 
 and would see its intent unbroken; so he counselled 
 in a tone which seemed more a command, 
 
 "I will see Mr. Harmon, and inquire of him fully 
 why he seeks your daughter in marriage ; till then 
 let the. matter rest." 
 
 Here he drew the horse to a halt, and leaned forward, 
 intently listening to a hymn, toned rich and clear, 
 which cleft the air from the opposite winding hill, 
 and provoked a faint echo from the deep woods. 
 
 "Who is that?" inquired he earnestly. 
 
 " The tenor singer." 
 
 Who ? " 
 
 "The circuit-rider." 
 
 " Ah, listen ! The gift of song is a blessed one, and 
 he is a man of extraordinary appearance and character, 
 I am told." 
 
 u He never cuts up, an' looks like a 'postle, an' can 
 argerfy like Jeremiah Smith ; but he's the wust of the 
 lot." 
 
 " Indeed ! You have met him, then." 
 
 " Yes ; 'Lisbeth an' me met him an' John fust time he
 
 122 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 travelled our way, an' ever sence he's been racin' up an' 
 down, cuttin' 'cross lots from the turnpike to county 
 road, one way or t'other, twice a month ; an' he allus 
 stops by the wall or barn, or wheresomever I happen to 
 be. Jest stops to arger, and sticks to it like a good 
 feller." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 The hymn was coming so near, some words could be 
 dimly heard, one of Charles Wesley's triumphant 
 
 songs : 
 
 " More than conquerors at last, 
 Here they find their trials o'er. 
 They have all their sorrows past, 
 Hunger now and thirst no more. 
 No excessive heat they feel 
 From the sun's directer ray ; 
 In a milder clime they dwell, 
 Kegion of eternal day." 
 
 As the song slowly died along the echoing slopes, the 
 minstrel came into view round a curve at the top of the 
 first steep pitch of the hill. The rein was tightly 
 drawn along the neck of the iron-gray, Avho stepped cau- 
 tiously over rolling stones and rough ledge, between 
 rows of bird-cherry trees, red, and bending 'neath their 
 weight of fruit. He trotted sedately over the short 
 level and merry brook, and the three travellers met. 
 Truly, it was a difficult case for Mr. Wilson ; but he in- 
 troduced them. The greeting was quiet, as became gen- 
 tlemen ; then they searched each other's faces, but the
 
 Meeting Between Mr. Ward and Mr. Benson 123 
 
 noble manliness of each prevented awkwardness. They 
 might have been fellow-knights from Palestine, so reg- 
 nant were they ; or stern and resolute mortal foes, yet 
 entirely blameless, and full of loyalty to truth. Faith 
 inspired the visage of each. At length the new-comer 
 tranquilly spoke, 
 
 " Brother Ward, you are not really a stranger to me." 
 
 Ah ! " 
 
 " A young man whom I highly value has made your 
 name familiar ; for you are, in fact, his pastor, and cer- 
 tainly possess his high esteem." 
 
 " Indeed ! He has done me good service, and I am 
 debtor to him. Who is he ? " 
 
 "John Mayhew, than whom I know none worthier." 
 
 "You judge him correctly, I esteem him." 
 
 Even as those steadfast men viewed one another so 
 keenly, a mutual respect was born in them which lasted 
 while both lived. 
 
 Mr. Wilson did not lack courage, and could not allow 
 those approving remarks to pass uncorrected. 
 
 "He is rash an' headstrong, after the manner of 
 high-headed an' forrard youth." 
 
 " But I account him self-governed and restrained," 
 replied Father Benson. 
 
 Mr. Ward turned the conversation to irregularities 
 which had occurred during Mr. Benson's last meeting. 
 
 * 
 
 " Mr. Benson, allow me to apologize for the heedless 
 behavior shown toward you by some younger mem-
 
 124 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 bers of my congregation. You cannot be more deeply 
 grieved by it than I am." 
 
 " Do not be disturbed on my account." 
 
 " I think there will be no further offence." 
 
 " Our ministers suffer indignities, and must. In this 
 case the young men were simply thoughtless." 
 
 " You are not native to this State ? " 
 
 "No; I am from Heading." 
 
 "An old orthodox town. Strange that one of alien 
 faith should come from her ! " 
 
 "Whether the belief I now hold be alien or no, I will 
 not declare ; but I am a living witness to the power of 
 Reading orthodoxy." 
 
 "Will you tell me how?" 
 
 "Certainly. I was brought up in the straitest doc- 
 trine of Calvin, and studied Wesley that I might 
 meet the new sect by reasoning. Somehow the novel 
 teaching laid hold of my judgment, and I became an 
 object of blame at home. My unhappiness became so 
 great that I finally concluded if salvation was in a 
 creed, rather than the Bible, nothing could be real. 
 Still I persecuted the new sect as some satisfaction 
 for lost hope, till I met Edward Taylor, who led me 
 to unclouded faith. With prayer and fasting have I 
 come so far." 
 
 " And have arrived at truth ? " 
 
 " Perfect truth is the essence of God's character ; 
 no man has attained to it," replied Mr. Benson.
 
 Meeting Between Mr. Ward and Mr. Benson 125 
 
 " May I ask a few questions ? " 
 
 " As many as you 'please." 
 
 " Thank you. Were those things our fathers accom- 
 plished the results of error ? You know the story 
 of their advent into a country full of wild beasts and 
 wilder men, having a severer climate than they had 
 ever known. Some power upheld them. Was it the 
 evil one ? Is this goodly fruitage of soil, these flocks 
 and herds, the harvest of false planting ? In the teeth 
 of every spoiler laying wait to destroy k has that weak 
 remnant become thousands, and tens of thousands, filled 
 hillside and level with a happy, prosperous, self-centred, 
 and self-governed race, by believing a lie ? " 
 
 Calmly the circuit-rider replied, 
 
 " Absolute reliance on God, and belief that he called 
 them and went before them, is the only reasonable 
 answer to a thinking soul. We are all debtors here, 
 immeasurably so/'' 
 
 "Now, Mr. Benson, I cannot but conclude that there 
 is mysterious blindness in leaving our illustrious heri- 
 tage of churchly and civil splendor for a stranger 
 calling itself a church ; and if it be, it is a lesser, 
 fading light." 
 
 " So far as proper pride in clerical achievement is 
 concerned, none excel me. It is my honest and ador- 
 ing thought that God made the Pilgrims the chosen 
 instruments of his purpose, and abides beside their 
 sacred places."
 
 126 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Why, then, do you offer incense at gentile shrines ? " 
 
 " In all the earth the altars *M the Most High are 
 one. Creeds are neither shrines nor sacred perfume. 
 At their best they only embody human thought, and 
 sometimes are made the vehicle of arbitrary, unholy 
 power. Had the Puritan kept to the advice of the 
 pious and learned John Robinson, we should be in 
 no difficulty." 
 
 " You cannot say he was free from creed ; he was 
 our schoolmaster as a doctrine." 
 
 " Yet he freed me from the bondage of it." 
 
 " How is it possible ? " 
 
 "By perusing his farewell sermon to those of his 
 flock embarking for America. This he said, 
 
 " ' I charge you before God and his blessed angels, 
 that you follow me no farther than you have seen 
 me follow the Lord Jesus Christ. If God reveal 
 anything to you by any instrument of his, be as 
 ready to receive it as ever you were to receive any 
 truth by my ministry ; for I am verily persuaded, 
 I am very confident, the Lord has more truth yet 
 to break out of his holy word. ... For it is not 
 possible the Christian world should come so lately 
 out of such thick antichristian darkness, and that 
 perfection of knowledge should break forth at once.' 
 
 " Must you not believe John Robinson contemplated 
 further light should break upon this chosen people ? " 
 
 " It seems impossible," said Mr. Ward, " that he
 
 Meeting Between Mr. Ward and Mr. Benson 127 
 
 who made and tempered them to such triumphant 
 uses should withdraw from them, and give his favor 
 to another. Your sect claims that we make absolute 
 dominion alone the type of Deity. Surely he who 
 rides on the wings of the wind, who sets the move- 
 ment of the stars, who made this wondrous frame of 
 man, must possess resistless power." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; but his Fatherhood equals his might, 
 Brother Ward. When I am told God smites without 
 pity, and elects whom he will destroy, I withstand 
 the blow ; but when I read, God so loved the world 
 that he gave his Son, that whoever believeth in him 
 should not perish, it is another thing. I adore his 
 glory and dominion, I magnify his wisdom, but all 
 my soul goes out to him who loves me." 
 
 "Do you then expect subversion of present teach- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " I confidently look for the overthrow of all creeds 
 which elevate dogma above the teaching of Christ. 
 It is given to none of woman born to warp one word 
 of his. He calls us kindred ; and this unity shall 
 bind the earth to him at last. Dogma shall fail, its 
 dominion cease, but the love of Christ our Lord shall 
 establish a government Avhose increase and authority 
 shall be 'from sea to sea, and from the rivers to 
 the ends of the earth.' " 
 
 Mr. Ward grasped his hand as they silently rode 
 apart, and in the exaltation of that hour Mr. Wilson 
 was silent.
 
 128 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE MORNING AFTKR SINGING-SCHOOL 
 
 THE Monday after Mr. Ward's pastoral visit, Tom 
 Wilson took the ponderous key which the district 
 kept in Mr. Wilson's custody, and ran up the hill 
 to open the door of the schoolhouse ; but he slowed 
 a trifle when he caught sight of the solemn structure, 
 forty feet square, for it seemed a bit pokerish to think 
 of entering it alone. 
 
 Its sides were covered with very thick matched 
 boards, black, patched with moss and broken by win- 
 dows high up towards the eaves, hidden by plank 
 shutters. 
 
 A plank door hinged on a corner post ; and a great 
 squat chimney perched astride the ridgepole had oc- 
 casionally dropped a brick upon the roof, until the chim- 
 ney was ragged, and the shaven shingles rotted to 
 leaking by its fragments. 
 
 Tom caught his breath when the groaning door 
 turned miserably back on its rusty hinges into the 
 dark, un ventilated entry. He had heard that ghosts 
 revelled in such haunts, and black cats rushed spit- 
 ting and scratching from similar places. 
 
 He was in a mild state of shiver and goose-Ht'.sh
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 129 
 
 so delightful to a plucky boy ; but he whistled 
 " Yankee Doodle," and marched into the darkened, 
 musty schoolroom, jumped upon a bench, threw up 
 a window, and unhasped a blind, then another, and 
 a third ; but he shrieked when the southern blind 
 swung heavily back, for a couple of winged creatures 
 flew almost from within his hand. However, they 
 proved to be enormous bats, which struck blindly 
 about, and then flapped up into the shadows of the 
 drooping eaves. 
 
 He ran down the descending aisle which separated 
 the girls' benches from those of the boys,' crossed 
 the floor, and standing on the entry door-sill looked 
 back to a narrow front seat ten feet away, where the 
 A-B-C class was accustomed to dangle its numb 
 little feet and twist itself into all manner of shapes. 
 
 From there, desks and floor rose gradually to the 
 south wall. 
 
 There was but one aisle, which divided the benches 
 in half ; and of course one end of the tiers of seats 
 touched the wall. 
 
 The master's desk, ample and high enough to seat 
 unruly boys under, filled the eastern end of the floor, 
 except two spaces, one separating it from the low seat, 
 and the other from the girls' shelves, which were built 
 into the north side, and occupied the space to the great 
 fireplace. They were constructed for the girls' cloaks 
 and hoods ; but the upper shelf had long been given up
 
 130 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 to spare books, inkstands, everybody's dinner-pail, and 
 whatever indefinite gear the master held in pawn for 
 good behavior. An immense chimney and fireplace, 
 with a brick hearth which ran halfway across the floor, 
 wedged itself in close between shelves and door. 
 
 The smoky west wall was constructed of matched 
 boards, whereon singing or school master might dem- 
 onstrate, if he could find space between . crevices 
 of dovetailed edges sufficient to put staff or sum. 
 Along a crack betwixt two planks the worn flooring 
 plainly showed where cowhide boots had " toed the 
 mark." 
 
 Gauzy filaments, airy cobwebs, hung from ceiling to 
 floor, and thrilled him by a recurrent sense of hob- 
 goblins. 
 
 " Timenation ! " he yelled, driving his hands into 
 his pockets and facing the door, as he heard dry chips 
 crunching beneath rapid footsteps. 
 
 " Oh, you ain't scart ever, be ye ? " laughed Dorothy, 
 running in. " Ugh ! isn't it cobwebby and musty ? 
 Come along ; breakfast's ready," and they went out 
 over the hill in a flash. 
 
 By nine o'clock women came bringing wooden piggins 
 of soft lye-soap and fine sand in pewter porringers, and 
 swept, scoured, and dusted, till Lettice declared the 
 pl&ce clean, " if ever anything was." 
 
 Besides lighting a fire and bringing water, boys raked 
 the dooryard clean, brought in wood and kindlings for
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 131 
 
 singing-school, oiled the hinges of the doors, and teased 
 the girls. 
 
 The boys waited for the fire to die out after the task 
 was completed, amusing themselves with games of tag, 
 and running matches ; but the women soon repaired 
 to Mr. Wilson's for a cup of tea, which Jack told them 
 was drawing for their refreshment, and also for a little 
 restful gossip. 
 
 Singing-school evening ended a September day such 
 as became a ripened season. 
 
 The sun was throwing his last bright bolts of light 
 from behind the southern spur of Sugarloaf, and cool 
 purple clouds, banded with yellow and streaked with 
 red, lay reflected deep in the pond's blue water, when 
 Lavina Smith and her brother Ben ran down the steep 
 side hill, reddening with early autumn dyes, and cut 
 into the forest. 
 
 Emerging, Ben ran up the ridge, while Lavina has- 
 tened to Mr. Wilson's, took the big key, and sprang 
 along the level and up hill, her bright cloak flying out 
 like brilliant wings. 
 
 " Hello ! " called Ben by the schoolhouse door ; " come 
 along quick. I've stripped off birch bark to light the 
 tire." 
 
 They kindled a fire quickly ; then Ben pulled two 
 iron candlesticks from his pockets, and Lavina laid some 
 candles beside them on the teacher's desk. 
 
 Ben put a candle into a stick, took the tongs, and
 
 132 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 broke a live coal from a crumbling brand, blew upon it 
 till tongues of flame darted out, by which he lighted his 
 candle, just as Tom and Jack came in bringing extra 
 chairs. 
 
 Outside, cheery " How d'ye do's " and " How be ye's " 
 of those on foot, and those who jogged up on horseback, 
 preluded the entrance of various groups. 
 
 Soon Mr. Mason threw himself from his saddle. 
 Jack rode the animal down to his father's barn, and 
 the singing-master went briskly in; shook hands with 
 acquaintances, and laowed to those unknown. He wore 
 homespun trousers, blue broadcloth coat and waistcoat, 
 buttoned with brass buttons, and high black silk stock. 
 
 As early as 1807 the Plymouth Musical Society was 
 incorporated, electing Kev. Nathan Ward president. 
 Those valleys and hamlets were the home of song. 
 
 Mr. Mason was born to it ; he loved harmony, and 
 loved to teach it. His equipment was a singing-book, 
 pointer, chalk, and tuning-fork. He wasted no time in 
 compliments, though polite and amiable. 
 
 " We are very much pleased to have so many friends 
 come to see us start off," said he. " Mr. Wilson, will 
 you take a seat in the desk, and I guess there's room 
 for three or four more. Mrs. Lane, will you and these 
 other ladies sit in the chairs ? I want the singers as 
 near me as possible, so there will be plenty of spare 
 room on the back seat. Now school will come to order 
 right away ; we must make all we can out of this and
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 133 
 
 every evening, for our thirty lessons will soon be gone. 
 Take first seat of the tribble, Miss Wilson." 
 
 The school scrambled into place, Huldah sighing as 
 she went to the head of the altos solemnly and deliber- 
 ately, as a foreordained right. 
 
 " We'll have a sing before recess, and warm up a 
 little. Turn to the first piece, ' Old Hundred,' < Praise 
 God from whom all blessings flow.' Sing slowly, about 
 this time. Follow the stick." 
 
 At such a moment an accident would naturally hap- 
 pen to Tom Wilson, and it did ; just as the expectant si- 
 lence was to be broken by the first chords, when every 
 hand was marking time, every eye on the pointer, every 
 form erect and stiff as buckram, rap-ap-ap-ap-ap went 
 something, striking bench and seat, bumping along down 
 onto the floor. Tom had forgotten his candlestick, so 
 stuck his candle carelessly to the desk. It toppled over, 
 and rolled off. 
 
 The tense nerves relaxed, attention straying to Tom, 
 who, being near the wall, pulled himself upon the seat ; 
 and those who occupied it hitched forward, and bent 
 over, giving him room to pass and repass behind them. 
 He recovered his straying property rather awkwardly, 
 yet betraying a keen sense of humor. The master said 
 composedly, as seemed meet for one living on the verge 
 of casualties, 
 
 " Put the end of your candle over Ben's light till the 
 tallow melts. There ! now hold it down on your desk till
 
 134 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 it cools. That's it. We're ready again ; let me see every 
 hand marking time, one two three four." 
 
 Watching the steady beat, he sharply bit his tuning- 
 fork, put it to his ear, and gave the pitch, - " do me 
 sol do ; sol me do," each part taking its own 
 note, clear and true. " Sing ! " The healthy young 
 voices struck those mighty chords lovingly, if crudely, 
 and poured forth the adoring strains with the spirit, 
 and much understanding. 
 
 " That was well sung. Now ( Antioch ; ' give those 
 high notes full and firm, Miss Wilson." 
 
 So they sang through wailing " China," " St. Martin's," 
 and kindred hymns ; after recess changing to lessons on 
 the "board," and that most trying exercise of all, 
 "sounding" voices. After he had drilled them in 
 staff, bars, clefs, keys, rests, major scales and minor 
 scales to his satisfaction, Mr. Mason gave out a tune, 
 " Siloam," saying, 
 
 " Sing it very gently ; this is your time," marking a 
 very moderate movement with his stick. They sang, 
 and he turned an ear, and bent attentively toward the 
 altos and trebles. 
 
 " Now the next verse, same time ; sing ! " 
 
 During the singing he accorded critical attention to 
 tenors and basses. 
 
 " I hear a discord on this side ; some new voices which 
 don't keep the pitch. The tenors may sound alone; 
 now, every one with me, do me sol do. Yes, I see,
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 135 
 
 Tom Wilson don't quite hit it. Now the basses, if you 
 please, do me sol me do. Ah, David King and 
 Billy Batchelder are a little off. You three boys come 
 out here ; we'll see what we can do." 
 
 They blundered out behind the rows of pupils, and 
 stood confusedly before him, tugging at their spencers, 
 and wishing themselves in the bottom of the pond. 
 
 However, they wrestled manfully with the notes Mr. 
 Mason took from his tuning-fork and passed to them. 
 Sometimes their efforts ended in croaks marvellous 
 enough to surprise their friends, then they giggled, and 
 the whole school joined in chorus ; again, their voices 
 jumped clear over all bars, and they bit their lips and 
 turned scarlet, while the school screamed with merri- 
 ment. At last the master asked the pupils to help, and 
 finally sent David and Billy to the altos, and Tom to 
 the trebles, saying, 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, scholars, for so kindly 
 sounding with these boys. We have all been begipners, 
 and we should always be helpers ; the drill has been 
 good for you as well as for them. They'll be able to 
 help others after a while, for they're going to make first- 
 rate singers. We have only time to sing a couple of 
 pieces more. Turn to 'Ware.'" Nine o'clock came, and 
 school closed promptly. The young men gathered by 
 the outside door, awaiting sweethearts, half of them too 
 bashful to offer an arm or make an articulate sound 
 when the equally coy maidens appeared.
 
 136 . ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 That delicious kind of torture was especially imposed 
 upon them that evening; because one's partner might be 
 continued through the winter's festivities, or even for 
 a lifetime. There was considerable anxiety outside, 
 and not a little solicitude by the girl's shelves, as they 
 put on their things. Personal interest was lessened, 
 however, by observing John go home alone, and 'Lisbeth 
 intently settle Dorothy's bonnet as she. passed Phil's 
 offered arm, nor answered his low, " May I see you 
 home?" 
 
 He flushed and paled, but recovered himself in season 
 to repeat the offer to Eunice, who laid her bare, chubby 
 hand on his homespun sleeve, and gayly tripped away 
 with him. 
 
 'Lisbeth rose next morning without thought of any 
 reckoning for that she refused Phil's escort; so after 
 breakfast, singing snatches of the last evening's music, 
 she brought the great wool-wheel to the east room 
 hearth, because a smouldering brand or two were neces- 
 sary at early morning for drawing to a nice and even 
 fineness the long threads of woollen yarn she was spin- 
 ning. 
 
 Spinning wool was an enticing employment. Not all 
 the laid work wrought by her on pale winter afternoons, 
 with the sunlight in her hair, and glinting the fadeless 
 crewels of her broidery, nor drawing in of beautifully 
 dyed gloves and mittens with homemade hooks, by faint 
 candles, that threw her face into such witchery of light
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 137 
 
 and shade as induced the boys to pause with sums half 
 done upon their slates ; no work nor accomplishment 
 female hands have ever touched was so becoming to her 
 or to any of womankind as that. 
 
 She stood erect beside the wheel, which murmured or 
 stormed according as it revolved slowly or rapidly, hold- 
 ing a wooder. wheel-finger in her right hand, which 
 rested on a spoke. A roll depended from the spindle- 
 nib, and with her left hand she measured a length of it 
 necessary to a thread, making five skeins to the pound, 
 and pinched it at that point between the thumb and 
 finger, turned the wheel moderately, while taking three 
 backward steps and drawing the roll out to proper fine- 
 ness, which being done, she twirled the wheel till its 
 spokes seemed quivering gauze within its rim, and the 
 woollen fibres were well twisted ; then she reversed it 
 sufficiently to unwind the yarn from spindle-tip to head. 
 Again moving the wheel forward, and advancing lightly 
 with long step, she let the thread wind up, and balanced 
 on one foot while she ran it down to the spindle-point, 
 and once more slipped a few inches of roll between 
 thumb and finger, caught it fast, and so continued 
 spinning. She maintained a swift or leisurely move- 
 ment all the time, every muscle in rhythmic play and 
 even exercise. 
 
 Her supple person, completely poised, advanced, re- 
 treated, swayed, answering the urgent signals of the 
 fleet limbs.
 
 138 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The right arm was now ahead, now behind, and again 
 spiritedly described a circle; the left drew out, and 
 guided the yarn with elegant sweep and curve. Spin- 
 ning was the symmetrical conjunction of art, of gym- 
 nastics, and of labor. 
 
 Verily those daughters of the hills who wrought at 
 spindle and loom often carried themselves after a 
 'stately fashion ; and such classic mould of limb and 
 figure as seldom poses before an artist sometimes loi- 
 tered among canterbury-bells and hollyhocks. 
 
 So 'Lisbeth moved to the pastoral hum of the wheel 
 that morning. 
 
 Near by, Mrs. Wilson banded a distaff, and Lettice 
 tied corn-husks at intervals around skeins of double- 
 and-twisted yarn, previous to throwing them into blue 
 dye, to be colored for " clouded feetin'." 
 
 Dame Wilson knitted in a peremptory fashion. There 
 was also an ominous shake of cap-border. Mr. Wil- 
 son had spoken confidentially to her that morning 
 before he went afield, since when she had seemed 
 much disturbed. 
 
 That girl of Thomas's, the resultant of her father's 
 strength of purpose, unbent will, and her mother's 
 loving kindness, was a sore puzzle. If she possessed 
 unusual force, or inclined to guide herself, she was 
 also compassionate and pacific. Neither the dame nor 
 Mr. Wilson understood her, but they agreed she was 
 " queer," and, further, that she must obey ; therefore
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 139 
 
 a strong hand, in fact two of them, should immediately 
 be laid upon her. 
 
 The difficulty was how to lay them on. She thought 
 to begin carefully, and follow what lights appeared. 
 
 " Thomas seems kinder poorly this mornin', Marthy," 
 she said. 
 
 " It is the sheep, I reckon." 
 
 Sheep ? " 
 
 " Yes ; his and Slimpson's seem to be mixed up ; and 
 if the marks are dim he is likely to lose some." 
 
 " That Slimpson tribe is the poorest trash I ever see, 
 or ever want to; but 'tain't sheep ails him." 
 
 Lettice perceived troublesome symptoms, and hurried 
 to allay them. 
 
 " Pshaw, grau'ma'ara ! he was well tew breakfast." 
 
 " Meals is a poor place tew find trouble." 
 
 " Tends some on what 'tis, an' who has it. When 
 folks git kinder still, I feel for 'em ; but when they 
 stir up the house like a hasty pudden, it don't worry 
 me none." 
 
 " I dunno, Lettice ; but " 
 
 " Well, I dew know. There's Gale lives under Sugar- 
 loaf ; he was awful cut up tew appearance when his wife 
 died. Becky Peasley was workin' there, an' she tole 
 me she never see nothin' tew beat it ; an' she flashed 
 'round lively for a week or tew, till he kinder got over 
 his sorrer; an' she said nobody would b'leve the sight 
 of currant tarts, scalloped all round the aiges, jest as
 
 140 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 his wife used tew fix 'em, an' jam an' hot biskit an' 
 pies, it took tew pull him through. All the time 
 he was bent and determined that he could'n' stan' 
 it 'thout her ; but, good land ! he merrid agin in six 
 months." 
 
 Lettice glanced queerly over her sharp nose before 
 adding, 
 
 " Merrid Becky herself ; an' she tole Mis' Willard in 
 my hearin', Becky did, says she (an' she was snivillin'), 
 when he begun coaxin' she tole him no, stidcly, till she 
 was rollin' out pie-crust in the butt'ry one day, an' he 
 come in master onexpected, an says he, ' Becky, you 
 wouldn't be so allfired hard on a feller if you knowed 
 the fust time he thought of askin' ye was when you was 
 makin' us comf 't'ble the day Philena was buried ; ' an' 
 she says, says she tew Mis' Willard, 'That fetched me ;' 
 and I sh'd thought 'twould." 
 
 "What you're sayin' hain't nothin' tew dew with 
 Thomas's diffikilty." 
 
 " Rheumatics, comin' fall so," persisted Lettice. 
 
 "No, it ain't." 
 
 " Well, if it ain't sheep nor rheumatics, I'm beat." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson sighed patiently, inquiring, 
 
 " Has Thomas spoke of any trouble ? " 'Lisbeth was 
 spinning slowly, lest the hum should disturb her grand- 
 mother, and listened intently to hear the mystery of 
 that overwrought cap-ruffle. 
 
 "Thomas got all flustered up tew singing-school."
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 141 
 
 Flustered ! Thomas ! What at ? " 
 
 "'Lisbeth." 
 
 "Me!" 
 
 " Yes, me," she answered mockingly, losing her tem- 
 per. " What a plague ailed the strings of Dorothy's 
 bunnit that you must fuss with 'em, seein' nothin' nor 
 nobody from them cloak-shelves home, hey ? Spitin' 
 your father, as I never see one spited afore. You know 
 what he's set on ; an' knowin', left the Harmon boy 
 stannin' there all cut up." 
 
 "Pooh, grandma ! he went home with Eunice." 
 
 " Did, did he ? Queer, wa'n't it ? What made him ? 
 Needn't tell me, you're plannin' tew merry the May- 
 hew upstart." 
 
 " Grandmother ! " 
 
 " 'Zactly what you're up tew. Takes a smarter gal'n 
 you tew pull wool over my eyes." 
 
 " You speak," said Mrs. Wilson, " as if 'Lisbeth has 
 no choice except one of these young men." 
 
 " We shall find she'll merry one of 'em, though there's 
 chances plenty. Mr. Hight, poor man, left with six 
 childern, an' needs her." 
 
 Lettice pulled her forehead, inquiring, 
 
 " How ole is he ? " 
 
 "Not very ole, I'm sure." 
 
 "'Bout sixty, I persoom. 'Lisbeth wouldn't make a 
 becomin' relick." 
 
 "'Tend tew your yarn. As for this gal, she's one
 
 142 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 thing laid out afore her, an' it's obedience 'cordin' tew 
 Scripter." 
 
 " Why, grandmother " 
 
 " Not a word, 'Lisbeth, not a single syll'ble ! You've 
 gone to the end of your rope, you ungrateful, diso- 
 bedient gal ; an' if I was your father you'd merry 
 Philip or leave this house, one or t'other, an' that 
 quick, tew." 
 
 " Well, I never ! " exclaimed Lettice. 
 
 Don't think it'll be done, hey ? " 
 
 "No; an' I know 'twon't. This house'd be a sweet, 
 pooty sight 'thout her." 
 
 " You are saying too much, mother," added Mrs. 
 W T ilson, laying the distaff down dejectedly. Deep 
 tones and frowning brows accentuated the bitterness 
 of the reply to both women. 
 
 " Here you be, Lettice, advisin' an' teachin'. Where'd 
 you come from ? Do you remember ? I sh'd think 
 you'd feel boun' tew us." 
 
 " Yes ; I am boun' all the time, day an' night, fair 
 weather an' foul, tew jest them tew, ' till death us do 
 part,' " said the quivering voice, using those sacred 
 words because she knew none else so binding, and 
 raising her plain face, transfigured by the love-light 
 shining there, toward the woman and child. 
 
 " Much ableeged," ironically. " Pleased tew hear 
 how 'tis ; but you understan' that gal merries Phil 
 Harmon or leaves. As tew you, Marthy, you spared
 
 The Morning After Singing-School 143 
 
 the rod, an' there's your child, 'cordin' tew promise. I 
 tole Thomas time an' agin 'fore he brought you here 
 that you hadn't the spunk of a goose, an " 
 
 " Say no more to my mother," really commanded 
 'Lisbeth, holding the trembling woman to her strong 
 young heart ; and sheltered there, girlhood returned to 
 Martha Wilson as a dream. She remembered the gentle 
 faith brought to that house, and how the husband had 
 gradually gone from her to the arbitrary mother, until 
 to herself she seemed simply the half -forgotten supple- 
 ment to a domineering man, who demanded all, giving 
 nothing ; but ripening years were surely bringing return. 
 Such defrauded souls find consolation somewhere in the 
 recompensing years of God. Severity had driven the 
 children to her loving heart, and they rejoiced in her as 
 the exceeding joy of their lives. 
 
 She was that supreme and blessed woman, a mother 
 beloved, and the defiant old will could not harm her 
 any more ; still a palsying fear concerning the girl smote 
 her heart. 
 
 The old lady, dumb for a moment with choking rage, 
 linally stormed out, 
 
 "The Bible says ole folks air for counsel, but stiddy 
 of that they're slighted an' put upon an' flung at. 
 Have you tended tew what I'm say in', 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 '' I have heard it all." 
 
 " What air you goin' tew dew about it ? " 
 
 " Nothing. I am very sorry, grandmother."
 
 144 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The old lady eyed her disdainfully, saying, 
 
 " Looks like it, with your set, f rowniu' face ; but one 
 thing can be depended on, you will merry Phil or leave 
 this house." 
 
 " What dumb foolishness ! " exclaimed the maid. 
 
 " Lettice ! " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, that's what 1 said, an' stan' tew it. 
 The idee ! Lor' a massy, there's the King ! " 
 
 '.. CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DAME WILSON AND A VISIT 
 
 THE King entered with a smile that seemed a mix- 
 ture of anger and drollery, saying, 
 
 " Good-mornin', Mis' Wilson, an' gran'ma'am, an' the 
 rest. Come 'long, pups. Watch, you lay down ; an' you, 
 Spring, git under the table. We've had a tormented 
 hard run, the dogs an' me, since afore sun-up. A fox 
 picked off one of Nabby's chickens. We've follered 
 over logs and slippery stones. He crossed the brook 
 more'n twenty times, but his pelt's out on your wood- 
 pile." 
 
 "'Lisbeth, give Mr. King a bite," said Mrs. Wilson, 
 seeing an opportunity to send her out, as the King
 
 Dame Wilson and the King 145 
 
 dropped on a convenient table corner, and mopped his 
 forehead with a red bandanna. He went right to the 
 question. " Don't want nothin', Mis' Wilson ; but Jupi- 
 ter 'Gustus, gran'ma'am ! you ort tew heerd em sing last 
 night. They did give ' Ole Hundered ' an' them other 
 tunes a hist. Some pesky good fun arterwards. One 
 boy got mistook." 
 
 " We sha'n't prob'ly have tew go naborin' 'bout it," 
 said the old lady tartly. 
 
 " Not naborin' ? course not here, pups, lay down. 
 What ails them dogs ? Come out an' set up if you feel 
 better. Tain't naborin' ; David King never hated him- 
 self for dewin' that. 
 
 " Phil is cousin tew our house, an' he's a good feller, 
 Phil is ; make Eunice a real good man. We don't want 
 no foreordination spilt by upsettin' that dish. I dew 
 hope nobody will be sech a dumb fool as tew run 
 plumb agin the decrees 'bout them." He gave one of 
 the dogs a push with the toe of his boot, finishing 
 his speech by saying, " Go 'long out if you want tew." 
 
 " Well, I never ! " exclaimed the old lady, pushing 
 her glasses up into the raving border of her cap. 
 
 " Didn't you, now ? Course I heerd as I come in ; 
 but you're awfully mistook. Take a pinch of snuff 
 good maccaboy. Tilings is puzzlin' once in a while ; 
 but I was studyin' this mornin' runnin' up by them big 
 pines where the birches grow, an' I says tew myself, 
 says I, ' That's the way things air fixed if folks'll ou'y
 
 146 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 let 'em alone. Them wavin' birches grow best on the 
 warm side of them great pines as hold up their arms 
 agin the nor'-easters ; there they live longest, an' the 
 bark is smoothest ; ' an', gran'ma'am, I says tew myself, 
 though mebbe you won't b'leve it, I says, ' 'Lisbeth's that 
 very birch, an' John's that livehearted pine.' Yes, 
 ma'am, I did." 
 
 " Why, David King ! Why, David King ! " 
 
 It was all she could say, being so shaken by his con- 
 tinuance of conversation to which he came accidentally 
 and should not have noticed. Verily he was a law to 
 himself. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, an' his character is jest as wholesome as 
 the balsam of them trees." 
 
 " Character ! good deal you know about it, never 
 larnin' even the catechism." 
 
 " No, ma'am, I never did, that's a fac' ; prob'ly 
 'twouldn't dew me no good on this pint." 
 
 " Sartin, if you f ollered it ; for it's a book writ by 
 men as knew the hidden meanin's of Scripter, an' set 
 'em afore us for lights." 
 
 " Hid things is all-fired hard tew find out, as I've 
 seen this mornin', Mis'. Wilson." 
 
 " Why, David King, I'm s'prised " 
 
 " I don't want tew say a single word agin your lights, 
 
 wouldn't for the world, but if you set 'em up agin 
 
 gospel, fussin' an' tinkerin' tew suit this an' that, it's 
 
 like holdin' up a Jack-a-lantern in a foggy night, or
 
 Dame Wilson and the King 147 
 
 mistakin' a piece of punk for a warmin' fire. You 
 remember them beaver-dams what us't tew be over 
 tew West Plymouth ? Nothin' but an alder bog fust ; 
 good for snakes, that's all. Well, them little beavers 
 dammed the brook, an' kep' it under water till all the 
 trees an' things from Hoyt Hill way back was drownded 
 out an' rotted, long of all the stuff as washed down 
 intew it, an' made a rich bottom. I've seen more'n 
 twenty beaver houses stickin' out on't, like haycocks in 
 a field; but bime by a man, Blodgett, I guess 'twas, 
 come along an' settled there, an' when he needed more 
 Ian' he ups an' cuts the dam. Away swum the little 
 critters tew a safe place, leavin' all that good medder- 
 lan'. It spilt the colony, but made room for folks. 
 You orter heerd the trappers swear; but nobody can't 
 mostly tell what's best if he's sot agin it." 
 
 'Lisbeth came back, bringing a plate of luncheon, at 
 the same time as girlish laughter announced the arri- 
 val of Lavina Smith and Mary King, who pushed back 
 their bonnets and entered sunshiny and wholesome, giv- 
 ing a pleasant good-morning. 
 
 " Where to, Mary ? " inquired her father. 
 
 " We are goin' to visit Ruth ; an', Mis'. Wilson, we 
 called for 'Lisbeth. Can you spare her ? " 
 
 Mrs. AVilson was much confused, but dimly saw the 
 request was very opportune, and managed to reply, 
 brokenly, 
 
 " Well, I'm sure certainly if she wants to go."
 
 148 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " An' take your sampler," said Lavina ; " I want to 
 learn a stitch." 
 
 Mr. King followed the three girls out, and started 
 home. Soon they were up the hill, and followed tho 
 winding, sloping road, fringed by goldenrod, to the 
 bridge of a small brook, and across it to where a narrow 
 grass-bordered path, having stone steps at intervals in 
 its ascent, ran up to a* low, brown house, with one door 
 midway its boarded side, and one window to right and 
 left of it. It was closed; but Mary pulled a leather 
 latchstring, without knocking, and they entered, certain 
 of welcome, and happy to be there. The widow and 
 Euth were happier still. 
 
 " Laviny and Mary and 'Lisbeth, true's I live ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Willard. " Euth," she called, " come 
 here. Now you have come tew spend the day, I know." 
 
 " We came to if you ain't too busy, or goin' any- 
 where," answered Lavina. 
 
 "We ain't goin' away, an' I ruther see these faces 
 than go tew a quiltin'. I'm busy weavin' ; allus am. 
 I must keep at it till dinner, then I'll put on a clean 
 cap 'n apun an' set down. Euth, take their things, an' 
 give them some chairs them big ones with quishions 
 in 'em ; " and they were accordingly seated on cushion- 
 covers of bright full cloth and camlet patchwork. 
 
 " I am glad you brought knitting, Mary ; that is my 
 work too," said sweet Euth. Every time the widow 
 changed spools she asked questions.
 
 Dame Wilson and the King 149 
 
 ' Seen anything of the Fields lately ? I'm allus 
 scairt tew ask after 'em, Laviny." 
 
 " Why, Aunt Betsey, grandma says old Mis' Field 
 was a witch did awful queer things." 
 
 " Well, Laviny, 'cordin' tew the best lights the witch- 
 ing came outer the cider berrill, an' possessed the ole 
 man of all. Them that likes witch stories can stick 
 tew 'em, but common sense is wuth a sight more. How 
 many tansy cheeses has your mother made ? " 
 
 " Ten ; an' I made two alone, every bit." 
 
 "That'll be encouragin' tew the folks under Kidder 
 Hill ; " which remark brought the swift color to her 
 cheeks, for Levi Lane went home with her from sing- 
 ing-school. "What say, Mary, can't tell much 'bout 
 your father's crop ? " 
 
 " Pa says our corn is mostly fodder corn. He's goin' 
 to sell pelts an' things to make it up." 
 
 " Cert'in, cert'in. I b'leve your father's livin' comes 
 outen the woods an' water, more'n outen the ground 
 an' hoein' ; but, law ! the livin' comes. That is a nice 
 check, 'Lisbeth. Your mother an' Lettice air master- 
 hands at spinnin' an' weavin' fine stuff ; " and so along 
 at intervals the loom paused for laugh and gossip. All 
 at once the clatter ceased in the middle of a spool. 
 
 " Why, Ruth, dew go an' see the time ! " 
 
 She went into the little bare studded entry, leaned 
 over the window-ledge, observed where the sun slanted 
 across some lines drawn upon it, and announced,
 
 150 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 "It is most half-past ten." 
 
 "Put the smallest kittle on the fire, an' one for 
 p'taters." 
 
 " Yes'm," she answered, and took the kettles from a 
 clean board shelf, low under the small bench that stood 
 beneath the window, partly filled them with water, and 
 hung over the fire. 
 
 " Throw a good maple stick under," said her mother ; 
 "an' take the peck basket an' go up intew the garden 
 next tew the barn. You'll find a few late cranberry 
 beans tangled in them weeds ; I left 'em for late 
 shellin'." 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 " Carry the hoe tew dig a hill of p'taters coming 
 back." 
 
 " Yes'm ; " then facing the company, Ruth asked, 
 " Would you like to go ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," and "Yes," and "Yes." So out they 
 walked, unbonneted, into the garden, plucking hand- 
 fuls of marigolds on the way. Ruth pulled the ripe 
 potato vines straightly, shook the hanging potatoes off 
 as orderly as a skilful boy would do. 
 
 When it was time, two moved the Bible and 
 Mrs. Willard's " specs " from the table, drew it out, 
 and laid it with blue china. Two danced with the 
 waterpail down where the rocky bank jutted over, 
 and dense maples shaded a clear, deep pool, and 
 thrust the pail down into it. A trout, longer than
 
 Dame Wilson and the King 151 
 
 'Lisbeth's hand, darted from under as they drew the 
 pail out. 
 
 A painter could scarcely find a lovelier subject 
 than that one after dinner, so natural, so full of life, 
 when Mrs. Willard joined them, clad in fresh cap and 
 dress, and wearing a black kerchief smoothly folded 
 across her breast, as she and the four young girls sat 
 in the centre of that great square room on a spot- 
 less white floor, bare joists around, and bare beams 
 overhead. 
 
 At one side the tall red dresser, at another the 
 loom. Knots of red, green, gray, blue, and white yarn 
 hung from pegs driven into the studding. They were 
 mixed with reels, wheel-heads, and reeds. 
 
 There was spirit and life in the picture, contributed 
 by the temper and fun of Lavina, the mezzo of Mary, 
 the touch of superior grace and strength in 'Lisbeth, 
 and the beaming hospitality of Mrs. Willard and Ruth, 
 all springing, as grass grows and flowers bloom, from 
 nature's truth. After a while Mary remarked, 
 
 \Ve are comin' to huskin' in two weeks, Aunt 
 Betsey." 
 
 " Be you ? " she asked, her lips aquiver ; for though 
 it was the continuance of a yearly custom, yet it was 
 ever new. 
 
 " Yes/' said Lavina ; " an' goin' to have fun an' fun. 
 Our corn will be husked an' carried up-stairs in sixty 
 minutes ; an' after supper it's blindman's buff, button-
 
 152 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 button, hide-and-seek out of doors,- the harvest moon 
 fulls then, an' oh, everything." 
 
 It was so year by year; as the farmers around gath- 
 ered their crops and dressed their meat, they carried 
 a part to her. Their corn fattened her pig in its 
 field sty ; their hay filled her log barn, and kept her 
 cow ; part of all they raised was hers. 
 
 She and Ruth blessed the neighborhood with their 
 beautiful lives, and it made return from its material 
 fulness. 
 
 At no other time than this husking did the vicinage 
 appear bodily ; but on a fixed day each autumn small 
 wagon-loads of unhusked corn arrived, attended by 
 families bringing also a substantial supper, and, as 
 Lavina said, fun. 
 
 They drifted to other themes ; and the long afternoon 
 sped rapidly with maidenly story, laughter, and harm- 
 less gossip, till the three girls went home in the sunlit 
 eve, themselves the rosiest and the fairest objects of 
 that peaceful scene. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ALONG BY THE POND 
 
 MRS. LANE and John came out of the schoolhouse 
 just in season to see Phil's proffer of escort, its refusal, 
 and Mr. Wilson's scowl at the incident. He could not
 
 Journeying to Camp-Meeting 153 
 
 see 'Lisbeth ; but he could make a little diversion in his 
 own life, so when they reached home he said, 
 
 " Aunt Nancy, I guess I'll throw Brownie's saddle on 
 and trot over to Alexandria camp-meeting to-morrow." 
 
 Brownie was a freedom gift from his aunt and uncle, 
 a pretty bay horse, which followed him like a dog, and 
 on whose back he cantered over the hills whenever he 
 had a spare hour. 
 
 " Well, now I would, John," she replied. " Loizy and 
 I will fix up a nice bite for your nooning, nutcakes and 
 so on ; I would go if I was you." 
 
 He went down the road at early morning while yet a 
 breath of the north underlay the balmy atmosphere. A 
 soft light serenely covered the landscape, and the east 
 was purple and golden with gorgeous sunrise tones. 
 
 Nothing but the dog and Mr. Tyrrell at the big farm- 
 house, only geese flapping and squawking by the water- 
 ing-trough at the Kings', and the morning song of birds 
 broke the general repose as he rode along till he was 
 over the brow of Brainard Hill, steep and pebbly to its 
 last curve into the turnpike, along which, beside the 
 pond, a few early teams were lumbering at long in- 
 tervals. 
 
