THE TEMPERANCE TALES. VOL. V. THE STAGE-COACH. BOSTON: WHIFFLE AND DAMRELL. NEW YORK: SCOFIELD AND VOORIIISS MDCCCXX'CVIII, Number Sixteen* . THE STAGE-COACH. FOUNDED ON FACT. :"' : ''/." IF 1 t 1\} PUBLISHED BY WHIFFLE & DAMRELL, No. 9 Cornhill. NEW YORK: SCOFEELD & VOORMIES, No. 118 Nassau Street. 1839. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1837, BY WILLIAM S. DAMRELL, In the Cleik's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. TO THE READER. THE pyrotechnist, after an exhibition of single rockets, until he has reason to believe, that the public taste may possibly demand some change, occasionally throws them up by the half dozen together. In the performance which is now presented to the reader, we have followed this laudable example. The substantial parts of all the stories, which are narrated in the present volume, under the title of the STAGE-COACH, have been communicated to the writer, at different periods, in stages, steam-boats, and rail-road cars. They have been selected, for the present publication, from an inexhaustible M106691 4 TO THE READER, mass of materials, gathered in a similar manner. They have been thus selected, on account of the entire respectability of those individuals, from whose lips they were re ceived. More than one of the tales, which are now presented, will, doubtless, appear extraordina ry, and even improbable, to many readers. We are daily instructed, however, that the legitimate boundaries of truth are sufficiently comprehensive, to contain much that is won derful and apparently improbable. In every instance, wherein a reasonable doubt might be supposed to arise in the reader's mind, the writer of these tales has corresponded with those, by whom the stories were origin ally told, and obtained from them a written narrative of the important facts. It is the object of the present publication TO THE READER. 5 to illustrate the truth, that there is no pro tection against the evils of intemperance in age, or sex, or condition ; that the holy office is occasionally brought into contempt by intemperate clergymen ; and that to Him, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity, the sin of drunkenness is equally offensive, whatever the means may be, whereby it is produced. THE STAGE-COACH. HAVING tried the strength of my lungs and the patience of an indulgent assembly, for more than an hour, and having engaged my passage in the coach, which starts at three o'clock in the morning, for the village of , I returned to my inn, and, requesting the bar-keeper to have me called in season, was shown to my apartment. I perceived, with some surprise and regret, that there were three single beds in the chamber, and one barely large enough to accommodate two persons of moderate stature, who were sufficiently disciplined to be content with their respective allotments. The single beds were occupied. Upon our entry, " 'Pon my voord," exclaimed one of the sleepers O \i L t THE STAGE-COACH. jumping out of bed, " it ish de stage come for me ; vat ish de time, sare ?" " No, no," said the bar-keeper; "it's not eleven yet; your stage will not be along for several hours." " Sare, I tank you for your polite ness ; a leetil more sleep I vill 'ave ; " and he stepped back into his bed, with a bow, which, however graceful it might have been, in the costume of the drawing-room, appeared supereminently ridiculous in his robe de nuit. " Heigh-ho!" said another, as he turned over, somewhat impatiently, in his bed. " You have no objection, I suppose, sir," said the bar-keeper, addressing me, "to sleeping with another gentleman." " I have, sir," said I; "and you know well enough, that you have no right to suppose any such thing ; for I engaged a single bed, and you promised me that I should have it." " Why, yes, sir," he replied; "but it's court week, and we are very full to-night. To-morrow night, sir, we can give you a single bed, and a room to yourself." "My friend," said I, " I cannot conveniently wait till to-morrow THE STAGE-COACH. 9 night, before I go to bed, for I am very weary. I shall pay your bill, when you call me in the morning, and, according to your engagement, you must permit me to sleep alone." "Very well, sir," said the bar keeper, shutting the door, as he retired, with unnecessary violence. " You sarve 'im right, sare," cried the Frenchman, for such his dialect proclaimed him to be ; " vat he prornish you, dat he must parform: dat ish de law of France ; so it ish in England, and de Low Countries, and indeed, sare, wherever I has been. I vill be your vitness, sare, wiz great pleasure, of all vat he say. If I vas not in bed, sare, I would have de satisfaction to hand you my card, but de morning vill do." "Yes, yes," said I, desirous