 In an angle between the pike and hill road stood an 
 old black smithy, its enormous iron-clamped blinds 
 thrown clear back, opening half the gable end. Within, 
 the bellows wheezed, the flames darted and writhed, the 
 sparks flew, and the great smith, six feet four inches
 
 154 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 high, loomed beside the fiery anvil, swung his corded 
 arms, bare to the shoulders, lifting a ponderous hammer 
 above his head, and bringing it down on a clanking 
 white-hot staple. 
 
 The shop yard was littered with broken wheels, tires, 
 axles, yokes, bars, and so on, among which a pair of 
 oxen dreamily chewed their cuds, while their owner sat 
 on a cart-tongue eating apples, and firing expletives, 
 such as " Jee-hors-iphat, Mighty Spikes, Great Dagon ! " 
 at the unheeding Cyclops in his cave. 
 
 " Say, mister," said the* stranger to John, who trotted 
 up to leave a letter for the morning's stage, " say, is that 
 the kind of critter raised in these parts ? Buster, ain't 
 he ? Look at them arms, an' see my ring jump ! I dew 
 snum, I b'leve he'll pound it all tew flinders." 
 
 As he finished speaking, the blackmith flung his ham- 
 mer down as one tosses a plaything aside, fastened the 
 ringbolt into the yoke, which he picked up with one 
 hand, carried it outside, and laid it across a barrel of 
 water, ring downward, to cool it, spoke a pleasant good- 
 morning to John, took a sixpence for the work, then 
 strode towards his house, which stood close by. The 
 teamster kept his eye on the blacksmith, while John 
 turned his horse toward the turnpike. 
 
 " By George ! I was a good mind tew crawl up on 
 my load this morning when the bellers boy fetched him 
 out. I didn't know but he might fire an i'on bar at me 
 for callin' him up so airly."
 
 Journeying to Camp-Meeting 155 
 
 " He is one of the kindest and most peaceable men 
 in the world," said John. " I hope your team will go 
 along all right. Good-day." 
 
 " Good-day. I'm glad I see him." 
 
 John was halfway from Brainard's famous smithy 
 to Hoyt's tavern when the great red six-horse stage 
 from Haverhill thundered past him, heaving and sway- 
 ing, snapping and cracking, through clouds of dust. 
 The uneasy stack of trunks behind lurched and jerked 
 at the straps. Small trunks and bandboxes upon the 
 stage jumped toward the sides and into the centre ; what 
 kept them on no mortal could make out, unless each 
 piece of baggage at the start made definite contract with 
 the driver to be found in its lot and place at the 
 journey's end, and, like the men and women of that 
 country, kept its word as if it were a bond. 
 
 The horses pricked up their ears, stretched their 
 traces, and fixed their eyes on the familiar tavern 
 barn, for them a veritable wicket-gate where their bur- 
 dens would fall off; and passengers limbered their stiff- 
 ened joints, preparing to unload at Hoyt's, where they 
 would breakfast and change horses. 
 
 A little farther along the old signboard squeaked a 
 piercing welcome as Harden lifted the stage-horn from 
 beside the driver's seat, and woke the echoes with its _ 
 clear and happy call. 
 
 It was a merry good-morning, and rugged heights 
 returned the hail, while, answering from westward, the
 
 156 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 woody Point sent half a mile across ISTewfound's softly 
 lapping waters a whispered benison upon him who 
 through the moonless watches of the night had brought 
 his precious freight of life in safety. 
 
 Riding by the tavern, John saw the travellers dis- 
 mounting with pleasant good-mornings to the landlord. 
 The Concord coach was already unloaded and out by the 
 watering-trough being washed and its huge axles oiled 
 for its northward journey. 
 
 After passing the inn, he rode slowly along by the 
 pond, keeping its foot-road through an* atmosphere fra- 
 grant with harvest scents. 
 
 Once in a while a fiery twig of sumach, or dash of 
 clear vermilion on a maple leaf, heralded the coming 
 splendor of shrub and tree. Here and there those bril- 
 liant bannerets disclosed how closely autumn had ad- 
 vanced her pickets, how near her gorgeous army pressed. 
 
 Birds had finished their matins, and, fresh from baths 
 in pond and rivulet, pruned their feathers, then darted 
 off, flaunting red caps or breasts, or yellow coats among 
 sobef black and gray. Beautiful blue gentian peeped 
 from beside old logs, and snuggled in warm nooks at 
 the foot of trees. Wild asters and goldenrod hung ad- 
 miringly over the musical rills ; red globes of dog- 
 wood lightened the forest below the tavern far into 
 its depths. The trilling birds and beautiful quietude 
 soothed young May hew ; still he was forlorn enough, 
 and unhappy.
 
 Journeying to Camp-Meeting 157 
 
 After a while the restfulness of the pike was broken, 
 and it became alive with teams of every description. 
 Light ones flew along, heavy ones droned ; but it made 
 no difference to him : he felt alone, bereaved, unjustly 
 dealt by, as though God himself were afar off, and heed- 
 less of him. 
 
 Troughs full of running water set at short distances 
 from one another, being filled from mossy spouts, 
 which brought to them the outflow of ledge-hidden 
 springs. Men caught the water in pewter mugs, or 
 cups made of large leaves, held under the spout-stream ; 
 horses and cattle thrust their noses deep into the 
 tanks. 
 
 At those refreshing stations men spoke freely to- 
 gether, inquired after each other's health, pursuit, des- 
 tination ; and, according to the custom of Yankees, 
 they thriftily swapped all manner of gear, from jack- 
 knives to horses, as they could "light on chaps," or 
 traded from one load to another. 
 
 All people journeying along the road greeted as they 
 passed or met, saying at least, " Good-morning, sir," 
 or "A pleasant day, sir." He who did not do so was 
 deemed a churl, no matter what his style or equipage. 
 AVhile Brownie drank at a trough in the forest, where 
 the water gurgled down from a steep hillside, a man 
 on horseback galloped up. His dress showed his call- 
 ing ; for he was a circuit-rider, who glanced full at John 
 as he reined his horse away, and seeing his troubled 
 face saluted him thus,
 
 158 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " The Lord be with thee, brother." 
 
 Mayhew courteously returned the salutation with a 
 bow, but made no effort to ride along with him, though 
 both were doubtless going to the same place. He loi- 
 tered onward over the sandy, rolling pike to Bristol, and 
 climbed a high hill leading from thence to the camp- 
 ground; so it was quite nine o'clock when he arrived 
 at the entrance to the place of tabernacles, which was 
 made by pulling down several lengths of fence. For 
 rods each way from the rustic opening horses were 
 hitched, saddles thrown down, and wagons drawn to 
 the roadside. One wagon, on chain springs, lumbered 
 along before him, its decorated sides divided into un- 
 even red panels by narrowish stripes of brown. A tall 
 white hat and a big calash appeared above the high- 
 backed seat. 
 
 Three children, of ten years old and under, were 
 stowed into the picturesque carriage in front, their 
 tow-heads dancing in and out of sight as they jolted 
 over rough places; and two large boys occupied the 
 hind part, steadying themselves by its edge. Wide- 
 brimmed straw hats covered their brown heads, long 
 red wrists pulled out of their gray homemade sleeves. 
 They were chewing spruce gum, and taking in every 
 new thing their bright eyes fell upon. 
 
 Wagons were scattered through the woods wherever 
 an owner had found sufficient room for one ; and chaises, 
 resembling enormous baby-carriages, had crept into 
 lesser spaces.
 
 Journeying to Camp-Meeting 159 
 
 Farther into the forest a large number of horses were 
 tied, munching grain, and whisking their long tails at 
 the persistent September flies. 
 
 There young Mayhew drew the saddle and bridle 
 from his horse, tethered it to a strong sapling, scat- 
 tered a bundle of fresh hay which he had bought of 
 a vender, at its feet, then turned back into the wood- 
 road, which ran some distance through the heavy growth 
 of trees, ending at the centre of the camp-ground. 
 There it branched, and ran in opposite curves before a 
 crescent of tents. 
 
 Contented groups and pairs, clothed in Sunday dress 
 and manners, strolled through those calm coverts, or 
 threaded in and out among the dusky tree-trunks. 
 
 A little tow-headed girl carefully guided an aged 
 grandsire towards the seats, among stones and roots, 
 which his failing eyes could not discern. 
 
 Close by, a youthful couple sat upon a rock re- 
 freshing themselves after a long journey with dough- 
 nuts and baked sweet apples, and watched a child, who 
 climbed over knotted roots and shared their meal. 
 
 One boy came along, then another and another, as 
 the manner of boys is, till several gathered on mossy 
 stones or rugged logs of fallen trees, while each one re- 
 counted how many woodchuck skins, caught by his 
 prowess with dog or trap, skinned with his jack-knife, 
 stretched and nailed to his father's barn with his 
 bruised fingers/^awaited the barter or cash trade of a
 
 160 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 coming muster. A pretty girl leaned against a tree 
 innocently aggravating a distressed, awkward young 
 man who wished to be her true love, and, like his 
 kind, made himself ridiculous, blushing and twisting 
 his red hands in utter bewilderment. 
 
 Apart among the trees walked a pair of lovers hand 
 in hand, a sweet picture. He was tall and sinewy, 
 bearing an honest manliness and deferent courtesy to- 
 ward the girl, goodly to see. His suit of homespun 
 was new, and neatly fashioned. 
 
 Her trim figure was shorter by a head. Blue eyed 
 and rosy fair she was in her pink bonnet and blue 
 linen dress, spun, woven, and colored, cut, basted, 
 and made by its winsome wearer. She wore a string 
 of gold beads around her neck, and the silk bag hang- 
 ing from one firm arm was embroidered with beads by 
 her grandmother. 
 
 All were hushed and orderly, feeling the presence 
 of Him whom they came to worship, for they threaded 
 aisles His own hand builded to the temple Himself had 
 reared. 
 
 Slowly passing through the gently moving scene, he 
 heard dreamlike melody from singing worshippers who 
 were holding morning prayer-meetings in the tents. It 
 quivered up through the trees with voices of shouting 
 also, dulled into harmony by distance and muffling 
 leaves, and high above all murmured a mellow wind 
 in the tops of the trees, a faint and far-off orchestra.
 
 Journeying to Camp-Meeting 161 
 
 Nothing broke in upon the brooding peace, save the 
 chirp of a robin, or whirr of olive-shaded crossbill fly- 
 ing to some late grainfield, or coo of glittering doves 
 going to luncheon behind board kitchens, or beside the 
 crotched sticks and wooden cranes where food was 
 prepared in the rear of each white tent. 
 
 He leaned against a gray tree-trunk, and listened to 
 sounds heard dimly from the little white village, scanned 
 the throng pressing toward it, and enjoyed the charm- 
 ing dramas enacted by pretty groups around him, then 
 stepped quite to the leaf-girt amphitheatre, where he 
 paused and looked down its easy slope. It was clear 
 of trees, except enough for shade, and filled partway 
 with plank seats fronting a central object, the " speak- 
 ers' stand." This was an oblong structure two stories 
 high ; the lower one closed and fitted up for preachers' 
 domitories, the second one open towards the camp, and 
 used for a pulpit. A wooden bench ran its whole 
 length of twenty feet. It was called the " preachers' 
 seat ; " and its roof sloped sufficiently to shed rain. 
 
 That building was central in a semicircle whose 
 finished curve was formed on either hand by rows of 
 small white tents, purchased by neighborhood contribu- 
 tions; and their inmates were the owners, augmented 
 in number by one or two favorite ministers, or near 
 friends, and numbering, all told, from six to three times 
 that in each tent.
 
 162 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI 
 
 CAMP-MEETING 
 
 SHORT prayer and experience meetings proceeded the 
 afternoon discourse preached by Father Benson to some 
 young men who desired to enter the ministry ; and as 
 the last sound of the bell, fastened high up on a tree- 
 trunk, and rung by the presiding elder, died away, he 
 ascended the rickety stairs and moved slowly to his 
 place midway the long bench. The last faint whis- 
 perings of the great audience were hushed before he 
 opened services by reading one of John Wesley's battle 
 
 hymns : 
 
 "Arm me with thy whole armor, Lord; 
 Uphold my weakness with thy might; 
 Gird on my thigh thy conquering sword, 
 And shield me in the dreadful fight." 
 
 During remaining introductory exercises he sat mo- 
 tionless, with folded hands, scanning the solicitous 
 young men presented as candidates for the ministry. 
 
 His message was primarily to those solemn and awed 
 persons who sat by themselves on the front bench ; and 
 after he slowly rose to deliver it, he paused before re- 
 peating the text, " Can ye be baptized with the baptism 
 that I am baptized with ? " Another pause. He was 
 plainly burdened by the weight of the tremendous chal-
 
 Camp-Meeting 163 
 
 lenge. Then, after the manner of one sent to demand 
 response to an awful question, he repeated it, his voice 
 swelling and ringing clear and dulcet to rear seats far 
 up the slope. It struck the ears of stragglers leaning 
 .against birches beyond the outmost benches ; it thrilled 
 and quivered into the very souls of the listeners. 
 
 One must be instructed and prepared for such bap- 
 tism, he told them ; the Spirit was a constant instructor, 
 revealing, endowing, supporting, else how could one en- 
 dure such baptism ? for what was it ? 
 
 In the first place and ever it was one of service that 
 brought strength to weakness, courage to the cowardly, 
 hope to the despairing, songs to the desolate, cold water 
 to His little ones, opened the King's gates to returning 
 wanderers, and drew the outcast near, so his defiled 
 hands could touch the hem of the Master's healing 
 garments. 
 
 It was a baptism of temptation, when honor and 
 riches and lofty estate were offered for faith; when 
 earthly love blinded one's sight to eternal truth and 
 heavenly visions; when human affection failed, and 
 friends forsook and fled ; when the wine of life was 
 drained to its lees by deceitful and alien lips. 
 
 It was one of poverty, when tilled field and flying 
 loom refused their wealth, and of obedience when divine 
 law traversed one's dearest hopes, and of bereavement 
 when blossoms of promise were strewn dead at one's 
 feet. Yet most difficult of all was the final baptism of 
 love.
 
 164 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Can ye," said he, " go with him down into those 
 waters where love loses itself in blessing others ? for so 
 only can ye follow the Incarnate Love. 
 
 " Thus saith the Son of Mary, ' Thou shalt love the 
 Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
 and with all thy mind. This is the first and great com- 
 mandment ; and the second is like unto it, Thou shalt 
 love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two command- 
 ments hang all the law and the prophets.' 
 
 " beloved, this is most trying, this generous, for- 
 giving spirit toward the erring, sinful, and grovelling ; 
 toward the bigoted, self-righteous, and unbelieving, and 
 particularly in respect to those who stint and measure 
 the abounding fulness of God's pitying favor, binding 
 with cords of human dogma the free course of his saving 
 grace, making the word of God of none effect by their 
 tradition, while the world groans on, waiting for unity 
 and Christly charity among them who bear his blessed 
 name. 
 
 " Your Great Exemplar demands a life fashioned after 
 his own, according to this perfect law. If so be that ye 
 are buried with him in baptism, then must ye love 
 every living soul even as himself loved you, not a whit 
 less, but so, as far as humanity can copy the divine. 
 
 " Are ye equal to these things ? Towards Magdalen 
 and Pharisee can ye exemplify such exceeding love ? 
 Can ye sink into the wondrous sea of God's change- 
 less grace, and rise unto his life ?
 
 Camp-Meeting 165 
 
 " Can ye be buried in the whelming deeps wherein the 
 unseemly idols of your souls are drowned ? Can ye 
 follow him down into the awful gulfs of misery, want, 
 and despair, forgetful of self, so ye may bring the 
 vilest leper of the race to the gracious Healer ? Can 
 ye walk meek and blameless through shame and con- 
 tempt, and forgive deceiver and ingrate ? 
 
 " Then, though he lead through the fire, its flame shall 
 leave your souls white and heavenly tempered. Great 
 floods shall lift up their voices on every side, and 
 wrecking billows howl and roar all the angry night; 
 but, lo ! in the morning your spotless raiment shall 
 shine as the light, and your feet, which were bruised 
 and torn, shall lose their pitiful scars beneath the heal- 
 ing breath of that sacred air ; for then shall ye be 
 inhabitants of the blessed country where they never, 
 never more say, ' I am sick,' where ' there is no more 
 death, neither sorrow, nor any crying.' " 
 
 No abstract of that hour's sublime ministry could 
 faithfully record it. None could describe the stately 
 diction of the exordium, nor the argument by which 
 the vital truth of faith was upheld, nor the prophetic 
 power of the peroration. One deemed he already trod 
 with triumphant foot upon all opposing forces, and 
 stood at the gateway of the skies, victor over himself, 
 the world, and Satan. 
 
 Bunches of southernwood fell from loosened fingers, 
 and late asters dropped from unthinking maidens'
 
 166 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 hands. Tears were falling from many eyes ; on other 
 faces a supreme peace had set its mystic seal. 
 
 On seats nearest the speaker's stand a number of 
 men and women swayed from side to side, or knelt 
 on the ground, clapping their hands in ecstasy and 
 shouting, the women faintly, dreamily, the men, in 
 part, making great noise and confusion. 
 
 When the sermon ended a few passed to and fro, 
 speaking to one and another on whom the power had 
 fallen. 
 
 One man paced up and down the central aisle, his 
 lips moving without sound, gently smiting his palms 
 meanwhile. 
 
 Two met in a clear space front of the benches, each 
 gazed silently at his brother for a few seconds, then 
 both burst into tears, threw their arms around each 
 other's neck, and with a united shout of " glory " woke 
 the slumbering echoes of the hill. One or two women 
 were carried to a tent near by, and the presiding elder 
 rose and read a hynm. He was tall and thin, well 
 equipped mentally, and a man of much executive abil- 
 ity. The sermon had exalted him ; still, he did not 
 give, nor believed he could ever yield, assent to such 
 stormy, and to his mind half mortifying exhibitions of 
 religious fervor as he had witnessed. 
 
 In his soul was a blessed sense that he had risen 
 on a mighty flood of assurance, yet there was no dis- 
 position to voice .even the faintest amen. He wished
 
 Camp-Meeting 167 
 
 the clamor would cease, and a benignant silence come, 
 stillness that might be felt, so that he might quietly 
 take those truths to his soul ; yet in him was no knowl- 
 edge of denying to any the freedom of worship which 
 he claimed as the right of rights to every one, no 
 matter of what creed. 
 
 He was thankful when the hymn hushed the shout- 
 ing, and for the quiet that rested over all during the 
 consecration of the sacred elements, for the Holy Sacra- 
 ment of the Lord's Supper immediately followed. 
 
 During its progress, as he walked along between the 
 rows of seats, breaking the consecrated bread to wor- 
 shippers kneeling on the leaf-strown ground, suddenly 
 a marble paleness came over his tired features, his 
 frame trembled as if to falling, he paused and handed 
 the blessed emblems to Father Benson, leaned against 
 an oak trunk that grew close by, clasped his hands, 
 and gazed intently upward. Every trace of weariness 
 departed from that eager visage, and through its kin- 
 dled whiteness shown an ardor so regnant, so impera- 
 tive, as to awe scores of people who waited beside the 
 altar. 
 
 ISTo sound broke the heavenly composure of the camp- 
 ground, save the subdued foot-falls of God's ministers 
 on their priestly errands, and no syllable parted those 
 questioning lips ; no sign flitted over that rapt counte- 
 nance, nor did any token fall from those wondering 
 eyes.
 
 168 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 They, standing by, beheld, but could not decipher its 
 glorious characters. 
 
 What mighty pageant moved before him in the sap- 
 phire depths of the arching sky none ever knew. What 
 armies of the living God wheeled and circled in mid 
 air, rank on rank, to the rhythm and beat of supernal 
 music ; what heavenly battalions, marching with high 
 assent to celestial orders, separated from the shining 
 soldiery and flew to the rescue of sorely beleaguered 
 camps, where footsore and discouraged armies of the 
 church militant struck feebly at the foe ; what ensigns 
 floated free and glittering white, save for the central 
 blood-red cross ; what guidons led of all those things 
 he uttered no word. 
 
 Did he behold angelic messengers cleaving with lus- 
 trous wings the upper air and passing to and fro these 
 on downward pinion bent, swiftly responding to the cry 
 of the suffering and desolate, making straight paths to 
 the Great King's little ones of every land and tongue ; 
 and those on upward wing returning from the four quar- 
 ters of the earth, the light of the eternal sun flushing 
 each joyous visage as they proclaimed the conquests of 
 the cross, and the growing empire of eternal love ; or 
 convoyed loyal souls, who through grace had conquered 
 death, and whose adoring eyes looked for the first time 
 on him who had loved them ? 
 
 Did he see behind them throng the great multitude 
 "which no man can number," the church triumphant,
 
 Camp-Meeting 169 
 
 which is without spot before the throne ; or gaze on the 
 saintly throng of those who had " come up out of great 
 tribulation, clad in garments of righteousness, white as 
 no fuller on earth could whiten them " ? Did he listen 
 to supernal choirs, full chorussed, crying, " Blessing, 
 and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sit- 
 teth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever," and 
 the harpers, harping and singing " as it were a new song 
 before the throne ; " or did he discern but one form and 
 countenance, Him of Nazareth, his pitying, loving Lord. 
 
 To his dying day he never revealed ought concerning 
 it to his dearest friend, or the wife of his faithful heart. 
 
 After some time the color returned to his face, his 
 eyes fell, and he knelt until Father Benson spoke the 
 words of dismissal, " Go in peace ; " then he rose and re- 
 sumed his place, not indeed as if no strange thing had 
 happened, but with great humility, an exalted tender- 
 ness of speech, and gracious deference that never left 
 him to his life's end. 
 
 When the long sacramental ceremony ended, the audi- 
 ence silently melted away, going either to tents or to 
 prepare for long homeward journeys. 
 
 Many a time during service, Father Benson had 
 glanced towards a tree just beyond the altar benches and 
 the young man seated at its root. Thither he immedi- 
 ately made his way, and clasped John's outstretched 
 hand. 
 
 He perceived sure signals of conflict ; and after some
 
 170 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 little while spent in discussing the events of the after- 
 noon, he said, " Come with me." John accompanied the 
 gray-haired man, whom the general voice of the circuit 
 had named Father Benson, past tents around and in 
 which groups of men talked over the peculiar happen- 
 ings of the afternoon service, and women were laying 
 the long board tables for supper, out behind the white 
 tabernacles, by more women who were busy preparing 
 the meal over fires kindled on the ground between two 
 upright crotched sticks that held crane and pot-hooks ; 
 they went far into the woody depths beyond any noise 
 of camp-ground or stray campers, and sat for a long time 
 on a mossy stone, reasoning together. 
 
 Finally they parted, and John Mayhew passed from 
 out the shadowy coolness, equipped his horse, threw 
 himself into the saddle, and rode into the strong sun- 
 beams, then level with his eyes. He drew his hat 
 down, loosed the bridle-rein, and allowed the beautiful 
 bay to take the road at its own gait, while he knit his 
 forehead and bent his energy and conscience to the 
 future. There was no dodging nor flinching about it. 
 What was his should come at last, he told himself. 
 How ? That was not plain ; but the fire on his hearth- 
 stone should be kindled by Thomas Wilson's daughter, 
 or never rise therefrom. He could wait for her if he 
 must, even till day was done. 
 
 To say he willingly came to that conclusion would be 
 untrue. He bore a man's deep, silent pain, none the less
 
 Camp-Meeting 171 
 
 bitter because unvoiced, and he would have evaded it if 
 he could. 
 
 For the present he must go away, and he would talk 
 to Squire Baker about it as soon as he returned to the 
 office. When he came to Brainard Hill, the old black- 
 smithy had lost every spark. He looked up the heights 
 silvered by the setting moon, and turned his impatient 
 horse up their rugged steeps. Shadows slanted long as 
 his steed toiled upward; crickets chirruped strident 
 salutes from the grass, and lonesome owls hooted and 
 napped away within the thick woods below the King's ; 
 but all of mankind seemed lost or gone, not even one 
 of the King's dogs barked. 
 
 Two hours after 'Lisbeth returned from Widow Wil- 
 lard's his horse clicked along the stony road by Mr. 
 Wilson's ; but its rider could not see through the dark- 
 ness where she from her window discerned him as he 
 passed and blessed him. 
 
 Mrs. Lane sat up for him, the teakettle singing near 
 her, and made a pot of coffee when she heard the 
 horse's hoofs upon the ledge. As she sipped a cup with 
 him, while he recounted the notable events of the 
 camp-meeting, she was glad to note the shadows were 
 fled from his face.
 
 172 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MEETING BETWEEN THE KING AND SQUIRE 
 
 IN the glory of October the King sauntered up to 
 his field-bars in a brown study. Evidently he should- 
 ered his gun and whistled up the dogs that morning 
 more to allay some fret than to hunt. Putting one 
 foot on the middle rail, he made ready to spring, then 
 stopped and gazed toward a flaming clump of scrub- 
 oaks growing at a bend of the road above him. The 
 dogs raised their noses from a mat of bright leaves, and 
 thrust their ears forward, all three were harking. 
 Finally a tall white hat appeared in and out among the 
 bushes, a horse came in sight, and carefully picked its 
 way down the pebbly hillock. 
 
 The King completed his jump, twisted his quid, made 
 a lazy nod, and settled back, gun in hand, against bar- 
 post and wall. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. King." 
 
 " Mornin', Square Baker." 
 
 "All well at your house ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. How be your folks ? " 
 
 " Very well," answered the squire, lifting a rein. 
 
 " Hold on," said the hunter ; " I reckon you was sorter 
 sent, for I've been wantin' tew see ye pretty bad."
 
 Meeting Between the King and Squire 173 
 
 The King stopped, picked up the gun and sighted it, 
 while inquiring, 
 
 " How's corn comin' in your way ? " 
 
 Well." 
 
 " 'Taters ? " 
 
 " An excellent crop." 
 
 The squire presumed the hunter had trampled a 
 neighbor's cornfield, and was in trouble; but he was in 
 a hurry, and again shook his bridle-rein. Quickly the 
 King straightened his frame and poised upright by his 
 gun. Xoting the change, the squire kindly asked, 
 
 " Are you in trouble with anybody ? " 
 
 " No, I ain't. 'Tain't nothin' 'bout me, anyways. It 
 consarns them as b'longs to yerself. You've got tew 
 stop this ere foolin' of Phil Harmon's." 
 
 Squire Baker was perplexed, and half resentful. The 
 King paced a step forward, and laid his hand on the 
 bow of the saddle. 
 
 " See here, Square," he said, " you think I'm per- 
 soomin'. They say you can look a man clear through. 
 Now sight me stiddy. See a mean or sneakin' spot ? " 
 
 The old man's lip quivered slightly during the in- 
 spection he invited. 
 
 "Now," he said, "p'r'aps I'd better speak how 'tis 
 'tween us and 'Lisbeth. Ye see, our Lucy'd been ailin' 
 three weeks, 'twas five year ago or sech a matter, 
 an' one day the doctor says, says he, ( Your gal is terrible 
 sick, an' you an' Mis' King are all wore out ; send for
 
 174 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 'Lisbeth.' I looked at mother, an' she tew me ; but the 
 doctor spoke up agin. Says he, ' 'Lisbeth is 'sponsible 
 'nuff for a woman of fifty." So she come 'bout dusk ; 
 then mother an' me we went in an' out, roun' an' roun' 
 that bed till long past midnight. 
 
 " Bime by our little gal stopped moanin', an' grew 
 white an' still. 'Lisbeth says tew us, so quiet an' pity- 
 in', ' She's sleepin' ; an' the doctor said on'y I must stay 
 if she slep'. You go out, an' I'll speak the minit she 
 Wakes up.' She follered us, an' pulled a shawl 'round 
 mother tender like, put on a stick of wood, an' there we 
 set one on each side of our fireplace, years an' years 
 'pears tew me, till finely, jest as the fust streak of day 
 crep' behine them tree-tops yender, 'Lisbeth motioned us 
 tew come ; an' our little gal reely knew us, an' slep' agin, 
 an' I went out intew the barn. When the doctor come, 
 he say, ' The chile is good fer seventy years fur's I 
 know, but it's 'Lisbeth's care an' jedgment ; ' them's the 
 words he spoke, an' I went out intew the barn agin, an' " 
 pulling off his old slouch hat, " I promised Him as is 
 above us all, that long as I lived no sorrer should come 
 tew 'Lisbeth if I could hender ; I'd stan' 'tween her an' 
 it, an' I will yes, sir, I will." 
 
 The squire took the hard hand from the saddle-bow 
 in both of his. 
 
 " You'll help me, Square ? " then with strange author- 
 ity he continued, " You've got tew help 'Lisbeth." 
 
 " I will try."
 
 Meeting Between the King and Squire 175 
 
 " Try ? That won't do, Square ; say ye will." 
 
 "I certainly will. Have you debated this matter 
 with Mr. Wilson ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have ; we've had words back and forth 
 pretty sharp ones, tew." 
 
 " Did he reply ? " 
 
 " I reckon ; tole me tew mind my own affairs." 
 
 " And so you left it." 
 
 " Not by a long shot ! I telled him I was dewin' so 
 everlastin'ly, an.' sh'd keep right on up hill an' down 
 tendin' tew it ; an' if the scent run through his fields or 
 intew his dooryard 'twa'n't my fault." 
 
 " Thomas is a very set man." 
 
 " I guess you've struck it ; hit that nail on the head, 
 I'll be darned if you hain't. Sot ! yes, it's sotuess ails 
 him mostly, an' same thing with Phil." 
 
 " But Mr. Wilson will not urge " 
 
 " Now, Square, look here, he's sot on it. Now, who's 
 goin' te\v give in ? anybody but 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " But, Mr. King, he will yield if he proves to be 
 wrong." 
 
 " Prove that he, Thomas Wilson, is wrong well, I 
 guess so, specially when its 'bout 'lection. I can't 
 track him. I'd ruther foller sheep-paths through roz- 
 bry bushes. You'd better see, Square, if 'tairi't foreordi- 
 nated she shall keep her word stid of her father his'n. 
 You've promised." 
 " I have."
 
 176 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Up from the richly colored forest below them rose a 
 
 song, 
 
 "No foot of land do I possess, 
 No cottage in this wilderness 
 
 A poor, wayfaring man, 
 I dwell awhile in tents below, 
 And gladly wander to and fro, 
 Till I my Canaan gain." 
 
 " Father Benson," said the squire, plainly gratified at 
 the prospect of meeting him. 
 
 "Yes, it's him, the tenor singer as Mr. Wilson calls 
 him ; he won't 'low he's really a minister." 
 
 As they spoke, the iron-gray emerged from the bright 
 woods and cantered towards them. The King asked 
 Father Benson to stop, but he could not ; so the hunter 
 left the two men, and was about plunging down the 
 bank covered with checkerberry when he drew back 
 exclaiming, 
 
 " Why, 'Lisbeth, an' little Dorothy tew. How be ye ? 
 They'll be glad tew see ye," jerking his thumb back- 
 ward ; " but I can't stop a minit, for I hear a patrige 
 drummin'." 
 
 Their hands were full of mosses and medicinal roots. 
 Both men greeted them kindly, and their uncle said, 
 " Elizabeth " (he always called her by her full name), 
 " tell your mother I shall be over Saturday, and carry 
 you home for a few days." The girls started homeward, 
 while the gentlemen talked for some time before part- 
 ing. When Father Benson overtook them he dis-
 
 Meeting Between the King and Squire 177 
 
 mounted, lifted Dorothy into the saddle, and walked 
 bridle in hand to the Wilson house, his heart pained 
 within him at the shadow falling over the girl who 
 travelled beside him in such healthful glow of youth. 
 
 When the squire was carrying 'Lisbeth to the village 
 on Saturday, he told her that Mr. Benson had found a 
 place for John in Mr. Shaw's office in Boston, and that 
 he would go early in November. 
 
 " I thought he was going to stay with you, uncle ? " 
 
 The tremor of that strained voice nearly upset him, 
 and he gave the horse such a vicious thwack as sent it 
 cantering down poorhouse hill; then he kept a contin- 
 uous talk and pulling at the reins till the astonished 
 animal drew up at the squire's door. 
 
 Mrs. Baker knew what her husband intended to say 
 while bringing 'Lisbeth out, so she spoke quietly, " Are 
 you well, Elizabeth ? Run right up to your room and 
 take your things off. Lois will be in soon. " 
 
 She went to a cosey, white-curtained chamber, and sank 
 into a tall rocker, thankful to be out of sight and alone. 
 Years after she remembered exactly how evenly the 
 mats were sewed and braided, and how smoothly they 
 were spread upon the yellow floor ; how white was the 
 tufted linen counterpane between the copperplate cur- 
 tains of the high bed ; how the mirror shone with its tiny 
 brass sconces on either side ; how burnished were the 
 brass handles of bureau and washstand ; how beautiful 
 the lustral bowl and pitcher. She wept bitterly for a 
 few moments, then bathed her face and descended.
 
 178 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Her aunt was busy at fall sewing, and a seamstress 
 was helping her. The woman was called Mehitable 
 Stone, or Hitty for short. She was a tall, spare, sharp- 
 nosed spinster of uncertain age and certain opinions, 
 who earned ninepence a day, enjoyed herself, and car- 
 ried all the news from house to house with her reticule. 
 
 Mrs. Baker knew Kitty's failings and limitations. 
 She also understood the village was interested in 'Lis- 
 beth and her lover, and determined no tales should be 
 carried away for magpies and tabbies to chatter and 
 purr over. When 'Lisbeth came down she said, " Did 
 you bring your work ? " 
 
 "No; mother wished me to sew for you." Seeing 
 'Lisbeth composed, and hoping to prevent further men- 
 tion of Mayhew, she said, " We are pretty much hurried 
 by our own work ; but your uncle thinks, and so do I, we 
 ought to help Mrs. Lane with John's things makes it 
 bad he is going right in the midst of fall work so. 
 Hitty, will you give 'Lisbeth something to do ? " 
 
 " She better hem a piller-case whilst I put in a sleeve, 
 'fore cuttin' work." * 
 
 "Well, you'll find a hank of fine boughten thread 
 and some needles and wax in the sewing-table drawer, 
 'Lisbeth. Sit right down by the window." 
 
 Mrs. Baker went out, and the girl found herself with 
 only a table between herself and the seamstress. Hitty 
 squinted across several times ; but the silence remained, 
 except for a quick snapping of thread and regular tick-
 
 Meeting Between the King and Squire 179 
 
 tock, tick-tock of a corner clock ; but she thought to 
 herself piecemeal, 
 
 " So this is Thomas Wilson's daughter ; well-lookin', 
 that's a fact. I do wonder if she cares for him. I'm 
 goin' tew see." Then she spoke, 
 
 " Have you got the white wax ? My thread's a 
 little kinky." 
 
 'Lisbeth passed the wax without comment, and pretty 
 soon the woman questioned, "Hain't seen my thread, 
 have ye ? " 
 
 " No, I have not." 
 
 " There ! here 'tis in my lap. I guess Mis' Bakerses 
 hurry flusters us all, don't you ? " 
 
 There was no reply, and she continued, " What a 
 streak 'tis in John, goin' down below." 
 
 All was silent except the old clock, and she demanded 
 bluntly, 
 
 " Don't you think it's a queer prank ? " 
 
 " I never thought of it nor heard of it till this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 - " Good land ! you don't mean it ! I'll bet it'll be the 
 ruination of him. I should hate to have him go like 
 destruction if he belonged to me." 
 
 The settled prediction of shipwreck fretted the girl, 
 who answered pointedly, " My uncle has faith in him." 
 
 " Yes ; faith in folks is his weak point ; but, as I was 
 a-sayin', won't he make his hansum face an' takin' ways 
 go for all they're wuth. I s'pose he'll be back one of
 
 180 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 these days with a city gal tucked under his arm, a-min- 
 cin' an' a-puckerin', all feathers an' furbelows, an' pokin' 
 fun at us." 
 
 A Yankee hates a sneer. He is a born fighter ; but 
 his spirit is so high, and a sneer is so mean a weapon, 
 he generally turns his back to it in contempt, and this 
 characteristic attaches as well to women as to men. 
 For one brief moment 'Lisbeth seemed to hear a derisive 
 laugh from the mythical woman, and hated her and her 
 lover, as well as the spinster who conjured up the pic- 
 ture. Then she blamed herself because of one distrust- 
 ful feeling; but she bit a thread off savagely before 
 remarking, 
 
 " He wouldn't be seen bringing home such a woman 
 to laugh at Mrs. Lane." 
 
 " We can't mostly oh, my stars, 'Lisbeth Wilson, 
 see this work ! It's a perfect sight ! I've put these 
 sleeves in gusset to shoulder seam, an' felled 'em fine 
 an' close." 
 
 Lois burst in upon them, pretty, sensible, impetuous, 
 and warm-hearted. She was also auburn-haired and 
 brown-eyed, her father's pet, and a skilled musician. 
 Her emphatic speech began immediately, 
 
 " You've come, 'Lisbeth good. You look cross ; 
 don't she, boys ? " She spoke to her two brothers, one 
 older, one younger, than herself, who came in with her. 
 "Well, you'll look crosser, black as ink, when I tell 
 you what father expects us to do for muster."
 
 Muster 181 
 
 " Harry and I can't help," broke in Dave. " He's 
 got to drill afternoons, and I shall have to help him 
 fix his gun and cartridge-box and flints and things." 
 
 " Of course ; nobody but 'Lisbeth and I to do any- 
 thing dust and put things in order, and ransack the 
 hill for partridge-vine and bleached brakes. Then 
 father says we must learn a new song he's got. Oh, 
 dear, 'Lisbeth ! " 
 
 Mrs. Baker entered, saying, " There, lay your sewing 
 right down, and come to dinner." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MUSTEK 
 
 ALL over the village people made stirring preparation 
 for muster. Within doors the great ovens were scarcely 
 cool for a week beforehand ; and outside, dwarf asters 
 and marigolds nodded and winked knowingly at each 
 other across cleanly raked front yards. 
 
 Yellow floors fairly shone between braided mats, and 
 windows were crystal clear ; for out of them on training- 
 day sweet-faced women would watch the militia march- 
 ing to its rendezvous on the village street, or filing past 
 in regimental order to the parade ground. 
 
 Great training, or muster, was the supreme event of
 
 182 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 the year. It occupied an entire day, and was a wonder- 
 ful time for patriotism, gingerbread, and Medford rum. 
 It was a general muster of the people also, an annual 
 gathering of all men and boys from towns represented 
 by the soldiery. By the time haying and oat-har- 
 vestingwere finished they began planning for "great 
 training." 
 
 The habits of the people were so quiet and domestic, 
 modes and means of travel were so slow and difficult, it 
 was a matter of "town talk" for a man to go twenty- 
 five miles from home; therefore, going to muster was a 
 momentous journey, entered upon with forethought. 
 
 Each town had its saw-mill or tannery, taverns and 
 village stores ; but training-ground was the one general 
 place for the meeting of friends. 
 
 The promiscuous multitude, together with tentholders, 
 pedlers, and bakers, made novel and picturesque* group- 
 ings in the field. 
 
 Many persons turned an honest penny by " keeping a 
 tent," where they sold homemade food and drinks, and 
 sometimes small articles of dress, linen bosoms, mit- 
 tens, and the like. The "tent" consisted of a few 
 stakes driven down so as to form a square, with rough 
 boards nailed against them to keep the crowd out, and 
 flat ones atop for a counter. 
 
 Bakers' carts carried one commodity, just one, but 
 toothsome, baker's gingerbread, cooked in sheets about 
 six inches long, three wide, and less than half an inch
 
 Muster 183 
 
 thick The crowd bought without stint, and always 
 carried some home to women and girls. 
 
 The pedlers were an "institution," wags of the mus- 
 ter ground, quick-witted and brimful of fun. 
 
 There were usually from fifteen to twenty-five carts 
 clustered near together, each pedler upon his cart, his 
 own auctioneer, vying with all others to attract the 
 multitude by telling stories, cracking jokes, or singing 
 comical songs. They were a noisy, jolly set, dividing 
 the attention of the throng with the evolutions of the 
 troopers. 
 
 They vended gloves, mittens, wooden combs, high 
 horn ones, beads, feather fans, and other small wares, 
 and bought small peltry. 
 
 The crowd wandered around those attractions all day 
 long, with hands hung loosely to pockets, or rested on 
 convenient stones, chaffing, telling stories, or trading 
 independently. 
 
 It whistled and whittled and hurrahed for the mi- 
 litia all over the ground. Boys sold their squirrel 
 and woodchuck skins to pedlers, and swapped what- 
 ever indefinite hoard stuffs a boy's pocket, while men 
 bartered all their belongings except their families, re- 
 ligion, and patriotism. 
 
 Muster-fields were selected by regimental officers, and 
 they paid for the use of them. In choosing one, the 
 officers were guided by several concurrent reasons, as 
 its size, and it should be smooth and level grass-land,
 
 184 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 and within reasonable distance should be a good place 
 for rendezvous. Concerning the last the adjutant took 
 great interest, for it gave him opportunity to show his 
 ability and further his desire for promotion. 
 
 A regiment was usually required to be in line by 
 seven o'clock in the morning, so the men were " warned 
 to appear" by five or six, that company organizations 
 might be made and breakfast eaten in season for regi- 
 mental formation. 
 
 As soldiers and civilians were obliged to travel from 
 ten to twenty miles, often on foot, of course, they 
 consumed most of the previous night reaching the 
 ground. Boosters crowed in barns, and tallow candles 
 flitted from room to room of houses all along their 
 route. Fun began when squads of soldiers collected, 
 with full cartridge-boxes and powder-horns, and forth- 
 with proceeded to " wake up " their officers. It was 
 accomplished by firing under each officer's window until 
 he asked them in to partake of liquid refreshment, for 
 nearly all drank spirits moderately. 
 
 By law all male citizens between the ages of eighteen 
 and forty-five years were enrolled, and, with few excep- 
 tions, liable to military duty. 
 
 Several towns were classed together by State authori- 
 ties for regimental purposes, and each town was expected 
 to furnish at least one company of infantry; then, if 
 citizens of a town who were liable to military duty 
 chose to form independent companies and uniform them-
 
 Muster 185 
 
 selves, they were allowed to select their own officers, 
 who were commissioned by the governor of the State, 
 and assigned with their commands to positions in the 
 regiments. Such officer^ were empowered with the 
 same authority, and the companies were subject to the 
 same duties, as the regular infantry. They were called 
 light infantry, from part of their dress. 
 
 Then it was competent for individual citizens resid- 
 ing within regimental boundaries to organize rifle, artil- 
 lery, or cavalry companies. So each regiment when it 
 appeared on parade usually consisted of several com- 
 panies of infantry, one or two of light infantry, and one 
 each of rifle, cavalry, and artillery. 
 
 The officers of a regiment consisted of a colonel, 
 lieutenant-colonel, adjutant, quartermaster, commissary, 
 chaplain, surgeon, fife-major, and drum-major. Musi- 
 cians appeared, with each his instrument, and were 
 enrolled in the infantry troops, or enlisted in volunteer 
 ones, or, if sufficient number applied to the authorities 
 for such a purpose, they were formed into a band. In 
 that case they were to perform all soldierly duties ex- 
 cept as to equipment and bearing of arms. The regular 
 infantry appeared on parade in citizen's dress, over which 
 were strapped knapsack, canteen, bayonet-scabbard, and 
 a cartridge-box capable of holding twenty-four cartridges. 
 Each soldier, regular or volunteer, must also have a 
 priming wire and brush, and two spare flints. He must 
 bear a musket capable of carrying a ball, furnished with
 
 186 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 a good flint, bayonet, iron or steel ramrod, all clean and 
 ready for use. He was fined if he failed to have any 
 one of those articles, the inspecting officer judging 
 whether or not his accoutrements answered the legal 
 requirements. Light infantry companies wore white 
 linen pantaloons ; blue or black coats trimmed with red, 
 white, or yellow ; tall shiny leather caps, bearing high 
 white red-tipped plumes. They were required to be 
 armed and equipped precisely as were the regulars ; but 
 the few sharpshooters might wear darker suits, small 
 caps, and simple black feather. Artillerymen were 
 accoutred in dark suits, red-striped, low or half-high 
 cockaded hats, and wore over their dress, sword-strap 
 and belt, from which hung sword and scabbard. Cav- 
 alrymen were attired in short pants stuck in high- 
 topped boots, yellow-trimmed jackets, low caps, and 
 long bending white plumes. They were armed with 
 swords and pistols. 
 
 The Wednesday after 'Lisbeth went out to her uncle's 
 was muster morning. The adjutant was astir on his 
 black horse, galloping from troop to squad and straggling 
 soldiers, long before five o'clock in the morning. Troops 
 and citizens were arriving. Patriotism and martial 
 pride ruled the town. 
 
 Advancing day disclosed the regulars in citizen's dress 
 and military accoutrements, standing by their arms or 
 sitting on grassy borders of the streets around the vil- 
 lage green, and northerly, farther than Holderness Bridge.
 
 Muster 187 
 
 Light infantry displayed its shiny caps and beautiful 
 plumes down the street to the Thurlow Hill bend. Op- 
 posite the tavern, up Haverhill pike, red artillery stripes 
 and cockades rose behind the cavalry's few but knightly 
 top-boots and graceful feathers. 
 
 Visiting and happy rested and loitered that citizen 
 soldiery. Long journeys and an almost sleepless night 
 had left it buoyant, thrilling with patriotic fervor be- 
 cause it was not there to learn the art of war for 
 another, but for itself, that so each man might be 
 skilled to defend his own kingsh'ip. 
 
 The rising Indian summer sun caressed long lines of 
 cleanly polished bayonets, warmed waving plume and 
 shining epaulet, blessed flag, pennon, and guidon, and 
 breathed a pax vobiscum upon that armed town. No 
 lady went upon the field, but it was the bounden duty 
 of women to make lovely window pictures many times 
 multiplied and rearranged along the rendezvous lines. 
 
 Groups of girls were framed behind the panes, sunny- 
 browed or' demure, coquettish or prim, with curling locks 
 or smooth-tressed, witchingly frowning as a favored 
 officer rode by unheeding, or smiling when another 
 touched his plumed hat. Behind them row r s of caps 
 enclosed sweet women's faces. Caps of thick muslin 
 and double-plaited borders trimmed with one straight 
 width of lutestring tied under the chin, caps fashioned 
 out of soft, filmy lace adorned with knots, bows, and 
 floating ribbons.
 
 188 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 They made heartening portraitures as armed men 
 filed past, and the air was alive and palpitating to fife 
 and drum. 
 
 " Where is Captain and the Campton Light In- 
 fantry ? " queried the regulars from thence. 
 
 The truth was, a squad in waking the captain had 
 charged their muskets so heavily as to break some glass, 
 and chip the woodshed underpinning. The last volley 
 burst an old flintlock, tearing a thumb from a recruit as 
 a preparation for an able and most excellent ministry. 
 The accident belated them ; but just as wonder grew to 
 anxiety, a faint and far note of a bugle trilled down 
 from Campton road, and soon the troop went marching 
 past Squire Baker's at a swinging gait. 
 
 A little cloud went over Lois's white brow, for her 
 true word was given to the debonair captain who 
 hurried past without so much as raising his hand from 
 the hilt of his sword. 
 
 He was descended from one whose great height, 
 remarkable beauty, probity, ability, gentleness, and 
 courage led the Indians to esteem him especially blessed 
 of God. They never released an arrow against him, nor 
 did he ever reside in a stockade. 
 
 The elastic figure and courteous movement of Lois's 
 lover were said to be inherited, as were his large grayish- 
 blue eyes, fine nose, full brows, and white forehead, from 
 which a heavy crop of brown hair was carefully brushed. 
 His gentle nature restrained a quaint humor and mar-
 
 Muster 189 
 
 vellous gift of sarcasm. He added a peculiar shyness 
 characteristic of proud, thoughtful men. He held his 
 voice and well-played violin ready at call for evening 
 pastimes or minor psalms. He scorned to be late, as did 
 his command, so the troop went impatiently to its place 
 opposite the tavern. The adjutant rode up as it halted, 
 and inquired, "-How soon will your company be ready, 
 Captain ? " 
 
 "All ready, Adjutant Russell. We breakfasted and 
 called the roll on the march." 
 
 " There is plenty of time, Captain, and a cup of coffee 
 is awaiting you at Squire Baker's while your men rest." 
 Every soldier knew why there was such a curious glint 
 in the adjutant's eye as he rode full tilt among them ; for 
 that martial figure on the coal-black steed, with saddle- 
 cloth of red flannel wrought with gold braid, darted con- 
 tinually in and out among the troops, or to the tavern 
 where the beautifully caparisoned horses of the colonel 
 and his staff champed their bits. 
 
 " Adjutant Dave," as he was familiarly called, was an 
 energetic and persistent young man, always free and 
 obliging, and as proud a soldier as ever wore uniform ; 
 besides, he was one of the best horsemen in the State. A 
 year before he had been overruled in choosing a field, 
 so the regiment was called together in a hilly highway. 
 
 There being no room to manoeuvre, officers became 
 confused and lost their places, while the following men 
 executed some strange movements.
 
 190 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The adjutant vowed to locate a field according to his 
 own mind next time, and he had done so ; but mostly at 
 his own expense, which gave him opportunity to per- 
 form one of his famous feats. 
 
 To reimburse himself he decided to charge applying 
 tentholders and peddlers an entrance fee to the ground. 
 They resented the tax as an infringment upon long 
 held rights, and determined to go upon the muster 
 ground nighj; beforehand, knowing a legal process could 
 not drive them out before muster. 
 
 Hearing of their intention, the adjutant posted a 
 guard of resolute young men, his personal friends, 
 around the field. 
 
 The traffickers appeared, refused to pay rental, and 
 being satisfied they could not pass the guard, they con- 
 sulted together, and finally at night crossed the inter- 
 vale and climbed the winding hill road. 
 
 The far side of both intervale and muster field was 
 skirted by a steep, rough, thickly wooded bluff. Cov- 
 ered by forest and darkness, they turned across Col- 
 onel Livermore's field to the top of the hill above the 
 open parade, where they unhitched their teams, carried 
 carts, tent materials, and merchandise down, and re- 
 loaded. Finally, they wound down the stony scarp, 
 leading oxen and horses, which they re-yoked and re- 
 harnessed, and drove cautiously to the proper place. 
 Many tents and carts were in place before the trick 
 was discovered.
 
 Muster 191 
 
 " Foreordination," said the adjutant ; " withdraw the 
 guard." 
 
 Everybody had heard the story, and each soldier 
 shared the adjutant's ambition to make a comely entry 
 upon ground he cnvned for the day. Even the boys hur- 
 rahed for him ; and women eagerly remarked each care- 
 ful movement as he formed the regimental column by 
 company, in four files, headed by drum-major and fife- 
 major. 
 
 At last drums rolled, banners waved, and the minia- 
 ture army marched past windows filled with admiring 
 sweethearts, wives, and mothers, to the training-ground 
 across Holderness bridge on Livermore's intervale, north 
 side of the highway. 
 
 Shortly after it was followed by a cavalcade from the 
 tavern, the colonel and his staff, accompanied by a 
 visiting general from Boston. They were uniformed in 
 blue broadcloth trimmed with gold lace, buff vests, gold 
 epaulets, and black cocked hats adorned with long black 
 ostrich feathers. Their spirited horses were equipped 
 with handsome bridles, breastplates, martingales, and 
 saddles, and beautiful housings of flannel or skins. 
 
 When the colonel, surrounded by his aids and invited 
 guests, rode up to take command, he saw on the level 
 and open parade, against a background of baring bush 
 and tree, six infantry companies in line, two ranks deep, 
 men of all heights and sizes, clothed in homemade garb, 
 some wearing caps, others high or half-high wool hats,
 
 192 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 standing carelessly in a military point of view, but 
 armed and equipped according to law, and full of zeal. 
 
 At- their right stood two companies of light infantry 
 in single rank, uniforms and arms fresh and bright. 
 Still at the right were the musicians, massed ; then an 
 artillery company of fifty men posted in line on either 
 side of a very small cannon, and on the extreme right of 
 the regiment less than a hundred cavalrymen, booted, 
 spurred, and plumed, sat upon horses, black, white, bay, 
 and dappled. 
 
 Behind the colonel the picture was completed by 
 hundreds of men and boys dressed in homespun, shout- 
 ing and joking around tents, carts, and screaming ped- 
 lers, or eagerly crowding up to the guard-line. 
 
 The commander's first orders formed his regiment 
 into a hollow square for prayers. Every noise on the 
 open parade ceased, all hats were removed, and the 
 chaplain, Mr. Ward, with his white scarf about him, 
 became the one reverently observed figure on that field, 
 as he returned thanks for what arms had accomplished, 
 petitioned for success if further conflict must needs be, 
 and for the final sheathing of sword and bayonet every- 
 where. 
 
 Inspection immediately followed prayers, and began 
 with cavalry, around which inspecting officers rode, and 
 examined its swords and pistols one by one. If any 
 imperfections were discovered, an aid noted it down. 
 
 Then the officers dismounted, examined the artillery
 
 Muster 193 
 
 sabres, and walked around the poor little cannon, after- 
 wards turning to the infantry, and inspecting its arms 
 and equipments, which being completed, officers took 
 their places for the review that closely followed. 
 
 At the conclusion of that military ceremony the col- 
 onel re-formed his battalion in hollow square, that it 
 might listen to the address of the inspector general, who 
 criticised, commended, and exhorted with dashes of mar- 
 tial wit, till buglers sounded the call to dinner. Ranks 
 were hastily broken. Some of the men brought dinners 
 from home, many patronized the victualling tents. 
 
 Squire Baker, a former commander of the battalion, 
 invited the colonel, his guests and aids, to dinner. 
 
 It could be only a delightful nooning where the squire 
 and his wife presided at the feast, where Lois and 'Lis- 
 beth sparkled at the board. 
 
 Drill in the manual of arms was the afternoon occu- 
 pation. Infantry filed right and left, halted, wheeled, 
 faced about, and did all other acts and things in such 
 cases made and provided. 
 
 Artillery thundered very loudly when one considered 
 the size of its ordnance ; and cavalry, proud and pictur- 
 esque, reined its assortment of horses with remarkable 
 precision, because every man was a horseman from 
 necessity, though each discharge of artillery caused 
 much rearing and snorting among the rustic steeds. 
 
 It frequently occurred toward the close of duty that 
 the colonel granted to some minor officer the coveted
 
 194 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 privilege of drilling the battalion for half an hour. He 
 offered it to Adjutant Eussell that afternoon with many 
 expressions of commendation. 
 
 Immediately Adjutant Dave rode slowly along the 
 line to the centre, chatted a moment with Captain 
 Hobart, who held the right centre with a company of 
 picked Plymouth men, then went into drill vigorously 
 as was his wont, soon bringing the regiment into perfect 
 sympathy with himself. He sent an orderly to the 
 band with instructions to play Yankee Doodle until he 
 finished the drill. At that moment the black horse 
 felt a sharp spur-prick, and dashed beyond the guard 
 line. He was reined head to the regiment and stood a 
 moment's time, arching, curvetting, pawing before the 
 advancing lines of sunlit steel, borne by soldiers strung 
 to the highest pitch. When the regiment reached the 
 guards an order rang clear as a bugle, 
 
 " Charge bayonets ; forward, double quick, march." 
 
 The armed mass comprehended at once what was 
 wanted of it, and hastened to obey. Song, jest, and 
 story, auctioneers' cries, and pedlers' gains were broken 
 off without point or period; for after one instant of 
 completely dazed inaction, the whole crowd of sellers, 
 buyers, and jokers scurried in all directions from that" 
 solid, excited, determined phalanx. 
 
 When the soldiers reached the tents they split them 
 into kindling wood with their bayonets ; tapped cider 
 barrels and rum kegs ; scattered gingerbread, pies, and
 
 Mr. Wilson Carries a Grist to Mill 195 
 
 crackers ; upset pedlers' carts, turning them over and 
 over as far as they went ; until they heard above the 
 confusion " Halt," and " About face ; " then they marched 
 quietly back, some bayonets broken, many ornamented 
 with pieces of gingerbread, crusts of pie, bungs of cider 
 barrels and rum kegs, but each man feeling in himself 
 a sense of duty done ; and courteously returned to the 
 colonel. 
 
 So Adjutant Dave's running account with hucksters 
 was settled. 
 
 Keview followed immediately, after which the bat- 
 talion was dismissed, and started by many ways home 
 the proudest, jolliest set of men that ever returned 
 from muster. 
 
 Campton's Light Infantry captain and young Mayhew 
 made merry at Squire Baker's ; and the village store was 
 crammed with men who told stories of Adjutant Dave, 
 from his milk and pinafore days up to that afternoon. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MR. WILSON CARRIES A GRIST TO MILL 
 
 THE Monday after muster, Phil and one of the Kidder 
 boys helped Mr. "\Vilson thresh wheat. While himself 
 and Tom unbound some sheaves, and laid them, heads 
 inward, in two long rows a foot apart, so that the
 
 196 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 threshers might walk between, beating out the full 
 kernels with swinging flails, he heard talking by the 
 bay, where his neighbors' sons were ' fastening a loose 
 flail-hinge. They had used some time at it, though it 
 was a simple matter; for a hinge was only several 
 leathern thongs nailed closely to the ends of two long 
 round sticks. 
 
 He walked toward them, and heard Phil say, 
 
 " I hope he'll go if he wants to." 
 
 " Who's goin', an' where to ? " sharply demanded Mr. 
 Wilson. 
 
 " He says John is, to Boston." 
 
 " I don't b'lieve a word on't," replied Mr. Wilson ; but 
 still he felt disturbed. W T hat if it were true ? 
 
 What if he should go, holding 'Lisbeth's promise ? 
 He must see to it. How ? well 
 
 " I'll bet he is goin' ! " exclaimed Jack. " For when I 
 went up to borrer the winowin' mill this mornin', Mr. 
 Lane was fixin' a hair trunk, an' Mis' Lane was wipin' 
 her eyes, they was real red; an' when I asked him for 
 the winowin' mill he snapped shorter'n a pipe stem, an 
 said ' Yes ; take the mill, or barn, or anything else,' he 
 didn't care a cent ! " 
 
 " Is that flail mended ? " queried Mr. Wilson tartly. 
 " We've tew more floorin's to thrash an' winner, an' it's 
 goin' on to sundown." 
 
 He did some powerful threshing in his mind before 
 he went to supper, and after the meal was over, he or- 
 dered the boys thus,
 
 Mr. Wilson Carries a Grist to Mill 197 
 
 "Jack, you an' Tom go an' shell three bushels of old 
 corn, an' one of new for hominy ; we must grind enough 
 to last while we are gittin' out the oats an' doin' fall 
 ploughin'. I can't go to mill till afternoon to-morrer, 
 but I want it ready." 
 
 Truth was, he had concluded to go to Plymouth and, 
 as chance offered, settle 'Lisbeth'a future while waiting 
 for his grist. Speech was difficult to these reticent men, 
 who regarded loquacity as a specious form of tempta- 
 tion, to be fought against and overcome. He reached 
 the matter very badly at last, in his hurry to have it 
 over. 
 
 It was just as the supper ended at Squire Baker's, 
 responding to the squire's request that 'Lisbeth stay 
 with them during the winter, attending the Academy, 
 
 " Well, she can't, William, as I see. I s'pose 'Lis- 
 beth expects to take a reg'lar school in the spring; 
 'tenerate, her mother an' I plan for it, an' it's good as 
 settled." 
 
 " Why, 'Lisbeth ! " cried the family, but she simply re- 
 garded her father in blank astonishment. He blundered 
 on, 
 
 " She knows she can have it, an' I've passed my 
 word. Only one scholar, though." 
 
 " Who ? " sternly questioned the squire. 
 
 " Philip Harmon." 
 
 " You mean Elizabeth is to marry him next spring ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's it ; an' she must begin spinnin' an' mak-
 
 198 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 in' her things ; for I lay out to give her a good marriage 
 portion." 
 
 The Baker boys were furious, and tore out doors f- 
 their mother dropped a teacup. Mr. Wilson said, as he 
 rose from the table, that he would do some errands at 
 Russell's store, and come back, as the grist would not be 
 ready till seven. Mrs. Baker wiped the china carefully, 
 leaving her husband to parley with himself. A histo- 
 rian thus describes his character : " A man of great per- 
 sonal dignity, grave, reserved, retiring, yet always ready 
 at the call of duty ; of profound convictions and great 
 courage in maintaining them ; of unswerving adherence 
 to principle ; and of spotless integrity, whose words, 
 never superfluous, were inviolable. Upon public ques- 
 tions his voice was clear and prophetic ; in the church 
 his counsels always made for peace and righteousness. 
 At the bar his knowledge of law was so correct, his 
 sense of justice so keen, that in one case of appeal to 
 the Court of Common Pleas, the judge inquired from 
 whose decision the appeal was taken. On being told, 
 he answered the attorney that it was scarcely worth 
 while to prosecute the appeal, since the colonel's decis- 
 ions were always found correct." 
 
 It was he who now called to mind his promise to the 
 King ; and he followed 'Lisbeth, who had wandered 
 drearily into the parlor. She was standing by the high 
 mantel, her head against it, and arms hanging limp be- 
 side her.
 
 Mr. Wilson Carries a Grist to Mill 199 
 
 The weary figure smote his heart like a blow. He 
 went straight to her, and spoke very gently, 
 
 " I am sorry for you and John, Elizabeth." 
 
 " uncle ! " was all she uttered ; there was no cry- 
 ing, no quiver, only despair. 
 
 " Tell me all about it, Elizabeth. I wish to help. 
 Such events in a young girl's life are sacred, and I feel 
 the utmost diffidence in approaching the subject. But 
 sore trouble threatens you, and I desire to save the per- 
 illed happiness of two lives very dear to me." 
 
 He hesitated, then added, "But you shall speak or 
 not, as you choose, my child." 
 
 " I must speak ; I have to. I cannot, I think I will 
 not, marry Philip Harmon ; but then, what is to be 
 done ? Tell me, do tell me, unele, if there is any way 
 out." 
 
 " Yes, child, one ; you will follow the straight path of 
 duty, justice, and womanly truth. To miss that is to 
 fail utterly." 
 
 His composed courage so fortified her, that a pitiful 
 ghost of a smile flitted across her face, as he contin- 
 ued, 
 
 "There, now, Elizabeth, come and sit down by me. 
 We begin at the beginning. About this young Harmon, 
 it seems you have refused him, and your decision is 
 overruled on appeal as it were." 
 
 " Why, no, uncle ; Phil has not spoken to me." 
 
 " I'm surprised," said he, taking the snuffers and clip-
 
 200 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 ping the candlewick while he controlled a rising tem- 
 per ; for, though the King had so claimed, he had 
 believed that good soul mistaken about it " surprised. 
 It seems incredible. He but go on, my dear ; pro- 
 ceed cautiously and slowly. Tell me exactly how you 
 understand it." 
 
 " Phil has never asked me to marry him, nor men- 
 tioned it. I really think he likes Eunice Batchelder 
 better than any girl, or anybody but himself ; but he is 
 conceited, uncle. He is simply trying to prove himself 
 too smart for me. His father's property will be his ; a 
 good farm well-stocked and some money, it is said. He 
 is honest, industrious, and capable, belongs to the 
 church, and father favors him. That is all." 
 
 " He means to marry you whether or no. The case 
 has some peculiar features," and he smiled grimly. 
 
 "We will put Harmon by for awhile, pigeonhole his 
 case, and take up young Mayhew. Know much as to 
 his side of this affair ? He has addressed your father ? " 
 
 " Yes, and me." 
 
 " Of course, my child, he is no thief. Your troth is 
 plighted to him, and your father refuses to sanction it ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but, say, uncle, why does he go away ? " 
 
 " Because it is best for you both, unless you will 
 marry him." 
 
 " In plain disobedience to my father ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "Would it be right?"
 
 Mr. Wilson Carries a Grist to Mill 201 
 
 " Answer for yourself." 
 
 Her face flushed like the rosy dawn at first, then 
 became gray and hopeless ; but she replied firmly, 
 
 " It would be very wrong." 
 
 " Then he must go. What else can hinder ? " 
 
 " Nothing," quivered through the white lips ; and 
 she continued, grasping his sleeve, " I want to do my 
 duty, to honor my father; but do not ever tell me I 
 must marry the other one." 
 
 " Never ; Harmon's conduct is unfair, unmanly, an 
 attempt to steal what he cannot rightly win." 
 
 " Suppose father disowns me ? " 
 
 " Disowns you ? Disowns you, Elizabeth ? He will 
 not." 
 
 " Grandma threatened it." 
 
 " She did ? You poor child ! Let them try it ! 
 Elizabeth, Thomas Wilson is too proud to make a pub- 
 lic spectacle of his family ; but John Mayhew is worth 
 suffering for, keep your faith in him. No righteous 
 law can dispose of your life, you unconsenting ; and 
 I counsel you never to disgrace your womanhood by 
 marrying that cur down towards the turnpike. 
 
 " Your memory will be a shield to John, and at least 
 both can die true to the gracious love that blesses each, 
 and meet without shame in that land where love finds 
 its own unquestioned. Go to your room a little while, 
 and come back peaceful." 
 
 The squire was angry; in fact, he was never so
 
 202 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 furious in his life. The whole affair was contemptible, 
 and the more he conned it, the worse it looked. 
 
 When Mrs. Baker entered the room she found him 
 striding back and forth from table to fireplace, a most 
 unregenerate scowl wrinkling his brows. 
 
 The gentle woman paid no attention, but laid a fresh 
 hard maple stick across the andirons, brushed back the 
 light ashes with a gray goose-wing, lighted the candles 
 in the bright silver candlestick on the mantel, placed 
 a pair of snuffers beside it, and went to t*he table. Mr. 
 Baker took a paper, and sat down. She placed a chair 
 near him, and drew some knitting from a basket. She 
 possessed the sweet quietude of many women in those 
 homes. There was something telling even in their 
 manner of laying down work or taking it up ; an ele- 
 gance in the polite flutter of cap-borders, and slow 
 wafting of pale tinted untied cap-strings, that floated 
 back over their shoulders. Their touch was a bene- 
 diction ; their lives, psalms. Mrs. Baker had held an 
 experience meeting all by herself out in the supper- 
 room, and fully sympathized with her husband. She 
 unrolled the work, unwound some yarn, laid the ball in 
 her lap, and gazed at him. How proud she was of him, 
 and how handsome he looked in plum-colored velvet 
 coat and buff waistcoat, and breeches fastened to silk 
 hose by silver buckles. The ruffled shirt softened his 
 shapely hands, and lent a peculiar grace to the well- 
 poised head. Glancing again, she perceived that his
 
 Mr. Wilson Carries a Grist to Mill 203 
 
 New Hampshire Patriot was wrong side up, and the 
 scowl had deepened. Rising, she brushed back the 
 grayish hair from his fine forehead, and smoothed his 
 stock, saying, 
 
 " There now, father, let me take out this little 
 wrinkle, and seems to me this ruffle is broken a mite 
 under your chin." 
 
 " There's no trouble with the ruffle ; I wish you would 
 let me alone." 
 
 " Why, father, you must be calm." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course ! just as composed as pur old clock 
 in the corner. Certainly." 
 
 " Why, how you do talk ! What ails you ? " 
 
 " Brother-in-law ! got it all over from head to foot, 
 soul and body." 
 
 " William ! are you speaking of Thomas ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am, Lois ; that same old tyrant." 
 
 " Why, dear me ! there ! " 
 
 " Were you at the table this evening or not ? " 
 
 "I was there, husband." 
 
 " You were ! Do you remember any startling news 
 related by our dear brother during the meal, or an- 
 nouncement of his intention to marry 'Lisbeth out of 
 hand to Harmon, knowing he sets out to spoil two lives 
 by wilfulness ? " 
 
 " Thomas will do right in the end, I do believe." 
 
 " Will he ? When will he begin ? He never beats 
 around the bush. I heard only a plain, square notice 
 of settled purpose."
 
 204 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Sit down, father, do; you will bring Thomas round." 
 
 " Bring him round, eh ? It takes a sharp bit to rein 
 him; he may make one to tear his own tongue and 
 bring himself about, but it will be by a long turn and 
 hard one, mind my words." 
 
 " How you do talk ! I never heard the like of it, 
 never." He rose. " Sit down, William, do. I'm fright- 
 ened ; some dreadful thing will happen." 
 
 " It's happening one of the worst. Thomas is 
 playing tyrant, and that attempt is paid for the world 
 over. He'll settle the bills in my judgment to the last 
 fo'pence ha'p'ny." 
 
 " Here, William," beating a cushion, " take your paper 
 and sit down. I'll snuff the candles." 
 
 " I don't wish to read ; I can't. John pays his last 
 visit here this evening, this very evening ; do you hear, 
 Lois ? And our dear brother is coming too. Well 
 arranged, isn't it ? I declare," he continued, stopping 
 short, " I believe he just planned it on purpose." 
 
 " Nobody knows he is going but the Lanes, and they 
 are close-mouthed people; besides, he came with a 
 grist." 
 
 " Who ever heard of his coming to mill at this time 
 a-day ? Corn never brought him over the hubbly roads 
 to ride back with that old horse at night. He is settling 
 things. He's a pattern man, Thomas is." 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! you frighten me." 
 
 " This whole business is heathenish, Lois. I hope he
 
 Mr. Wilson Grinds His Grist 205 
 
 won't stir me up any. I can't say what I might do. I 
 feel like swearing, Lois ; I've a good mind to swear." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! " said she helplessly as he brushed her 
 aside, then faced her, saying, 
 
 "Now, then, Lois, now then, he's a thundering old 
 idiot, that's what he is, and I won't take back a word or 
 a syllable." 
 
 " Why, William ! whyee-ee-ee ! " 
 
 "I can't help it; that man ought to be sent to an 
 asylum for the irresponsible or else tied to a whip- 
 ping-post." 
 
 Rap, tap, tap went the front door knocker. 
 
 " There is John, and 'Lisbeth will soon be back ; I'm 
 going to run." 
 
 " You cannot, and you must not." 
 
 "I can, and I shall. I'm ashamed to see either of 
 them, feel like a dog; " and he made his way out of 
 one door as John entered at the other. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 HIS GRIST IS GROUND 
 
 "MRS. BAKER greeted Mayhew warmly, for her heart 
 ached for the motherless man, driven from his sweet- 
 heart and dreams of a home. She was glad for him 
 when 'Lisbeth came in, crewels in hand, with Lois.
 
 206 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The squire returned with heightened dignity to find 
 Mr. Wilson and John discussing the crops. 
 
 Immediately politics, perennial theme of New Hamp- 
 shire men and women, they were all brought up to it, 
 became the topic. 
 
 This country was rooted in living souls, thrice blessed 
 will the future State become if it shall expand and 
 grow to the perfect fruitage of such benign planting. 
 
 Mr. Wilson found himself admiring John exactly as 
 he had that morning when he began haying. 
 
 " I do believe I'm kinder hankerin ' after him," he told 
 himself, then grew stern, and recollected that his errand 
 was not so much grinding of corn as other things. He 
 wished to know if that dangerous youngster was going 
 away, so he changed the subject. 
 
 " By the way, I heard some of the boys say you're 
 go in' to Boston." 
 
 " I expect to go." 
 
 Soon ? " 
 
 "Next Thursday." 
 
 Sho ! You'll be home first." 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow." 
 
 "Goin' into law, I s'pose. Well, you've heard the old 
 story." 
 
 The squire felt like giving his brother-in-law a piece 
 of his mind, and the foolish remark afforded an oppor- 
 tunity. A glance at 'Lisbeth bent over her embroidery 
 beside his own mischievous Lois sharpened the retort.
 
 Mr. Wilson Grinds His Grist 207 
 
 ' Thomas, that old story is a lie to begin with, and 
 has been musty since 76. Heavens ! I wonder what 
 gunpowder .would have been worth, without law to 
 frame the constitution and such like documents. Free- 
 dom wasn't made entirely out of prayers and flint- 
 locks." 
 
 Brother-in-law Thomas was fierce in asking, " Do you 
 suppose we got along without 'em ? " 
 
 "Xo, I do not; I've heard prayer fiery enough to 
 touch off a gun, and no doubt it did, and I've listened 
 to that chilly enough to freeze powder." 
 
 Here Mrs. Baker tried to stay the electrical storm, 
 and drew its whole force. " Thomas, I hear the Powells 
 have brought Becky home, and I hope it is true. How 
 could they be so cruel ? " 
 
 " Cruel, Lois ! Her father done right ; 'tw'an't a ques- 
 tion of choosin' , but duty. When there's only one road 
 laid out afore your face, you've got to travel it, or miss 
 the way. There's no turnin' into by and forbidden 
 paths. We've got to set our faces like flints agin' sech 
 things." 
 
 " She isn't at home, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, she is, that's the plague on't ; it upsets dis- 
 cipline, then where are we ? " 
 
 The squire determined to nail the matter on the spot, 
 and see whether Mr. Wilson was speaking from direct 
 purpose, or at random. 
 
 "It was a shame, Thomas. What if her father did
 
 208 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 command her to marry that old man ? She could not 
 obey. Daughters are not traded like cattle. Take the 
 question home, Thomas, what would you do in a like 
 case ? You could not do so." 
 
 Mr. Wilson looked at his beautiful child, growing 
 blanched meanwhile, then met the squire's challenging 
 gaze, and finally lifted his eyes to the proud, supreme 
 face of the young man, not once dropping them, as he 
 answered measuredly, 
 
 "I should f oiler my duty to the end." 
 
 " Thomas Wilson," said the squire, " if you are tak- 
 ing that pace, you better find out what duty is before 
 you start." 
 
 " Duty is foll'win' the doctrines. I'm goin' that gait, 
 the only one I ever knew." 
 
 John rose, and asked, . 
 
 " Are you speaking particularly to me ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am ; you know that. My daughter there 
 marries Philip Harmon next spring." 
 
 John answered him, 
 
 ' " Harmon seeks a sort of servant who will stint, and 
 spare, and obey ; I, a helper, friend. He asks your 
 daughter out of selfishness ; I, because she is 'Lis- 
 beth." 
 
 " There's things more important than happiness, an' 
 I hope this disappointment will tend to your good." 
 
 The squire stepped forth, saying, 
 
 " Thomas Wilson, what I hear concerns both law and
 
 Mr. Wilson Grinds His Grist 209 
 
 conscience. Suppose she marries Harmon, she must 
 promise to love him. She does not. She cannot. Do 
 you know what that promise is called in law ? Per- 
 jury, a State-prison offence. She will make no such 
 oath." 
 
 He took John's hand, and said, 
 
 " Elizabeth, come to me," and the girl moved wonder- 
 ingly to him. 
 
 "John Mayhew," said he, "do you love my niece, 
 and will you make open declaration of it here ? " 
 
 " I do love her, and will avow it anywhere so long as 
 I live." 
 
 " Elizabeth, what do you answer in this presence ? " 
 
 The reply was very tremulous, but there was no un- 
 certainty in it. 
 
 " My father knows I have promised to be John May- 
 he w's wife, and I mean to keep my word." 
 
 " 'Lisbeth ! 'Lisbeth ! you shall not, you never shall. 
 Give her to me, William Baker/' 
 
 "Wait." 
 
 " I won't wait. She's my gal, she ain't of age." 
 
 "Be quiet, Thomas, for you shall listen. There 
 should be publishment of marriage banns, so, in this 
 unaccustomed manner, I announce the intention of 
 marriage between these two persons," laying the girl's 
 hand in her lover's, who raised it to his lips. 
 
 The great dignity and baronial spirit of the squire 
 first controlled Mr. Wilson, and the sovereign authority
 
 210 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 of the last move stunned him, but he burst loose from 
 it, exclaiming, 
 
 " Every syllable you've spoke comes to nothin'. I, 
 'Lisbeth's father, tell you to give my gal back to me. 
 Her promise ain't no good 'thout my consent." 
 
 Mayhew held him back with one arm long enough to 
 say, 
 
 " Hear me, Mr. Wilson. For the most part I respect 
 you, and my worst wish is that a change to brighter 
 hope may be near you, and the old fashion of bitterness 
 be done away. My conscience disallows my taking your 
 child against your will. I am going away, but I shall 
 return for my own. When you send for me, I will 
 come ; till then I am obedient to the command of sep- 
 aration, because God has^ bestowed on you such exceed- 
 ing grace as to make you father to this girl. Here, 
 freely I return this treasure, which one day you will 
 gladly restore," and bowing, he went out. 
 
 At first Mr. Wijson insisted that 'Lisbeth should go 
 home with himself, but on reflection he concluded to let 
 her stay, she being safe anywhere, for the youth would 
 keep his word, that he knew. 
 
 John spent the whole next day at the squire's, and 
 toward sunset gravely, tenderly, spoke good-bys to the 
 family, then asked 'Lisbeth to walk with him to the top 
 of Thurlow Hill ; and so, in the golden glory of a Novem- 
 ber sunset, those two took their way down the village 
 street, past the Emerson house, across the brook, and
 
 Mr. Wilson Grinds His Grist % 211 
 
 climbed the long, steep, stony hill, in silence all the way. 
 Only after they passed the houses he took her hand and 
 kept it. 
 
 Upon the level summit, silent still, they put off the 
 parting for a brief space, smothering their grief and 
 summoning courage for the final sacrifice. Every fea- 
 ture of that exquisite landscape stamped itself upon their 
 memories for all time, so curiously does the mind grasp 
 at surroundings, seeking to cheat the pain of coming 
 distress. Below, far down, narrow, passing from sight 
 among Campton hills, spread the bronze green valley of 
 the Pemigewassett, the winding gray-blue river wander- 
 ing now hither, now yon, through its entire length. On 
 the high bluff across the meadows smoke curled from 
 the stately Livermore mansion ; and on the nearer side, 
 the lovely hamlet of Plymouth twinkled its first even- 
 ing lights upon the slope, a perfect jewel set on the 
 finger of the hills. 
 
 More than a score of dwellings straggled along Main 
 Street and up Haverhill pike. On a little hillock front- 
 ing the village green, Holmes Academy uplifted its 
 white spire, and the blunt belfry of the court house 
 marked a famous arena on which Webster, Sullivan, 
 Smith, Mason, and their princely compeers waged 
 mighty forensic warfare. 
 
 Nearly a mile up the Haverhill road, crowning Ward 
 Hill, the old Congregational church rose like an un- 
 armed two-story fort, bare, dominant, solid.
 
 212 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Around on every hand the cool bluish hills uplifted, 
 towering rank on rank, even to the horizon's utmost 
 verge, melting into misty outline beyond x where Osceola 
 caps Campton peaks. 
 
 Black and Welch, Fisher and Tecumseh, were mated 
 by farther summits. They saw Franconia Notch cleft 
 through buttressed granite, and forever warded by that 
 calm, unanswering, awful Face, sculptured by Almighty 
 God upon the mountain's topmost cliff. 
 
 Behind those peaks the long whale back of Mount 
 Washington was hidden, and both round about them 
 and behind stood their mighty brethren of the White 
 Hills. The ledgy spur of Thurlow Hill screened 
 Moosehillock's graceful dome. The far-off summits 
 were silvery gray; nearer the hills still burned with 
 late autumn fires, or melted into gold in sunny nooks, 
 while the valley slept and dreamed between. 
 
 Not till lengthening shadows turned to certain dusk 
 over the village, and messengers of evening on red and 
 gold and heavy purple pinions flew upward from the 
 departed sun, did they put into words the thoughts that 
 swelled their aching hearts. She smiled hopelessly up 
 at him, and there was a quivering cadence of despair in' 
 his voice, 
 
 " It is almost dark, dear soul, and you must go. 
 'Lisbeth, 'Lisbeth, my heart is breaking for you and 
 for me." 
 
 She was silent, and he stumbled on brokenly,
 
 Mr. Wilson Grinds His Grist 213 
 
 " All I have lived and prayed for will be taken from 
 me here, and yet my heaviest sorrow is for you. What 
 will you do ? 'Lisbeth, what can you do ? " 
 
 " I can be true to you, John." 
 
 " You are my very betrothed, and we have spent this 
 day together," then he faced away from her only to 
 return, saying fiercely, 
 
 " I cannot lose you, and I will not." 
 
 "Do you doubt me, John?" The question was 
 proudly phrased. 
 
 " Oh, my dear love, forgive me. I have no distrust of 
 you, but an awful fear of what you may endure. They 
 will coax, insist, demand, threaten, disinherit, then 
 what ? " 
 
 "I shall withhold my lips from lying, and my soul 
 from sacrilege." 
 
 " If the last happens, may I come for you ? Do con- 
 sent so far." 
 
 " I cannot tell. You must trust me, John. Nothing 
 is better than truth. We shall be in the same world. 
 We can sometimes look into each other's faces without 
 shame too, do you hear, dear proudly, without shame." 
 
 He was brushing the wavy hair back fondly, and she 
 continued self-contained, 
 
 " Once for all, John Mayhew, successful or unfortu- 
 nate, rich or poor, living or dead, I love you only, 
 always ; neither shall I listen to any other while I 
 live."
 
 214 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Lisbeth/' he answered, " my truth and manhood are 
 pledged to you. No oath can add one iota to our second 
 betrothal." Then, after a moment, " Go now, beloved, 
 for the valley darkens ; I will watch you down the hill." 
 
 The hour of supreme renunciation was come, the sac- 
 rifice was completed, but the sorrow overmastered tears. 
 Reaching up, she took his face in both her hands and 
 gazed earnestly on each" feature, graving the image on 
 her heart, then drawing his head down, she kissed him. 
 For one brief moment he gathered her in his arms, arid 
 rained kisses on her eyes, her hair, her hands, the next 
 they walked apart with pain so awful that they both 
 were dumb. John watched the swaying figure, bent by 
 woe, as it stumbled over loose stones, saw late golden- 
 rod leaning across the gurgling waters of a wayside run 
 and touching her blue dress, marked with bitter pride 
 how resolutely her face was turned from him, till a 
 curve carried her behind a long row of alder bushes that 
 reached to the village street. 
 
 A loud clatter of hoofs among rolling pebbles, a heavy 
 whip-crack, and an eight-horse stage laden with twelve 
 passengers, piles of bandboxes, and trunks with handles 
 and studded with nails, rolled by him. 
 
 On the box sat a young man, smooth-faced, bearing a 
 master's look in the clear, deep blue eyes, with muscles 
 like strong cords, and brown as a berry. It was a hard 
 hill, the wheel horses could not possibly hold back such 
 a load ; so he gathered up the reins in an iron grip,
 
 Mr. Wilson Grinds His Grist 215 
 
 flicked his long whip close to the leaders' ears, and the 
 whole team sprang on a dead run down the hill. Pres- 
 ently he heard a mellow horn, and knew the stage was 
 clattering up to the tavern door. 
 
 In the same breath the King and his dogs whisked 
 down the ledges from the pine woods on his left. 
 
 " Hello, John, ain't that bustin' ? Don't Jim Larig- 
 don know a thing or tew 'bout stagin' ? Well, I guess ! 
 I've seen that other young feller, Harden, dew the same 
 thing. I reckon ev'ry hoss them boys lays a rein over 
 knows 'em. Seems to me they send word 'long the 
 ribbins, else how could they go lick-e-ty-split that way 
 'thout killin' the whole bilin', an' scatterin' the stage 
 for kin'lin' wood. Goin' home, ain't ye ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " I see your uncle carryin' your traps ; so, bein' only 
 t'other side the hill, I run 'roun' to walk 'long. Pore 
 comp'ny, the dogs an' me, but p'raps we'll shorten the 
 road a little." 
 
 " You are kind, and make the journey pleasanter." 
 
 " Come, pups, where be ye ? We're goin' home, an' 
 we don't want no runnin' roun'." 
 
 Deaf immediately to all blandishments of the woods, 
 they settled into a " dog-trot " ahead of their master. 
 The King had been lying on pine needles, or sitting on 
 a rock for two hours. He saw the pair come up the 
 hill, and one descend it in grievous fashion. The sight 
 had drawn some tears down his furrowed cheeks, and he
 
 216 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 told the dogs, then and there, that he would " tend tew 
 things, if we never see another wile-cat, nor track a bear 
 agin." 
 
 He hitched up the empty game-bag, and slouched 
 along, evidently uneasy, till John, remarking it, said, 
 
 Well, Uncle David ? " 
 
 I'm thinkin', John." 
 
 " So I see." 
 
 " I dunno how tew begin ; where's them pesky dogs ? " 
 
 " Eight here ; under foot almost." 
 
 " So they be ; how I dew wish Nabby was here." 
 
 In spite of all, John smiled. 
 
 " You see, she isn't, and you are not afraid of me." 
 
 "No, sir, I ain't. When it comes tew bein' feared, 
 there's nothin' in the woods or outen 'em that I'm scairt 
 on; on'y this seems kinder meddlin', somehow," giving 
 his game-pouch another pull. 
 
 " You never could do that, Uncle David. Does this 
 matter concern me ? " 
 
 " Some it does, an' some it don't, but I'm most wor- 
 ried 'bout t'other one." 
 
 What one ? " 
 
 " Her," jerking his thumb backward toward the 
 hamlet. 
 
 " Mr. King ! what is it ? Any new trouble ? " 
 
 " I guess she's got 'nuff, poor gal, an' there ain't any 
 more comin' if I can help it." 
 
 John grasped the King's hand, who made a great to-
 
 At the Tavern 217 
 
 do, calling to his dogs ; but before they reached Mr. 
 Lane's he had, by dint of much bad grammar, delicately 
 used, given John to understand that his eye would be 
 swift to see, and if it became necessary, he should 
 readily shoulder his gun, and carry peltry to Boston 
 markets. And the lover was comforted ; for the tides 
 of youth set strongly, filling up many a footprint of 
 care in hopefully shifting sands, whereon they ebb and 
 flow. And 'Lisbeth came to supper much as usual, only 
 a faint, wistful, pathetic aspect had come into her eyes 
 that would never depart. It is thus that shadows grow 
 in beloved faces, only to be swept away when the 
 majestic Healer, Death, smooths from unsensing linea-* 
 ments the cruel furrows drawn by ploughshares of 
 pride and thoughtlessness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 HOYT'S TAVERN 
 
 HOYT'S tavern was an old hostelry down by the foot 
 of the Pond, famous as Partridge's before the first red 
 stage came up the turnpike. The tavernkeeper was 
 known as Squire Hoyt or Uncle Abe, just as it hap- 
 pened. He was a small, wiry man ; keen, blue-eyed, 
 and fairish-haired ; stern on occasion, kindly, thoughtful.
 
 218 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 quick of wit. He said, l Jess so, jess so, sir,' most amia- 
 bly, but a sham fared hardly at his hands. Many a 
 poor boy or man tramping northward to settle wild land 
 was freely supplied with the tavern's best, not mention- 
 ing a generous supply of food to take along in the morn- 
 ing, because, Uncle Abe explained, " the poor devil had 
 a thunderin' hard row to hoe 'thout sleepin' out nights 
 and half starvin' on the way." 
 
 His enormous barns were stuffed full of sweet hay 
 and oats grown on the hillside. Six horses harnessed 
 to a stage pranced on the great signboard, and under- 
 neath was inscribed, "A. P. Hoyt, Stage Tavern." 
 There was comfort even in the outside of that yellow, 
 two-storied, piazzaed, rambling, airy house, showing dim- 
 ity curtains at guest-chamber windows; and a roaring 
 fire, from a four-foot rock maple backlog and forestick, 
 filled in between with cleft wood, threw its sparkling 
 welcome out into the chill darkness through the windows 
 of the big main room. 
 
 Similar inns dotted all turnpikes and roads through 
 the State, at distances of from three to seven miles, 
 seldom more, lest drivers should lose an hour or two 
 before sunset, in order to be sure of some harborage at 
 nightfall. 
 
 Teams were made up of oxen alone, horses by them- 
 selves, or of oxen hitched to cart and sled tongues, 
 horses leading. 
 
 Those going " down below " dragged pine masts to the
 
 At the Tavern 219 
 
 coast, hemlock to tan- vats, and the " truck and dicker " 
 from country stores to exchange for merchandise. Travel- 
 ling buyers, who went from farm to farm picked up 
 produce, flaxseed, small peltry, the overplus of looms, 
 homemade hose, called "feetin'," and whatever was 
 buyable, and carted it all "down below." 
 
 Every few miles that serious drama of the road was 
 brightened by merry andrews on red carts, the wags of 
 muster-fields many times multiplied. They halted, jest- 
 ing and gossipy, at hill farmhouses ; exchanged blue 
 calico, beads, combs, and what not for rags, eggs, or odd 
 yards of linen, and wore the jester's cap and bells down 
 the turnpike to market. 
 
 Keturning teams brought sugar, lamps, oil, dyestuff, 
 school-books, tobacco, snuff, not to- speak of the great 
 staple, liquors. Everything, from crewels to powder- 
 horns and ploughshares, were hauled over drifts in 
 winter, through dust in summer, along those rugged 
 lines of commerce. Teamsters were resolute and trusty 
 men. Lawyers journeying from one country seat to 
 another, people paying visits, those going down to fac- 
 tories or returning from them, made a large part of 
 travellers by stage, chaise, or on horseback. 
 