of getting rid of this troublesome fellow, " the morning will do." I was soon undressed, and in bed. I turned upon my side, in the very centre of it. For the purpose of satisfying any new-comer, that, in the language of certain placards on the doors of manufactories, there was no admittance, except on business, I disposed my 10 THE STAGE-COACH. limbs, as nearly as possible, in the form of the very last letter in the alphabet. I was striving to sleep, when I was again aroused by my unknown friend: " Monsieur, mistare, I regret I cannot call your name, sare, you vill excuse de omission." "What do you want?" said I, with some impatience. " Vat I vant?" said he, "not- ting, sare, only about de card ; I go off so long afore de day, dat I vas fear I should not be able to hand you my card, wizout dis turbing your rapose." "I care nothing about the card," said I ; " I wish to sleep, if possible." " So do I," cried the person who had shown some impatience upon our first entry, " and I'll be much obliged to you, mister, if you'll stop your outlandish powwow till daylight." "Vary veil, sare," cried the Frenchman ; and, after humming the fraction of a tune, for a few seconds, to conceal his irritation, he remained perfectly silent. During this period, the occupant of the other single bed, an experienced traveller, no doubt, gave intelligible evidence of his pro- THE STAGE-COACH. 11 found slumber, by snoring energetically. I was totally unaccustomed to this nocturnal annoyance, and found it impossible to sleep. I had not remained long, ruminating upon my ill fortune, when the person who had silenced the Frenchman, struck in with his nasal bassoon, in such an extraordinary manner, that, at first, 1 really supposed it to be the performance of a waking wag, who, finding sleep impracticable, had resolved, for his amusement, to make night as hideous as possible. Its long continuance, however, satisfied me that it was no joke, but an awful reality. Now and then, it was even alarm ingly stertorous and apoplectic. The inspi ration of one of these trumpeters was so precisely coincident with the expiration of the other, that the sound became perfectly con tinuous. We are, some of us, so constituted, that, when our troubles are not of an aggra vated nature, misery will occasionally be converted into mirth. Vexed and disap pointed as I was, I found myself exceedingly disposed to laugh outright. At length, the 12 THE STAGE-COACH. loudest snorer suddenly suspended his opera tions, and the Frenchman, who, I had supposed, was fast asleep, exclaimed, " Tank Haven, von of dem ish dead." This stroke of humor was perfectly irresistible, and the loud laughter, which it drew from me, awakened the whole group. "What d'ye make such a noise for?" cried the stertorous gentleman ; " can't you let a body sleep in peace?" "Veil, veil, sare," cried the Frenchman, as he turned over, " now, maype, ve vill tak a fair start vonce more." The vis inertia within me, which, for the present occasion, at least, may be translated the energy of drowsiness, enabled me to lock fast my senses, before the serenade recom menced. The powers of slumber seemed determined to make up, in profoundness, all which they had lost in time. The quality of sleep is often of more importance than the quantity. From such deep, deathlike slum ber, it is exceedingly painful to be suddenly aroused. The sensation was eminently dis agreeable, therefore, when 1 was awakened THE STAGE-COACH. 13 by a violent shake of the shoulder. I sup posed I had overslept myself, and asked if the stage was ready. "I've been trying to wake you, mister, for ten minutes," was the reply ; " and I'm most froze, standing in the cold. Won't you jest move to your side of the bed." I now began to comprehend the case, and, rubbing my eyes, beheld an uncommonly corpulent man, who had un dressed himself for the night. He had one foot on the frame of the bed, and held the candle in his hand, which he was just ready to extinguish. " Sir," said I, "you have been imposed on. I have engaged this bed for myself, and shall not consent to your getting into it." "This is pretty tough," said he; "I'm froze to death, a'most." " You had better call the inn-keeper, and get him to accommodate you elsewhere," said I. "I'm fear'd he's gone to bed, and all shot up," said the poor fellow ; " howsomesever, I'll try." He did try, and he certainly succeeded. He rushed into the centre of the entry, in his undress, and holloaed at the top 14 THE STAGE-COACH. of his lungs: "Holloa! Mr. StufTem, holloa ! This ere man won't let me get into bed, holloa ! holloa ! " The disturbance which followed, so far as I could judge, was ther extensive. I heard voices in all parts the house ; doors were opened in all directions. "Is it fire?" inquired a female voice. "What's to pay there?" cried the host. "Stage come, hey?" cried several persons at once. At length, the bar-keeper appeared, explained the cause of the disturb ance, and led off his shivering customer to another apartment. We had scarcely recovered from this annoyance, before the chamber door was opened by the porter with a light: "Eastern mail's coming, hear the horn on the hill now, French gentleman's bag gage ready?" "Dat ish myself," cried the Frenchman, leaping out of bed. "Where's your baggage, sir?" "Baggage? vat you mean de big tronk? no, sare, me no have 'em. I vill bring down my baggage wiz myself, sare." "You'll have to make THE STAGE-COACH. 