 The latter classes occupied guest chambers ; but 
 teamsters, as a rule, made a common dormitory of the 
 public-room, saving each his ninepence, less or more, 
 and insuring warm quarters to himself. 
 
 Each driver helped take care of his own horses or
 
 220 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 oxen, then threw his bearskin over his shoulders, took a 
 little trunk containing food, and went into the tavern 
 with a nod and good-evening to the landlord. 
 
 Mrs. Lane brought John down to Hoyt's the evening 
 before he started for Boston. Just after they entered, 
 a horn merrily trumpeted, and the Haverhill stage 
 banged and clattered up to the friendly doors. It 
 brought a few passengers, who, with many " All's " and 
 " Oh's " and " Bless me's," dropped down and crawled 
 out and hurried in to the fire. 
 
 John and his aunt went to Mrs. Hoyt's sitting-room 
 till strangers were fitly housed. Pete, the general 
 utility boy, ran up the stairs with luggage, stirred fires, 
 and jumped lively for an ordered flip. 
 
 Strangers at old-fashioned taverns were guests indeed. 
 Those at Squire Hoyt's descended at bell-call to find the 
 landlord and his wife waiting to preside at the bounti- 
 ful table, with a roaring fire at one side of it, and two 
 beautiful bright oil lamps upon it. John and Mrs. Lane 
 shared the meal, the innkeeper specially desiring John 
 should be acquainted with a guest, young Quincy of 
 Boston. 
 
 Meantime, men in the great public room warmed 
 themselves and laid their supper each upon his trunk 
 cover. As the last men were about finishing the meal 
 one broke a stick from the woodpile, whittled it to a 
 point, speared a piece of cheese, and toasted it before 
 the fire.
 
 At the Tavern 221 
 
 " My pie is almost froze. I'll fix it," said a grizzled 
 man. 
 
 He stripped a piece of birch bark from a log, put 
 his pie on it, and laid it down on the hearth, close to 
 hot embers. The bark curled over it, making a warm 
 oven. 
 
 " Where did you learn that kink ? " inquired a young 
 man just from the private table. " Give me a bit of 
 pie, won't you ? I want to try it." 
 
 " Dew, tuck the bark up close." 
 
 The youth attempted it, and jumped back, exclaim- 
 ing; - 
 
 " Phew ! Blazes ! I've blistered my finger." 
 
 The graybeard eyed him with a you'll-know-better- 
 next-time nod as he said deliberately, 
 
 "Experunce mostly hurts. Nex' time keep the bark 
 "tween your hand and the bricks." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied the young man ; " I was a 
 simpleton not to ask help." 
 
 His inquisitor regarded him kindly, saying, 
 
 " I took you for a big-feeliii' upstart, but I'm mistook. 
 AVho be ye ? " 
 * " My name is Quincy." 
 
 " Not from hereabouts, I guess." 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Boston ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Buyin' sunthin', I s'pose ? "
 
 222 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Yes, lumber and masts ; but after this trip I shall 
 only be here occasionally." 
 
 " Sorry." 
 
 " See here, Hobert, gimme a piece of that cheese," 
 called a man across the fireplace. " Swap even ? " he 
 inquired, holding a doughnut on his jack-knife. 
 
 Quincy drew up to the table where one and another 
 were reading the weekly papers. Every little while 
 a man read a paragraph aloud, and immediately several 
 round about the checkerplayers near by took it up, and 
 discussion spread over the room, till even those who 
 traded jack-knives and " swapped yarns " by the fire 
 entered the spirited contest. 
 
 " Say, mister," said a youth who came in on the stage, 
 squatting before him they called Parker, " have you 
 lived with Indians ? " 
 
 " S ' posen I have " ? 
 
 " Can't you tell us a story ? " 
 
 "Yarns ain't in my line, youngster; 'sides, I hain't 
 lived with 'em." 
 
 " Oh ! " The expression voiced all a boy's disappoint- 
 ment ; and there was a world of courtesy in his look and 
 manner which softened Parker, and he inquired, 
 
 " Where'd you come from ? " 
 
 "Derryfield." 
 
 " Where you goin' tew ? 
 
 "Hanover." 
 
 " Hey ! college, I reckon."
 
 At the Tavern 223 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Lucky. Where'd you find the money ? ' 
 
 '' Earned it working and keeping school." 
 
 " Did ? Well, I've been 'mong Injuns, buyin' pelts an' 
 gimcracks, boy." 
 
 " Will you tell us a story ? " 
 
 " Mebbe ; I'll see if I can ketch on to one." 
 
 "Story, story!" shouted the men. Quincy put his 
 hand up. 
 
 " Hold on, wait a moment ; let's have some coffee first. 
 It's my treat for the good fellowship that has followed 
 me all up and down this State." 
 
 " Good ; thankee ; good," echoed all over the room. 
 
 " Here, Uncle Abe, coffee for twenty. Will you take 
 a mug, sir ? " to John, who then entered. 
 
 " Thank you ; yes, I shall enjoy one." 
 
 " Twenty-one, then." 
 
 " Here, Pete, " called the innkeeper to the chore-boy, 
 " run to the kitchen an' tell 'em to fill two big pitchers 
 with smoking hot coffee, an' bring mugs from the bar. 
 Mr. Quincy, I'm glad you an' John Mayhew have met. 
 Don't lose sight of him, an' tell your father he's the best 
 we ever raise." 
 
 The door into the entry slowly opened, and a ragged, 
 weary, very dejected boy, perhaps sixteen years old, 
 pushed half way in, and hesitated miserably. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " exclaimed Squire Hoyt ; " what's 
 this ? "
 
 224 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " May I warm me a minit ? " pleaded the boy. 
 
 " Come right straight to the fire," said Mr. Hoyt, tak- 
 ing the shivering lad through an open way. "There, 
 warm yourself. Who are you ? " 
 
 " Jim Sawyer.'' 
 
 " Where's your father ? " 
 
 "Dead," and his lip quivered; so did many others of 
 those crowding round. 
 
 " Where's your mother ? " 
 
 " Tew home." 
 
 " Near here ? " 
 
 " No ; up tew Bath." 
 
 " Where've you been ? " 
 
 " Down below." 
 
 " Seeking your fortune, hey ? 'Pon my soul, you look 
 as if you'd found it ! Got 'nuff on't ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; an' I'm try in' tew git back home." 
 
 " Good ! Jess so, jess so ; that's right, my boy, an' I 
 s'pose you've tramped all the way." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Pretty likely you'll find your fortune where you left 
 it, with your mother ; you ain't cut out for hustlin'. 
 Thankee, Quincy ; here, Jim, take a stiff swig of this hot 
 coffee. Thanks, men ; mother'll put some things in jour 
 pack's," he said, as one and another helped the boy to 
 wholesome food. "There, now, set still in the corner 
 an' toast yourself ; then Pete'll take you up to bed : 
 you'll have to rest a day or so."
 
 At the Tavern 225 
 
 " An' I'll take him to Haverhill, an' get a teamster to 
 take him home," said Harden ; " he's got the makin' of 
 a man in him, for he knows enough to go back and begin 
 new," nodding encouragingly toward the happy boy al- 
 ready half asleep. 
 
 " Story, story !" cried they all. 
 
 " I'm off the trail of Injuns," said he they called 
 Parker, " but I remember this ; it happened tew me." 
 
 Indian stories went round while they drank their 
 coffee, and then followed an incident possible nowhere 
 else in the wide world. 
 
 A man, evidently a conceited schoolmaster, had grad- 
 ually drawn his chair midway the group, and airily in- 
 terrupted and embellished narrative and legend with 
 Latin* phrases and remarks as to what he heard in col- 
 lege. Those men had 'great esteem for learning, but 
 none for a coxcomb. 
 
 " Uncle Abe " had turned a quizzical eye towards him 
 several times. He drank his coffee, premising it with 
 an astonishing flourish and bow to young Quincy, then 
 pulled out a pipe and filled it. 
 
 " I like live embers best for tew light my pipe," said 
 one, dipping his filled pipe-bowl into a bed of them. 
 
 " A live coal's the thing," corrected the prig ; " in 
 short, one may call it a desideratum; yes, truly a de- 
 sideratum." 
 
 " Certainly," said Parker, " 'tis. I want some ; gimme 
 the tongs," and with exquisite mimicry he broke a coal 
 for his own pipe.
 
 226 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 The coxcomb, unmindful of the laugh which followed, 
 finished smoking, and called for a glass of flip. The 
 landlord was already incensed, and when he swung his 
 glass swaggeringly before he drank, remarking, 
 
 " Dum vivimus vivamus, Squire Hoyt," the squire 
 .turned quickly, replying, 
 
 "Ah, jess so, jess so, sir; an' dumb fool, too, sir." 
 
 During the derisive mirth of approval two young 
 men reached up over the fireplace and took some fiddles 
 down. They scraped them into tune with an old tun- 
 ing-fork, and played all music upon them from trill .to 
 chant, from " Virginia Eeel " to " Old Hundred." The 
 guests sang when they knew the lines, and listened to 
 the rest. Finally one said, 
 
 " Can you play and sing ' Boston Tea,' boys ? *that's 
 the song to-night. One of us lives there, an' another's 
 goin'. New Hampshire's mighty good tew Boston." 
 
 " She's tew good all roun'/' remarked a quiet man ; 
 "an' now the boys air tram pin' out West, wherever 
 that is. My boy's gone, though there ain't nothin' out 
 there but fever'n ager, Injuns an' rattlesnakes, fur's I 
 know." 
 
 " Tune up ; sing," ordered the leader. " ' The Boston 
 Teaparty,' you all know it ; sing." 
 
 Hurrah, my boys, come sing the tale 
 
 Of the Indian hordes with me, 
 Who climbed the sides of the Dartmouth ship 
 
 And made that Boston tea.
 
 At the Tavern 227 
 
 They scooped it up by chest and box, 
 
 That herb of keen delight, 
 And out of the stern and over the bow 
 
 Flung it with all their might. 
 
 They hoaxed the dames of high degree, 
 
 Who waited beside the urns, 
 And gossipped, and scowled, and nodded, till 
 
 Their lamps had ceased to burn. 
 
 Then wide flew the doors; each ruffled lord, 
 
 In velvet and powdered queue, 
 Cried, Madam, the tea has shipped a sea, 
 
 Not a half pound left for you. 
 
 But 'twas a luscious drink we made 
 
 King George's redcoats gay; 
 A harbor full of home-brewed tea, 
 
 Way down in Boston Bay. 
 
 The clock struck nine, and the tired men prepared for 
 rest. 
 
 " Hadn't you better ride with me ? I shall be pleased 
 if you will," said Quincy to John. 
 
 " I must be there Saturday." 
 
 " So must I." 
 
 
 
 " If you're goin', John," interrupted Marden, " I sh'd 
 like to take you fur as I go, darned if I shouldn't ! " 
 
 " Thank you kindly, both of you ; I'll go to Concord 
 with Mr. Marden, and gladly the rest of the way with 
 you, Mr. Quincy." 
 
 " All right, we meet at Gasses', good-night," said Mr. 
 Quincy. Pete blew up a coal and lighted a candle, pre-
 
 228 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 ceding the young man to a warm, clean chamber, very 
 fresh and comfortable, having a large braided rug be- 
 side the bed. 
 
 John lingered some time with his aunt ; it was hard 
 to say a last good-night to the faithful woman who had 
 mothered him even as one of her own sons. He felt 
 sure her heart ached ; but she was brave, and helped him 
 away to save grief for himself and 'Lisbeth. 
 
 In the great bar-room brawny men were passing into 
 dreamland on soft beds of skins, with their feet to a 
 smouldering fire, the burning logs being covered with 
 ashes so they might char through the night and open 
 like the heart of a coal-pit in the morning. The men 
 had well earned the comfort they enjoyed ; and besides 
 
 that, they were very interesting people, for there was 
 
 
 
 scarcely a common man, one who thought of himself and 
 lived solely for himself, among them. They were sons 
 of heroes who marched from Bunker Hill to battlefield 
 after battlefield till the Revolution ended ; who melted in 
 the fierce heats of southern suns ; whose feet were bare 
 and bleeding ii\the snows of Valley Forge ; who suffered 
 where New Hampshire's stainless knight, the intrepid 
 and chivalric Scammel, led. Before them stars and 
 orders paled, behind them a new empire, resting on 
 moveless foundations of granite character, lifted its 
 radiant forehead to the heavens. Moreover, themselves 
 were heroes ; for they went steadily on, bearing their 
 common burdens of homely duty with a kingly spirit,
 
 At Home 229 
 
 alert and zealous in all affairs of church and state, full 
 of love and hope and courage for their country, proud 
 as princes of their lineage, studying how to make their 
 priceless heritage blossom as the rose for their children's 
 children, ay, and the oppressed of all lands. 
 
 Each of those men was sovereign ; in each throbbed and 
 bounded the pulses of regal power; each was of royal 
 mettle he inherited directly from the King of kings, 
 and owned no vassalage nor uncovered his head to any, 
 save God alone. 
 
 In the dusky dawn Mrs. Lane bade John good-by 
 through some tears that would fall, despite her resolute 
 will ; and from the driver's seat by Mr. Marden he looked 
 sorrowing back to her, and from her to the hills beyond 
 her with terrible heart-ache for one he could not see. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AT HOME 
 
 THE next Sabbath, when Mr. Wilson drove into the 
 yard from meeting, 'Lisbeth sat beside him, holding 
 Dorothy. While the peaked wagon was lumbering up 
 to the broad, flat doorstofie, Mrs. Wilson discovered a 
 new expression, an intangible shadow, apparent rather 
 , to her heart than sense, which had come over her child 
 since she gayly rode away to Plymouth.
 
 230 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Mr. Wilson had confided nothing to his wife. She 
 only felt 'Lisbeth was not exactly 'Lisbeth. 
 
 She could not kiss her child, for Mr. Wilson frowned 
 on such endearments. She simply said, " How be you, 
 'Lisbeth ? come right in. Tom will take your things 
 up to your room." 
 
 " Why, mother," laughed the girl, " am I a stranger ? 
 company invited to supper ? Tom better run up- 
 stairs, though, for father says Lettice is gone visiting. 
 Good-afternoon, grandma." 
 
 " How be ye, 'Lisbeth ? " responded that elect dame, 
 with a victorious wag of cap-border Mr. Wilson had 
 counselled with her. 
 
 " Where was the text, 'Lisbeth ? " asked her grand- 
 mother. The girl paused ; plainly her thoughts had 
 wandered at church. 
 
 " Didn't you go tew meetin'? " she demanded se- 
 verely. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Cur'us. Here's Tom. Le's see what he remembers. 
 Tom, how many woodchuck skins are the Nutter boys 
 tannin' ? " 
 
 " Six," he cried, amazed and delighted. 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Counted 'em on the barn door." 
 
 " Where was the text ? " 
 
 He quickly slunk out of the room; but she gave a 
 piece of her mind to 'Lisbeth and Mrs. Wilson.
 
 At Home 231 
 
 Mr. Wilson, coming in, paid no attention. He was 
 
 so satisfied at John's departure nothing could ruffle him ; 
 
 
 but his mouth watered after a sinful fashion as he 
 
 glanced at the table with the supper upon it. 
 
 As for 'Lisbeth, he concluded to himself on the way 
 home that he should move very cautiously respecting 
 Phil. 
 
 After prayers that evening, after all but her mother 
 had gone to rest, 'Lisbeth brought a low stool to Mrs. 
 Wilson's side, and sitting there recited the simple story 
 of her love, the scene at Mr. Baker's, the command that 
 she should marry Phil. 
 
 " Can you marry him, 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 "No, mother. You know what uncle said, and any- 
 way, I could not. And, mother, you will not let them 
 send me from home. Promise me, oh, promise me 
 mother ! " 
 
 The petition stirred Baker blfiod, and she replied 
 spiritedly, but solemnly, 
 
 " Hush, my daughter ! God only shall take you from 
 this house. Answer a good conscience to yourself and 
 him, and may his peace remain with you for evermore." 
 
 Half an hour later 'Lisbeth fronted the little mirror 
 in her room, holding a flickering candle in one hand, 
 and pushing back her wavy hair with the other, and 
 soliloquized, 
 
 " What a funny old maid I shall be ! ' Sharp as a 
 hatchet,' or < holding her own,' people will say. I will
 
 232 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 not grow crabbed and twisted and mean-spirited, please 
 God ! It will make no difference how I look. I never 
 shall seem ugly to mother and the children and Let- 
 tice. No one else will oh ! " 
 
 A terrible possibility confronted her. John would 
 return once in a while what then? Would he turn 
 from her who relinquished the beatitudes of life for 
 him ? Would some young, fair girl trained in city 
 graces walk up the stony road some twilight hour with 
 him? 
 
 Would they two stand under the sweetbrier at the 
 half-way mark, as he and she had done that perfect 
 June day not quite six months agone ? She was white 
 from her own scourging hand, and moaned to herself, 
 
 " There is but one path. Thou who wast forsaken, 
 help me to follow it ! " 
 
 After a while hope returned ; and she told herself 
 her lover would not forget, no, he would not, and his 
 years would keep even pace with hers. Then she 
 spoke again to the figure in the glass, 
 
 " I know one thing, Elizabeth Wilson ; you will do 
 your duty. There is to be no shirking nor shrinking 
 from hard stents. This is not what you expected ; but 
 it is what you have, and you are to make the most of 
 it. You are not going to be selfish, sitting down to 
 hug a sorrow. You do not constitute the whole world, 
 Elizabeth. Look around where others need care. Yes," 
 she said aloud, " this is my task, faithful performance
 
 At Home 233 
 
 of duty towards my friends, my family, and most of 
 all, dear love, towards you and Him who made us all." 
 
 She went down-stairs next morning serene and self- 
 possessed, and the boys followed with tales of beech- 
 nutting, taming of colts from the pasture, trapping, and 
 so on. 
 
 They were telling how their sled was iron-shod, so it 
 would " go like a streak, clear to the medder brook," 
 when a decided step came through the entry and some 
 one opened the door. 
 
 " Why, Lettice ! " they exclaimed. 
 
 "Mornin'," said she; "I've come home. Mr. Smart 
 brought me, he's goin' tew Plymouth tew court. 
 Tried tew have him come in, but he couldn't, 'cause 
 he's got tew be at Plymouth by nine o'clock. I've had 
 a good spell of visitin', an' enjoyed it every minit." 
 
 " Is Lettice sick ? " inquired the old lady. 
 
 " Sick ? Land sakes, no ! but it's growin' cold, an' 
 I've warmed all the spare feather-beds from Hebron 
 tew Bristol. I don't want no more on't ; not at 
 present." 
 
 She caught her bandbox by the twisted string of 
 its coarse sack, and bustled to her room, returning 
 soon, ready for work. 
 
 " I couldn't stay any longer no ways, 'Lisbeth, 'cause 
 it's a'most time for you tew go tew the 'Cademy." 
 
 "I am not going." 
 
 " What ? " She held the coffee-pot with one hand,
 
 234 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 ready to put the coffee in, but dropped the measuring 
 spoon back into the box. " What ? " 
 
 "We want 'Lisbeth to home a while," remarked Mr. 
 Wilson from the fireplace corner. 
 
 " Well I never ! What air you goin' tew dew ? " 
 
 " The flax and woollen rolls are ready for spinning, 
 and I want to do it all ; mother will trust me with the 
 bird's-eye linen." 
 
 " Elizabeth Wilson ! there's a web of bird's-eye for 
 tablecloths, an' one for towels, as your mother calc'lates, 
 full cloth for your father an' the boys, flannel for gowns, 
 an' a frockin' web nigh on tew hundred yards tew 
 spin for, 'sides stockin' yarn; an' there's knittin' an' 
 sewin'." 
 
 " We can knit and sew after my stent of spinning and 
 weaving is done." 
 
 " You can't dew it, 'Lisbeth, never in this world." 
 
 " She may make a web of full cloth for the store, an' 
 buy what she's a mind to with it," said the farmer. 
 
 " Oh, my, 'Lisbeth ! buy me a jack-knife," whispered 
 Jack. 
 
 She smiled less at him than from the fact that all 
 roads to spare time were closed. 
 
 After prayers Lettice carried her own wheel into the 
 east room, oiled and banded it, then brought an immense 
 bundle of rolls pinned up in a checked blanket. 
 
 She pulled the thorn-pins out, and asked Mrs. Wilson 
 how fine wool she intended 'Lisbeth should spin. Being
 
 At Home 235 
 
 told, she selected a bunch of rolls of medium fine wool, 
 put it on the roll-pin, fastened the blanket together, sent 
 Tom up-stairs with it, and went to washing without an- 
 other word; but her mind was busy as a bee. After 
 dinner she looked into the east-room, saying, 
 
 " My hard work is done, Mis' Wilson, an' I guess I'll 
 put a few little basketfuls of chip-dirt round the laylock 
 roots, if you don't care ; they need it 'fore snow conies." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson nodded, and she went out contentedly ; 
 for she felt something needed care, and half-bare roots 
 were better than nothing to tend. When she heard of 
 John's departure she knew as well as if she had been 
 told that an overturn of some sort had occurred, and it 
 had more to do with her return than had chilly feather- 
 beds. She still felt a puzzling but distinct change all 
 round. 
 
 Finally she put shovel and basket by and went to 
 Mrs. Wilson again. 
 
 " Mis' Lane's brother sent some things tew her by me, 
 an' I guess I'd better take 'em up now, so'st it'll be done 
 with." 
 
 " I would," replied Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 Lettice's real errand to Mrs. Lane was to find out why 
 John went away, and she did. Walking homeward she 
 settled the question of her own duty all along the line 
 of coming action. 
 
 Though an humble handmaid, she felt as responsible 
 in her own sphere as did the town clerk and selectman
 
 236 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 in theirs, and had no more idea of shirking it than 
 they had. Supper was nearly ready when she reached 
 home. 
 
 " I'm late, Mis' Wilson, an' there's nothin' I despise 
 more'n bein' everlastingly behind. Fact is, Mis' Wilson, 
 I've been larnin' my spellin's comin' home." 
 
 " I hope you can recite your lesson," smilingly said the 
 gentle housemother. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I can, from baker to rhinoceros. Tew 
 begin with, if 'Lisbeth's goin' tew have a stent, I'd better 
 take one." 
 
 " See to something in particular ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am. 'Sides common work I'll make the 
 biled cider apple-sass an' candles, smoke the hams an' 
 dry the beef, if you'd jest as soon." 
 
 " Very well, Lettice." 
 
 Thus it was settled. Spinning, weaving, knitting, 
 and embroidery, as well as homelier toil, kept their 
 minds above weak and plagueful meditations. Not that 
 forgetfulness waited upon diligence, but that remem- 
 brance was healthy, sweet, and true. Care for others 
 brought a benignant quiet, not of oblivion, but of pa- 
 tience, trust, and hope. 
 
 Before the south windows with the creamy rolls 
 when it was sunshiny, facing the fire in foul weather, 
 daily 'Lisbeth spun five skeins of even woollen yarn, 
 or drew glossy flax from the distaff into fine thread for 
 warp and woof of linen webs;
 
 At Home 237 
 
 She sewed late afternoons, though sometimes, gener- 
 ally at Lettice's suggestion, she put on a pretty gown 
 of dark red camlet or soft blue flannel, with dainty 
 embroidered edge at neck and wrists, and paid a visit 
 with her mother or Ruth Willard. 
 
 There were also a few late quiltings, and delightful 
 sewing-bees, where she was indispensable as one who 
 always knew when to run a seam and when to back- 
 stitch it, and the very best width for fells and hems. 
 She also laid gathers deftly, and was an authority on 
 gussets. 
 
 Several crisp days she tramped beechnutting with 
 the boys, or climbed the Pinnacle for white cudweed 
 blooms that lasted all winter in pitchers on the fore 
 room mantelpiece, or hunted the swamp for creamy 
 scarlet bittersweet to twine with them. Her gladsome 
 presence cheated the long winter evenings of weariness, 
 as she sat beside her mother and the boys near the 
 great fire, by a table on which a couple of candles 
 winked and flickered, sewing, or drawing red yarn into 
 shapely mittens with a bone hook. Often she read to 
 the family from Goldsmith's Greece or English History, 
 and to her father, specially, books of philosophy and 
 biography. The New Hampshire Patriot and State Ga- 
 zette reached Mr. Wilson once a week, bringing correct 
 and well-sifted news. She read entire speeches on lead- 
 ing politics, the paper frequently printing both sides of 
 an important question, while the firelight sheen danced
 
 238 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 'mong her wavy tresses, and the spirit of national dis- 
 cussion reddened her cheeks. 
 
 The polemical bent of that mightily equipped race 
 was fully set forth many a time that winter in the east- 
 room, when neighboring men and women dropped in to 
 exchange opinions and courtesies. 
 
 Often an ox-sled on which a whole family rode, a 
 pung, or a sleigh on low, wide runners, with back so 
 high only the tops of hat and bonnet appeared above 
 it, pulled into Mr. Wilson's dooryard, to the chiming 
 of great bells strung around the horse's neck. They 
 recognized approaching visitors by the pitch of bells, 
 for no two strings were keyed alike and of the same 
 size. Some weighed fully three-quarters of a pound, 
 some less than half of that. 
 
 Company came in just after sundown two or three 
 times a week. Visiting opened by talking over the 
 price of hemlock, axe-helves, and so on among the men, 
 and domestic matters among the women (after all news 
 concerning neighbors had been repeated), gradually, but 
 inevitably, leading up to discussion of politics, foreordi- 
 nation, and free will. 
 
 Mr. Wilson was the expounder of the " scheme of 
 salvation," as he termed it. Aunt Seth was swift to 
 answer Huldah Moses powerfully and pointedly; but 
 among her own sect she did express doubts as to the 
 wisdom of clerical control in temporal affairs, and 
 fretted some over dogma.
 
 At Home 239 
 
 There was a slight flavor of abolitionism abroad, 
 and she leaned toward it just enough to spice debate. 
 
 One evening in early winter she and her husband 
 came in a red pung and entered the house, healthful 
 and bracing as a west wind. Toward nine o'clock, he 
 and Mr. Wilson enjoyed quite an exciting skirmish, 
 while she watched 'Lisbeth play fox and geese with 
 Tom. She closed it by asserting : 
 
 " This world is some like a set of picters, Mr. Wilson. 
 We larn by what we see. I was readin' 'bout field 
 work down South, in our children's jography. It 
 seemed some puzzlin'; but when I turned the leaf an' 
 see them negroes pictured pickin' cotton, why there 
 'twas." 
 
 "Picters ain't substance, Mis' Batchelder." 
 
 "No; but they stan' for it. Hobson's little gal was 
 tew our house yesterday you know her father abiises 
 his family. I told her bime by she'd go tew her FatheJ 
 in heaven, an' I declare, the poor little critter was 
 scairt a'most tew death. I thought then and there what 
 a sight some of us must be tew our children." 
 
 Mrs. Batchelder had no idea of striking the grizzled 
 farmer such a blow, but his soul ached as he noticed 
 'Lisbeth pale above the fox and geese board. 
 
 However, he bravely quoted Paul to the Corinthians 
 as to parental authority and servants. 
 
 " Well," said she, " I hain't nothin' agin Paul, an' 
 I should wish tew be so understood ; but I guess if we
 
 240 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 follered Paul's Master a little closer, we shouldn't walk 
 quite so skewin' tew our childern. As tew this buyin' 
 an' sellin' of husbands an' wives an' childern, p'raps its 
 all foreordinated an' so tew be. 
 
 " Mebby them souls are some of his little ones larnin' 
 their a-b-abs in a hard school, where they don't even 
 own the skin on their backs. But we needn't set up 
 little lights over it, they won't be wuth a piece of 
 punk." 
 
 Lettice opened the door at that critical juncture, 
 and invited them out to one of her very best cups of 
 coffee. The boys lighted a candle, put it into a tin 
 lantern, and went to the barn after the horse, which 
 jogged away with the company shortly after nine 
 o'clock. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII 
 
 SPELLING-SCHOOL AND SUGARING-OFP 
 
 MR. WILSON remembered Aunt Seth's picture lesson. 
 He made more evening visits with his wife and daugh- 
 ter. When Mr. Ward, late in March, came out to in- 
 spect the school, he invited 'Lisbeth to go with them to 
 the schoolhouse, and her father heartily assented. 
 
 The boys hauled a sled-load of kitchen chairs before- 
 hand for the use of the master's guests.
 
 Spelling-School and Sugaring-off 241 
 
 Pausing a moment at the schoolroom door, awaiting 
 answer to their knock, they heard the order, 
 
 "Else." 
 
 Mr. Page, the master, throwing the door wide open, 
 disclosed the school standing with heads up and folded 
 arms. Not a muscle of the squad moved, and every eye 
 was fixed on the visitors. Mr. Page greeted Mr. Ward 
 ceremoniously, then introduced him. " Scholars, our su- 
 perintendent, Mr. Ward." The strangely draped stat- 
 uary dropped its arms and bowed low. 
 
 " Mr. Wilson." 
 
 Another, but less reverential bow. The master spoke 
 a confused good-afternoon to 'Lisbeth in plaid cloak and 
 pink-lined hood as she passed quietly in. 
 
 " Be seated, scholars." 
 
 Mr. Ward was critic, schoolmaster, friend, and pastor. 
 The children of the. town regarded him with great love 
 and veneration. He tested the knowledge of each child 
 carefully, and there was no sting in his reproof. He be- 
 lieved, as did all men, that schools were fundamental, 
 the upholders of religion and conservators of the State. 
 There was a settled conviction that if free government 
 founded on free conscience failed, ignorance would strike 
 it down. Hence arose the scrupulous training of future 
 men and mothers of men. 
 
 " In what order will you make the examination ? " in- 
 quired Mr. Page. 
 
 " Let the school read the morning Bible lesson."
 
 242 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Turn to the twentieth chapter of Matthew. Com- 
 mence, Francis." 
 
 A scholarly young man on the back seat rose, and rev- 
 erently read the first verse, then sat down, and so on 
 in regular order, to those who could only spell out the 
 sacred words. 
 
 " Class in geography." 
 
 Girls mostly came into the floor and toed the mark. 
 
 Grammar called out the oldest pupils ; but arithmetic 
 brought the entire school into the floor. 
 
 Mr. Page sounded the "a" in arithmetic before Mr. 
 Ward, though on off days he might have dropped it. 
 
 Beginners soon went to their seats ; but Mr. Ward 
 drilled the Colburn's Arithmetic and ciphering contin- 
 gent for an hour. Then the master said, 
 
 "You may have recess. Bring your copy-books to 
 the desk as you go by." 
 
 Each pupil on reaching the door faced around and 
 made a droll bow of courtesy, entering in similar fash- 
 ion when they heard Mr. Page's butternut ruler upon 
 the window. The time after recess was occupied by 
 Mr. Ward, who, rising, invited Phil, the committeeman 
 from his own district, to make remarks. Phil looked at 
 'Lisbeth, pulled at his vest buttons, and shook his head. 
 Mr. Ward criticised, encouraged, related anecdotes, and 
 finally added, " Let us pray." Immediately after pray- 
 ers Mr. Page said, 
 
 "Kemember spelling-school to-night. You're dis- 
 missed."
 
 Spelling-School and Sugaring-off 243 
 
 Mr. Wilson invited Squire Hoyt and his wife, Mrs. 
 Lane, Mrs. Oliver Kidder, the master, and Phil home to 
 supper ; and they all returned at candlelight. A great 
 fire -roared up the chimney, and the room was full of 
 boys and girls who had brought their supper and stayed 
 at the schoolhouse till evening. 
 
 Bart Lane and Eunice, standing on opposite chairs, 
 clasped hands across, and repeated in unison, 
 
 " Lift the king's gate as high as the sky, 
 And let the king and his train pass by ;" 
 
 while an endless chain of red-cheeked lads and lassies 
 walked laughing through, till the gate should fall, im- 
 prisoning a pair. The children's seat was full of 
 "button, button" players, and the game had reached 
 the laughing, pouting, and altogether wild stage of 
 forfeits. 
 
 The king's gate had fallen, when upon the full- 
 throated laughter came a terrible hush ; for the entry 
 door opened, and there behind the master, whose rogu- 
 ish smile only induced bashfulness, strode Mr. Wilson, 
 clad in official dignity, and hating levity. Very quietly, 
 yet with mirthsome glances at safe angles, the iron 
 candlesticks, bearing lighted candles, were placed on 
 desks, sides were chosen, Mr. Wilson reproved them 
 for lightness of demeanor, and they spelled glibly till 
 recess. Afterward Mr. Page invited Phil to select a
 
 244 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 partner and choose sides. Without a second's hesita- 
 tion he threaded the densely packed floor to 'Lisbeth. 
 
 " Will you choose with me ? " 
 
 " Thank you, yes," and she smilingly followed,* one 
 and another of the young men whispering as she passed, 
 " Choose me first, 'Lisbeth." 
 
 Phil was proud and confident and gracious. 
 
 "Choose first, 'Lisbeth." Half a dozen raised their 
 hands. 
 
 "Bichard Sleeper." Dick Sleeper was a handsome, 
 splendidly endowed young man, cousin to the Lane 
 boys and John Mayhew, and was then teaching in the 
 Hoyt district, earning money for expenses at Hanover, 
 from whence he would graduate at the next commence- 
 ment. He was also Ruth's lover ; but that was not 
 to be common news till he graduated : only Ruth's 
 nearest friend, 'Lisbeth, knew it. Coming up, he whis- 
 pered, under cover of cheers for his luck, "Thankee, 
 'Lisbeth; choose Ruth." 
 
 Phil heard the whisper, and was jealous, seeing 'Lis- 
 beth nod and smile. 
 
 "Another college feller," he complained, before the 
 cheers subsided. She only urged, 
 
 " Your choice, quick ! " 
 
 " Ruth Willard." Dick bit his lip, but saw the point. 
 
 "We will have speaking first," said Mr. Page. 
 " Those ready to speak will come to the desk." 
 
 The first was a declamation, and "Live or die, sur-
 
 Spelling-School and Sugaring-off . 245 
 
 vive or perish," was well spoken ; for the incense of 
 Revolutionary sacrifice was in the air, and potent still. 
 
 After him boys in spencers presented " The Peruvian " 
 to general satisfaction. 
 
 " Our next piece is a short dialogue," said Mr. Page ; 
 and two tittering girls pushed in from the entry, bit 
 their lips, mumbled a few words, giggled again, and 
 ran out, upsetting the shovel and tongs in their flight. 
 
 Then a boy eight years old started bravely to recite 
 " A Spanish Poem." He commenced, 
 
 "Life is a sea; how fair its face!" 
 
 There he stopped short, but pretty soon began again, 
 "Life is a sea a sea" At that point he put 
 both hands behind him, and appeared a little seasick. 
 
 " Life is, life " and he caught grim hold of his 
 spencer buttons to prevent growing worse; then he 
 braced himself with all his might, dropped his arms 
 resolutely by his side, and made a determined effort, 
 
 "Life is a sea; how fair its face! 
 How smooth its dimpling water's pace," 
 
 " pace pace dimpling water's dimple dimp dim 
 dim m-m-m-m 1 " ending in a heart-broken sob as 
 he covered his eyes, and his sturdy little boots went 
 bump, bump, to a seat, every thud arousing in the older 
 boys memories of a time when their own boot-heels had 
 wakened similar echoes.
 
 246 , 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Now," said Uncle Seth, " I should like tew hear one 
 thing more " he spoke while the master was patting 
 Billy, and telling him he would do first-rate next time, 
 " now, I should like tew hear Dick Sleeper speak the 
 ' Declaration of Independence.' Ev'ry gal ought tew 
 know it, an' ev'ry boy needs to larn it same as he would 
 how tew handle an axe or a hoe." 
 
 There was a chorus of " Yes, yes " from men and 
 women. Dick had been saying pleasant nothings to 
 girls near by ; but instantly the roguish boy vanished, 
 and a strong youth, obedient to his elders, stepped 
 manfully down the aisle, into the floor, and pro- 
 nounced the stately periods of that w r ondrous instru- 
 ment with all the fervor of youthful enthusiasm and 
 the finis'h of established schools. Much stress was 
 laid upon elegant public speaking. Eloquence was 
 common. Freedom and oppression are the prolific 
 gardens of expression. 
 
 The mightier the moving force which demands skil- 
 ful phrases, the stronger does utterance move that 
 ineffable faculty called oratory. Dick satisfied the 
 audience, returned amid cheers, and spelling began 
 briskly, continuing for half an hour then Mr. Page 
 requested the school to rise for the final spelling-down. 
 Moderately hard words were put out to begin with, 
 increasing in difficulty, till but four were standing on 
 'Lisbeth's side, Phil and Ruth alone on his. 
 
 " I'll make one more venture," said Mr. Hull, an old
 
 Spelling-School and Sugaring-off 247 
 
 schoolmaster. " It is a compound word. Abel-beth- 
 maachah.'' 
 
 It created consternation. Francis first pronounced 
 according to custom. 
 
 "That is correct spell," three times he essayed. 
 "Wrong, pronounce it and sit down." 
 
 He made up in waggery what he lacked in knowledge, 
 saying quickly with a superb dignity natural as his 
 breath. 
 
 " Abel-bid-me-take-her." The rafters rang with mer- 
 riment. "Next," was finally heard. All went down 
 but Ruth, who had been spelling Bible names to a 
 maiden aunt for fun. 
 
 Dick whispered, " Ruth, I am ashamed of you," which 
 so disconcerted her that she missed the very next word. 
 
 " That will do. This district, and Mr. Harmon's side, 
 win. The last spelling-school this year will be at the 
 Hoyt schoolhouse Monday evening at early candle-light. 
 You are dismissed." 
 
 Phil jerked his waistcoat down, pulled his collar up, 
 patted his necktie, settled his white-fringed woollen 
 wristers, but to no purpose. No amount of fixing or 
 fussing could " screw his courage to the sticking point ; " 
 so 'Lisbeth slipped away without his saying " May I see 
 you home ? " When next he saw her she and Martha 
 Hoyt were, hand in hand, sliding down schoolhouse hill 
 on their heavy shoes. 
 
 While the folks were putting on their wraps, Mrs.
 
 248 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Lane invited them to a sugaring-off a week from the 
 next Thursday evening. Snow and ice were melting, 
 stirring suns hurried maple juices from warm roots up 
 through woody veins and arteries to quicken waiting 
 buds, and roadside rivulets ran babbling to the meadow 
 brook that Thursday evening of the party, when Jack 
 and Tom helped the Lane boys do their chores. 
 
 They brought sap yokes, which were made of logs 
 scooped out thin with adze and gouge to fit their shoul- 
 ders. The yoke-arms were thick twigs trimmed to 
 hooked ends upon which hung the pails. The upper 
 ends were fastened to the yoke by leather thongs. . 
 
 Mr. Lane's maples were on a hillside. Sweet-elder 
 spiles, driven into augur holes bored in the trees, dropped 
 the sap into ashen troughs, which, the boys emptied into 
 pails, and cautiously picked their way down the slippery 
 ledgy path to the dooryard, where they poured it into a 
 half hogshead that stood beside the fire. 
 
 Above the flames a heavy pole on crotched sticks held 
 up two great iron kettles, and in them the sap seethed 
 and hissed, boiling down to sirup. 
 
 Before the boys brought their last bucketful, the Lane 
 house was filled with a confused " How be ye," " Good 
 eve'nin'," and " I'm glad to see you." 
 
 The young men immediately began to whittle out 
 chisel-shaped sticks, " spuds," for their sweethearts and 
 themselves, not forgetting their mothers or even the old 
 maids. Louisa and some girls put cheese, pickles, plates
 
 Spelling-School and Sugaring-off 249 
 
 of doughnuts, and pans full of snow pounded hard, upon 
 the table. 
 
 Mrs. Lane swung a pailful iron kettle now over, now 
 away, from the steady maple-chip blaze, as the sirup 
 within rose and fell, at first in tiny wavelets, then it 
 gently puffed through its creamy foam. She tried it mo- 
 ment by moment with a spoon. When the sirup dropped 
 from it in waxy threads, it was ready for spuds and 
 snow; when it fell brittly, it was sugar. 
 
 At last Mrs. Lane turned her head on one side, 
 puckered her mouth quaintly, and said, 
 
 " Loizy, this is real waxy. See what you think, Mis' 
 Wilson." 
 
 "It is nice for spuds and snow, Mis' Lane." 
 
 " Hello, Dick ! how'll you have it ? " called Francis. 
 
 "What is it ready for?" 
 
 " Spuds." 
 
 " Then I prefer spuds." 
 
 He thrust some deep into the amber froth, twirled 
 them rapidly to cool them as he ran out, shouting back, 
 
 " Come, Ruth and Eunice." 
 
 Mrs. Lane ladled part of the sirup into a crock, and 
 said, 
 
 "Francis, you and Tom carry this out, then there'll 
 be all the dooryard to run 'round in." 
 
 The elder people dipped from the kettle with a little 
 gourd, and poured it over the snow, let it cool to a 
 brittle paste, then broke it into toothsome bits.
 
 250 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Jollity stole in from outside where a half-grown moon 
 sifted geins on ragged ice-fields, and its placid rays fell 
 upon merry maids and youths gathered in knots by the 
 fire, or running to snatch a delicious stick, or wandering 
 in happy pairs along the shimmering road. 
 
 Phil invited 'Lisbeth to a seat on the wood-pile's 
 western side, half withdrawn from their companions. 
 It looked significant, he -thought ; quite like waiting 
 upon her home. After a while he went in for a pan. 
 While he was absent, Huldah came out and spoke con- 
 fidentially to Eunice, who was out of sight, but within 
 earshot of 'Lisbeth. 
 
 " I heard a queer story 'bout John, Tuesday." 
 
 What was it ? " 
 
 Huldah sighed deeply. 
 
 " What ails you, Huldy Moses ? Stop sithin' ! For 
 the land's sake, what is it ? " 
 
 " It don't come from me, but I s'pose he's begun his 
 flirtations." 
 
 Eunice grew pale ; for if the story were true, who 
 could tell but 'Lisbeth might accept Phil out of spite, 
 and he was dear to her. She inquired eagerly, 
 
 " Who is she ? Where'd he find her ? " 
 
 "I heard her name; Eose Standish Quincy. No 
 findin' at all. He went to Boston 'long of her brother." 
 
 Why, Huldy Moses ! " 
 
 " Yes ; brother took him home, an' then he kep' goin' 
 an' goin', an' there 'tis."
 
 Spelling-School and Sugaring-off 251 
 
 " My stars ! How did you hear, Huldy ? " 
 
 " I went tew Bristol Tuesday, tew cook for a raisin'. 
 Phoebe Glines works at Bristol tahvern, an' she says 
 two awful high-steppiii' chaps drove up Monday an' 
 called for dinner. When they was tew the table, one 
 says, 'John Mayhew grow'd 'roun' here,' an' t'other he 
 says, ' Yes ; we left Kose in his care, didn't we ? ' 
 Phoebe tells by the way they looked, that John acts 
 softer'n a piece of putty. One man's name was Quincy, 
 an' she thinks they was brothers ; tenerate, she see a 
 letter they backed, Rose Standish Quincy." 
 
 " Writ all out like that ? " 
 
 " Yes. I tole Phoebe it seemed dretful fussy. No- 
 body would go canterin' off with it, if they'd writ Kose 
 S." 
 
 Dick and Kuth, whispering foolishness at the end of 
 the pile, heard it, and he whispered, 
 
 " Look after Phil when he comes out. I must see to 
 'Lisbeth." 
 
 He danced gayly to her, saying, 
 
 " Phil cannot expect you to watch the moon all night. 
 Come, let's slide down the garden wharfing." 
 
 He caught her by the hand, and they were over the 
 slope before she quite understood. He told her, 
 
 " I heard Huldah's yarn. It's a lie, 'Lisbeth, a lie ! 
 That Glines woman does not know one thing about it." 
 
 He heartened her, and in a few moments they climbed 
 the bank, Dick immediately calling,
 
 252 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " It's time to parch corn." 
 
 Outsiders trooped into the kitchen. Louisa brushed 
 the hearth clean to a bank of glowing embers. Dick 
 and Eunice, Phil and Kuth, furnished with long forked 
 sticks, sat around the fireplace. They opened furrows 
 in the embers, threw the shelled corn in, and waited 
 till pop, pop, flew the milk-white kernels in all direc- 
 tions, being finally landed on the cool bricks by their 
 deftly handled rods. 
 
 Francis and 'Lisbeth gathered the mealy morsels into 
 plates, and moistened them with fast cooling maple 
 sirup. 
 
 At nine o'clock they started homeward. Huldah's 
 chatter had reached Phil's ear, and he was very talka- 
 tive, having made up his mind anew that he should 
 marry 'Lisbeth. 
 
 He made no attempt to escort her home, because he 
 thought it over while parching corn, and concluded to 
 adopt other methods. 
 
 The stories would creep around; Huldah would see 
 to that, and he would finally propose, when between 
 'Lisbeth's injured pride and her father's commands, 
 success would be sure.
 
 Barn-Raising 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 BARN-RAISING 
 
 A FEW weeks later, 'Lisbeth, walking home from the 
 post-office, saw Phil waiting by his pasture bars. He 
 had started, axe on shoulder, to mend some fences, but 
 bethought himself of an excuse to go home with her. 
 
 "I'm goin' up to see if your father will put some 
 of our young stock into his mountain pasture. How's 
 your folks ? " 
 
 " We are well, thank you. How are yours ? " 
 
 " Mother's kinder mis'able." She was struck by his 
 unusual gentle anxiety. 
 
 "Nothing serious, I hope." 
 
 " She works too hard, mother does. Got a letter ? " 
 He saw one in her hand, and it fretted him. 
 
 " For Mrs. Moses. I'm going to leave it at the 
 King's." 
 
 He let the bars down at Mr. King's lane very politely, 
 and they walked up, to find Mrs. King with her husband 
 and son in the woodshed swingling and hatchelling flax. 
 Her son broke stalks with strong, lazy blows from a 
 wooden swingling-knife, while his father pulled the 
 broken stems through a hatchel, or set of iron teeth 
 set in a thick plank, which shredded the coarse parts 

 
 254 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 from the fine, leaving finally a long wisp of silky flax. 
 The old hunter smiled grimly as they approached, and 
 bantered the youth. 
 
 "Want a job, Phil? Then jest take this hatchel. 
 I'm sick on't. I'd ruther set on a log an' watch frogs 
 pull outen the mud." 
 
 " I hain't a doubt on't, David ; but you can't be tired," 
 half fretted the d*ame. 
 
 " I ain't ; that's jest it. A body might stan' by this 
 hatchellin'-comb tew all 'tarnity, an' 'twouldn't wear on 
 'em a morsel. Huh ! what's that ? " 
 
 He jumped across to a sheltered spot behind the 
 watering-trough, where some early violets peeped up 
 through humid leaves. He bent over them, waving 
 a hand backward to quiet the dogs. Suddenly he 
 said, 
 
 " It's a bee, true as preachin' ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. King calmly ; " they've been a-flyin' 
 in an' out our hives for more'n a week." 
 
 " 'Tain't outen our hives, Nabby. It's a wile one, a 
 wile bee, mother ! " he shouted, waving his old hat 
 around his head. 
 
 "We ain't deef, David." Her voice was pretty tart. 
 " An' what if 'tis a wile one ? I guess it'll git erlong 
 if you don't up an' chase it 'fore it's half thawed out." 
 
 " But I must find the swarm." 
 
 "David, you act like sixty, caperin' all over the 
 woods for one bee. Who's goin' tew dew this combin' ? " 

 
 Barn-Raising 255 
 
 " The gals ; 'tain't hard. Hello, Mary ! Here, come, 
 mother wants you. I'm off for the honey, Nabby." 
 
 The odd reproof of face and pose as she held a bunch 
 of tow half raised, her head on one side with a kind of 
 picturesque criticism, and the untutored sarcasm of her 
 answer, were inimitable. 
 
 " Honey ! Honey ! Prob'ly he's filled a holler tree 
 chuck-full outen that little half-froze vilet." 
 
 The King's eyes twinkled solemnly. 
 
 " Mebbe t'ain't runnin' over this minit ; but I'm goin' 
 tew blaze the tree 'gin fall. Come along, pups. Gimme 
 the letter ; no, put it up behind the comb-case." That 
 settled it ; and he trotted woodsward, allowing his wife 
 to comb out the flax, or leave her distaff unbonnetted, 
 while Phil and 'Lisbeth went up through the pasture, 
 and orchard home, to the utter consternation of Lettice, 
 who was making pies by the well-room window. 
 
 " Lordy ! It can't be," she said aloud when she saw 
 them ; " 'tis well, if I ain't beat ! " With one hand 
 on a hip, and the other on the table, she leaned toward 
 the window and further soliloquized, 
 
 " My soul and body ! that's curus, awful curus ! He's 
 laffin' an' talkin' butter wouldn't melt in his mouth 
 he's been so a sight lately, an' it's the funniest th 
 Mis' Wilson, how you scairt me ! " 
 
 " Who are you talking to, Lettice ? " 
 
 " Myself ; I'm tryin' tew make these punkin pies, an' 
 I've lost the rollin'-pin here 'tis under the niixin'-
 
 256 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 bowl. I can't tell whether I've salted this pie-stuff or 
 not ; you taste." 
 
 " It is very nice, Lettice." 
 
 " Then I'll put the things together, an' bake 'em 'fore 
 I forgit where the oven is." 
 
 She returned a very short nod to Phil's good-natured, 
 " How be ye, Lettice ? " 
 
 " He's personable 'nuff, but he hain't never been halter 
 broke. Eunice could train him, an' I wish she had him 
 this minit," was her mental comment as she heard him 
 bargain for pasturing stock. 
 
 " I s'pose you'll all be up to the Kidder raisin," Phil 
 said just as he was going out. 
 
 " Likely we shall ; barn's a sixty footer, so it'll take all 
 the men to lift, an' the women to cook an' look on," re- 
 plied Mr. Wilson. 
 
 Lettice came in to the oven, and Phil asked, " Goin' 
 to cook for the Kidder raisin' ? " 
 
 " Spect likely ; Mis' Kidder spoke tew me quite a 
 spell ago." 
 
 When he was fairly out-doors Lettice sent a comical 
 glance after him, observing, 
 
 " I'm beat ; that is a solemn fact." 
 
 " Why ? " inquired Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " 'Cause I am." 
 
 Lettice hummed and scowled a good deal for a few 
 days ; but she was early and chipper at Mrs. Kidder' s 
 raising-day morning, assisting the housewife.
 
 Barn-Raising 257 
 
 " I'll take the brunt of cookin, Mis' Kidder," she said ; 
 "you jest put on your good cap, an' pin a black silk 
 handkercher round your neck, an' see tew us." 
 
 " I'd better lay out the tablecloths 'fore I dress up. 
 The men have put boards on high horses in the cheese- 
 room ; makes a nice long table." 
 
 " Yes ; hold sixty, I persoom. The gals better set it 
 right off, for we all want tew see that barn go up." 
 
 By nine o'clock the whole male population from round- 
 about was whittling on the garden wall, or walking 
 around the great skeleton that lay prone upon the 
 ground beyond it. ]\Ir. Odlin, the carpenter, gazed 
 with laudable pride on those great timbers prepared 
 by weeks of patient toil with axe and saw, square and 
 line, adze and chisel. 
 
 He despised no helpful suggestions which those men 
 of trained eyes and judgment chose to make. 
 
 Dreadful accidents befell even carefullest framing ; 
 and he was glad to have them prove dimensions, and 
 see that great wooden pins and wedges were secure. 
 
 " Seems tew me that j'ist is a grain long; " and Mr. 
 Odlin would carefully re-measure. 
 
 " This brace-pin would stan' a leetle more drivin' ; " 
 and sturdy blows from beetle or axe-head made it sure. 
 
 He went behind them all, making certain that joints 
 were fastened, minding if the deep mortises in the enor- 
 mous rills were exactly in line with the waiting tenons, 
 testing by the square as he went along.
 
 258 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Anything more, Mr. Wilson ? " 
 
 " Not as I see." 
 
 " All ready ! " 
 
 The tone was strong, rather than loud, but self-reli- 
 ant and commanding. Shutting knife-blades clicked, 
 hats and coats were thrown off, and the men gathered, 
 silent and determined. 
 
 Mr. Odlin stationed known strong and reliable persons 
 at the corner and centre posts; others held huge iron 
 bars laid on the mortise edge to guide the tenons into 
 place. Phil was at the north post. Half a dozen quick 
 athletes were reserved for exigency, some with bars, 
 some without. The rest were put along the plate, or 
 evenly disposed among the timbers. ^ 
 
 From then till the enormous framework rose in air 
 they obeyed but one, the master workman; one law 
 obtained, instant, concerted obedience. 
 
 " Take a long breath, men, and start easy. Are you 
 ready ? " 
 
 For answer each grasped what prostrate timber lay at 
 his feet. 
 
 " Now, then, take it up slow steady now she 
 rises stronger at the centre ease off on the north 
 post lift, lift ! Heave at the north ! Take hold 
 there ! " turning to his reserve. An awful quiver ran 
 through the half -raised frame. Though the lifting had 
 been very slightly uneven, yet it had warped the north 
 post so no joint could be made.
 
 Barn-Raising 259 
 
 Phil stood there, tense as steel, with bar braced 
 against that frightful weight, an only hope to those 
 bent and strained beneath that shivering burden. 
 
 In that decisive moment Mr. Odlin was calm, swift, 
 certain. 
 
 " Put two bars with Harmon's ! Quick ! Two men 
 go to the centre ; the rest take hold on the south 
 end ! " 
 
 They obeyed. Then he said quietly to those bent like 
 saplings, " Hold a minit, men ; hold hard." Then 
 cheerily called, 
 
 " Are you right there, Harmon ? " 
 
 Ay ! " 
 
 " Once more ; altogether now ! " 
 
 A wrestler would have gloried in the corded, compact 
 sinews shown in arm, shoulder, back, and leg, as the 
 bowed mass knitted to straighten, and overcome the 
 inertia of that dead weight. 
 
 " Good ! " cried Mr. Odlin. " It moves ; it's goin' up. 
 Ha, that's it once more altogether. Hea-ee-ee-ee-ve." 
 
 A heavy thud, thud of tenons striking the deep mor- 
 tise beds sounded all along the sill. Thankful mur- 
 murs rose from the group of Avomen in the dooryard, 
 who soon were bringing pails of steaming coffee to 
 husband and sons. Compliments were showered upon 
 Phil, not in iterated phrases so much as by a few words 
 fitly spoken ; for those people were strangely provident 
 of praise. He looked for two who came not.
 
 260 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 When Eunice saw the side sway into place, and heard 
 the clang of falling bars, she ran to the far shed, where 
 'Lisbeth found her cooling her swollen eyes. Going in 
 to dinner, Phil received a few bright words from 'Lis- 
 beth, but talkative Eunice was silent. 
 
 After the meal, boarding the barn, smoking, stories, 
 and finally the antics of some who had imbibed too 
 much New England rum, put it out of his mind. Let- 
 tice asked him to help take the witless men in. 
 
 " Are you a Washingtonian, Lettice.? " 
 
 " Good land ! I hope not. What is it ? " 
 
 "A new-fangled notion for stoppin' rum-drinkin'." 
 
 " For a fact ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " An' for good an' all ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "Well," said she firmly, "then I'm it; an' I don't 
 care a cent what it looks like." 
 
 "Mebby it'll die out, Lettice." 
 
 " If sech a thing as you speak on is sprouted, it'll 
 live, Phil ; live an' grow. Nobody nor nothin' can kill 
 it, for it's rooted in sufferin' hearts, an' watered, with 
 bitterer tears than you ever dreamt on." 
 
 Phil by his own fireside that evening thought it over 
 to himself. 
 
 " Queer that jest as I held what 'peared tew me the 
 very last ounce, an' that post crawlin' nearer an' nearer, 
 I give one look to the house, an' see mother leanin' over
 
 Barn-Raising 261 
 
 tryin' to help, an' Eunice an' 'Lisbeth white as snow. I 
 knew I'd got to hold, an' I did. When I went in every- 
 body said more'n 'Lisbeth, an' Eunice never spoke. It's 
 dumb funny ! Why didn't Eunice come round to our 
 side of the table ? She shied it like a colt. What ailed 
 her, anyway ? She's a girl. I s'pose that accounts for 
 it. If there's funnier critters than girls in this wide 
 world I don't want to see 'em." 
 
 Then his mind wandered to Lettice. 
 
 " I guess they're all alike, girls an' women. Lettice 
 keeps a middlin' stiddy jog, but by George ! how she 
 did cut up over them sots ! She was real han'some, 
 though, kinder lookin as if she see kingdom come." 
 
 He lighted a candle and went up-stairs, thinking he 
 should settle matters with 'Lisbeth ; and the evening 
 after he did. 
 
 How he presented his suit or she received it none 
 ever knew. She spun next day with a lightsome song ; 
 and the Harmons simply knew their son had dressed in 
 his freedom coat, gone out, returned early, and was 
 surly at breakfast. His mother was worried ; but Mr. 
 Harmon explained, 
 
 " He's all right Abbygil, a leetle touch of spring 
 weather ; fencin'll cure him." 
 
 But at night he was fain to say he missed his guess. 
 
 Phil did not mind it so much at the time, for. he was 
 kindly smiled out of Mr. Wilson's ; but to think over 
 and look back upon it was a pretty wearing subject.
 
 262 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 By the end of the week he concluded upon a plan 
 whereby he might assert his importance, and let the 
 neighbors understand they had misled themselves. It 
 resulted from a habit of running his meditations from 
 -'Lisbeth to Eunice. She was a nice girl, had fire and 
 spirit ; yes, and come to think of it she was pretty 
 too. 
 
 Eunice would like to go to his cousin's barn-raising 
 at Hebron the next week, why not invite her ? 
 
 That afternoon while whistling jovially behind the 
 plough, he saw the Batchelder horse come over Brainard 
 hilltop, and jog staidly towards him, reined by Eunice. 
 
 " By George ! " he exclaimed, " Hish, Star, back, 
 Bright, whoa, hish-sh-sh." 
 
 The panting black oxen stood still mid-furrow, while 
 he skipped lightly away to the road and waited with 
 one foot on the middle rail of a fence. 
 
 Hello, Eunice." 
 
 " How be ye, Phil ? Here's some papers for your 
 folks an' the Smiths." 
 
 " Thankee ; where've ye been ? " 
 
 " To Bristol, doin' store errants for mother. I've had 
 lots of fun." How cheerily she laughed. 
 
 "Did you, what about ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing." 
 
 " Heard any news ? " 
 
 " No-o ; only Bob Fowler on the Alexandry road is 
 cap'n, an' he'll come out May trainin'."
 
 Barn-Raising 263 
 
 Kob Fowler had strayed to their side of the pond 
 several times, and Phil disliked him as well as a re- 
 countal of his honors. 
 
 "I must be goin'," said she, pulling up the bridle 
 rein. 
 
 " See here, Eunice, can't you stop a second ? " 
 
 " I'm in a hurry." 
 
 " Do hold on. There's a raisin' over to Hebron next 
 Wednesday." 
 You goin' ? " 
 
 " Yes, an' I shall be pleased to take you, Eunice." 
 
 There ! It was done. He had invited her according 
 to rules and regulations in such cases made and pro- 
 vided. Eunice felt much like galloping away ; but how 
 could she with a frolic in prospect, so adapted to her 
 brilliant, every-day beauty. 
 
 Besides, she would be proud to go wijth him, for his 
 bravery at Mr. Kidder's was heralded about ; so what 
 was there to answer, as she flicked the budding maples, 
 only, 
 
 " I should like to go if mother is willin'." 
 
 Horseback ? " 
 
 " Which way you like." 
 
 "Horseback then bright and early.*' 
 
 How delightful she was that crisp spring morning, as 
 she bounded to the saddle ; and as they cantered along 
 he watched her strong pretty face change to glowing 
 color in her deep pink bonnet, and noted with what firm,
 
 264 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 / 
 
 delicate muscles the horse was reined. He was really 
 seeing for the first time a girl he had loved since she 
 went to school. He recollected how restless she was, 
 and that her little hands were smitten with a stinging 
 hemlock bough because she could not sit still. Almost 
 he reached to take them for pity of that earlier day. 
 At the raising he grew proud, minding how she moved 
 among the maidens ; and felt blest in her quiet comrade- 
 ship, riding home in evening's benignant dusk. It was 
 lonesome after he turned homeward from her father's, 
 and the saddle looked desolate. He was so busy think- 
 ing that he passed the Wilson house unheeding, not 
 dreaming that he had carried misery within its door 
 that day. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 AT MB. WILSON'S 
 
 'LISBETH saw the happy couple coming down school- 
 house hill that morning, and loitered at her spinning- 
 wheel to watch them passing by. While she idled, her 
 father at the sheep-barn flung the doors together an- 
 grily and made straight to her. Mrs. Wilson's ball of 
 yarn she was doubling fell to the floor when she saw 
 him. 
 
 " Did you see them, 'Lisbeth ? " he asked fiercely. 
 
 "Yes, sir."
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 265 
 
 " How happens it ? n 
 
 " May I speak to you alone, father ? " 
 
 " No ; you need to be 'shamed, you wicked, disobe- 
 dient child. You're going to undo this sinful deed, an' 
 that quick, too, or I'll know the reason why ! " 
 
 How ? " 
 
 " You sent him away, now bring him back ! " 
 
 " Father ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Tend to your yarn, Marthy, an' not interfere 'tween 
 me an' mine." 
 
 The girl felt righteously angered, and respectfully de- 
 manded, 
 
 "Who gave me to you, and why? Are you answer- 
 ing your own obligation ? " 
 
 No hidden tremor quavered in one syllable of that 
 clearly spoken question. As for candor and intrepid 
 spirit, she was tuned to one key with him. 
 
 He was dumb before her. He expected tears, but not 
 that manner ; yet he felt distinctly proud of her, as he 
 met the full light of those steadfast eyes and that 
 serenely dominant face, almost at even height with his 
 own. His rocky pride was reflected there, but con- 
 trolled by the more judicial, kingly temper that marked 
 her mother's race. Before he recovered himself she 
 again asked, 
 
 " Who gave me to you, and why ? " 
 
 He grew fiercer still. She questioned him she, 
 who was a baby yesterday ! He would let her know !
 
 266 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Do you persoom to cliatechize me ? Well, you're 
 to be warmed, fed, an' taken care of, for which you are 
 to be subject to parental authority an' foller my judg- 
 ment till you are married." 
 
 "Not quite so, father, because you might command 
 what would be sin to me. You were held till my con- 
 science was instructed, but not now. At the final reck- 
 oning I must speak for myself. So therefor and 
 thereto I must shape my life." 
 
 " You shape your life ! Humph ! Kemember that 
 evening at your uncle's. Did you hear what I said 
 then ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " 'Spect me to change my mind ? " 
 
 " I fear not." 
 
 " Elizabeth, I will not ; you are goin' to make a sharp 
 turn an bring Phil back." 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 " Not another syllable, not one " 
 
 Lettice's mud shoes pattered in through the entry so 
 heavily as to interrupt Mr. Wilson. She hummed mer- 
 rily, her large bonnet shutting out the scene upon which 
 she entered, as she called attention to a small basket 
 heaped with dandelions. 
 
 " See here, ain't these nice ? I went both sides of 
 the road most tew Mis' Lane, an' now I guess there ain't 
 'nuff for a mess 'thout piecin' out with mustard. Who 
 do you think I see ? Phil an' Eunice fairly did me
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 267 
 
 good, they was so happy ; an' its percisely as the Lord 
 intended, I hain't a doubt." 
 
 She set the basket on the table, and threw a stick on 
 the fire, before Mr. Wilson could find a point to thunder 
 out, 
 
 Lettice ! " 
 
 Down bumped a second stick. 
 
 " Good land ! how you scairt me. You needn't take 
 my head off. What's the matter ? " 
 
 One glance at the ascendant cap-border jerking en- 
 couragement towards Mr. Wilson, another at his fright- 
 ened wife and 'Lisbeth, disclosed the matter. 
 
 " Knowed it quicker 'n a wink," she said after- 
 wards. 
 
 " Presumption ! you don't know divine plans." 
 
 " That's a fact. I said mor'n I ort tew, but no more 
 dew you an' " 
 
 " Lettice, stop." 
 
 " I'm goin' tew say my say. You don't know nothin' 
 'bout it, nor I nuther, so we're even ; an' all our little 
 lights are dim 'sides one that's allus burnin', Mr. Wil- 
 son, jest one that is love, an' God is love, an' that's 
 his light." 
 
 He glared at her, and kicked a fallen brand into the 
 fire ; remarking, 
 
 "We're goin' to turn over a new leaf, Lettice." 
 
 "A good idee very; I would if I was you, an' 
 qould."
 
 268 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Could ! could ! " 
 
 " Yes ; depends on the leaf. Some weigh mor'n 
 others. A maple one might rustle down an' you'd 
 skurcely sense it, but " 
 
 " I am talkin' of a leaf of conduct, Lettice." 
 
 " So I s'posed. Well, you've tackled the heftiest one 
 of all, but I hain't done nothin' wuss 'n pick some 
 greens." 
 
 " You know better, Lettice. You three women have 
 schemed and contrived agin my authority." 
 
 " Thomas ! " pleaded his frightened wife. 
 
 " It is true, Marthy ; upholdin' that gal yender till 
 she flings her head higher 'n an unbroken colt, despisin' 
 duty." 
 
 " I never did no sech thing nor thought on 't," stur- 
 dily claimed the handmaiden. " 'Lisbeth ort tew dew 
 her duty 'thout shirkin', let it come back or aige ; but 
 she must tackle her own stint, not somebody else's." 
 
 Lisbeth had been gazing upon the pond, jewelled be- 
 neath the spring sun. At that point she broke into 
 Lettice's vigorous speech. 
 
 " Father, I should like to do, as Lettice has said, my 
 duty." 
 
 "Well," said he, wishing he had gone into the fore- 
 room, " it's easy 'nuff ; tell me, have you refused Philip 
 Harmon ? " 
 
 "I have." 
 
 " Knowin' he had my promise ? "
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 269 
 
 " Yes, sir," she smiled pitifully ; " but was not mine 
 necessary ? " 
 
 " I don't consider that it was or is. Why did you 
 refuse him ? " 
 
 She grew pale and clutched a chair, but said eagerly, 
 
 " Father, he does not care." 
 
 " We ain't talkin' of his side. Speak for yourself." 
 
 " Because I could not like him so." 
 
 Her maidenly sense was affronted, and slow sparks 
 gleamed and died in her eyes while speaking. Mr. 
 Wilson kept his temper, for he discerned that so lay 
 the only likelihood of controlling that tranquilly bel- 
 ligerent child. 
 
 " Why ? Pick out a likelier young man than he is. 
 Well-lookin', well-behaved, and got faculty. He has a 
 first-rate farm, house, an' stock, an' every shingle, field, 
 an' hoof his own." 
 
 " He doesn't want me to help him take care of it." 
 
 " Don't tell me. Faultin' Phil don't bridge no brooks, 
 nor keep my word. S'posen he was John Mayhew ? " 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " You'd marry him, in a minit, if you was let be. 
 Why ? " 
 
 She never faltered ; but a roseate blush suffused her 
 cheek as she replied, 
 
 " Because I love him." 
 
 " Pshaw ! he never'll come back ; you can settle on 
 that."
 
 270 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 He eould not understand the happiness of living sure 
 of a love that, making no sign, still ran on an harmo- 
 nious undersong in the melody of life. He continued, 
 
 "We've cleared the well, an' he comes up in the last 
 bucketful. 'Lisbeth ! " 
 
 " I am sorry to grieve you." 
 
 " I ain't grieved. I'm 'shamed as a dog. I s'pose 
 you'll turn Methodis' 'fore long. You an' your mother 
 an' Lettice a-carryin' on an' shoutin' with the rest." 
 
 'Lisbeth surveyed the mountain-tops beyond the pond 
 before replying, 
 
 " If they believe everybody has a fair chance for 
 heaven, no wonder they shout." 
 
 " Heresy ! heresy in my house ! Heresy brought to 
 my door by John Mayhew, curse him ! Reprobate, and 
 son of reprobate, non-elect and foreordained to per- 
 dition ! " 
 
 " Here, Mr. Wilson, wait a jiffy ! " exclaimed Lettice, 
 jumping up with a knife in one hand and a dandelion 
 root in the other. " He don't act like a critter of that 
 kind, not a mite. Markin' souls for the Lord is skeery 
 business. S'posen John should turn round and pick 
 you out for wrath ? I guess there'd be some squirmin'/' 
 
 " Go back tew your greens, Lettice, an' keep still." 
 
 She obeyed, after giving him another piece of her 
 mind with her sharp eyes, and 'Lisbeth resumed, 
 
 " Supposing it is foreordained that I shall never 
 marry, what can you do, father ? "
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 271 
 
 " Make sure no chances are thrown away. A gardeen 
 will be provided. You must ask Phil i>ack." 
 
 " Me ! Ask him ! I cannot." 
 
 " Sech pride needs breakiii'. If you can't, I can." 
 
 "Don't, father; don't. Let me stay here, for you 
 will need me as Lettice grows older." 
 
 " And marry John Mayhew finally ? No ! " 
 
 "I promise never to marry without your consent; 
 but don't drive me away. Mother needs me, and I will 
 be as faithful as a dog." 
 
 "Nothin' will change my mind. I shall see Phil 
 myself, and tell him the whole story. You needn't 
 worry, for we can manage it ; but you will marry him 
 before snow flies." 
 
 " Ask him to marry me ! " 
 
 " He asked me long ago." 
 
 " Am I to be sold like one of the cattle ? Bargained 
 for no price at all, but given, in fact, to a neighbor's 
 son, as if I had no soul." 
 
 " Bargain an' trade are hard sayin's. I only hold 
 him to his promise, and keep mine." 
 
 " Father, I cannot marry Philip Harmon ! Do you 
 hear, I cannot ! " 
 
 He was very pitiless and stern. 
 
 "Elizabeth Wilson, you certainly will ! " 
 
 " Think the matter over a day, only one day, father." 
 
 "Not an hour, nor minit; no time at all." 
 
 " Then hear me : I never will marry Philip Harmon."
 
 272 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " What ! will not ? " 
 
 " I will not ! " 
 
 His temper grew to white heat. "Elizabeth, you 
 must ! Do you understand, must ! " 
 
 She fronted him deferentially, yet the frown between 
 her brows answered before she spoke. 
 
 "Father, I have ever honored you, and though your 
 faith has seemed harsh, it has been mine ; I do not see 
 as it gives you such power over me. If I have come 
 to discretion which allows marriage, I have to what is 
 necessary in the selection of a husband. My conscience 
 distinctly opposes your proposition, therefore, pro- 
 foundly respecting parental authority, and desiring to 
 follow sacred precepts carefully, duty to myself compels 
 me to say I cannot, dare not, will not,- marry this man 
 Philip Harmon." 
 
 "I want to know.'' The sarcasm wounded like a 
 scourge. " Well and good ; may I ask what your lady- 
 ship expects to do ? " 
 
 " Stay at home, and show that in everything but this 
 I am obedient to the letter." 
 
 " Spitin' authority makes you a stranger ; this is not 
 your home any more." 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 " An unwelcome stranger at that. Go ! " 
 
 " You send me away ? Me ! Away ! You will kill 
 me." 
 
 "We've come to a sorry day for all on us, but law is
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 273 
 
 law. For wilful breakin' of church commands you will 
 answer to church discipline. For despisin' an' scornin' 
 your father, I disown you." 
 
 " You cannot " 
 
 "Go, without one cent from me. Be a burden, on 
 your mother's relations work, beg, what not; it is one 
 to me till you repent." 
 
 " Mother ! " was the heart-breaking cry. 
 
 " Let her alone, Marthy, she is cussed. Don't put a 
 hand on her agin. She takes the consequences of her 
 sin, and must leave the house, to starve for all I care, 
 'thout a sign from the dog." 
 
 " She won't dew no sech thing," dandelion greens 
 strewed the floor as Lettice jumped to her feet, "ten- 
 erate as starve. If she goes, so do I." 
 
 " Go back to your work." 
 
 " No, sir ; I've riz tew stay, an' my blood biles at the 
 idee of flingin' that blessid gal at Phil. I've held my 
 tongue 'cause it's the fashion, but I ain't blind, an' this 
 pesterin' an' foolin' has been goin' on under my nose for 
 mor'n a year ; now, if you're goin' to wind up by sendin' 
 her off, off I go tew." 
 
 "Don't let me speak agin. Fool ! she's cussed." 
 
 "Cat's foot for cussin' done in sech a sperrit. Talk 
 'bout Africky, an' here you be tryin' tew sell a white 
 soul if ever there was one, or give it away for nothin' 
 in creation but tew lord it over your own gal. I never 
 did see sech iniquity, so there ! "
 
 274 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Get into the kitchen with your greens." 
 
 "Thomas Wilson, you can't order me round now. 
 I'm of age, an' I won't be sat down on, an' squoshed an' 
 made mince-meat of. I feel as free an' equil as you 
 dew, an' more tew, I guess, for you act like a man 
 bound hand an' foot tew Satan, if ever a man was. You 
 ain't in a pious temper, that's flat." 
 
 He pointed menacingly toward the kitchen. 
 
 " I'll inquire your 'pinions another time." 
 
 "You'll git 'em now. You're boun' for heaven, I 
 s'pose. I will say an' stan' tew it that your present 
 high cross tones would cut a figger up 'mong the harps, 
 sackbuts, an' psalteries. You wouldn't chord, Thomas 
 Wilson." 
 
 Suddenly 'Lisbeth broke Lettice's fierce harangue. 
 
 " Mother, if you were me would you marry Phil ? " 
 
 "No, child ; it would be sin." 
 
 " Marthy ! " was all Mr. Wilson could utter. 
 
 " Thomas ! " No challenge could have been more 
 
 resolute. 
 
 
 The old lady had been rocking steadily, eying the 
 
 group with set lips and spectacles pushed above the 
 raving cap-border. At that point she spoke, 
 
 " I tole ye so time an' agin ; p'inted it out 'fore ye 
 was merrid an' sence, Thomas; but you've gone on a- 
 lettin' out here, an' givin' way there, till there's pesky 
 little left of ye anywhere. Now I'd see. If a man can 
 rule his house, I'd dew it."
 
 At Mr. Wilson's 275 
 
 "Thomas," said his wife, "come into the foreroom." 
 
 "Not a step. Beggin' a year won't alter the case." 
 
 " I am no beggar, Thomas," and truly she showed no 
 suppliant mood ; " but I should like to speak to you 
 alone." 
 
 " The world may hear for all I care." 
 
 " Will you come ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Very well. Elizabeth is my child as well as yours." 
 
 "I have disowned her." 
 
 " My child alone, then ; she will not leave me." 
 
 " This is my house. She starts " 
 
 " One-third of this property is mine, paid for with my 
 money, which you borrowed with my consent from my 
 trustee." 
 
 " Marthy Baker ! " 
 
 "My trustee, brother William, will see that she 
 stays." 
 
 " She shall not speak to me, I tell you." 
 
 " That makes no difference." 
 
 " Stay an' not speak ! " 
 
 "I shall remain, sir," quietly said 'Lisbeth. 
 
 Farmer Wilson drove his hands into his pockets and 
 studied the floor. He was benumbed; for those three 
 hitherto obedient women had worsted him. The prop- 
 erty did lay as his wife had said ; and no man had ever 
 trifled with W T illiam Baker, or ever would, that he 
 knew.
 
 276 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 One way opened to a show of authority, and he took 
 it. 
 
 " Until you repent, never speak to me ; for I am not 
 your father, or rather, you died this morning. If you 
 wish to stay so, why stay." 
 
 Then he strode out of the house, stumbling over 
 Dorothy curled up on a cricket, sobbing. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVI 
 
 AN OCCURRENCE AT PLYMOUTH 
 
 IT was a good while before Dorothy took her wooden 
 measure and went into the attic, and sat down on the 
 log trough that held the sheep's grain. She mixed tears 
 plentifully with corn and beans. A prolonged bleating 
 greeted her as she went out ; for it was much past grain- 
 ing time, and a line of sheep strung from the east door- 
 step down across the road into the field. Dorothy 
 talked to them with tears still falling as she laid the 
 grain handful by handful on raised stones or tufts of 
 grass-roots. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! how happy you all look. I s'pose it's 
 because you ain't folks and can't think. No," she said 
 decidedly, "only folks have souls, and you'd be glad if 
 you knew enough. They're such a bother." 
 
 She made the last remark doubtfully to the upturned
 
 At Home and at Plymouth 277 
 
 faces all around her, as they raised their heads to break 
 the rich kernels. It sounded rather wicked, but she was 
 too sorry to stop. 
 
 " Some folks don't have very big souls ; for I heard 
 Uncle William say he knows 'em that would rattle 
 round in a chestnut-burr i all dried up, he said. I 
 wonder if that is the matter with his; something ails 
 it." 
 
 She burst into tears afresh, ashamed of disloyalty 
 to her father, and tormented by the grief of her 
 wretched sister. 'Lisbeth was terribly distressed and 
 beset somehow about souls and religion, mingled with 
 Philip Harmon whom she did not like, and John May- 
 hew whom she did. 
 
 "There's religion, too, seems to make more trouble 
 than souls if anything. I don't see how it can; but 
 father says that's what ails John, he hain't got any 
 good for anything. I don't believe it if father did 
 say so, 'cause 'tain't likely he knows everything if he 
 is my father. If John's got any religion it's good ; I 
 know 'tis, so there ! What do they have more'n one 
 kind for, anyway ? and who knows which is which ? " 
 
 She sat down on a small stone, arid dropped her pained 
 head into her hands. A persistent poking about her 
 arm and hands at last called attention to a pet lamb 
 peering beneath her hood. She threw both arms around 
 its neck, and held her cheek against the soft wool, 
 crying,
 
 278 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 "Oh, you don't have any soul, nor religion, nor 
 anything ! How I wish I was a sheep ! " 
 
 Astonishment seized -the flock; and it came up in a 
 body, thrusting speculative noses against the red mit- 
 tens and tear-stained face on 'Beth's neck, while Goliah, 
 the solemn patriarch of the flock, whose empire neither 
 boys nor restless house-dog dare invade, expressed sym- 
 pathy by nibbling the curls that escaped from under 
 Dorothy's hood. 
 
 "If you're through givin' out rations, come here an' 
 take these eggs." 
 
 It was Mr. Wilson calling from the sheep barn with 
 dreary sternness and hard pathos in his voice. He 
 blamed everybody but himself. He did not know that 
 merciless retribution already ploughed smarting furrows 
 in his bosom. In the hour since coming out of his 
 house, that question, " Who gave me to you and why ? " 
 had sighed over the bare, hot wastes of his soul like a 
 ghostly wind, till he ached for the weariness of it ; yet 
 still it whisked at him from every corner, wailing down 
 from scaffold and up from bay. 
 
 Dorothy gathered the eggs; but on one pretext or 
 another Mr. Wilson kept her till Lettice tooted the 
 dinner-horn quite cheerily, too much so it seemed to 
 him ; then himself and little daughter entered the house 
 together, where most all seemed as aforetime at the 
 dinner hour. 
 
 Lettice showed no ebbing faculty in cookery. The
 
 At Home and at Plymouth 279 
 
 dandelion greens were most appetizing and well-seasoned ; 
 in fact, the -dinner showed unusual thought; and Mrs. 
 Wilson, very pale, to be sure, minded the comfort of 
 each after her own unruffled fashion. 
 
 One thing nearly upset him. 'Lisbeth's place had 
 ever been at his right hand since she sat in a little 
 wooden high chair ; but she occupied Dorothy's seat 
 by her mother, they had exchanged places. A great 
 sorrow smote him, as if the girl were dead ; but he never 
 flinched, and only hugged his thistley robe the closer, 
 unaware that no heavenly hand laid it upon him, and in 
 similar manner the weeks sped by. 
 
 She never spoke to him or when he was within hear- 
 ing. His footfall on the doorstep brought silence, and 
 stifled her melody at the wheel, for after a while she 
 sang again. Once she failed to hear him, and while he 
 waited shivering in the eastern lean-to, finished a song. 
 
 " You tell me I'm old, and my hair is growing gray, 
 But I sit in the sunshine and watch you at play. 
 A livelier current doth run through my veins, 
 And I bless you, my children, again and again. 
 
 Ah! sport ye and wrestle, be glad as the sun, 
 And lie down to rest when your pastime is done. 
 Your dreams are of sunshine, of blossoms and dew, 
 And the God of the blessed doth watch over you." 
 
 When May buds burst, trees and bushes bloomed, 
 bobolinks held picnic and wassail above emerald fields,
 
 280 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 robins chirruped among thick orchard boughs, and swal- 
 lows twittered under nesting barn-eaves, she went to 
 Plymouth. 
 
 The church worshipping there was formed at Hollis 
 before its earliest members left for Plymouth. The first 
 log meeting-house was at the hill's foot, the last two- 
 story structure crowned it. It looked far across Baker's 
 Kiver and intervale, and watched the tides of civilization 
 as they rippled slowly up those valleys. 
 
 The last of June Mr. and Mrs. Wilson passed the 
 tithing-man, who waited on the granite steps for unlucky 
 boys, made apostate by a stray chipmunk, crossed the 
 entry, by the foot of the gallery stairs, and wound along 
 the narrow corridors between pen-shaped pews, till they 
 entered the third one from the pulpit. Each pew had 
 seats on both sides, narrow boards on hinges they were, 
 so they might be raised at prayer-time, and give a fam- 
 ily room to stand up. 
 
 The Wilsons were soon followed by the Lanes, Batch- 
 elders, and Harmons from their own neighborhood, 
 though neither Phil nor Eunice appeared ; and by fami- 
 lies scattered over many miles of surrounding farm coun- 
 try, who filed in, subdued and sabbath-mannered, habited 
 mostly in homespun. Many women carried daintily in 
 tired fingers a sprig of mint or camomile, a bunch of 
 ladies-delight or sweetwilliam, and a little bead or 
 satin bag holding a piece of sweet-flag root or stick of 
 cinnamon. Later arrivals came from the long river
 
 At Home and at Plymouth 281 
 
 street and upland road, leading thence to that fair hill 
 and hallowed house. They added a velvet coat or two, 
 with ruffles, and several blue broadcloth ones, a few 
 silken gowns and embroidered shawls. All possessed a 
 governing air, like an ascendant chord of character, and 
 some a stately courtesy, emphasized that day by Squire 
 Livermore and other worshippers at the little Episcopa- 
 lian church so green embowered and pastoral across the 
 river. 
 
 The deacons took their seats below the pulpit ; 
 and Mr. Ward, pale from prayerful vigils, ascended 
 the narrow stairs into a small pulpit level with the 
 gallery. 
 
 After an invocation, a deacon lined a hymn, which 
 was succeeded by a clang and clatter of pew seats as 
 the congregation rose for prayer. Mr. Ward possessed 
 a superior gift that way, both for length and excel- 
 lence. 
 
 His head barely showed above the desk under the 
 great sounding-board, while they hearkened to an hour 
 and a half sermon very heedfully ; more so, perhaps, 
 when warmed by sunny airs than when in winter they 
 relied on foot-stoves and tough constitutions. Noon 
 hour was spent grouped upon grass-plats, stones, or in 
 isolated pews, dispensing and receiving news dear to 
 those hearts whose social life, even, depended so much 
 on Sabbath noonings. Afternoon brought the same 
 routine of service, varied at its close by the town clerk,
 
 282 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 who, midst the quiet that uniformly marked his rising, 
 published the intention of marriage between "Philip 
 Harmon of Bridgewater and Eunice Bartlett of Plym- 
 outh. This is the first time of asking." 
 
 There was a flutter in the singers' seats, and sidelong 
 glances at 'Lisbeth sitting among the trebles, but they 
 beheld no sign. Farmer Wilson frowned viciously ; his 
 
 
 
 wife seemed rested. When they met in the entry' Lis- 
 beth said, "I shall go home to-morrow, mother. I've 
 had a lovely visit." 
 
 Never a syllable did Mr. Wilson utter on the road ; 
 but once in a while he struck the horse, and it reached 
 home, wet and panting, nearly a half-hour before time. 
 Lettice rushed out, anxiously inquiring, 
 
 " What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing," replied Mrs. Wilson, pushing Lettice be- 
 fore her into the house. 
 
 " Nothin' ! needn't tell me ! Look at that hoss ; he's 
 a'most dead." 
 
 " Sh-sh-sh." 
 
 "Come in here." She pulled Mrs. Wilson into the 
 pantry. " There, now, come ; something 'bout 'Lisbeth, 
 I know 'tis." 
 
 " Phil and Eunice are published." 
 
 " Cried in meetin' ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Youheered it?" 
 
 " Yes."
 
 At Home and at Plymouth 283 
 
 Lettice's pale eyes grew handsome, swimming in their 
 bath of grateful tears. 
 
 " I've been wicked, Mis' Wilson ; the Lord does take 
 care of his own, an' I've been feared he wouldn't. I 
 guess I've kinder backslid, cordin' tew Meth'dists ; but 
 I won't agin." 
 
 So she pulled up the wooden latch, and the two 
 thankful women went out into the kitchen together. 
 
 Monday 'Lisbeth returned, and Tuesday Eunice vis- 
 ited them all. While Lettice compounded luscious cake 
 in honor of the promised bride, the young girls went 
 up-stairs and planned a pretty wedding dress of " piney 
 cloth," sheer and soft, which a few days later 'Lisbeth 
 put upon the bride. In fact, Aunt Seth said, 
 
 " I'm perpared for most things in this curus world ; 
 but this ere come so sudden, we never'd made a decent 
 wedding, nohow, 'cept for 'Lisbeth. Phil's mother was 
 completely wore out, an' the"y did need somebody tew 
 hold by, that's a fact; an' so I told Phil." 
 
 Mr. Wilson never mentioned the subject nor any 
 matter relating to either family ; but when Phil and his 
 bride made a short wedding tour of a mile or so from 
 her house to his, they passed a pasture where he was 
 driving oxen toward the bars. 
 
 One observant might have noticed honest old " Star " 
 suddenly snort, and, with tail in air, jump over a tuft of 
 swee,t fern, as if he had been unexpectedly thumped by 
 a stone. 'Lisbeth's song grew more tuneful every day,
 
 284 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 as she spun wool or flax, or drove swift shuttles in 
 clanging loom, or cared for dumb, helpless things in 
 coop or barn, or helpful ones at home and abroad. 
 
 Toiling men, sweltering in her father's fields, whis^ 
 tied cheerily as they mowed their swaths, knowing her 
 hands would prepare them cooling drinks ; nor once 
 doubting her remembrance till the last load should be 
 stowed away among the brown rafters. 
 
 The reapers, bronzed and sinewy, blessed her where 
 they cut the full-eared grain, and the binders, following 
 after, as they clasped the stalks with golden fillets, and 
 stooked the heavy sheaves. 
 
 In such manner did summer and harvest-time pass till 
 Indian summer bathed the landscape in floods of misty, 
 mellow sunlight. When the Academy opened, Mrs. Wil- 
 son sent her to her uncle's to stay until spring. 
 
 Mr. Wilson looked on preparations for her departure, 
 on the vacant chair close to his wife at table. She prof- 
 fered no explanation, he asked none. In round-about 
 ways during the year, since the sugaring-off, 'Lisbeth 
 heard of John ; but no other gossip of a new love had 
 reached her ear, and the incident had' long since lost its 
 point ; but a supper, given by her uncle during the spring 
 term of court, sharpened the memory of it.
 
 Tea at Mr. Baker's 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 TEA AT MB. BAKEK's 
 
 TIME and again 'Lisbeth grew rosy the afternoon 
 before the supper, while she and Lois searched along 
 the eastern edge of the woods behind the Court House, 
 peering among its beds of brown leaves for mayflowers 
 and tender wood blooms, fragile and fragrant as those 
 always are that feel the touch of springtime's primal 
 dews. She schooled herself against any mention of 
 John's name, while they hung partridge vines on sconces 
 by mirrors, or pushed flower-stems or half-grown ferns 
 into damp mosses that filled low vases on the dining- 
 room table, or made rose-tinted bouquets of resolute little 
 mayflowers for deep blue china vases. But try as she 
 would her color flushed and paled and grew deep again ; 
 for Mr. Shaw, into whose office her lover went, and where 
 he was then a partner, was bidden, and she should hear 
 of him. Grafton County was famous for great cases 
 conducted by great jurists. Stage-drivers brought over 
 Thurlow Hill and down Haverhill pike and landed at 
 the tavern men who made its rafters ring with repartee, 
 and the old Court House tremble with their mighty for- 
 ensic battles. 
 
 At early candlelight of the cool crisp evening they
 
 286 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 came. The sheriff with sword and belted like a knight 
 escorted the judge. 
 