15 haste, the mail only stops three minutes to shift horses." "Tree minnit ! no more? 'pon my voord!" The little Frenchman made all possible expedition. In a short time, the porter's voice was again heard at the door: "All ready mail can't wait." " Immadiately, sare," cried the French man; "whew, whew, whew, come, Ga- brielle." Upon this signal, a lapdog sprang out of the bed, and shook its shaggy locks and tinkling bell. The Frenchman seized a little bundle, which probably contained the bulk of his earthly possessions, real, personal, and mixed, placed upon his left arm a leather fiddle-case, and the favorite Gabrielle, and, as he hurried from the room, stopped for an instant at my bedside, to say, " Sare, dis ish my card, vich I have de honor to present ; adieu, monsieur." Down ran the little Frenchman, and in a moment I heard the coach door close, the crack of the whip, and the rumbling of the wheels, as the vehicle rolled away over the rough, frozen ground. I looked at my watch; it was half past 16 THE STAGE-COACH. two o'clock. Half an hour remained to me, before the arrival of the northern stage. As 1 have always felt no inconsiderable degree of embarrassment and chagrin, when others, high or low, have been detained on account of my delay, I rose and began to dress myself. I had just finished my toilet, and strapped my trunk, when the vehicle arrived. The porter met me at the door. Ay, sir," said he, as he threw my baggage upon his shoulder, "I wish all other folks was as punctual as your honor." "Well, my friend," I replied, " if the past night is a fair sample of those which are to come, there will be little sleeping in this house, and you will, of course, be spared the trouble of waking your guests." It was extremely dark. A little personal contact, as I entered the coach, assured me that there were other passengers there. I was much pleased to find that my favorite seat was unoccupied. Having no partiality for a back seat, I prefer to place myself where I shall be least liable to interruption, upon the subsequent intro- THE STAGE-COACH. 17 duction of elderly persons or females. I was soon firmly planted in a corner of the front seat, with my back towards the horses, and my right shoulder to the canvass. It was very cold ; the floor, however, was abundant ly supplied with straw for the comfort of our feet; and the coach was made as close as possible. "Frosty morning," said one of the company, shortly after we had started on our way. This, however, as Goldsmith pleasantly observes, in his history of the club of savans, having been addressed to no one in particular, no one felt himself bound to answer it. We had not ridden far, before the smell of brandy became very perceptible. The present exhibition of any instrument, which has been employed for the destruction of a friend or neighbor, is, of course, exceed ingly revolting. I once knew an amiable woman, who was immediately reduced to a condition of palpable misery, by the slightest effluvium of musk, because her infant child had been destroyed, though many years be fore, by its injudicious administration, under 18 THE STAGE-COACH. the direction of an unskilful physician. I have read, in a work of high reputation, an account of a gentleman, whose nervous sys tem was by no means remarkably excitable on common occasions, but who instantly fainted, at the smell of opium, because his only daughter had fallen a victim to its accidental employment in a liquid form. These recollections presented themselves before my mind, as we rode along in silence, and in the dark. Wherefore is it thus? I inquired within myself. Why does not this disagreeable odor which, by the way, was becoming more powerful every moment, as, in our closed vehicle, it was generated much faster than it could possibly escape why does not this odor frequently produce the very same effects? Brandy has destroyed millions of mankind. Yet I have known a father, whom it had deprived of three chil dren, and who still drank it with delight, while he invoked from on high, or, in more accurate language, from below, innumerable curses upon the temperance reform. I have THE STAGE-COACH. 