 The squire and Mrs. Baker received them, he clad in 
 velvet and fine ruffles, she in heavy brocade and filmy 
 lace cap daintily bowed with the faintest rose-tinted 
 ribbon. It was enough that the young girls lived and 
 moved and had a being, nor could any surely conclude 
 which was-comelier, she with the steadfast face, or the 
 other one so full of pulsing life. 
 
 The blessing craved at the table by Mr. Ward was 
 quite like a prayer for the Court, and no one of those 
 companionable men who composed the party needed 
 Mistress Baker's drawing of green tea to develop their 
 social gifts and graces. 
 
 Anecdote, argument, sharp sally, and witty rejoinder 
 followed fast and long. When some paused they heard 
 Sullivan's bell-cadenced tones explaining sylvan lore to 
 
 
 
 'Lisbeth, who sat beside him. 
 
 Peabody Rogers improved the opportunity to in- 
 quire, 
 
 " Mr. haw, allow me to ask if you are related to the 
 man into whose office John May hew went ? " 
 
 " He is with me." 
 
 " Ah, with you ? " 
 
 " Our partner at present, sir." 
 
 " Excellent ! Mr. Baker, we all supposed he was to 
 stay with you." 
 
 "I so intended," he replied, venturing no further 
 explanation, hoping to end the talk.
 
 Tea at Mr. Baker's 287 
 
 " I heard," said Mr. Livermore, " that he was under 
 some cloud on account of being a Methodist people 
 disapproved, or something of that kind." 
 
 " It would make no difference to me," answered the 
 squire. 
 
 Mr. Sullivan intuitively felt the slow withdrawal of 
 his listener from discussing fragile wood blossoms, and 
 noted an anxious expression creep over the fair face 
 beside him. 
 
 All the romance and chivalry of his quick Irish blood 
 sprang to arms against Mayhew. 
 
 " He ought to come home for a wife," ventured Harry 
 Hibbard, glancing across to sparkling Lois. Mr. Shaw 
 observed no sign of love in that happy girl, so he an- 
 swered carelessly, 
 
 " He will not need to." 
 
 " Ah ! found one ? " 
 
 Judge Livermore, while trying a referee case at Bris- 
 tol, heard somewhat of the gossip sown by Huldah and 
 her friend, which so nearly soured Mrs. Lane's sugaring 
 party ; so, quickened by the conversation, he inquired at 
 that unlucky moment, 
 
 "Did I not hear some prediction that he might be- 
 come your son-in-law ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," replied Mr. Shaw, quite amused. "Cer- 
 tainly no man could have a better one, but he might 
 choose from many." 
 
 Gay, eh ? "
 
 288 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " No ; companionable and a gentleman born." 
 
 Conversation drifted away from Mayhew ; but after 
 the guests returned to the fbreroom, Sullivan crossed 
 over to Shaw, who was left alone, and demanded impa- 
 tiently, but quietly, 
 
 " Who is this Mayhew ? " 
 
 " The son of worthy parents, and for the rest such as 
 you have heard." 
 
 "I'm afraid he is a puppy." 
 
 " What ! " 
 
 " I don't believe a word of his worthiness." 
 
 " Do you doubt my word ? This temper is not like 
 you, Sullivan, but I am slow to take offence if none is 
 intended." 
 
 " I know you have no child, but how true is this in- 
 fernal babble ? Tell me, and believe I do not ask out 
 of mere curiosity." 
 
 " Not correct at all that I am aware of ; but I honestly 
 hope he will marry soon, and I urge it. He needs a 
 home." 
 
 " I hope he does not need a horsewhipping, and isn't 
 a natural born idiot." 
 
 " Horsewhipping John Mayhew would be peculiar 
 sport, I assure you, Mr. Sullivan ; but what is the mat- 
 ter, retained in a breach of promise suit ? Your tes- 
 timony is wide of the mark, let it be what it will." 
 
 "I never heard of him in my life till to-night." 
 
 " Now I see. Whew ! Jupiter ! thinking of Squire
 
 Tea at Mr. Baker's 289 
 
 Baker's daughter. I looked her way before saying a 
 word. She don't care a rap. You cannot suppose that 
 other girl laughing with Mason is broken-hearted. Jove ! 
 Mind that graceful and proud way of hers. I wonder if 
 May hew ever saw her." 
 
 " He studied with Squire Baker. She is his niece." 
 
 "Why is she here, Mr. Sullivan ? " 
 
 " Her father lives some distance out of the village, so 
 she stays here to attend the Academy. They say she 
 reads Latin well, and keeps the young fellows on their 
 taps in mathematics." 
 
 " Squire Baker's daughter in school also ? " 
 
 " I hear so." 
 
 Mr. Shaw eyed General Sullivan quizzically before re- 
 marking, 
 
 " Well, I must say, Mr. Sullivan, you have picked up 
 considerable information, and I should like to hear who 
 were the witnesses." 
 
 " Oh, this afternoon I asked Mr. Bliss about Squire 
 Baker's family." 
 
 " I should like to know one thing more if you thought 
 to inquire. However do such women and girls grow 
 way up among these hills ? " 
 
 " They are the blossoming of mighty roots, Mr. Shaw, 
 and thrive as flowers do sheltered by cliffs. Lovely, 
 yes ; but it is character which makes them so attractive. 
 See Mistress Baker there, her manners are gentle as 
 falling rose leaves ; but I warrant if one traversed her
 
 290 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 conscience one would find granite solid under gracious- 
 ness. So with those girls, beautiful and delicate, but 
 reliant, able to stand by themselves." 
 
 " Well, I am going to sit on the fence to-morrow and 
 see the Academy girls come out ; meantime let us go 
 and talk to this part of them, if they will condescend." 
 
 Mr. Rogers was just coining up to 'Lisbeth ; so they 
 stopped near-by where Lois stood, not unwilling either, 
 for the dash and spirit of her character was very telling 
 through the veil of severely courteous manners. She 
 was pleased to see Mr. Shaw, having since supper de- 
 termined to find out more as to John Mayhew and his 
 suspected sweetheart. 
 
 " I was on my way to you, Mr. Shaw ; for I wish to 
 inquire after a student of father's who is now in your 
 office. 
 
 " Indeed, Mayhew ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Good fellow, first-rate, and good lawyer too ; but he 
 forgot something when he went from here." 
 
 " Did he ? I'm so sorry. Do you know what it was ? 
 and did he send for it ? for father will bring it from his 
 aunt's if you wish." 
 
 " He did not ask me to bring it, but I will think it 
 over. I presume he made love to some of these Acad- 
 emy girls." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Shaw, really, what if he did ? didn't you 
 say he is going to marry one from Boston ? "
 
 Tea at Mr. Baker's 291 
 
 "Not quite so strong as that. I only declared my 
 willingness to become his father-in-law if such a thing 
 were possible." 
 
 Lois was daintily saucy as she perched her head on 
 one side inquiringly, 
 
 " Oh, yes ; well, Mr. Shaw, what are the chances ? " 
 
 " Poor, very ; in fact, there are none." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " Yes ; while I may be willing to suit my friends who 
 mention it, Judge Livermore and the rest, the idea has 
 never occurred to Mayhew, I'll be bound." 
 
 Mr. Sullivan was delighted as a lover when the 
 shadow he alone had noted fled from 'Lisbeth, and Lois, 
 her true-love quest completed, recalled the forgotten 
 belongings. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Shaw, as to that bundle John left, cannot 
 we plan it some way ? Let's see ; we will make it small 
 as possible, and give it to one of our stage-drivers ; he 
 will see to it, I know, so it won't trouble you a mite." 
 
 " You cannot crush it, and I wouldn't trust it on the 
 driver's seat, anyway." 
 
 " No, of course not ; under the seat it would be entirely 
 safe." 
 
 " It won't go under the seat ; and, besides, I should be 
 sure to steal it." 
 
 " I'm sure, Mr. Shaw " - 
 
 " It is no use," and a deprecating smile passed over 
 his fine face as he shook his head.
 
 292 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 But" 
 
 "My dear young lady, do not insist. I cannot be 
 trusted, and lie must come. He should have been here 
 long before now." 
 
 " That is too bad, for he must -need it." 
 
 " He does terribly ; I told you so, but I cannot carry 
 it. My dear Miss Baker, the parcel is a wife, and I 
 am a bachelor." 
 
 " Oh ! oh, dear me ! " 
 
 A hearty laugh all around covered Lois's confusion ; 
 and Mr. Shaw remarked, 
 
 " Here is a viol, who plays ? " 
 
 " My father does," answered Lois. 
 
 '.' And who sings ? " 
 
 " Both of these young ladies certainly," replied Mr. 
 Rogers. The request for music became general ; and 
 Mr. Baker ran over the strings a moment, then played 
 while the young girls sang the song of " Ruth : " 
 
 "She stood breast high 'mid the corn, 
 Clasped by golden lights of morn, 
 Like the sweetheart of the sun, 
 Who a glowing kiss hath won. 
 
 On her cheek an autumn flush 
 Deeply ripened such a blush 
 In the midst of brown was born, 
 Like red poppies grown with corn. 
 
 And her hat with shady brim 
 Made her tressy forehead dim;
 
 Tea at Mr. Baker's 293 
 
 Thus she stood amid the stocks, 
 Praising God with all her looks. 
 
 ' Sure,' he said, ' Heaven did not mean 
 Where I reap thou shouldst but glean ; 
 Lay thy sheaves adown, and come, 
 Share my harvest and my home.' " 
 
 " I declare," said Shaw to Sullivan, for they still were 
 side by side, " I do declare, I can't imagine why May- 
 hew does not propose to one of those girls, or did not 
 when he was here. Jove ! I guess he can't decide 
 which to ask, but he might shut his eyes and take the 
 chances." 
 
 " Perhaps neither would listen." 
 " I don't believe it, and I'll ask him." 
 " Do ; if his memory needs a jog it might be effectual." 
 " Sullivan, you make rne laugh. As if " 
 The music struck up again and continued till ten 
 o'clock, a belated hour for taking leave, excusable only 
 because of distinguished visitors and the infrequency of 
 such social opportunities. After all sang "Auld Lang 
 Syne," the good-nights were reluctantly spoken.
 
 294 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 MR. HOLMES BUYS LUMBER 
 
 'LISBETH went to her room happy, for Mr. Shaw had 
 no daughter, she heard him say so ; and the stars shin- 
 ing through the muslin curtains twinkled gayly down, as 
 if they understood, while she toned a low song as she 
 brushed her soft hair. 
 
 In a few weeks she returned home, and all summer 
 long followed the same helpful, patient way as afore- 
 time. Blessings from toilers in field and house fell 
 upon her, even as during the first season. 
 
 But there was a change, indefinable at first, that 
 shaped itself gradually into radical unhappiness. Hul- 
 dah's sugaring-off tattle seemed to die for a year, and 
 then was planted anew as it were, just about the time 
 of her home coming. 
 
 Huldah sighed more than ever ; she wore the willow 
 constantly, and mourned Mayhew's short-comings at 
 self-invited visits to each house round about. Her har- 
 rowing sighs and rueful chatter plainly disturbed her 
 listeners, though she stoutly affirmed disbelief of the 
 traducements that she scattered. Work was varied by 
 long speculations and debate concerning John and 'Lis- 
 beth. Women visiting hardly put on their caps and
 
 Mr. Holmes Buys Lumber 295 
 
 fastened their knitting sheaths before commencing the 
 argument. 
 
 The question whether herbs dried best spread on 
 shelves or hanging head downward from nails, the com- 
 parative merits of spruce and root beer, old Hannah 
 Bisbee's rheumatism and young Hannah's flirtations, 
 the compounding of all household luxuries and medica- 
 ments, were, each and several, mingled with chit-chat as 
 to them. 
 
 Also a new factor was added to the general sum in 
 the person of Mr. Isaiah Holmes, who lived over toward 
 Cockermouth Eiver; a man of easy, confidential ways, 
 a widower about forty years old, of medium height, 
 rather stout, and quite bald. He had a fresh complex- 
 ion, smooth round face, and light blue eyes, large and 
 pleasant, but scarcely steady. He was a born sup- 
 planter. 
 
 The year before he wished to go to General Court, 
 and began the canvass by assuring the only candidate 
 who had been mentioned that he was for him. He so 
 assured everybody else, and extolled the other man, 
 slyly adding, " Some threaten not to vote for him ; but 
 I'm a Democrat dyed in the wool, and always vote my 
 ticket." Again, as caucus drew near, he told what he 
 would do and would not do if he were a candidate, till 
 finally, much to his surprise he averred, he was put up 
 at the last moment, and carried the caucus ten to one. 
 
 No sooner had John gone than he mentally appropri-
 
 296 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 ated 'Lisbeth, the choicest girl of all adjacent tribes, to 
 himself. He felt conscious of honoring her exceedingly 
 in so doing, and immediately planned to bring the dis- 
 tinction into favorable light with her. 
 
 His business was buying flaxseed, peltry, and lum- 
 ber; so he ran in one day, cool, suave, to see if Mr. Wil- 
 son had any timber for sale, and found he owned a 
 good many oaks beyond the pinnacle in the sheep-pas- 
 ture woods, that were judged very good for staves. It 
 was exactly what he wanted, so he said, excellent 
 market for cooper's materials ; so his horse was put up, 
 and he partook of dinner before the long tramp to the 
 woods. 
 
 Of course he bought all the oak timber, for it excused 
 frequent visits to see it. 
 
 He often spoke in praise of John to Mrs. Wilson and 
 Lettice. The wily maid observed that he soon began to 
 tip his phrases with hard points, like the snapper on a 
 whip. 
 
 One day she questioned him a little : 
 " You've been tew Boston lately ? " 
 " Oh, yes ; I go reg'lar twice a year or so." 
 " Do you know anything ag'in John Mayhew ? " 
 " Why, bless me, no, I don't ! It isn't against a 
 handsome man that he's having a good time, is it ? 
 You can't expect anything else." 
 
 " 'Pends on what you call a good time. Is he 
 runnin' round with good-for-nothin' fellers, an' takin' 
 tew their ways ? "
 
 Mr. Holmes Buys Lumber 297 
 
 "Oh, I guess not," said he carelessly; "but he's in 
 with some pretty high bucks, or that's what I hear. 
 John is bright and snappy, and a fav'rite natchully." 
 
 Lettice gave a curiovis look after him as he went out, 
 and commenced humming. 
 
 Some time after he met Huldah on his way to the 
 oaks, and they stopped to chat by the wayside. She 
 questioned him about John, and he told her some things 
 worried him. It was rumored that John was' going on 
 pretty fast, and he guessed he was flirting, if nothing 
 more. Mr. Holmes claimed to believe little of the 
 reports himself; but then, "Where there was so much 
 smoke there must be some fire." 
 
 Huldah sniffed and sighed before asserting that some 
 of the neighbors were concluding Holmes's oak timber 
 bargain preluded another. 
 
 He made no direct reply, but fingered his watch-chain 
 like a young boy caught naming apples all by himself. 
 Then he oh'd a little, and bade the spinster good-day, 
 putting no negation to rising gossip. 
 
 Huldah folded her thin shawl closely about her thin 
 arms, crumpled her forehead into sanctimonious furrows, 
 ;i:nl \vent her way, to repeat what she chose. 
 
 She declared she knew some things if she could only 
 speak of them ; but she never had related confidences 
 imparted to her, and never should. 
 
 Thus noxious weeds were fostered, which throve along 
 with Canada thistles and burdocks, till, by the time one
 
 298 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 ripened, the other opened its tiny seed-pods, and black- 
 tipped, feathery falsehoods flew all about. 
 
 'Lisbeth became oppressed by such environments. 
 She knew gossip of all sorts kept more or less company 
 with bundles of warp and rilling carried to Mrs. 
 Willard's loom ; so she went over one late afternoon 
 and found Euth under the maples netting a fine towel, 
 who started up at sight- of such a troubled face. 
 
 " Why, 'Lisbeth, what is the matter ? " 
 
 " I've come to talk, if I can ; but don't say a word. 
 Let me think a moment." 
 
 She pushed Euth back into a low chair, and sat on 
 the grass leaning against her. On one side the brook 
 gurgled over stones and shallow reaches, on the other 
 floated a subdued cadence of treadle and loom. 
 
 "I am waiting," Euth said, after a long while. 'Lis- 
 beth answered, 
 
 " Tell me all about it, Euth." 
 
 " You don't mean " 
 
 "Yes, I do; all, every bit." 
 
 " 'Lisbeth, it is not true ! Eichard says so." 
 
 "Whispers come to me, and people drop what they 
 are saying as I go near. Why do they? Tell me, 
 Euth, for I can ask no one else." 
 
 So she heard the plain truth, and sat clasping her 
 head in the hollow of her hands till the shadows grew 
 long on her father's meadow, then gravely said, 
 
 " I am satisfied marrying a Boston girl would be best 
 for him."
 
 Mr. Holmes Buys Lumber 299 
 
 " I know it wouldn't. Nobody can tell where these 
 rumors start ; it seems as though Huldah carries them 
 round in her reticule. You must not say that again. 
 It is not best." 
 
 " Saying so does not prove it." 
 
 " He loves you, Elizabeth Wilson ; that is why > and 
 reason a-plenty too." 
 
 " There are two of us now to go on in this wretched 
 way ; half the misery would be saved if this were 
 true." 
 
 " Would it ? The last time I saw John May hew he 
 had a conscience ; and he loves you, I say, Elizabeth 
 Wilson. I declare for it, I don't know what ails you. 
 Seems as if you were turning into stone." 
 
 " I feel like a rock sometimes. Ruth, you don't know 
 all. Father has never spoken to me since Phil rode by 
 with Eunice more than a year ago. If this should hap- 
 pen," she was white as ashes, and the words fell hard as 
 hail on the listener, " maybe in time, not now, ever so 
 long after to-day, I might marry to please father ; and 
 the other, hearing, would feel shriven of his broken 
 oath." 
 
 'Lisbeth stared desolately into the road, as if she had 
 flung the fragments of her life there to be bruised by 
 every passing wheel. 
 
 "Well, I never !" exclaimed Ruth. " Marry Holmes, 
 I s'pose. Mother thinks he is full half to blame for all 
 this tattle. You have thought and thought till you can-
 
 300 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 not think at all. Father Benson preached last Sabbath 
 about tempting ourselves, just exactly what you are 
 doing." 
 
 " Duty would be something if he fails." 
 
 " Duty ! don't crawl behind that." 
 
 Ku-th leaned forward, and took 'Lisbeth, on whom she 
 had always leaned, by the shoulders, giving her an ener- 
 getic shake, saying, 
 
 " It is a blind struggle picking out things in the dark ; 
 but you've got it to do, and that is all there is to it. 
 Find out where duty is. Promise me. I'm frightened 
 when you look so. Promise." 
 
 'Lisbeth nodded ; and Euth rose, took a towel, soft and 
 old, she had been using for a pattern to net by, led 
 'Lisbeth to the brook, and bathed her swollen eyes. 
 
 " There ! go in and see mother. I'll pick up these 
 towels, but don't wait." 
 
 She had thrown them over her arm when a scratching 
 of claws over rotten logs, and crunching of dry twigs 
 under foot, directed her attention to the King and his 
 hounds. 
 
 " Hi ! pups, don't run over the gal," cried he, loping 
 across the brook on large stones. " Hello, Kuth, how 
 be ye ? I see 'Lisbeth scootin' through the door. 
 Whew ! Peppery weather, ain't it ? " 
 
 ." Very warm, Mr. King. How did you coax the trout 
 to bite ? " 
 
 " Went up tew them deep trout holes in the woods :
 
 Mr. Holmes Buys Lumber 301 
 
 they bit like Samhide, an' so did the skeeters, darn 
 'ein ; I've had plaguey good luck. Give these tew your 
 mother ; I strung 'em purpose for her ; guess they'll 
 taste kinder good." 
 
 Ruth carried the trout, strung on a crotched stick, to 
 her mother, while the angler sauntered below the bridge, 
 remarking to his dogs, 
 
 " Ruth's been cry in'. She didn't want me tew go in, 
 for all she asked me so nice. Why ? 'Cause t'other 
 one cried too. Now, what for ? 
 
 "I'll bet a fish-hook it's this ere tattlin', an' I've 
 s'pected it ; allus a winkin' an' pullin' gowns, a yankin' 
 apuns, an' passin' snuff when she runs in, jest as 
 though she didn't sense when she sees half a dozen 
 heads together, an' Huldy talkin' low an' confidin', that 
 them wimen wa'nt goin' on bout the catechism. I tole 
 John I'd ketch onto things as ort tew be seen tew, an' I 
 will. 
 
 " There ain't a decent fish hole within forty rods, but 
 I guess I can yank this ere hook round mongst stones 
 an' gravel if I want tew." 
 
 He sat on a rock dangling his line till 'Lisbeth started 
 homeward, then wound it round the birch rod and hur- 
 ried after. As he loped down the little barn hill after 
 giving half his fish to Mrs. Wilson, he gave an opinion 
 to his companions, 
 
 "Yes, I was right. Thunderation, how queer folks 
 are!"
 
 302 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 To 'Lisbeth it did seem as if new complications 
 trapped her day by day. After the house was still, 
 save for the chirping of crickets, she knelt before her 
 window in the moonbeams. She had weighed duty 
 towards her father and lover, and was further bound to 
 stern searching of obligation selfward. 
 
 She was an entity, an atom tethered to life by spirit- 
 ual essence, alone in responsibility, alone in accounta- 
 bility, sole respondent at the last assize for deeds done 
 in the -body. 
 
 She peered far out into the night, questioning. After 
 a grievous time she caught an answer, wafted in on mel- 
 low moonbeams from, the steadfast darkness of sleeping 
 
 woods and the upholding strength of holy hills, and at 
 
 * 
 last she slept, conqueror, under a Great Captain whose 
 
 legions still parted the conscious air. 
 
 THE KING TAKES A SAMPLE TO MARKET 
 
 THE first week in October the King dug a few pota- 
 toes, then leaned on his hoe, hitched up his " galluses," 
 squinted at the hazy sky, and remarked to his son, 
 
 " Dave, it 'pears like a spell of good weather ; an' you 
 must dig these taters, for I've got other fish tew fry. 
 I've been waitin' for this Injin summer."
 
 The King Takes a Sample to Market 303 
 
 " Plaguey lot of taters for all alone." 
 
 " The gals'll help pick 'em up." 
 
 He wasted no breath, but loped into the kitchen, took 
 a big yellow pitcher with crinkled gray stripes around 
 it into the cellar and brought it back full. 
 
 " Good time tew pull beets, an' sich," said dame 
 Nabby, tilting to and fro on the hind legs of a kitchen 
 chair and doubling yarn, one thread white, one blue, 
 for winter feeting. No answer; and she wound more 
 slowly, turning questioning eyes to the chimney-corner 
 where her husband was busy with pitcher and pipe, 
 winking slowly and thoughtfully at intervals. 
 
 Her chair came forward with a bang, but he gave no 
 sign of hearing. 
 
 " Say, be you goin' tew git them beets an' garden sass 
 in outen the frost, David ? They'll spile, ev'ry one of 
 'em." 
 
 The Egyptian Sphinx is not more dumb and unheed- 
 ing. She knew his moods, and made no further effort to 
 break the silence. After a while he rose, took a favor- 
 ite gun down from the hooks, examined, and carefully 
 wiped it with a piece of buckskin, oiled, and set it up 
 against the doorpost, with butt upon the doorstep. 
 The hounds sniffed, trotted smartly out and squatted 
 down alongside, while their master gazed out of the 
 south window at nothing for a short time, went across 
 the room, drank a gourdful of water, and faced about, 
 saying,
 
 304 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Lay my best clo'es on the bed, Nabby." 
 
 "What ! " The streaked ball fell into her lap. 
 
 "Don't holler so; the folks '11 think we're a-fire." 
 
 " What'n creation be you goin' tew dew, David ? " 
 
 " Take a jaunt." 
 
 " Jaunt ! A tew-year-old boy ain't f riskier'n you 
 'pear tew be. Where is it you be goin' ? " 
 
 " Can't tell for sartin ; must see 'bout tradin' pelts. 
 Beechnuts and ilenuts air thick as spatters, an' breast 
 bones of chickens don't have skurcely a dark spot in 
 'em ; wile geese and swallers went south airly ; beavers 
 air diggin' down intew the groun' ; coons air fatter'n 
 ever I see 'em ; an' squirrils have double coats of fur, 
 same with foxes. It's goin' tew be a rippin' winter 
 for huntin' an' trappin'." 
 
 " Good land ! you dew have spells of bein' crazier'n a 
 loon." 
 
 "I'm clear as a bell, an' springy as a new trap, 
 mother," he remarked cheerily: 
 
 " Who's tew fetch in the corn fodder, an' pull beets 
 an' turnups, an' the rest of the garden truck ? " 
 
 " Dave an' the gals. It's healthy work for 'em." 
 
 "Dave an' all of us can't lift that great green cart- 
 tongue to the staple." 
 
 " Pull the seat outen the waggon, an' hitch the ole 
 hoss in." 
 
 "Spile the waggon make it pison dirty." 
 
 " Cracky, Nabby, you ain't so dretful helpless.
 
 The King Takes a Sample to Market 305 
 
 Spread the ole blue coveiiits intew it jist as you've 
 done hundreds of times. Now stop fussin' an' git 
 my things." 
 
 She hurried into the small bedroom, and he heard a 
 click of the cedar chest and clatter of brass-handled 
 drawers before she' came out. 
 
 " There they be on the bed. Git intew them quick if 
 you're goin', an' not wait till sundown." 
 
 Very soon the teapot was spluttering on live embers, 
 and a 'wholesome morning luncheon was ready by the 
 time Mr. King emerged, cleanly shaven, clad in blue full 
 cloth suit with brass buttons. He always wore pants 
 a trifle short, but the cowhide boots were soft and new. 
 
 " Better put my razor intew the game bag, an' my best 
 black stock." 
 
 " Why don't you wear the stock ? " 
 
 " Chokes when you're trampin'. I'm goin' tew wear 
 a frock over this coat, 'cause I'm likely tew sheer off 
 intew the woods any minnit. I can stuff it intew the 
 pouch when I don't want it." 
 
 " How'll one of them blue mixed ones do ? They're 
 thin and light." 
 
 "Jest the checker." 
 
 He ate heartily, pulled his frock on, set a rather 
 seedy high hat on his head, threw the gun to his 
 shoulder, and, followed by the hounds, started through 
 air heavy with odors of forest, and hum of droning 
 bees.
 
 306 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " See that big feller on the chiny-oyster, Nabby. 
 How I'd like tew line the yellow imp home ! " 
 
 " Better, father," hurriedly she suggested. 
 
 "Can't. Eeady tew go, an' I'm goin'. Guess I'll 
 stay at your sister Mary's down tew Bristol to-night." 
 
 " S'pose you'll go fur as Concord ? " 
 
 "Yes, I'm goin' tew scurry roun' in the woods an' 
 take a sample to show what coats the critters air 
 wear in'. I sha'n't stop short of there, 'tain't likely." 
 
 " When'll you be home, David ? " 
 
 A peculiar solicitous gaze after the question pained 
 him ; but he replied bravely, 
 
 "I dunno. Mebbe bein' so near, I shall run down 
 tew Derry field an' catch a salmon, for ole times." 
 
 "Why, David ! you won't be back for a month." 
 
 " P'r'aps not. I'm goin' tew sorter hold a pertracted 
 meetin' 'long of ole friends in the woods an' out. All 
 on ye keep chipper." 
 
 He pushed along at a dog-trot, leaving them at the 
 potato field ; but just before entering the thick woods he 
 turned and beheld his wife shading her eyes with one 
 arm, and the children around her. The old man choked ; 
 for he loved that tranquil spot and plain family, even to 
 the every-day good-natured naggings between himself 
 and his true-hearted wife. In the distance they seemed 
 beautiful to his constant heart. He swung his hat, and 
 receiving an answering salute, drew a rough sleeve 
 across his eyes, saying to the dogs, " Darn it all, we've
 
 The King Takes a Sample to Market 307 
 
 got tew go," and disappeared behind the hemlocks, 
 darker than was their wont, because sumachs waved 
 crimson plumes here and there among their green 
 ranks. He brought down a squirrel with his old 
 Queen's-arm, and went directly to " Aunt Mary's," leav- 
 ing there the following Monday when the gray skin 
 was quite dry. 
 
 A stage rolled and bumped up just after he started ; 
 and the driver called, " Hello, where you goin' ? " 
 
 " Down the road a piece." 
 
 " Fur as Concord ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Git up here ; stick them dogs 'long of the band- 
 boxes." 
 
 " What's that ? " inquired Mr. Marden, pointing at 
 the gray tail. 
 
 " End of a sample." 
 
 " Where you goin' with it ? " 
 
 "Tew Boston." 
 
 " Whew ! git out ; you ain't travellin' there with one 
 squirrel skin ? " 
 
 " Pooh ! you kin rein six horses on a dead run down 
 hill, keepin' this ole ark swingin' an' pitchiii' 'tween the 
 gutters, an' pull up at the foot 'thout a dead critter, nur 
 a strap broke ; but you don't understan' fur, les you'd 
 know this stingy bit is jest as good as a sled load." 
 
 "Well, I vum if I b'leve you're goin' to Boston for 
 nothin' but that ; no, I don't."
 
 308 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 "I'm goin' there, an' I'm goin' tew kerry this pelt, 
 'thout one of us gits lost." 
 
 " Carry it and be blessed ; but tell us a story." 
 
 From then till after sunset, when the stage drew up 
 at Gasses, he beguiled the road with stories of hunting 
 and fishing as they passed hills and mountain, merry 
 running brook, and beautiful intervales, warm and won- 
 drous with autumn dyes. He hung around Harden 
 while the horses were being unhitched till he found a 
 chance to ask him, 
 
 "You won't let on 'bout my goin' tew Boston, will 
 you ? Our folks might be oneasy, an' I'm 'bliged tew 
 go." 
 
 " See here, Jim Langdon an' I take some stages down 
 next week. Can't you wait ? " 
 
 " Fits like a wedge. I want tew hook one or tew fish 
 down by Aumskeag Falls, an' brile 'em on a board. If 
 you'll haul up at Webster's, I'll be ready." 
 
 "All right; we allus change bosses there." 
 
 So it happened the next week that the door of a Bos- 
 ton law-office seemed to burst open, admitting two dogs 
 and a man. The stranger bore an eager, kindly, reso- 
 lute face, full of light that quickly died out on ob- 
 serving two youngerly men start up from beside a 
 long, green baize-covered table, strewn with books and 
 writing material, and fairly stare at him in quizzical 
 wonder. He stooped and pulled a hound's long ear, 
 explaining,
 
 The King Takes a Sample to Market 309 
 
 "I thought he was here." 
 
 The men exchanged a wink which touched the King. 
 He drew up by his gun and demanded peremptorily, 
 
 "Ain't this Shaw and Crowninshield's ? " 
 
 " It is ; can we help you ? " 
 
 " No ; I'm lookin' for a man." 
 
 " Here are two." 
 
 He gave them an unflinching look that struck squarely 
 at them, and a curious inflection pointed the quiet re- 
 mark, 
 
 " Nothin' like I'm sarchin' for. Him as I knowed up 
 norrard," jerking his thumb in that direction. 
 
 "He had a name?" 
 
 " Yes ; an' a good one tew, John Mayhew." 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; he will be in soon. You are a 
 friend ? " Mr. King proudly replied. 
 
 " Sence John was a baby I've been jest that tew him 
 an' he tew me." 
 
 The indescribable grace and pathos touched their 
 manhood and made them cordial. 
 
 " Sit right down and wait. What beautiful hounds ! 
 I never saw such muzzles and marking." 
 
 " Prob'ly not ; no, thankee," said he, slowly regarding 
 the room, with crowded bookshelves up to the ceiling, 
 and loose cobwebs flying here and there. " No ; the dogs 
 would ruther be in the sun. Tell " 
 
 The door opened and John confronted him, but the 
 King found his tongue first.
 
 310 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " John, John, it's me ! me an the dogs, see 'em ! " 
 
 " Mr. King ! Uncle David ! How in creation did 
 you come here ? And the dogs too." 
 
 Mr. King regarded the young man, brimful of boyish 
 glee, who shook him by his great shoulders, and fondled 
 the dogs as they barked and frisked and kissed his 
 hands. Surely he was the self-same boy, showing gravel- 
 lines ; yet it was he as of "old. No hidden faithlessness 
 skulked in his true glance, nor deceit in his ringing 
 welcome. 
 
 Some hint of Mr. King's anxiety John perceived, and 
 straightway was troubled. He laid both hands gently 
 on his visitor's shoulders and inquired, 
 
 " Why did you come, Uncle David ? " 
 
 " Come down with Mard, an' brought samples of fur ; 
 big season comin'." 
 
 " Is that all, or were you sent ? Has some terrible 
 thing happened ? " 
 
 " I ain't sent, an' I hain't heerd of no sick folks. I 
 run up tew Mis' Lane's day 'fore I come off, an' they 
 was chipper, though I seed Bill Symons as I tramped 
 'long, he is pooty much moon-colored yaller janders." 
 
 John still felt a mental certainty that Mr. King's 
 journey concerned himself primarily, and soberly in- 
 vited him into his private room. As his guest came 
 to a seat he smoothed John's sleeve, saying, 
 
 "I'll be doggoned if I don't b'leve you're John, jest 
 John."
 
 The King Takes a Sample to Market 311 
 
 There rose one peal of oldtime laughter, succeeded by 
 the question, 
 
 " Who says not ? What infernal prattle is being 
 made about me ? " 
 
 " Don't git riled ; le's begin at firstly. I clipped up 
 the paster tew Mis' Lane's 'bout daylitdown t'other 
 night, an' tole her where I was boun', an' so on. She 
 was pesky glad, an' sent her best love an' these traps. 
 There, ain't them bustin' gloves, gray fox skin, an' 
 here's three linen handkercher's, Loizy made them. I've 
 got sunthin' else. Jerusalem ! if I've lost that. Thun- 
 deration ! what an ole blunderbuss, huntin' in the wrong 
 pocket. Here 'tis bosom that 'Lisbeth worked for 
 Francis ain't that han'some. Your aunt sent it." 
 
 When John opened his desk, and laid gloves and ker- 
 chiefs down, but carefully locked the embroidered linen 
 in a drawer, the King winked his eyes. The voice that 
 questioned him was husky. 
 
 " What have you come to say ? " 
 
 "Le's go intew the sun," tugging at his stiff stock. 
 " Ain't there a rod of Ian' a body might stan' on ? " 
 
 " We'll go to the Common." 
 
 There the king said, 
 
 "Now I can breathe. S'posen you an' I change 
 work. I'll be lawyer, you witness, and the dogs jury." 
 
 "Go ahead." 
 
 " Are you thinkin' Huh ! I'd ruther be horse- 
 whipped, plague take it."
 
 312 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 John suggested composedly, 
 
 " The jury is uneasy." 
 
 " I feel meaner'n a skunk ; but what Father Benson 
 calls a powerful sense of duty driv me here, and 
 well " 
 
 " See here, Uncle David, out with it. It won't kill 
 me." 
 
 "Not less I shoot ye. Don't upset the lawyer ag'in. 
 Are you goin' tew be merried tew a Boston gal ? " 
 
 " Me ? " 
 
 " That's what I said yes or no." 
 
 "No," thundered John. 
 
 " Don't yell so. 'Tain't likely these folks care much 
 about it. Are you spoonin' or settin' up with one ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are you goin' tew or wantin' tew ? " 
 
 " No, and I never shall." 
 
 " Whew ! I knowed the minit I set eyes on ye, but I 
 couldn't help mistrustin' about it 'fore you come in, a 
 breathin' that air, 'thout no sun 'cept what squirrels in 
 through cobwebs. I was feared your soul was dried up, 
 but 'tain't ; you're John, jest John. I'm 'shamed " 
 
 "Don't say that, Uncle David. I am so thankful. 
 There is mischief and falsehood up home, and the best 
 man I ever knew asks what he has a right to ask." 
 
 The old man jumped to his feet and caught John's 
 arm. 
 
 " I'm glad you spoke them words, 'cause I felt kinder
 
 The King Takes a Sample to Market 313 
 
 hampered like, feelin' you might think I was meddlin' 
 or sumthin'. You know 'bout Phil and Eunice, mer- 
 ried." 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Well, it did seem after they was spliced, as though 
 we might have some peace, but no ; Huldy begun a-buz- 
 zin' 'bout this gal down here, then Holmes come he'd 
 palaver an Injun outen his moccasins an' sech sithes 
 as we've had from her, an' butter-mouth speeches from 
 him would sicken a dog." 
 
 " Who is Holmes ? " 
 
 " He's a timber man ; bought Wilson's oaks. Comes 
 tew Boston, he says." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he runs into our office once in a while." 
 
 " Same critter." 
 
 " How did those falsehoods originate ? " 
 
 " Didn't 'riginate. Blowed up on an east wind, or 
 popped outen mud like musketeers." 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Wilson is severe as ever." 
 
 " Severe ! well, I guess. He hain't spoke one word 
 tew that gal sence one day spring after you come away, 
 when she tole him that she couldn't an' wouldn't merry 
 Phil. Lettice says 'twas awful when she faced him, 
 white as snow an' her eyes like flints strikin' fire. He 
 meant tew put her outen the house, but Mis' Wilson 
 hindered." 
 
 The young man covered his face and turned away, 
 whispering hoarsely, " 'Lisbeth, my poor 'Lisbeth."
 
 314 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " That gal is true as a die, John ; and 'tween the olo 
 man's pride an' the wimmin's knack of hidin' things, 
 nobody, not even Nabby, 'spects how 'tis. Lettice an' 
 me, we talk over the garden-fence, or when I'm gunnin' 
 an' she pickin' arbs an' so on." 
 
 A soft color, like a girl's, suffused Mayhew's cheek as 
 he touched the King's sleeve and asked, 
 
 " Uncle David, will you tell me about 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " Her ? She's jest the same, John ; nothin' like her 
 'mong them hills, never, nor any place else ; a bit quieter 
 lately. I can't make you understan' how 'tis, sunthin' 
 onpossible tew trap intew words. It's her as brought 
 me." 
 
 " Did she ask you to come ? " he inquired eagerly. 
 
 " No ; but I've seen shadders chasm' sun over her 
 same as they foller over our white clovers, till I'm tuck- 
 ered out. Her load is hefty, John; an' I've come tew 
 see if you can't lift a little." 
 
 " I wish I could carry it all, Uncle David." 
 
 " Sartin ; but you can't, an' scowlin' fiercer 'n a wile cat 
 don't help none ; sunthin's got tew be done. You're 
 goin' tew write a few words tew her for me tew carry 
 back." 
 
 " I promised Mr. Wilson " 
 
 " Not tew court his gal, darned simple performance 
 as ever I see, but that ain't the pint. Can't you tell 
 her you ain't the meanest cuss on the footstool." 
 
 " Yes, I can and I will."
 
 The King Returns 315 
 
 " John, my boy, I'm glad I come. It's all right. Let's 
 walk round to a furrier's, an' give him a squint of this 
 gray pelt." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A LATE OCTOBER DAY 
 
 INDIAN summer, keeping company with hazy horizons 
 and heavenly illuminations on forest, field, and hill, still 
 lingered, though the King had been gone three weeks. 
 A couple of rainy days they had, but it cleared off warm 
 as before. Season-wise neighbors pointed out the thick- 
 ness of leaves, their reluctant fall and their gorgeous 
 blazonry, as sure omens of a hard, sharp winter. " One 
 extreme follows another," they said on mild afternoons, 
 when the sun melted those landscape dyes into liquid 
 softness. 
 
 About eleven o'clock on such a day Jack went in from 
 the field and said to his mother, 
 
 " Father says I may run awhile." 
 
 He had spent many days of the gone summer with 
 'Lisbeth among all kinds of growing things, tracking 
 through meadow or up the heights. In their rambles 
 they had answered the King's hello in forest nooks or 
 beside fern-banked streams, till Mr. Wilson boasted that 
 Jack had learned trees, root and branch, and could talk 
 of stones, flowers, or birds "good as the minister any
 
 316 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 day," though never hinting the name of his instructor. 
 He wanted another day out on the hills ; but his mother, 
 being busy, answered carelessly, 
 
 " Well, Watch can go, and you may take Tom and 
 Dorothy." 
 
 " Watch may go if he wants to ; Dorothy's no good, 
 Tom neither, scared to death at a woodpecker." 
 
 " Go alone, then," remarked Mistress Dorothy, not 
 realizing how she sent cold shivers down her brother's 
 back, as she swung her sunbonnet and ran out in pursuit 
 of a swallow-tailed butterfly, bright yellow barred with 
 black. 
 
 " Why can't 'Lisbeth come along," asked he. 
 
 "Certainly she can. 'Lisbeth," called her mother, 
 "put the spinning-wheel by and take your bonnet. 
 Jack wants you, and don't hurry home ; take a good long 
 walk." 
 
 " My stent is only half done, mother." 
 
 " It makes no difference ; improve this weather." 
 
 Lettice handed each boy a small wicker basket as he 
 went out, saying, " Here's sunthin'll taste good when 
 you're tired of trampin'." 
 
 Dame Wilson was raging; but she had nothing to 
 say, for she and son Thomas had given the girl up 
 to her mother. A pretty mess they were making of 
 it to be sure, but then, she rocked wrathfully back 
 and forth, furious that she must be silent, unsettled more 
 and more by Lettice's humming, which she despised.
 
 The King Returns 317 
 
 Lettice kept at it till the old lady snatched her snuff 
 box out. 
 
 " Here, Lettice, dew try my new snuff." 
 
 "Can't stop, m m m." Again after a moment. 
 " Marthy, Lettice better start the fire ; I s'pose she'll 
 make Johnny cake for dinner." 
 
 " Eiz bread, m m m m." 
 
 The dame hitched and squirmed, and finally arose. 
 
 "I'm good mind to go somewheres." 
 
 "I would, mother," said Mrs. Wilson; "better run 
 down and see if Mr. King is back." 
 
 " Didn't Lettice go down ? P'raps she knows all 
 'bout it. I'd ruther go tew Mis' Lane's." 
 
 " No, I don't. I ain't his gardeen, m m m." 
 
 " It's warm an' sunshin'y ; I guess I'll go." 
 
 She was arrayed in Sunday garb very quickly, and 
 took a stout stick Thomas gave her, and went out hop- 
 ing if she found a woman who could sing, she would 
 sing and be done with it. Lettice was confused by her 
 sudden departure. 
 
 " For the land's sake ! what made her dew that ? she 
 bounced off like a parched pea." 
 
 " Your humming, Lettice ; she detests it." 
 
 " Hummin' ! was I hummin' ? Funny I didn't know 
 it, but I've been pritty much taken up with my own 
 idees for quite, a spell." She looked intently up the 
 road at the compact, erect figure as if expecting it to 
 turn back, but smiled serenely at last.
 
 318 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " I guess she'll go, Mis' Wilson ; she's beyend the 
 orchard bars, most tew the big maple. You don't feel 
 very well this mornin'." 
 
 " No, one of my old headaches." 
 
 " What brought it on ? There, don't cry ; it is some 
 trouble hitched on to them staves, I know, and I've ex- 
 pected it from the fust. I know'd when I see that glib- 
 tongued critter hitchin' his hoss that I oughter stan' at 
 the outer door with a mortar pestle. Staves, fiddle- 
 sticks ! Cooper's timber ! 'twan't no sech a thing ; good 
 land ! he didn't care if nobody ever see a berril." 
 
 " Mr. Wilson says John is going to be married before 
 spring, Lettice." 
 
 "Wejl, he ain't, I'll be bound. I've tried tew keep 
 this tattle from your ears ; for it all comes from Isaiah 
 Holmes and Huldy Moses, every word on't. Last week, 
 as I was comin' home from visitin' Mis' Batchelder, 
 there they stood by the sheep-paster bars, a-talkin' in 
 the hiddenest way. They looked awful meachin' when 
 they see me ; but I never said one word, an' kep' along 
 tew this side of the schoolhouse ; an' there I turned 
 intew the chip-yard, an' set down on a log till Huldy 
 ketched up she wa'n't much behind, I can tell you 
 then I give her a piece of my mind." 
 
 " Lettice ! " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I did ; but don't you worry one mite. 
 My grief an' patience ! we can't travel them tew yere 
 old roads ag'in ; an' we ain't goin' tew, nuther. Let
 
 The King Returns 319 
 
 things have their run ; it's the season for fall fevers, an' 
 Mr. Wilson's been chasin' round a pretty muddy swamp 
 lately ; but we live in a healthy destrick, so most folks 
 gits over what ails 'em, an' I mistrust he will, though it 
 may take somethin' bitter as gall an pisen as poke tew 
 cure him." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson made no reply, and her .silence alarmed 
 Lettice. 
 