19 known a childless widow, whose husband and children had been destroyed by this fatal beverage, still place the poisoned chalice to her lips, and apparently prefer its odor to that of the rose or the violet. And why is it thus? The shipwreck of a hundred emi grants, and the loss of all their lives, would, for the moment, be less likely to abstract the attention of the busy world from their multi plied engagements and cares, than the fall and consequent destruction of a single aero naut, in the centre of some great city. The first of these calamities occurs in the way of profitable business, and the other is the result of an idle and hazardous experiment. The first announcement of the bursting of a boiler, and the consequent death of a single human being, when circulated through the land, produced every where a sensation of astonishment and horror. Steam-boats were then mere problems, and locomotive engines upon rail-roads were unknown. But now they have become established, and are parts of our very mode of existence. They have 20 THE STAGE-COACH. virtually contributed to bring the ends of the earth as near again together, as they were before their employment, by an equivalent saving of time, in transitu. They are justly ranked among the most productive sources of emolument. To be sure, the loss of life, which they produce at the present day, is enormous ; but it seems to be considered of little account, beyond a brief ejaculatory paragraph in some public journal, whose editor happens not to be interested in the stock. They are profitable, and that is enough. The indebtedness of the concern for so much human flesh and blood, sacrificed in its operations, is supposed to be sufficiently balanced by the profit, which the speculation unquestionably yields. Brandy, and all other intoxicating liquors, are articles of commerce. They, also, individually and collectively, have produced innumerable deaths. But there is a distinction to be considered here, which is obvious and broad : the application of steam power is eminently useful to mankind ; those who are engaged in THE STAGE-COACH. such operations as are connected with its use, are not thereby impelled, as by an irresistible demon, to the commission of every crime; they are not necessarily plunged into every species of misery; and, instead of being reduced to poverty, they are in the way of acquiring their daily bread. The very reverse of all this is true in regard to intoxi cating liquor, for it is infinitely worse than useless as a beverage. Here, then, is an extraordinary condition of things. If the great mass of those, who traffic in intoxicating drinks, do not profess to be Christians, the great majority affect to be tenacious of their reputation as moral men ; and yet they stop not, for a moment, to count the loss of health, and property, and respectability, and life, temporal and eternal, which inevitably fol lows, as a consequence of their traffic. Many of these men, who would repel the general charge of immorality, are, never theless, perfectly satisfied with a vocation like this. Their employment is lawful ; and the mass of wretchedness and loss of life, ** THE STAGE-COACH. which follow, are matters to be settled be tween the consumer and his God ! The end is not yet, thought I ; in the day of judg ment, I cannot believe it will be determined precisely thus. I continued to ruminate in this manner, as we rolled silently forward in the dark, until my cogitations were interrupted by a sound, precisely similar to that, produced by the sud den extraction o/ a cork from the mouth of a bottle. The noise manifestly originated within the vehicle, in which we were riding ; and in a very few seconds, the odor of the brandy- cask became more pungent than ever. It really appeared to me a measure of indecorum, amounting almost to audacity, in the present era of comparative purification, to travel with a brandy-bottle in a stage-coach, and delib erately to draw the cork and partake of its contents, in the company of others. After a short time, the effluvium became so exceed ingly disagreeable, associated as it was with the conviction, that it came into rny own nostrils, hot and reeking, and doubly dis- THE STAGE-COACH. tilled, from the gastric apparatus of some hu man being, that I resolved to let down the window of the carriage. "It is so close," said I, suiting the action to the word, " that I presume no one will object to a little fresh a j r ." Dat ish a goot move, mynheer," said one of the passengers, in a rough voice, whom, from his language and accent, I sup posed to be a Dutchman. I have often re