 " You ain't plannin' tew sacrifice that gal tew his say- 
 so at last, be ye ? Jest try it, an' you're off'rin' will be 
 took away." 
 
 "You -are irreverent, Lettice." 
 
 " No, ma'am ; my mind was on gifts to selfishness. 
 I ain't speakin' of off'rin's as God calls for ; them are 
 tew be give up 'thout questions, an' singin' if we can, 
 though the key may be a very low minor. All I'm 
 afeared on is Mr. Wilson '11 work on your mind like 
 snows that melt an' run down into our medder brook, 
 fillin' it fuller an' fuller, rushin' over the dam, a-makin' 
 it shiver an' scream till bimeby out it goes from flash- 
 board tew foundation. I've been wantin' tew talk this 
 over quite a spell, an' now won't you promise me that 
 'Lisbeth may go back tew the 'Cademy ? " 
 
 "I feel, Lettice, that you are almost an equal guard- 
 dian of my child since our trouble came, and I shall 
 arrange it as you propose." 
 
 " That makes me happy, Mis' Wilson. My stars ! 
 here 'tis half after eleven, an' not a step took towards
 
 320 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 dinner. Le's see ; if you've a mind tew pare a few tart 
 apples, I'll make a short-cake stid of pie. Mr. Wilson 
 '11 kinder like it. This afternoon we shall be all alone, 
 an' we'll plan for our woollen web a-settin' by the winder, 
 where we can see the neighbors harvesting an' watch the 
 trees an' hills between stitches ; for I declare I never 
 see sech a sight as they be, a'most like Moses' bush that 
 burned with fire." 
 
 Meanwhile the children started up the ridge to the 
 Pinnacle. 'Lisbeth helped the boys fly their kites, 
 chase squirrels, and battle beechnuts on the way; so 
 they reached the summit just in season to hear the call 
 of dinner horns and replying halloos of hungry men. 
 They sat down under some trees edging the forest, 
 to watch farmers going to dinner, and open their own 
 baskets. The sun billowed in floods over mossy rock 
 and through forests of red and gold, burned on weeds 
 in gray stubble fields, glowed in clumps of bushes on 
 bare pasture sides, and brightened mowing lands sparsely 
 studded with late clovers. 
 
 Purple frost flowers and goldenrod nodded near them ; 
 and white oaks were magnificent along the pond's far 
 shore, where the hills bathed their crimson foot-fringe 
 in pellucid waters. 
 
 They leaned against gray tree-boles, and strained 
 their eyes to take in the glory of those wondrous hills 
 as they dimmed and flamed under the cloud shadows 
 and sunlight that chased one another over them.
 
 The King Returns 321 
 
 Suddenly Jack held his hand up. " See here, 'Lis- 
 beth, what I have found; this shell is cracking apart." 
 
 He held up a half-split shell in an open burr, which 
 he found bedded in the underlying black mould. From 
 the kernel pushed creamy white sprouts. 
 
 " Why, it's sprouted like a potato." 
 
 " Look here," said she, touching a tender shoot 
 crowned by two new ruddy leaves. " Find where this 
 leads." 
 
 Jack was indolent only toward corn, potatoes, and 
 the like. He dug earnestly and carefully with a fork 
 whittled out of a broken branch. 
 
 " Oh, oh my, 'Lisbeth ! " 
 
 "Well." 
 
 " This stalk reaches to some small roots, and out of 
 them run dear, I can't tell how many little bits of 
 ones ; but," he said disappointedly, " there isn't a sign 
 of a beechnut." 
 
 "Look sharp ; brush the dirt from the roots." 
 
 " There 'tis, 'Lisbeth, true as you live ; a very, very 
 beechnut, and seems as if this little stem grows right 
 out of it." 
 
 '"That is so. The nut pushed one sprout upward for 
 the tree, the rest downward for roots." 
 
 " Say, 'Lisbeth, how did it plant itself ? " asked he, 
 gazing intently upon his scientific discovery. 
 
 "Sharp frost broke the spiny burr from the tree and 
 split it. It fell 011 leaves that winds whirled about,
 
 322 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 burying it deeper and deeper, covering it warmly. 
 Storms watered it, and the sun nursed it into life." 
 
 " Then," said he, telling off his fingers, " it takes 
 frost, wind, storm, and sun to start a beech. Seems as 
 if one of them would kill it." 
 
 " It is God's way," she answered him. 
 
 " Seems like a miracle raising from the dead. 
 Why don't ministers preach about such things?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know." 
 
 He put the infant beech into the ground reverently, 
 and they strolled into damp sylvan depths, over slip- 
 pery paths of enamelled pine-needles, through clumps 
 of hemlock growing dark and thick as spruce ; they 
 chased wood-calls with Watch ; but everywhere 'Lisbeth 
 saw the beech shoot, and heard, undertoning the sighing 
 forest, "Frost, wind, storm, fire." Indeed, she had 
 been bitten by His cold, tossed underneath shifting sor- 
 rows by His winds, drenched by His storm ; would she 
 be brought up again by His immortal fires, resurrected 
 to earthly sunshine ? She found no answer in the 
 silent sky that domed the world, though she questioned 
 till they started homeward. 
 
 She wandered dreamily toward home, till, coming 
 down near the schoolhouse, suddenly Tom cried out, 
 
 The King, the King ! " 
 
 Sure enough, he was coming towards them from the 
 pasture on a dog-trot, as if he had no absences to ac- 
 count ' for, everything seeming usual. The children ran
 
 The King Returns 323 
 
 to meet him, and then with the dogs flew over the hill 
 toward home and back again opposite 'Lisbeth into the 
 lower field. 
 
 She gladdened at sight of King David, rough, but 
 abiding as the hills he loved, and faithful as the star 
 which set his compass. With an indefinable awkward 
 grace, the outcome of an innate chivalry, he inquired, 
 
 " How be you, 'Lisbeth ? " 
 
 " Uncle David, you cannot tell how we have missed 
 you and the dogs." 
 
 " Have you now ? Mebbe your father has tew, we're 
 gener'ly coon-huiitin' through his corn." 
 
 Both laughed, for coon-hunting was a sore subject to 
 Fanner Wilson. 
 
 " But where have you been ? " 
 
 " 'Lisbeth, this chatter an' tattle wore me out, an' I've 
 made a little journey. I tole John once what I sh'd do 
 case of some things, an' I've done it." 
 
 He drew a brown paper parcel from his pocket, gave 
 it to her, and was gone in a flash down the lower field 
 after his dogs and the children. 
 
 Amazed, she took the little packet home, went quietly 
 to her room through the east entry, undid it, found a 
 letter, broke its seal, and read its two lines, 
 
 "ELIZABETH, 
 
 What I was I am and shall be. God bless you forever and 
 ever. JOUN MAYHEW."
 
 324 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 To be content without renewed assurance of his 
 great love was serenity ; to be certain of his constancy 
 was peace. She read the letter over and over again, 
 positive that no half-heard speeches, nor Huldah's most 
 shivering sighs, could ever disturb her more. 
 
 She descended to find her mother and Lettice in the 
 east room sewing and planning. 
 
 " Why, 'Lisbeth," said her mother, " how you have 
 enjoyed your frolic with the children ! You must go 
 every day while this Indian summer lasts." 
 
 " Yes, mother ; where is grandma ? " 
 
 "Up to Mis' Lane's." 
 
 Lettice pushed her head out of the window, shading 
 her eyes with an arm, and at last exclaimed, 
 
 " Mis' Wilson ! 'Lisbeth ! look down in our medder. 
 Ain't that man the King ? 'Tis, I know 'tis ; an' there's 
 his dogs, true as you live." 
 
 "Yes," answered 'Lisbeth; "I saw him up by the 
 schoolhouse, and the children ran down the ridge with 
 him." 
 
 Both women, hearing her happy voice, turned towards 
 her kindled face. 
 
 " Where's he been ? " inquired Lettice eagerly. 
 " What is it makes you so kinder pleased ? 'Lisbeth ! 
 has he been way down below tew Boston ? " 
 
 The girl smiled and nodded, while her face grew 
 faintly rosy. 
 
 " Has he ? My stars, we might a-knowed 'thout
 
 Parish Visit 325 
 
 tellin', for he would dew jest that. Sick of this buzzin', 
 an' winkin', an' whisperin', I s'pose." 
 
 " 'Lisbeth, did he bring any word from John ? " 
 tremulously inquired her mother. 
 
 "Nothing which breaks his promise to my father. 
 Here is a line he sent ; you and Lettice can read it while 
 I am gone to find my sewing." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson took the letter, and having read it 
 through a shower of tears, passed it to Lettice. When 
 she had finished they exchanged one misty smile of 
 thankfulness, and each woman turned her quivering face 
 into thick nasturtium vines that swayed blossoming over 
 the window-sill by which she sat. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 PARISH VISIT 
 
 long after Mr. King's return, Mr. Baker drove 
 out one day, walked down into the field and chatted 
 a while with the farmer where he was breaking up, and 
 went away, taking 'Lisbeth with him. 
 
 " Marthy won't so much as ask for the horse, an' take 
 'Lisbeth to school herself," he muttered, and immedi- 
 ately felt aggrieved, or as if a light had gone out, or 
 an east wind come up, chilling to the marrow. Cer- 
 tainly his boys and Mr. Tyrrell had a great deal to do
 
 326 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 driving the oxen, for they never seemed to travel a rod 
 in the right direction. His temper rose higher at the 
 evening meal because emptiness asserted itself so meanly , 
 emphatic at his wife's right hand. He did not blame 
 himself, being unconscious of fault. 'Lisbeth's folly, as 
 he phrased it, added to her mother's and Lettice's wilful 
 upholding of law-breaking as he viewed it, were chief, 
 and, in fact, only causes of misery ; certainly it followed 
 no error of his ; but he did question himself anxiously 
 as to how long those three women, yes, three, Lettice 
 was worst of the lot, would sting him with such 
 barbed shafts. 
 
 After supper that evening a peculiar disquieting hush 
 which abides in rooms where the central spirit is ill- 
 tempered settled down. Lettice enjoyed Mr. Wilson's 
 discomfort more than she deemed quite proper, and 
 nodded to the tea-caddy as she went to the dresser, 
 whispering, 
 
 " The way of the transgressor is hard." 
 
 Though she hardened her heart to him, she pitied the 
 mother, so pale and worried. 
 
 " Don't fuss over him a mite, Mis' Wilson ; for he's 
 bound tew be crosser 'n a bear, an' 'tain't no use. These 
 spells '11 dew him good ; let him alone ; he oughter ache, 
 an' he'll have smarter twinges 'n this." 
 
 "It seems pretty bad thorning anybody so, Lettice." 
 
 "He's thornin' himself. If he don't like it, he can 
 stop any time. You an' I have got tew stan' on his
 
 Parish Visit 327' 
 
 highheadedness, if he does squirm, or kill 'Lisbeth. 
 That is our stent, an' we ain't goin' tew give in not so 
 much as tew stan' on one foot instid of both. I'm 
 feared we sha'n't save her after all, but we can dew OUT 
 best." 
 
 " Lettice, we must do our duty ; but I feel as I have 
 coming in out of a cold storm, and raking the ashes open 
 to find every spark gone out so tired and numb and 
 bewildered." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I hain't a doubt on't, but that don't 
 signify ; we're both on us pullin' full as heavy a load as 
 he is, an' we can't shirk it. . If the fire was out, there 
 was flint and tinder tew start another, or you borrered 
 some of a neighbor. Don't worry a minit." 
 
 When they returned to sewing he flirted his chair 
 backward, and complained, 
 
 "I s'pose we air out of candles, an' I sh'd like to 
 know where my this week's Patriot is." 
 
 In spite of such brave talk, he walked to the east 
 window, and peered out on the stony road over which 
 his child had gone. 
 
 Shortly after Thanksgiving, when the snowy roads 
 were smooth and hard, neighboring women ran into 
 Mrs. Wilson's one day to consult as to a parish visit 
 and sewing-bee at their pastor's. 
 
 Mrs. King said she and her husband planned to go, 
 for their children liked Mr. Ward. David thought the 
 minister needed a new sleigh-wrap, being round so
 
 328 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 much visiting schools and sick people ; so she and the 
 girls had sewn some gray fox-skins together, and lined 
 them with warm flannel, dyed logwood color set with 
 alum. 
 
 Mrs. Harmon had not talked it over at home enough 
 to be quite sure about it, but would be glad to give most 
 anything not agreed upon by others. She, Phil, and 
 Eunice were going. Aunt Seth was positive she should 
 take along half a web of fine linen sheeting; and Mrs. 
 Lane had put by seven towels, nicely hemstitched, for 
 the purpose. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Wilson said to her husband, 
 
 " You are planning to attend the bee and donation, I 
 s'pose." 
 
 " Yes ; I calc'late to carry three or four bushels of 
 wheat. Mother and Mr. Tyrrell can see to things, so 
 you an' Lettice both better go." 
 
 " Well, then, Lettice, we better heat the brick oven 
 hot enough for pies and cake this morning, and to-mor- 
 row early we can put in two beef roasts ; one we'll take, 
 it will keep warm, and the other will be for mother and 
 the children. You can make up a couple of one-two- 
 three-four cake, and put in rose leaves for spice. This 
 afternoon you may bake our tart shells in the tin baker, 
 they brown nicer so ; and this evening we will pack them 
 into my large rattan basket careful, and take our jelly 
 along in tumblers." So they made a holiday of prepara- 
 tion, conversing of homely, heartsome friends and joys.
 
 Parish Visit 329 
 
 Sleigh-bells chimed jovially next clay along all roads 
 leading to Plymouth. Ox-sleds loaded with hard wood 
 creaked over solidly trodden snow ; and other ones, cov- 
 ered with furs and checked blankets, drawn by three or 
 four pairs of cattle, freighted half the grown people of 
 one or another district from distances of several miles, 
 passed every now and then by fleet sleighs, ma,king 
 music on the crisp air, or sedately plodding red pungs, 
 the bells of whose horses chanted more quietly. 
 
 The pastor's house was early set in* order, assuming 
 an air of expectation, while a teakettle became very 
 much excited behind the kitchen andirons, and an odor- 
 ous breath of burning pine exhaled from the fore-room. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when first comers crossed the 
 threshold, and then sleighs jogged up quite merrily for 
 some time. Mrs. Harmon, going up-stairs to take her 
 things off, followed by Eunice, pretty as a pink, found 
 half a dozen women in the guest chamber. 
 
 " You are very well now, I am sure," said one of the 
 household, Avho assisted her unbundling. 
 
 " Yes," said the little woman, giving her head a pretty 
 turn to one side, " I am. Eunice has a knack for curin' 
 sperrits an' bodies." 
 
 Truly it did seem likely, as one observed how handily 
 the young wife removed her mother-in-law's hood, 
 smoothed her hair, and settled a lace cap with dainty 
 rose ribbons upon it. 
 
 " I wouldn't have you think I bought them gay rib-
 
 330 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 bins myself; it's Eunice's dewins, an' I couldn't help it, 
 for we are all under her thumb down tew our house. I 
 tell father I don't know what we are comin' tew." 
 
 She glanced at Eunice in a way that showed they had 
 already arrived at something very sweet indeed. 
 
 " We must go down and have our cloth making up," 
 said Aunt Seth. 
 
 " Yes, we can help you," remarked Mrs. Harmon, 
 " for we brought a firkin of butter." 
 
 Busy hands ^id busy tongues made light work and 
 decorous pastime down-stairs, where their faithful pastor 
 and his family moved among them with gracious ex- 
 pressions to each. It was curious to note the wonder- 
 ing appearance of some who paused upon the library 
 threshold and scanned its shelves, trying to make out 
 what manner of man their preacher was, so skilled in 
 letters, nor once doubting his knowledge of each book 
 from cover to cover. 
 
 A couple of neat, youngerly women, who did general 
 sewing for families round about, superintended the 
 work. They measured, cut, basted, turned hems, joked, 
 and laughed after their own gentle manner. 
 
 About twenty-five people dined at two long tables 
 laid in dining-room and library. Afterward, men who 
 had been chopping and riving donated wood resumed 
 their labors till two o'clock, when the house was full of 
 sedately joyous people. One room was given up to 
 work, the rest of the house to comers and goers.
 
 Parish Visit 331 
 
 When the Academy closed, 'Lisbeth and Lois found 
 Eunice, and from then mild frolic followed hard after 
 them from room to room. 
 
 1ST. P. Rogers, the singer and the prophet, greatly per- 
 plexed some brethren by new notions upon slavery. 
 Aunt Seth nodded a rather assenting cap-border to his 
 arguments, as Mr. Wilson observed, and inly vowed to 
 make her a visit the next Wednesday evening. 
 
 Every once in a while Mr. Ward pre-empted a space 
 in his library near a south window, talking in subdued 
 tones to one or another who needed advice, correction, 
 consolation, or sympathy. 
 
 He discerned that Mr. Wilson held no speech with 
 'Lisbeth, nor did she once regard him, and he thought 
 she studiously avoided being near her father; in fact, 
 they seemed as strangers. 
 
 He was pained and somewhat angered, but made no 
 sign of his watchful oversight, and was pleased to see, 
 that in the exchange of news, the rustle of silk against 
 homespun, and recalling of many memories, the occur- 
 rence passed unnoticed. 
 
 Hitty Stearns, whose tongue prevented her from be- 
 ing installed as a mistress of seams, for the pastor 
 would not countenance her so far, cornered Aunt Seth 
 about the middle of the afternoon. 
 
 " They dew say for certain, Mis' Batchelder, that 
 John Mayhew is goin' tew bring a gal home next 
 spring."
 
 332 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 A Mis' John ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He's a right tew ; we can't dispute that." 
 
 "But think of 'Lisbeth." 
 
 " Surmises an' surmises. Good deal we know, for 
 there ain't a closer-mouthed family livin' on the face of 
 this earth than the Wilsons." 
 
 " Look at her this minit, by that winder. I say she's 
 a'most cryin'." 
 
 There was a painful tug at Aunt Seth's heart ; for it 
 was a cast-down figure sure enough that she saw all by 
 itself, but in a moment it flitted gayly away with one of 
 the Hobart girls. She replied to Hitty, spurred by her 
 own deep feeling, and owning due fealty to the pious 
 house wherein she spoke. 
 
 "Hitty Stearns, if 'Lisbeth has got any sorrer, or 
 does have, she'll meet it with a believin' soul, alone, 
 wrestlin' like a woman Jacob afore Isril's God; but 
 she won't speak of it once tew you, nor tew me. She's 
 been set for a sign of good to all hereabouts sence she 
 was born, an' there won't be no change. Maid or wife, 
 she'll be a token of blessing allus." She rose quickly, 
 and took another chair beside Mrs. King and Mrs. 
 Willoughby. 
 
 "I hain't seen you, Mis' King, sence your husband 
 took his tramp for sellin' fur." 
 
 "Queer freak of David's runnin' round like that; but 
 he made a good trade for his winter's ketch."
 
 Parish Visit 333 
 
 Mrs. King was uneasy. She knew the particulars of 
 her husband's journey, and was afraid of questions. At 
 that very instant he came in with Mr. Cummings, who 
 was saying, 
 
 " I hear you've been a journey." 
 
 Every one gave strict attention ; for a trip of twenty 
 miles being a matter of town talk, one of more than 
 three weeks made him a travelled personage. 
 
 He saw at a glance an opportunity for which he had 
 waited since the Indian summer made way for snow. 
 Mr. Wilson was busy visiting with Mrs. Russell and 
 Mrs. Webster, of course he could not run ; Hitty stood 
 in the door leading to the kitchen, and would notify 
 Huldah ; 'Lisbeth was in some other room, a most 
 propitious union of circumstances. There was a venge- 
 ful twinkle in his eye as he answered, 
 
 "Yes; I went down the turnpike a piece jest tew 
 keep the dogs out of the corn. Le's set down, Mr. 
 Cummin's. We don't want no more stagin' for one 
 spell, though, the houn's an' me." 
 
 Where'd you go ? " 
 
 " Tew Boston." 
 
 " Boston ! Why didn't you start for the moon ? " 
 
 " I hain't never hunted thereaway. Ye see, I wanted 
 tew bargain for this winter's furs, an' I kinder hankered 
 tew see John Mayhew." 
 
 He slung one leg over the other, and winked hard at 
 the ceiling above Mr. Wilson's head.
 
 334 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 "I s'pose he's changed a good deal," piped Hitty, 
 beside herself with curiosity. 
 
 "Yes, Hitty, 'sponsibleness gives a master strong 
 twist tew a man. He's a high-steppin' critter, that's 
 a fac'. I told him some of our folks heerd he was 
 a-comin' home nex' spring with a bran' new wife." 
 
 " Is he ? " peremptorily demanded Hitty. 
 
 "Not less he gits some new idees 'tween now an' 
 then. But, Mr. Cummin's, we went everywhere ; tew 
 furriers an' gunsmiths ; but the last thing beat Bunker 
 Hill." 
 
 " What was it ? " 
 
 " The all-firedest mess of stuff as ever was put to- 
 gether, cars they call 'em, tew ride in ye know, - 
 pullin' done by steam." 
 
 " I see about it in our paper," said Mr. Hobart, who 
 was progressive ; " an' I sorter thought 'twould be a good 
 thing if it'll go." 
 
 " Go ! go ! I guess they go. You oughter see 'em 
 ' hyper.' John he took me tew the deepo', a house 
 they comes intew, an' soon I heerd a buzzin' an' spit- 
 tin' down the railroad, sounded some like a meet'n of 
 bears an' wile-cats ; then the train come roun' a corner 
 an' well I ain't skeert at nothin', but I kinder hung 
 back when that black critter tore along intew the deepo' 
 so proud an' grand an' all-fired business like. 'Twas a 
 reg'lar ' git out the way ole Dan Tucker ' performance. 
 I don't want tew see any more of 'em long as I live."
 
 Parish Visit 335 
 
 " Any folks git out of 'em ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I'll bet more 'n tew stage loads, or three 
 mebby." 
 
 " How big be they ? " 
 
 " Nigh the size of this f oreroom, not quite so wide an' 
 a leetle longer." 
 
 " Didn't you even step inside ? " 
 
 "No, sir. John tried tew have me jump on one of 
 the blamed things ; said 'twar on'y drawn back tew the 
 extry car-shed ; but I tole him, no, I didn't care a cent 
 whether they was goin' back or for'ards, they'd dew it 
 'thout me." 
 
 " There ain't no steam in the cars." 
 
 " You see, fire, an' water, an' steam air all harnessed 
 up by themselves, an' sep'rit in the ingin. It's got a 
 great fire-oven and biler behind it that looks some like 
 a barril on its side, but longer, an.' out of the biler, or 
 oven, or somethin', runs a big chimbly. The cars air 
 hooked onto this ingin." 
 
 " Does it look hansum ? " 
 
 " Humbly, humbliest thing I ever see, black an' 
 stubbed, and kinder devilish when it's fired up, that's 
 what they call it when the wood's in an' sparks a-flyin', 
 an' there's a crooked arm on each side that reaches 
 an' reaches ready tew grab, and it hisses like a million 
 sarpunts well, I kep' outen the way." 
 
 The women exclaimed, but the men winked at each 
 other, and said nothing. Finally one inquired,
 
 336 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " Does it make any noise ? " 
 
 " Cracky, you oughter hear it ! Rumbles louder'n 
 twenty wagons over the ledge close tew Mr. Lane's. 
 Then it whistles. Whew ! you've heerd steam come 
 outen a big coal pit it's nothin' tew it, nothin' ; an' 
 you've heerd dinner horns. Nabby'll blow ourn ahead 
 .of anybody I ever see, but that thing'll whoop louder'n 
 forty toots put together. I couldn't help laughin', 
 thinkin' of the wile critters, an' how they would scatter 
 an' scrabble if it should ever come this way." 
 
 Mrs. Bartlett remarked, when amaze had somewhat 
 subsided, that it was nearly time to go home. Mr. Ward 
 called the choir together ; and, after singing, he prayed 
 long and fervently for his departing flock. He requested 
 Mr. Wilson to remain until other good-bys were spoken, 
 and they were closeted together before harnessing. 
 
 Lettice, worn out from piloting butter, meat, and vege- 
 tables down cellar, blankets and linen up-stairs, to say 
 nothing of visiting, concluded to stay at Squire Baker's 
 until Sabbath day.
 
 Mr. Wilson's Illness 337 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 MR. WILSON'S ILLNESS 
 
 WINTER sped along over the Wilson district in rather 
 sober fashion; for the sparkle had partly died out of 
 spelling and singing schools, Eunice being married, Ruth 
 lonesome, and 'Lisbeth gone. To be sure, the Lanes 
 were lighter-hearted than usual, anticipating John's re- 
 turn. The sweet house-mother busied herself with some 
 alterations in John's room, putting up new curtains, 
 painting the basket-stuff chairs anew, polishing the little 
 lightstand, and so on, all and several of which changes 
 she narrated at Mr. Wilson's, to his perfect misery ; but 
 there was nothing to do except groan in the spirit and 
 keep silence. 
 
 The outcroppings of a general desire to see John were 
 his most nettling harassment, for the whole neighbor- 
 hood was broken in upon by expectation to such a de- 
 gree that even his most vital arguments with Aunt Seth 
 were disjoined by queries as to whether John would re- 
 turn at sugar time or wait for settled weather. 
 
 The King also was quite content. His hounds bayed 
 up mountain sides, their deep cry resounded from thick 
 woods, the tall figure of their master loped from covert 
 to covert. A long series of bright, crisp days led up to
 
 338 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 Candlemas, when a threatened thaw withdrew its her- 
 alds, and damp snow covered everything close as banded 
 wool. Sleet followed during the night; and the King 
 arose to find every tree and shrub, every level and hill, 
 robed in vestments of flawless crystal over a swathe of 
 snow. 
 
 It was the free and unlimited coinage, of silver, but 
 the fires in which it was smelted and the dies in which 
 it was struck remain a secret of Omnipotence. 
 
 The very inmost spirit of the hills throbbed in the 
 hunter's soiil when he pulled a curtain aside and beheld 
 that northern pageant. 
 
 Hurrying breakfast, he was speedily equipped. In 
 the heel taps of his fur boots were projecting nail-heads, 
 that took firm hold of the crust ; the dogs' claws failed 
 oftener than they. Diving into the opposing forest, he 
 tramped eastward by brook and glen, past bridges whose 
 stringers and floors were spun silver ; by fairy grottoes 
 more wonderful than Eastern imageries ; by falls over 
 which frolicking waters leaped and sang, domed by crys- 
 tal canopies. 
 
 He climbed Smith Hill through woods beyond the 
 farther dwelling, and kept on to Bridgewater meeting- 
 house, where the northland spread before him up, 
 
 "The winding vales of the Pemigewassett," 
 
 straight ahead over Campton's beautiful hills, to the far 
 horizon and the Presidential range of mountains.
 
 Mr. Wilson's Illness 339 
 
 "I never took tew Injun's, pups," he said, "but they 
 knew a thing or so 'bout names. ' Waumbek Methna,' 
 they called 'em, ' Mountings of the snowy forrids,' an' 
 that's jest what they are. I wonder what it'll be when 
 sunset comes an' them hills color up, some like our 
 roses an' laylocks." 
 
 He strolled along from point to point until nearly 
 noon ; then he scraped part of a bowlder clean, and sat 
 down close under a low spruce, where he commanded a 
 wide level landscape, hemmed in by forest, that spar- 
 kled as a sea of silver strewn with jewels. His simple 
 mind discerned in it some faint semblance to the sea of 
 glass mingled with fire. 
 
 " Beats all, pups. To-day is cap-sheaf, an' we won't 
 see another like it if we live forty year. Le's have a 
 morsel of meat." 
 
 He sat a long time, indeed till late afternoon, listening 
 to the cadence of bells from far roads, while nearer, twigs 
 snapped, branches fell, or an old growth tree, too heavily 
 weighted with splendor, crashed thundering down. 
 
 After a while he rose, threw the gun upon his 
 shoulder, and called to his dogs, "Mazin, Mazin, come, 
 well go home ; we hain't seen nary a brush nor heerd a 
 chirrup, but I'm glad we see sech a sight as this." 
 
 An hour after, when almost in view of home, he was 
 startled by a loud, resolute .sounding of Mrs. King's 
 dinner-horn. Harkening intently, he heard it again 
 waking the echoes. Another equal interval, and three
 
 340 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 long, swift notes rang clear and challenging. Clasping 
 his gun with one arm, he put his hands together and 
 blew an answering whistle. " Trouble ; 'tain't ISTabby, 
 for nobody livin' can toot like that 'cept her ; must be 
 one of the childern." He made a bee line home, turning 
 his gun into a jumping-pole over hollows, striking a 
 seven-league gait across levels, tugging and hauling by 
 limb and shrub up steep banks, till he saw his wife, and 
 David with a handsled, running to meet him, and he in- 
 quired breathlessly, 
 
 " Is it one of the gals Lucy ? " 
 
 " 'Tain't us ; it's the Wilsons." 
 
 " Who ? nobody dead, Nabby ? " 
 
 " 'Twouldn't be no use tootin' if they was. Mr. Wil- 
 son has been pooty bad all night an' wuss to-day. They 
 want 'Lisbeth an' the doctor, an' not a hoss sharp-shod 
 tew keep from tumblin' down, first step." 
 
 " I'm glad you brought my i'un shod sled, Dave. 
 Here, take this gun an' empty bag an' see tew the dogs, 
 Nabby ; mebbe you'll find a cut or tew in their feet, an 
 they're hungry." 
 
 " Don't worry 'bout nothin'. I 'spect that horn did 
 give ye a pooty sharp turn." 
 
 Mr. King wheeled, and in less than ten minutes en- 
 tered the Wilsons' east room, where grandma sat pale as 
 ashes, and Lettice was gray with waiting. 
 
 " I'm here ; what's up ; is he pooty sick ? " 
 
 " Desprit bad, an' growin' wuss ; some kind of a
 
 Mr. Wilson's Illness 341 
 
 fever, I'm cert'in. He took cold in the rain, and was 
 sick all night." 
 
 What's wanted ? " 
 
 " Doctor an' 'Lisbeth ; but it is nigh sundown ; can 
 you go ? " 
 
 " Go ! I've got tew go ; give me a bite, Lettice, right 
 in my hand. I've got my i'un runner, an' it '11 go 
 quicker 'n a hoss. My sled '11 jest whizz over this 
 glare crust, an' carry clear from one hill tew another. 
 I'll start the doctor less 'n forty minutes." 
 
 The old lady counted every minute on the dial, going 
 from chair to window and back. Two hours lacking a 
 quarter, and the King said in two hours Dr. Good would 
 come. What if he were away from home ? Five slow- 
 ticking moments passed and still five more. Lettice 
 lighted the lantern, so the boys might be ready to put 
 up the hard-driven horse. All the children joined in 
 that silent watch ; but only once did a stricken face look 
 out of the foreroom door, whither they had carried the 
 sick man. One, two, three more a faint jingle of 
 bells, a team flying down the crusty school-house hill, 
 and immediately the doctor entered with a cheery good- 
 evening, and a heartsome air as if nothing serious had 
 happened or would happen, rubbed and warmed his chill 
 fingers, and crossed the entry to the sick-room. 
 
 " There, 'tain't half so bad as 'twas," said Lettice. 
 "I declare for't, a good doctor is near enuff tew an 
 angil tew suit me. We'd better flax round an' git a
 
 342 ' Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 good supper for him ; an' it'll seem kinder incurrigin' 
 tew 'Lisbeth if the table's set, an' teakittle bilin', when 
 she comes.'' 
 
 Only a clean cloth and a few plates were on before 
 Mr. Baker drove up with 'Lisbeth and Mr. King, whose 
 " i'un runner " was fast to the sleigh. "When Dr. Good 
 returned, he cheered therh some, saying, 
 
 " Well, Mr. Wilson is in for a long pull, I reckon, good 
 deal of fever and bad tongue. I've given him a blue 
 pill, and shall bleed him to-morrow unless he is better." 
 
 " Fever, did you say ? Thomas never has fevers," 
 said dame Wilson ; but her dominance was gone, fearing 
 the conqueror of all born of women. 
 
 " One's enough. Kind ? Rheumatic probably ; but 
 he has a wonderful constitution, and I expect him to 
 weather it. Lettice is a good nurse, one of the best ; 
 besides, there is Mrs. Lane and A-unt Seth. Good 
 neighborhood to be sick in." 
 
 " Doctor, will it be long ? " 
 
 He wheeled to see a girl whose cloak had half-fallen 
 from her shoulders, .resolutely holding Tom and Dorothy 
 to her heart ; he also perceived that an intrepid and 
 helpful soul questioned him through those pale lips. 
 
 " 'Lisbeth ! why, bless my heart, how came you here ? 
 I'm glad to see you, for here is a chance to set a girl 
 thinking of something besides frills and furbelows." 
 
 " Will it be long, very long, indeed ? " pleaded she 
 drearily.
 
 Mr. Wilson's Illness 343 
 
 " Long ? H'ni, yes, 'Lisbeth ; this fever takes hold for 
 a whole steut ; " he went close and patted her head, 
 "but your stent and mine lasts equally with his. You 
 are to see we don't lose heart, and be spare hand all 
 round, and I hope your father will be out in season for 
 spring's work. Now I'm going to wait till Lettice 
 brews tea; you better learn her knack; capital." 
 
 After supper he went away, forbidding water to his 
 patient, and trebly cautioning against one breath of air 
 from doors or windows ; and so it w T ent on for four long 
 weeks. Mr. Wilson lay there full of pain, parched, 
 throbbing, almost motionless, indebted to that big, 
 blessed fireplace for any hint of healthful atmosphere 5 
 then Dr. Good announced a change imminent. 
 
 The fever died down to smouldering embers, staying 
 so, as if a breath might fan them into flames again along 
 those tortured arteries. Then some poison touched his 
 brain, so he noted nothing for two weeks more, but grew 
 whiter and thinner day by day. 
 
 'Lisbeth had watched him all along during hours of 
 sleep ; but when he ceased to know who tended at any 
 time, she kept her place almost continuously. Mrs. 
 Lane and Mrs. Batchelder spent most of the time there, 
 and Mr. King hovered round the house constantly. The 
 doctor ordered a curtain up, hoping sunbeams might 
 rouse him. 
 
 Sometimes the patient quickly raised his restless head 
 as though trying to make sure of some half-understood
 
 344 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 sound, and immediately was lost again. At last, one 
 night when Mrs. Lane and 'Lisbeth watched, about mid- 
 night he stirred uneasily and faintly whispered, " 'Lis- 
 beth." 
 
 She was beside him, and bent over, saying softly, "I 
 am here, father." 
 
 A feeble smile flitted over his wan visage, but it 
 seemed like that of a sleeping child. 
 
 " father ! my father ! " sobbed the girl ; and Mrs. 
 Lane led her out and soothed her to sleep, after calling 
 Mrs. Wilson and Aunt Seth. 
 
 When she entered the east room the next morning it 
 was flooded with sunshine ; a meek thankfulness clothed 
 dame Wilson ; and Lettice's eyes were swollen with tears, 
 yet she was humming, " I bless the Lord, he heard my 
 cries ; " and grandma, unreproving, kept time with her 
 foot. 
 
 " How is father ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " Better ; he knows your mother an' all of 'em." 
 
 " Since when, Lettice ? " 
 
 " Well, soon after you went up-stairs, it seems he be- 
 gun to sleep easy, grew moist an' cool, stayin' so till 
 past daybreak. Jest as the -sun riz he opened his eyes 
 an' called, ' Marthy,' an' spoke tew the others, then 
 slep' ag'in, so it's goin' on. I carried him a cup of crust 
 coffee ten minits ago, an' he seemed like himself, on'y 
 weak as a rat." 
 
 The King sauntered in saying,
 
 Mr. Wilson's Illness 345 
 
 "Here, Lettice, here's some bran new eggs mother 
 sent. Ye see, 'Lisbeth, I come up once afore this 
 mornin'. It's all right. The dogs an' me are startin' 
 on a tramp." 
 
 'Lisbeth sank into a chair. Living, he became dead 
 to her, he would no longer tolerate her loving ministra- 
 tions. Between them a soundless, invisible wall had 
 risen, even his mighty will. But he was better, life 
 was returning slowly, and how thankful she was ; yes, 
 utterly blessed, for death had not set the seal of eternal 
 silence at the sepulchre door of a father's dead affection, 
 and vital sense being restored, hope for renewal of lov- 
 ing favor was revived, also. Still, the folding of hands 
 that had been so swift and busy would be very hard ; 
 and what time must one wait, if, indeed, relenting 
 should ever come ? . Lettice, divining her thoughts, 
 said, 
 
 " There, now, you've been cooped up a long spell ; an' 
 I shouldn't wonder a mite nor grain if you could find 
 mayflowers a'most out on the oak knoll, down below 
 the ridge. You eat breakfast, an' then take a good long 
 run. I'll call the boys an' Dorothy." 
 
 " But, Lettice, are you sure he has not wandered 
 since ? " 
 
 " Wandered ! good land, no ; he's clear as a whistle, 
 noticed how full an' red the buds air, an' smiled at a 
 robin's chatter in the cherry tree. He couldn't draw a 
 very straight furrer, nor help Mr. Tyrrell pitch corn
 
 346 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 stalks from the high beams ; but that don't signify, he 
 eat all the breakfast we dast give him an' wanted more, 
 a roast tater or sum thin." 
 
 " You better dew as Lettice says soon's you're through 
 breakfast," added the dame in a pacific tone, the threat 
 absent from her cap-border. 
 
 " Here's the childern an' your things. Boys, you 
 want Watch tew bark at the fox holes, I s'pose ; call 
 him." 
 
 Rebuilding, recreating power vivified the air, burst 
 from the sod, swelled tree and bush, as they went forth. 
 Where 'Lisbeth's foot crushed thin frost-panes over 
 little hollows, there green grass blades sprang beneath 
 such tiny hot-bed frames, and by brook banks fern 
 fronds were unrolling at the sunny foot of warming 
 rocks. She was blessed, comforted, the more so as one 
 tenderly harbored- fancy housed itself in her mind, 
 what if -her father did realize when he said '"Lisbeth," 
 at midnight, ah, surely. 
 
 For three days thereafter the doctor rubbed his hands 
 more and more gleefully at each visit. " Sha'n't come 
 again for two days, Mrs. Wilson. We can't keep him 
 in bed much longer; nothing but restlessness ails him 
 now." 
 
 The fifth day he was made ready to receive the 
 doctor in state. Another thick curtain was rolled up, 
 letting in the full, healing sunbeams. 
 
 " You certainly look like yourself, Thomas," said his
 
 Mr. Wilson's Illness 347 
 
 wife ; and he smiled up to her so lovingly as to recall a 
 far distant memory. 
 
 " Yes, I am weak ; but life has come back, I feel sure 
 of that." 
 
 His eyes wandered to a pitcher of pussy willows, 
 whose furry buds seemed to have crawled up the red 
 stems into sunshine, and to some half-opened mayflow- 
 ers, flinging sweet odors from tinted cups. 
 
 " Who picked them, Marthy ? " 
 
 " The childern," and she started to go out. 
 
 " Come back here, mother." Then, after a pause, 
 " Did 'Lisbeth come home ? " 
 
 " Yes, Thomas," she replied, trembling. 
 
 When ? " 
 
 " A few minutes after the doctor." 
 
 "That first night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I hain't heard her siugin', an' I s'pose she's gone 
 back 'fore now." 
 
 She wondered if that was why he was uneasy. Did 
 he wish her out of the house, or in it ? 
 
 No questions could be asked; and she tremblingly 
 answered, 
 
 " No ; she is at home." 
 
 " Where is she now ? " 
 
 " Winding flax on the distaff." 
 
 " Has she been in here- much ? " 
 
 Yes."
 
 348 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 "Was she here when I woke out of that tarrible 
 dream, an' fell into the sleep that saved me ? " 
 
 " She was here till after midnight ; you were sleep- 
 ing sweetly when I came in but there, father, you 
 mustn't talk." 
 
 She shook from head to foot ; but her husband closed 
 his eyes restfully, and remained silent till the door 
 opened. Then he said, 
 
 . " Come right in, Lettice. I'm tired waitin' for that 
 broth, an' I hope the bowl's .full." 
 
 After partaking of the food, he said,- 
 
 " There, now, you both go out, an' send 'Lisbeth in." 
 
 "Why, Thomas, the doc"- 
 
 " Send 'Lisbeth in, Marthy." Both women were 
 amazed, but Lettice rose to the occasion. 
 
 "'Twon't hurt him a mite, Mis' Wilson. Yes, I'll 
 find her," she nodded to the sick man, and led his' wife 
 out by the sleeve. 
 
 " Don't worry 'bout it, Mis' Wilson ; it'll be wuth all 
 the doctor's stuff, and all the roots an' arbs in our ole 
 garrit tew boot." 
 
 Half an hour later the doctor drove briskly up, and 
 ran in. 
 
 " How's our why, Lettice, what's happened ? Is 
 Mr. Wilson worse ? " 
 
 "It's my 'pinion, Dr. Good, he's better this blessid 
 mornin' than he's been for years, an' I don't know but 
 "allus. But I'm most 'fraid he'll die, an' I s'pose I bet- 
 ter tell you jest how 'tis."
 
 Father Benson Calls on Mr. Wilson 349 
 
 So she related briefly the history of those years so 
 full of pain, adding, " Her mother an' me we opened 
 the door a few minits ago; she looked like an angil if 
 ever there was one, an' her father was sleepin', paler 
 but quiet. Either he's goin' tew die, or else he has 
 made a sin-off erin' for his soul, cordin' tew Scripter." 
 Tears rained down the poor maid's face, but the doctor 
 was relieved. 
 
 "I knew he was fretting, and it was this that kept 
 him back. The morning's work Avill do him good, I'll 
 be bound ; don't worry. I'm going to Mrs. Smith's, and 
 will be back in an hour or so ; let him sleep." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 FATHER BENSON CALLS ON MK. WILSON 
 
 No other syllable was ever spoken in the house con- 
 cerning the unnatural silence between those two, and 
 none ever knew what passed between father and daugh- 
 ter in the fore room that April morning. 'Lisbeth was 
 radiant ; the old rippling laughter returned, and low 
 sounds of hymns and ballads followed her from room 
 to room ; yet there was a hint of pathetic wistfulness, 
 which one always wears after shadow and sorrows fall. 
 It is a sign manual testifying that some time love has 
 failed or hope been wrecked. She prepared her father's
 
 350 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 noon repast as if it were a matter of orarse, and carried 
 the refreshment to him with such demure happiness as 
 did one's heart good to see. 
 
 " Here is a fresh egg, and a piece of toast. Lettice 
 contributes the least bit of jelly, and the doctor says 
 you are to have a chicken's wing tomorrow." 
 
 He grew rapidly better, and took counsel with the 
 squire as to crops and stock. By the last of May he 
 walked slowly into the near fields once in a while, but 
 lived out of the house, sitting in his great rockhig-chair 
 placed on a bear skin that covered grass prinked out 
 with dandelion blossoms and shaded by the blue-damson 
 tree. Here in his front yard, with grandma knitting 
 beside him, he watched 'Lisbeth and her mother sow 
 four-o'clock and morning-glory seeds, make new house- 
 leek beds, transplant roses and ladies' delights, and trim 
 lilacs. Here also, beside him, 'Lisbeth's linen wheel 
 hummed through fair afternoons, and his wife set long 
 delayed stitches. One day he told Mrs. Wilson and 
 'Lisbeth that he had requested Squire Baker to ask 
 Father Benson if he would call on his way to Confer- 
 ence, which met in June. He had been unjust to the 
 circuit-rider, he said, and harsh in speech concerning 
 him and his calling ; so both women rightly guessed Mr. 
 Wilson desired to atone for such perverseness. 'Lisbeth 
 fixed her gaze upon the Pond, and a hope, like the first 
 tiny bud of spring, swelled in her heart. Perhaps some 
 day he would make reparation for a greater fault. She
 
 Father Benson Calls on Mr. Wilson 351 
 
 remembered when he sent for her he took all blame to 
 himself, but she recollected also that not a single breath 
 concerning John escaped his lips. She sighed, and went 
 into the house. 
 
 Not long after, near noon, as 'Lisbeth read to her 
 father, the dappled gray, bearing his martial rider, 
 trotted carefully down schoolhouse hill. He thrust his 
 ears forward inquiringly when the drawing rein turned 
 him towards the unaccustomed house ; but he cantered 
 gayly up to the invalid, nodded his head, blinked his 
 eyes, and champed his bit, as saying, 
 
 "My master reins me hither. I must needs come, 
 but am very puzzled about it." 
 
 "Good-morning, brother," spoke the sweet-voiced 
 preacher, throwing himself from the saddle, "are you 
 much better ? " 
 
 " I'm nigh well. 'Lisbeth, call the boys to take care 
 of the horse. Won't you sit down here ? I like bein' 
 out of doors." 
 
 'Lisbeth pulled some clover heads for the horse as 
 she returned, which he took, gratefully whinnying. 
 
 " It is comin' noontime, an' we shall be glad to have 
 you take dinner with us if you will." 
 
 The preacher's deep eyes glowed. 
 
 " I shall be pleased to break bread with you, but I 
 must be gone soon after. Conference meets in ten days, 
 and I have matters of importance on the road between 
 here and Lynn."
 
 352 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " 'Lisbeth, tell your mother Mr. Benson will take 
 dinner with us." 
 
 Lettice heard the message, and straightway went to 
 the window, impressed that age had dulled her hearing; 
 but there was Father Benson in plain evidence. 
 
 "Well, I'm beat," said she to her friend, Mary Sy- 
 mons ; " 'tis Father Benson, sure as you live, an' Mr. 
 Wilson has fit and contended, an' sot his foot down that 
 he never ort tew darken an orthodox door. I dew 
 wonder what next. Seems tew me rumatiz clears up 
 some like a thunder shower." 
 
 'Lisbeth did not return to them, knowing her father 
 would wish to be alone. Serious tones gave place to 
 lighter ones, and, going to bring them in to dinner, 
 'Lisbeth found her sire enjoying stories of perilous and 
 laughable adventure ; for his guest possessed much 
 charm as a narrator, allied to grace and courage in the 
 exercise of his holy calling. 
 
 After dinner the circuit-rider asked leave to pray, 
 
 which he did with such uplifting fervor and childlike 
 
 faith, such perfect trust and absolute nearness to Al- 
 
 - mighty Love, as blessed the members of that household 
 
 to their lives' end. Then he sung, 
 
 "Blest be the tie that binds 
 Our hearts in Christian love." 
 
 Father Benson promised to repeat his visit as he came 
 back ; for, his field of labor being farther away, oppor-
 
 Father Benson Calls on Mr. Wilson 353 
 
 tunities for visiting Mr. Wilson would be infrequent. 
 Then he went away saying to himself, 
 
 " How he has grown in grace, blessed be God." And 
 the farmer, watching the horseman disappearing behind 
 the little barn, thought, "Verily, Christ's spirit dwells 
 in him, though his creed is so wrong and upsetting." 
 
 Mr. Wilson joyfully anticipated Father Benson's re- 
 turn, which occurred the last of June, when they walked 
 the fields together till late afternoon, the minister being 
 obliged to leave only in season to reach West Plymouth 
 by early candlelight, where he would preach the Word 
 to the flock he once shepherded. 
 
 The next week, about the middle of one afternoon, 
 Mr. Wilson was very anxious about his paper. Work 
 drove, but he could not be disappointed ; so he remarked 
 to his wife, 
 
 "This is Thursday; our paper comes to-day. We 
 need the boys, an' 'Lisbeth better go for it if you don't 
 want her. Besides, I'm lookin' for a package she can 
 bring better 'n they." 
 
 " She will be glad to go ; and I want to send an errant 
 to Mis' Harmon's, 'bout a reed. She can call coming 
 back." 
 
 " The stage will leave that package to the blacksmith's, 
 same as the paper, 'Lisbeth," said he, as she came out, 
 clad in a blue-and-white linen dress, with a piece of lace 
 coming from under her half-high bodice and run into a 
 ruffle close about her throat by blue ribbon. He ob-
 
 354 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 served her anxiously, as she went down over the little 
 barn hill, and seemed restless when she disappeared; 
 indeed, he was so always, even if she but journeyed 
 from room to room. Lettice, near by, rapped her snuff 
 box and nodded to Mrs. Wilson, saying, 
 
 "-I've seen folks traipsin' roun' on thistles, or tryin' 
 tew 'fore now ; but, judgin' by eyesight, they're fur from 
 comf'table." 
 
 "I'll go down an' see Mr. Tyrrell 'bout helpin' Mr. 
 Lane with his hayin' to-morrer, Marthy, 'fore 'Lisbeth 
 gits back with our paper." 
 
 She soon reached the broken level that ran past Mr. 
 King's into the woods. She pulled her calash off, and, 
 full of glad young life, sprang along between rows of 
 waxing verdure sprinkled with myriad wayside blooms. 
 Bees murmured among bending clovers, and humming- 
 birds drew honied stores from deep flower chalices. 
 Every nook, even the air itself, was full of vigorous life 
 and echoing melody. The forest shadows were cool and 
 grateful as she entered them, and the beautiful hem- 
 locks were tipped as to each twig with tufts of vivid 
 green ; beech and oak swung their light foliage to the 
 breeze. Woven amongst the verdancy swayed heavy 
 white heads of moosewood blooms, and underfoot were 
 violets of many hues, and delicate ferns. A few rods 
 into the woods a short sandy hill descended to a stony, 
 full-banked brook, crossed by a heavy plank bridge. 
 The gully was deep and very cool, and the waters mur-
 
 Father Benson Calls on Mr. Wilson 355 
 
 mured fondly to their banks bordered with moss and 
 fern. Squirrels chattered gayly as they whisked back 
 and forth upon the lichened stringers, hiding for a 
 second in tall brakes growing at either end. She 
 gathered her hands full of violets and partridge-vines, 
 and drew herself to a seat on a great rock beside a 
 stringer, to knot them and think of him who loved her, 
 and who also delighted in those exquisite growths of 
 woody dells. The King's averment that he "was 
 John, jest John," was comforting, though he was far 
 from that glorious budding arid blossoming, that blithe 
 trilling of nesting birds and song of falling waters. 
 
 If he would come then, she reasoned, while Mr. 
 Wilson's conciliatory habit -lasted and unwonted be- 
 nignity held mastery, surely justice would be rendered 
 to them. The tares of the evil one might choke the 
 gracious crop which was surely breaking through the 
 storm-swept soil of her father's heart. Ought she not 
 to hasten his coming by sending a message, if the King 
 would undertake it, and tell him now was the favored 
 time to draw hitherward ? The cumbering revery was 
 so deep, she heard no footsteps down the opposite sandy 
 incline, nor noticed a youth who strode eagerly to the 
 bridge, then stopped, arrested by a figure seated in such 
 a patient, waiting attitude upon a rock. For a moment, 
 it seemed as if not only motion, but breath itself, was 
 hushed in him ; then a great light shone in his face, and 
 he pulled his cap off and strode forward. A swift foot-
 
 356 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 fall smote her ear as it struck the bridge, yet she hardly 
 collected her mind enough to marvel what neighbor 
 came up and crossed the bridge with such fleet strides. 
 Suddenly she raised her eyes to see, then slipped from 
 the rock, scattering vines and violets round her feet. 
 Mechanically she put a hand above her eyes as if to 
 clear their vision, then clasped them in the old way and 
 leaned forward wonderingly. 
 
 " 'Lisbeth," he called, swinging his cap. Yes, it was 
 he, her lover, John, his chestnut hair, his matching 
 eyes ; yet an air of great humility stole into his manner 
 as he approached her. 
 
 " 'Lisbeth, my love ; 'Lisbeth." 
 
 Slowly she raised a hand and touched his face, whis- 
 pering his name. 
 
 "But, 'Lisbeth," he asked after a while, "why are 
 you so surprised to see me ? " 
 
 " Surprised ? why, because you wrote to Mrs. Lane 
 you were not coming." 
 
 " That was before I heard." 
 
 " I cannot understand anything about it." 
 
 " Did you not come to meet me ? I thought so. Sit 
 down on the rock again, don't tremble so, and tell 
 me where you were going." 
 
 " To Brainard's corner, for father's paper." 
 
 "I have it. I remembered it was due to-day." 
 
 You ? " 
 
 " Yes, I recollected to-day is Thursday."
 
 Father Benson Calls on Mr. Wilson 357 
 
 Taking it to him ? " 
 
 " Certainly, provided I remember it after reaching 
 the house." 
 
 " Oh, I was to bring a package too ; I forgot it." 
 
 Light dawned upon the young man when the per- 
 plexed girl made that statement. 
 
 " What sort of a bundle was this ? " 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 " But you were to take it home ? " 
 
 "Yes." . 
 
 " My dear, what if I am the bundle ? " 
 
 " You ? No, he sent for this one." 
 
 " He sent for me." 
 
 " Sent ? my father sent for you ? " 
 
 " He did, 'Lisbeth, by Father Benson ; or, rather, 
 commanded my immediate presence here. He knew I 
 was coming on this afternoon stage ; that is, if Father 
 Benson has returned from Conference." 
 
 " He has, but what has he to do about you ? Why 
 don't you explain things to me ? " 
 
 " What I know is this : your uncle requested Father 
 Benson to call at your house on his way to Conference. 
 He did so ; and your father asked him to find me and 
 say that he wished me to come home immediately, and 
 here I am." 
 
 " Oh, dear me, John, I don't see how it is," said she, 
 smoothing her forehead in a puzzled fashion. 
 
 " If you will kindly take me to your father, perhaps
 
 358 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 lie can explain, and I am sure your errand will be 
 done." 
 
 " But why didn',t father " - 
 
 " Never mind ; we will inquire if I am the expected 
 bundle. Easy enough to take me back and exchange, 
 you know." 
 
 They went hand in hand out of the forest. As they 
 reached a point opposite the King's gate, dame King 
 saw them from where the family sat at table. 
 
 " Good land, who's that ? 'Lisbeth, ain't it ? Yes ; 
 but who under the sun is that feller? My stars, 
 David," rushing to the door, " I do b'leve you come 
 here, quick, ain't that " 
 
 " Yis, 'tis ; 'tis jest him." Mr. King was out at one 
 bound. "Hi, whoop, hoo-oo-o-o," he whistled through 
 his hands. John swung his hat, and sent a happy hello 
 adown the orchard. The women waved their aprons, 
 the dogs barked, and Mrs. King suggested, 
 
 " Le's cut acrost the orchard an' speak tew him over 
 the fence ; " but her husband knowingly replied, 
 
 " There's folks nuff out in the road, Nabby ; you ain't 
 needed." 
 
 There was no make believe or acting between the two 
 men when they met ; both were clear-cut, honest, Chris- 
 tian, and they greeted each other as such men would. 
 When John hastened to meet Mr. Wilson, who was 
 going towards him ('Lisbeth ran in at the east door), the 
 stern man, aged and mellowed by his journey to the 
 very marge of eternal boundaries, heartily said,
 
 Father Benson Calls on Mr. Wilson 359 
 
 "I'm glad you've come, John; and you're kindly wel- 
 come, else I shouldn't sent. I can't say but I should be 
 better pleased if 'Lisbeth was goin' to marry some man 
 of our own denomination ; but she ain't, an' can't. There's 
 nothin' changin' 'bout 'Lisbeth, an' I've been so close to 
 eternity that I realize it'll take mor'n creeds to save a 
 soul." 
 
 The young man choked, and clung speechless to the 
 thin hand, looking away to Sugarloaf, whose shadow 
 before the lowering sun came well nigh across the Pond. 
 At that moment the tissue of earthly living fell apart, 
 and the substance of immortal existence became real ; 
 he confronted and understood his own heart's faithful 
 devotion, and the mightier, holier mystery of Divine 
 Love. He recognized also the grandeur of Mr. Wilson's 
 character, and the benignity of his yielding ; and he an- 
 swered very slowly, 
 
 " You know me ; what I have been, I am. At least, I 
 can hereafter be no less than now ; but I am not worthy 
 of her no man could be that; still, I may say, and 
 ought to say, that I have kept free from every folly, 
 determined to bring to this day, that I knew was com- 
 ing, all the manhood with which God endowed me." 
 
 " I have no fear for her or you," answered Mr. Wil- 
 son, proudly scanning the splendid youth. 
 
 "But, Mr. Wilson, whether this blessing comes 
 through foreordination or free will, I am equally 
 thankful."
 
 360 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " It stands to my reason and conscience that it is 
 foreordained, John; but here comes mother an' Lettice 
 an' the boys, they're all glad." 
 
 " Speakin' of merrycles," said Lettice to Tom, as she 
 swung up the tin baker cover to look at the biscuit 
 browning before the fire, " 'tain't no use to deny 'em 
 I do hope there ain't a grain tew much sal'ratus in these 
 biscuits ; you jest bring me a glass of barb'ry jell for 
 these tarts, Tom 'tain't no use tew deny 'em, not a 
 mite, for there's a real live one settin' out in our front 
 yard this minnit." 
 
 'Lisbeth made even her brothers proud, as she sat 
 beside her father at supper, in the seat to which she 
 was reinstated when he first broke bread with his family 
 after those weeks of desperate illness, so shy, so con- 
 stantly changing color, so comely and happy. 
 
 " I must see Aunt Nancy, Mrs. Wilson/' John said. 
 " May 'Lisbeth walk up with me ? I will bring her 
 home." 
 
 Of course she went. Reaching the half-way mark he 
 said, 
 
 " How fragrant the sweetbrier is, 'Lisbeth," and led 
 her for a while to the old birch seat under the spicy 
 canopy, then they went on again towards the little 
 brown house whose lichened boards and shingles were 
 so homely and so dear. 
 
 A trim figure leaned against the well-curb, bonnet in 
 hand, facing partly from them and waiting. His heart
 
 The End 361 
 
 bounded at sight of her, and pained him a trifle too ; for 
 she looked older, and a faint shadow, tinremembered, 
 had settled on the cheery countenance. Dear little 
 woman ! how those busy brown hands had toiled *for 
 him, and how white they would become when the Mas- 
 ter blessed them for their long, willingly wrought tasks 
 for his little ones ! Mr. Lane came round the corner 
 and she called to him, 
 
 " Mr. Lane, I kinder want to see how Mr. Wilson gits 
 along, so I thought I'd slip on my bonnet and run down. 
 Do you want me to see about the haying ? " 
 
 But he paid no attention, regarding something beyond 
 her with amazement. She started towards him. 
 
 " What is the matter ? Are you sick ? " 
 
 " Jest look behind you ; " and she did. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIV 
 
 THE END 
 
 LONG before dark the next day the whole neighbor- 
 hood was rejoicing because John Mayhew had returned. 
 It knew also that he supped at Farmer Wilson's before 
 going home, and that 'Lisbeth kept him company to his 
 aunt's at sunset, and it was glad of it. 
 
 Gossip and bickering were foreign to that soil ; it was 
 an orthodox relief, whether shared by Congregational-
 
 362 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 ists or what not, when the time was ripe to weed out 
 and consume them, root and branch. Huldah took 
 snuff vehemently and thoughtfully, then went off visit- 
 ing. The rest proved the adage, " All the world loves a 
 lover," to be entirely true. 
 
 John and 'Lisbeth rode out to Plymouth next morn- 
 ing to visit at the squire's. As they passed each neigh- 
 bor's house, its dwellers ran to the road from in-doors or 
 field especially to greet John, honest if unspoken joy 
 beaming from their true faces, whether under sun- 
 bonnet or straw hat. 
 
 All who under perverse guidance had unwittingly 
 wronged John in their silent or spoken judgment, made 
 haste in their own quaint and quiet fashion to testify 
 their pride in his verified manhood. And he kept to 
 the old ways as if there had been no fault in the 
 past. He helped Mr. Lane at odd times in the fields ; 
 stalked over Mr. Wilson's farm after haymakers and 
 harvesters ; lined bees with the King, following his long 
 stride with boyish glee ; became mediator between him 
 and the farmers whose cornfields he and his dogs had 
 trampled ; held grandma's yarn (the cap-frill had be- 
 come strangely pacific) ; sat with his aunt and Louisa 
 on the garden bank by the hollyhocks, where Father 
 Benson spent an hour so long before, and she told him 
 of his parents, and made many wise suggestions for his 
 new home, as she sewed or knit. As for quilting and 
 visitings, Huldah said they were " thicker'n black-
 
 The End 363 
 
 berries ; nobody couldn't do more for tew folks if they'd 
 been Sol'mon and the Queen of Sheby." 
 
 The village people claimed part of his time, which he 
 gladly spent merry-making there ; but best of all were 
 rambles with 'Lisbeth through cool woods on late after- 
 noons, and homecomings in the moonlit splendor of 
 dewy eves. What with 'Lisbeth's wedding in early 
 October, and preparations for housekeeping afterward, 
 it was in truth a busy summer. Lettice, as chief of 
 happy toilers, was, as she expressed it, 
 
 " Chock full of business ? Well, I guess so. For 
 the land's sake, merried in three months, an' not a 
 livin' thing ready, nor a stitch sot." 
 
 After they had composed their minds, Mr. Wilson and 
 his wife went to Plymouth to buy the wedding gowns, 
 first consulting Mrs. Baker and Lois. 
 
 "White, Aunt Martha, for the wedding dress." 
 
 " But it will be October, Lois." 
 
 " White is the only color fit for 'Lisbeth, if 'twas Jan- 
 uary. She must have fine muslin, embroidered in apple- 
 blossoms by Lois Baker." 
 
 Mr. Wilson listened, and added decidedly, 
 
 " Lois is right, Marthy." 
 
 So it was bought, also a green and dark red change- 
 able silk, which they planned to make with four 
 breadths, short full waist, and broad belt. It must be 
 gathered into narrow bands at the low neck, which must 
 be filled in with lace ; its large sleeves lined with calico,
 
 364 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 for which they paid seventy-five cents a yard. The 
 thick silk cost a dollar a yard, and would wear twenty 
 years. 
 
 " She will need another silk gown," said her mother. 
 
 " Don't buy it to-day, Aunt Martha ; you will have to 
 buy some camlet for her dress and cloak to journey in, 
 cloak lining, some lace, and all the other trimmings. 
 They've got the prettiest camlet plum-color lovely. 
 I've been over everything in the store." 
 
 Lois had regularly invoiced the stock of dry goods for 
 her father, who, owning a peculiar nearness and affection 
 for the promised bride, proposed to bestow various gifts, 
 among others a piece of dove-colored satin sprinkled 
 with clusters of sweetbrier roses and wood violets, 
 which Lois' constructive genius, aided by a dressmaker, 
 had already fashioned (she could wear her cousin's 
 dresses) into a gown having five breadths for its short 
 train, a short pointed bodice, low neck, to be worn 
 with a beautiful stomacher of embroidery, high puffed 
 sleeves, with wide frills of English lace depending from 
 them. 
 
 " I don't see but you will have to spare Lois to us," 
 said Mrs. Wilson, as they returned from the store. 
 Mrs. Baker assented ; and Lois presumed she should 
 "come in very handy," shaking her bright head, and 
 adding that she wished to stay most of the remaining 
 time with 'Lisbeth, and so the squire carried her out a 
 day. or two after, dove-colored satin and all.
 
 The End 365 
 
 Towards evening one day, Mrs. Lane came down to 
 see the new things, John being appointed special mes- 
 senger. The goods were gently smoothed, held to the 
 light, praised, folded, and put back again into lavender- 
 scented drawers. 
 
 " I was coining down a minit, anyway," said she, " to 
 tell you what John has up to our house. I'm so glad 
 they air going to housekeeping." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Wilson, " 'Lisbeth's always had a 
 home of her own, an' she's goin' tew, right along, I 
 calc'late." 
 
 " Well, I've kept his mother's things for him ; there's 
 two large chests of linen and blankets, some of the 
 sheets and pillowcases are plain, some hemstitched. We 
 found towels of all kinds ; nice ones, netted, some of 
 them, and common ones ; netted tablecloths and fringed 
 ones, beside several plain hemmed. Loizy and I have 
 been looking them over ; they're most as good as new, 
 and so is her chiny, not a piece broke or cracked, nor a 
 spoon of her silver lost, and she had a good deal besides 
 the silver tea-set and coffee-urn 'John's father had fall 
 to him." 
 
 " 'Lisbeth has a good many towels, plain or bird's-eye, 
 or fox and gee je, tablecloths too ; she's knit edging, oak- 
 leaf pattern, and other kinds for them she thought was 
 nice enough to put any on ; one tablecloth has edging 
 most a finger wide, and some towels have ; but Lettice is 
 ready to spool the web we had ready when father wns 
 taken sick," answered Mrs. Wilson.
 
 366 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 " I wouldn't weave another thread ; they'll have 
 enough to set up housekeeping for a dozen." 
 
 "I'll see what Lettice thinks. Lettice ! Lettice ! " 
 she called, going towards a window as the maid came 
 in, " Why, Lettice, isn't that " - 
 
 " Huldy ? Yes, 'tis. I'm glad you called me." 
 
 " What did she want ? " 
 
 " Tew peek an' squeeze in, an' have sunthin' or other 
 tew tell on." 
 
 " I hope you minded your manners." 
 
 " Yes'm, I did," she replied dryly ; " she ast me if she 
 could dew anything tew help us ; says she feels for us, 
 with so much on our hands ; an' I tole her no, I didn't 
 b'leve there was a livin' thing more she could dew." 
 
 " Why, Lettice ! " 
 
 "Law, she didn't take ; she was tickled, an' went right 
 on sayin' if we did want her jest give a hint on't, she'd 
 come day or night." 
 
 " Did you answer properly ? " 
 
 " I dunno ; 'cording to what you call proper. I tole 
 her we shouldn't need watchers probably, an' I despised 
 hintin', an' never practised it; but if she was wanted 
 we'd speak right up an' let her know. I s'pose Isaiah 
 Holmes would come tew, bein' sent for; though it's as 
 funny as ever I see or ever was, how much less 'tention 
 cooper's timber needs this summer than it did last." 
 
 " Their fault may make them humble, Lettice." 
 
 " Humble ? I guess so ! They don't look much like 
 leek eatin' critters."
 
 The End 367 
 
 " Remember the commandments, Lettice." 
 
 " I try tew an' mean tew, Mis' Wilson ; but as long as 
 I live, speakin' the name of Isaiah Holmes or Huldy 
 Moses will set my teeth on aidge wuss'n sorrel. What 
 did you call me for ? " 
 
 " Mis' Lane thinks we better not put in our linen web. 
 You talk it over with her." 
 
 The three women finally concluded there were house- 
 hold goods enough and to spare. Then Mrs. Lane 
 asked, 
 
 " Lettice, what are you going to wear at the wed- 
 ding ? " 
 
 " I hain't a gown fit. I'm goin' tew buy a new one, 
 an' have it made by a dressmaker. I've been thinkin' " 
 she was silent a moment before inquiring shyly, 
 
 " Mis' Wilson, do you an' 'Lisbeth think I could wear 
 silk-an-wool stuff mouse color ? I kinder want sun- 
 thin' 'sides black." 
 
 Lois clapped her hands, ran up-stairs, and returned 
 bearing a bundle. 
 
 " There, Lettice, see what fuss you have saved us ; 
 mother sent the very thing you want, and we've been 
 trembling for fear you'd try to change it for black, and 
 meant you shouldn't." 
 
 <' Why, Lois ! Dear me, suz ! There ! This is a dret- 
 ful nice piece, but how did your mother happen tew 
 think of me ? " 
 
 "That is a mystery, Lettice; but mother has queer
 
 368 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 spells. We never mind them, or else she'd thought of 
 the rest of us till she was tired, and remembered you to 
 rest her. 'Lisbeth has some rose-tinted lute-string rib- 
 bon to tie your gold beads." 
 
 " Do you think I shall look well in this, 'Lisbeth/' 
 she asked, regarding the cloth lovingly. 
 
 " Certainly, else Aunt Lois would not send it ; but," 
 she added, smoothing the plain face, " you would be 
 lovely to me in any color." 
 
 Lettice's cup was full ; she burst into tears and went 
 out. 
 
 Planning and making, packing and nailing boxes, went 
 on till sumachs flung their crimson guidons out, waving 
 to forest and grove, weed and quivering fern, to follow 
 in long battalions of gold and crimson, russet and ochre. 
 
 October first was set for the marriage, and Lettice 
 required ample time to "furnish forth the marriage 
 feast." 
 
 Tom and Jack were warned not to appear in the 
 kitchen, except to deposit ovenwood, after she and her 
 assistants, Eunice and Louisa, were installed therein for 
 festive purposes. 
 
 Lettice went from pantry to oven, to a table where 
 Louisa crimped tart shells, to another where Eunice 
 pounded in the mortar and sifted loaf sugar, or wher- 
 ever either or both were busy, with an ever-anxious 
 manner, from day to day. 
 
 Had that week of baking been her very first, she
 
 The End 369 
 
 might have been haunted by fewer fears, judging from 
 the number of times she took her helpmeets to the 
 oven, and pulled the door open a little bit, so they could 
 " jest peek in an' see ; " or with them sat in official state 
 before receipts for compounding cake and sweetmeats, 
 or balanced scales exactly between citron, mace, and 
 raisins. 
 
 Many village people were invited to the wedding, and 
 no neighbor was unasked ; nor did one ever forget that 
 glorious day, its balmy air, and pervading sense of 
 Sabbath peace, while the hills burned and glowed, and 
 the Pond lay calm and silvery at their feet. 
 
 Brilliantly flowering nasturtiums climbed over brown 
 window casings and browner clapboards. China asters 
 and bachelor's buttons nodded demurely to arriving 
 guests, came they afoot, in chaise, or on horseback. 
 
 Gay groups of young men and maidens kept com- 
 pany with fathers and mothers, who wandered over the 
 grassy dooryards, or plucked flowers or sprigs of south- 
 ernwood while awaiting the marriage service. 
 
 Women from round about, for the most part, wore 
 homespun or stuff gowns ; dames from the village 
 dressed in taffetas or brocades, many of them fash- 
 ioned for their own bridals. Love and experience had 
 woven rich memories into those garments ; they signi- 
 fied the fulness of a harvest home, and fittingly sur- 
 rounded those two whose love was planted in hopeless 
 furrows, throve despite tares and tempests, and that
 
 370 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 day settled upon them for all time the wealth of its 
 serenely garnered trust and truth. 
 
 Campton's Light Infantry Captain and Lois Baker, 
 Richard Sleeper and Euth, escorted the bridal couple to 
 a place between the south windows of the forerooin. 
 It was a satisfactory pair standing before the minister, 
 in the hush and coolness of that sunshiny, quaint old 
 room, at noontide, so many years ago; she so sweet and 
 pensive, he so trustworthy and noble. 
 
 The austere ceremony was performed without a ring, 
 but exhortation and prayer were wearily long. 
 
 When it was over, friends and neighbors closed 
 primly around them, rejoicing, yet hearing an under- 
 chord to their gladness, for 'Lisbeth, the beloved, was 
 going away. 
 
 Phil and Eunice were at Lettice's right hand, obeying 
 her every mandate from morning till night. 
 
 Upon a garlanded table under the blue-damson tree 
 'Lisbeth cut the bride cake. 
 
 Then followed ribbon-decked grace-hoops, battledores, 
 and feather-full shuttlecocks, leading jolly pastime 
 where John and 'Lisbeth moved from group to group, 
 staying at each step for good wishes and bridal compli- 
 ments. They petted her after a staid manner, smoothed 
 her white dress, praised her proud young husband, then 
 turned away to hide quivering lips ; for it was a great 
 journey and a far one to the foreland city by Bunker 
 Hill. One and another of the young men essayed to
 
 The End 371 
 
 * 
 
 throw a grace-hoop over her head as she went by ; but 
 she blithesomely evaded all till she came where Phil 
 and his rosy wife played against Ruth and Dick. Phil 
 dexterously poised a hoop on the tapering grace-sticks 
 and spun it, enringing her, its gay ribbons fluttering 
 upon her shoulders. 
 
 Remembering her shyness, he dashed off for a swift 
 pursuit; but she, laughing, waited his coming, and gra- 
 ciously, as a queen might do, held her beautiful cheek to 
 him for a kiss, which he took reverently, as a favored 
 subject. 
 
 All did not readily pay their forfeits ; but if one de- 
 murred either at taking her own, or paying one, her 
 partner forthwith set out to establish his privilege, and 
 if she ran away he must needs follow, so there was 
 mirth a-plenty ; fleeing girls and their pursuers running 
 in and out among bright plumed shuttlecocks, or hiding, 
 full of frolic, behind sober dames. Thus they sped the 
 time away until 'Lisbeth, for the last time, came down 
 from her chamber overlooking the Pond, clad in plum- 
 colored camlet, edged at neck and wrists with dimity 
 ruffles. 
 
 A cloak of like texture and color was plaited into 
 a narrow shoulder-yoke and hung full about her. It 
 fastened with large silver hooks and eyes, and was lined 
 with dark primrose silk, so was the great cape belonging 
 to it. She wore a leghorn bonnet lined with white silk, 
 trimmed and tied with white ribbon sprigged with plum
 
 372 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 color. Her face showed lily fair beneath its flaring 
 brim. 
 
 A new chaise, drawn by John's bay horse, drew up 
 before the door. Jack and Tom broke upon the scene 
 with some fine show of bustle, bearing by its brass 
 handles a smal), hair-covered, brass-nailed trunk which 
 they strapped to the axle of the chaise. 
 
 Upon the trunk Lettice placed a large rattan basket, 
 and tied its stiff handle to the axle with linen cord. It 
 contained food for bite and sup along the journey. The 
 whole family came out with the pair. Before them 
 laughter changed to hopeful heartache, as one by one 
 the dear neighbors spoke their hearty good-bys, then 
 turned away, some not trusting themselves to look upon 
 the grievous parting, some mournfully watching where 
 'Lisbeth's mother held her to her heart, and her father 
 kept her hands in both his own. 
 
 Grandmother's cap-border was tranquil, its challenge 
 drowned in rain, which followed the lines of age down 
 her unwilling face. Nothing but the grave could be 
 more silent, no agony but its own could be sharper. 
 Finally John spoke, 
 
 "All that a husband can be, I will be to your child." 
 
 Thus he said to them, as he stooped and kissed the 
 mother's forehead. 
 
 " God bless you both, for evermore," said 'Lisbeth's 
 father ; and the minister answered, " Amen." 
 
 Then 'Lisbeth resolutely put her hand into her hus-
 
 The End 373 
 
 band's ; yet did the love-glow from her eyes beam 
 through thick mists, as sunshine through spring floods 
 when rain-clouds touch the hills. 
 
 The bridegroom's eyes were full, and the veins in his 
 temples swelled out ; but he made no sign, save a look 
 of unutterable love towards his bride, another of un- 
 bounded gratitude towards those who had consented to 
 bless his life, as he put her in the chaise, and the bay 
 started on his journey to the sea, carrying them to 
 found a new home where contentment, affection, and 
 unity should dwell their whole lives long. Mr. King 
 said to his wife in a husky voice, 
 
 " You an' the gals will have tew stay an' talk it over 
 a spell, I s'pose ; but I'm goin' intew the woods. Hello, 
 Spring, where be you, Watch ? Come 'long ; we'll mosey 
 roun' the coon-tracks a little 'fore we go home," and 
 they all trotted toward the meadow. 
 
 The Lanes, Kuth, and Lois remained to supper; in- 
 deed, Lois was to stay some time. 
 
 " Till we kinder git over it," Lettice said. 
 
 " 'Taiii't very long tew June," observed the old lady, 
 trying to bind up their bruised hearts with the essential 
 oil of consolation. 
 
 Lettice, in the pantry, whither Mrs. Lane had fol- 
 lowed, remarked dryly, 
 
 "I guess she sees the diff'runce 'tween Boston an' 
 Plymouth ; I dew. Seems as though I should sink. I 
 declare, when I come in here tew skim this sweet cream
 
 374 'Lisbeth Wilson 
 
 for the table, I give that pan sech a jerk as nigh tipped 
 it over right on tew my bran new dress." 
 
 She caught a glimpse of the pale mother, and stepped 
 back into the kitchen, cheerily remarking, 
 
 " Law, no, Mis' Wilson ; as gran'ma says, we shall 
 have tew fly 'round an' be in a clutter all the time tew 
 perpare for 'em, an' finish 'Lisbeth's linen ; 'sides, here's 
 Ruth and Lois gittiii' ready agin she comes." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! " exclaimed the girls. 
 
 "Needn't oh me. I ain't blind nor deef. If Dick 
 Sleeper goes tew Boston a-practisin' law with John, he 
 ain't goin' alone, I'll be bound." 
 
 The "years went by, and John kept his promise of 
 bringing 'Lisbeth home each year, never once failing 
 while her parents lived, and finding the old hearthstone 
 with a happier group around it each time. 
 
 Grandmother Wilson went from this life ; but the rest 
 remained until two little grandsons climbed Mr. Wil- 
 son's knee, or ran before him, chasing butterflies over 
 clover patches ; and one little maid, the wonderment 
 and delight of Lettice, with her father's nut-brown hair 
 and 'Lisbeth's steady eyes, had grown to the very hearts 
 of the household.
 
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 AMANDA M. DOUGLAS* NOVELS 
 
 Osborne of Arrochar. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price, 
 
 cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 " In this novel, the author introduces us to an interesting family of girls, 
 who, in default of the appearance of the rightful heir, occupy an old, aristocratic 
 place at Arrochar. Just as it has reached the lowest point of dilapidation, 
 through lack of business capacity on the part of the family, Osborne appears 
 to claim his inheritance, and the interesting problem presents itself of marry- 
 ing one of the daughters or turning the family out. The author thus gives 
 herself a lair field to display her skill in the painting of character, the manage- 
 ment of incident, and the construction of the dialogue. She has been in a 
 large degree successful. We feel that we are dealing with real persons; and, 
 as to the management of the story, it is sufficient praise to say that the 
 interest is cumulative. The book will add to the author's reputation." School 
 Journal, N. Y. 
 
 The Heirs of Bradley House. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 
 Price $1.50. 
 
 " The author has won a most honorable place in the literary world by the 
 character as well as cleverness of her work. Her books are as clean and 
 fresh and invigorating as a morning in May. If she is not deep or profound, 
 she stirs in the heart of her reader the noblest impulses; and whosoever 
 accomplishes this has not written in vain." Chicago Saturday Evening 
 Herald. 
 
 "Whom Kathie married. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price 
 
 $1.50. 
 
 Miss DOUGLAS wrote a series of juvenile stories in which Kathie figured; 
 and in this volume the young lady finds her destiny. The sweetness and 
 purity of her life is reflected in the lives of all about her, and she is admired 
 and beloved by all. The delicacy and grace with which Miss DOUGLAS weaves 
 her story, the nobility of her characters, the absence of everything sensational, 
 all tend to make this book one specially adapted to young girls. 
 
 A Woman's Inheritance. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price 
 
 $1.50. 
 
 " Miss DOUGLAS is widely known as a writer of excellent stories, all of them 
 having a marked family likeness, but all of them bright, fascinating, and 
 thoroughly entertaining. This romance has to do with the fortunes of a young 
 woman whose father, dying, left her with what was supposed to be a large 
 property, but which, under the management of a rascally trustee, was very near 
 being wrecked, and was only saved by the self-denying devotion of one who 
 was strictly under no obligation to exert himself in its behalf. The interest of 
 the story is well sustained to the very close, and the reader will follow the 
 fortunes of the various characters with an absorbed fascination." New Bed- 
 ford Mercury. 
 
 Sydnie Adriance. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 In this book, the heroine, being suddenly reduced to poverty, refuses an 
 offer of marriage, because she thinks it comes from the condescension of pity 
 rather than from the inspiration of love. She determines to earn her living, 
 becomes a governess, then writes a book, which is successful, and inherits a 
 fortune from a distant relative. Then she marries the man But let us not 
 tell the story. The author has told it in a charming way. 
 
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 Home Nook; OR, THE CROWN OF DUTY. By AMANDA M. 
 DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 " This is an interesting- story of home life, not wanting in incident, and 
 written in a forcible and attractive style." New York Graphic. 
 
 This volume is larger than most written by Miss DOUGLAS, and contains 
 many interesting; scenes and characters. It would be impossible to give a 
 condensed synopsis of the story; but it is enough to say, that it is a fresh, pure, 
 and bright story, full of the touches which reveal intense feeling, and go 
 straight to the heart; but without the overstrained sentiment which was once 
 the bane of novels. 
 
 Stephen Dane. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 This is the story of a mechanic who worked his way up from poverty to 
 affluence. It is complicated by a murder, committed by the hero's drunken 
 father; the victim being the proprietor of the works where both were employed. 
 The hero fell in love with the young daughter of the murdered man, and she 
 became the lode-star which drew him on. Not that she had a fortune; on the 
 contrary, she inherited nothing, and she owed her happiness solely to the 
 exertions and energy of her lover. It is beautifully written, and much 
 admired. 
 
 LiOSt in a Great City. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price, 
 
 cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 " This is the strongest story which has ever come from the pen of Miss 
 DOUGLAS, and starts off with a dramatic touch which chains the reader's 
 attention at once, and holds it closely till the last page is read. It is the story 
 of a little girl, Nora, who, becoming separated from her nurse in the busy and 
 crowded streets of New York, is lost beyond discovery for many a year. . . . 
 The denouement is entirely satisfactory, and the plot of the story is finely 
 conceived and carried out, with not a page's loss of interest on the part of the 
 reader." St. Albans Messenger. 
 
 Floyd Grandon's Honor. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price 
 $1.50. 
 
 "The writings of Miss DOUGLAS have found acceptance with the public, 
 because they are characterized by good sense, a keen insight, and an apprecia- 
 tion of all that is good and noble in human life. Her stories are always pure, 
 always pleasing, always elevating. Floyd Grandon is the central figure, 
 around whom are grouped near relatives and friends, together with his own 
 family. The pursuits, pleasures, and lives of this charming circle at Grandon 
 Park make a sunny story whose brightness is not altogether unclouded, for it 
 is shadowed by the villany of Floyd's partner in business, Mr. Wilmarth, 
 whose fate it is not necessary to anticipate." Home Journal. 
 
 Hope Mills. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price $1.50 
 
 This is an entertaining novel. The many characters of the story are drawn 
 with skill, and impress their individuality upon the reader, and the interest is 
 well sustained. But the book is something more than a novel. It was written 
 to exhibit the workings of co-operation in a manufacturing town. Hope Mills, 
 having been closed by a panic and the dishonesty of the manager, are re- 
 opened as a joint stock concern by the operatives. The difficulties and final 
 success of the enterprise are portrayed in a lively narrative. * 
 
 Out of the Wreck; OR, WAS IT WORTH THE VICTORY? By 
 AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price, cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " This is a strong and fascinating history of a noble woman, fighting her way 
 out of the horrors of a drunkard's home on to the heights of prosperity and 
 peace. Against the mean prejudices of her husband's aristocratic relatives she 
 engages in business, and makes it a success, and this gives her the means of 
 saving and educating her children. It is written with delightful freshness, 
 grace, and strength, and reveals a mind of remarkable refinement and power." 
 North Adams Transcript. 
 
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 Nelly Kinnarcl's Kingdom. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 
 
 Price, cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 " Nelly Enclicott, a bright, lively girl, marries Dr. Kinnard, a widower with 
 two children. On going to her husband's home, she finds installed there 
 a sister of his first wife (Aunt Adelaide, as she is called by the children) 
 who is a vixen, a maker of trouble, and a nuisance of the worst kind Most 
 young wives would have had such a pest put out of the house, but Nelly 
 endures the petty vexations to which she is subjected, in a manner which 
 shows the beauty and strength of her character. How she surmounted the 
 difficulty, it would not be fair to state." New York Evening Mail. 
 
 From Hand to Mouth. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 " This is a thoroughly good, true, pure, sweet, and touching story. It covers 
 precisely those phases of domestic life which are of the most common expe- 
 rience, and will take many and many of its readers just where they have been 
 
 Literary World. 
 
 A Modern Adam and Eve in a Garden. By AMANDA M. 
 
 DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 Bright, amusing, and sensible. A story of two people who set out to win 
 their share of the world's wealth, and how they did it; which, as a critic says, 
 " is rather jolly and out-of-door-y, and ends in a greenhouse," with some love 
 and pathos, of course, and mucn practical knowledge. 
 
 The Old Woman who lived iii a Shoe. By AMANDA M. 
 
 DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 This is not a child's story, nor a comic view of household life, as some 
 might think from its title but a domestic novel, full of the delights of home, 
 of pure thoughts, and gentle virtues. It has also sufficient complications to 
 keep the thread of interest draivn, and to lead the reader on. Among Miss 
 DOUGLAS' many successful books, there is none more beautiful of attractive, or 
 which leaves a more permanent impression. 
 
 Claudia. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 This is a romantic story, with abundant incidents and strong situations. 
 The interest is intense. It concerns two half sisters, whose contrasted charac- 
 ter and complicated fortunes are the charm of the book. 
 
 Seven Daughters. By AMANDA M.DOUGLAS. Price $1.50. 
 
 The" Seven" are daughters of a country clergyman who is not greatly blessed 
 with the good things of the world. The story is related by the eldest, who 
 considers herself far from brilliant or witty, but who makes charming pictures 
 of all who figure in the book. The good minister consents to receive a number 
 of bright boys as pupil-boarders, and the two families make a suggestive 
 counterpoise, with mutual advantage. Destiny came with the coming of the 
 boys, and the story has naturally a happy end. 
 
 The Foes of her Household. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 
 
 Price $1.50. 
 
 "This is an exceedingly entertaining book. A simple girl, of beautiful 
 character, marries a young man in poor health out of pure love, and ignorant 
 of the fact that he is'rich. 1 1 is death occurs not very long after the marriage, 
 and the voung widow becomes the object of practical persecution by his rela- 
 tives, who misunderstand her motives entirely. With a nobility of character, 
 as rare as heautiful, she destroys their prejudice, and at last teaches them to 
 love her." Central Baptist, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
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 Tbe Fortunes of the Faradays. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 
 Price $1.50. 
 
 " Miss AMANDA M. DOUGLAS is a prolific writer of novels, and her circle of 
 leaders is flatteringly large. Her works are full of spirited action, and are, 
 .nureover, wholesome in tone and purpose. 'The Fortunes of the Faradays' 
 is the latest product of her pen, and is of equal merit with her other books. It 
 is ;, story of family life, full of sweet, home pictures, and fair, lovable, and 
 ver> human personages." Commonwealth. 
 
 Ill Trust. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Price, cloth, $1.50; paper, 
 50 cents. 
 
 A young doctor, two weeks before his intended marriage, has, through his 
 father's sudden death, a family of half brothers and sisters thrown upon his 
 charge. He sets himself to the task of rearingthese children, a task in which 
 he is opposed by his affianced bride. A separation ensues : not to his loss. 
 
 " Miss DOUGLAS has a rare gift for portraying domestic life, and she has never 
 used it to better purpose than in the story now issued. It is full of incident 
 and variety, holds up a high ideal, and carries it out in the action of the story, 
 so that one cannot read the narrative without an impulse to live for a purpose, 
 and to cultivate the highest and best qualities that make true men and women." 
 Providence Journal, 
 
 JJarry: THE $2,000 PRIZE, STORY. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 
 Price, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 
 
 There is always a certain fascination in witnessing the development of a 
 noble nature; and " Larry" becomes a rare specimen of an ingenuous, modest, 
 and high-spirited young man. The scenery of his Western home is vividly 
 depicted, and the people with whom his lot is cast become real men and women 
 under the author's creative touches. Its incidents are wholly within probable 
 limits, yet they afford an unusual opportunity for dramatic effects, and for the 
 contrasts which are the life of a novel. 
 
 Bethia Wray's New Name. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. 
 Price, cloth, $1.50. 
 
 already high reputation. 
 
 In the King's Country. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. A 
 
 Christian Endeavor story. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 There is the touch of the born story-teller in this latest book of Miss DOUGLAS'S, 
 which has made her the friend of young and old wherever her well-known novels 
 have circulated. The strong, earnest purpose and lofty moral tone of the book 
 make it a most excellent companion for a young girl. Character-building is its key- 
 note, and no one could fail to be benefited by studying the development of the life 
 of Sabrina Eastwood and its effect on the lives of those around her. 
 
 In Wild Rose Time. By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. Cloth $1.50. 
 
 Miss DOUGLAS has given us a story as strong and true in its pictures of life 
 ami Mg the poor, and the trials and temptations which surround them, and also of the 
 nob.e lives which spring up and blossom amid such scenes, as anything which has 
 previously emanated from her pen. 
 
 Faith, Love, Hope and Charity shine out on every page of this book like beacon 
 lights, and so vivid are the pen-pictures that one seems to be a participant in them. 
 
 Had Miss DOUGLAS written but this one book, it would alone have placed her 
 name among our best authors- 
 
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