marked, that, when the suspicion of guilt is suddenly awakened, in a miscellaneous com pany, the offender is often the first to reply to any observation, which stimulates the con sciousness of obliquity. In the language of Paul, I " wished for day" that I might be hold the visage of this barbarian, who had thus violated the rules of common decency. But, as I had no reason to expect its speedy approach, I rolled myself up in my cloak, and soon fell asleep. My slumber was once or twice partially interrupted, by a sort of im perfect consciousness, when the stage occa sionally stopped upon its way. When I awoke, there was barely light enough to ex- THE STAGE-COACH. amine my watch, and I was gratified to find I had, for nearly two hours, enjoyed unbroken slumber. I was now able to discover the general outlines of my fellow-travellers. Up on the back seat, were three females. Upon my left hand, and on the same seat with my self, were two of my own sex, and the middle seat was occupied by two others. Day now began to pour in upon us rapidly, and the dress and features of my companions were clearly visible. The reader may rest as sured, that I kept a sharp look-out for the Dutchman. When any individual, whom we have never seen, has made an agreeable im pression upon our minds, or the reverse, imagi nation delights to play the statuary, and exe cutes a model of the original ; but how very frequently we are compelled to cast it down as faithless and unjust ! Upon the present occasion, however, I had an image of the Dutchman in my mind, which proved to be tolerably correct. In selecting him from the group, I had fixed my eyes upon a heavy, round-shouldered personage, apparently about THE STAGE-COACH. five and fifty years of age, sitting upon the middle seat ; his complexion, though red enough, for one of intemperate habits, was somewhat clearer than I should have expected. He wore a comfortable wrapper of huge di mensions, and sat with both hands resting on the top of an un peeled hickory staff. His ample countenance had once been subjected to the ravages of the small-pox. His eyes, which were uncommonly small, were placed in his head, in the most unneighborly manner, and his dark, grizzly hair, which was very abundant, hung forth in every direction, from under a broad-brimmed hat, not much the worse for wear. The still expression of his countenance was decidedly severe. I was not left long in doubt, if I had singled out the Dutchman. His little twinkling eyes no sooner encountered mine, than he exclaimed, in the same gruff voice, motioning with his head towards the coach window, " He vill pe foine day." I replied simply by nodding as sent, and we still rode on in silence. By his side, upon the same seat, and directly oppo- 3 26 THE STAGE-COACH. site to my left-hand neighbor, sat a well- dressed young man. He upon my left was a grave personage in black, who bore evident marks of ill health, and the one beyond, upon the same seat, was apparently a gentleman, and, as I conjectured, over seventy years of age. One of the females, who sat in that corner of the stage, which was diagonally opposite to mine, possessed uncommon come liness of person. I judged her age to be about four or five and twenty. She had a Tuscan straw bonnet, prettily lined and trimmed, an exceedingly neat riding-cloak, with a boa round her neck, and a travelling- basket of wicker on her lap. Immediately next to her, sat a decently-dressed woman of forty, bearing in her countenance those peculiar characteristics, which can never be mistaken, whether we encounter them in the over peopled cellars and garrets of a city, or upon their secondary emigration to the far-away west, and which mark, beyond the possibility of misconception, a native of the Emerald Isle. The corner, directly opposite to me, THE STAGE-COACH. 2*3 was occupied by a much younger woman, who had still the marks and numbers of per sonal beauty. She was extremely pale, however, and dressed in the deepest mourn ing. The silence of our journey was finally broken by the elderly gentleman, who sat in the corner, on my left hand. "I attended your lecture last evening, sir," said he, ad dressing himself to me; " there is still a great amount of intemperance in our coun try." "Yes, sir," I replied, " undoubtedly there is ; but I think we are apt to deceive ourselves, in regard to that amount, because our attention is, at the present day, more likely to be attracted by individual cases, than it was in former times." While I uttered this reply, I looked steadily at the Dutchman. He discovered not the slightest evidence of embarrassment, but instantly exclaimed, " Dat ish de matter ; von trunkard now look more pig, nor foorty ven I vas a leetil poy." I was at first astonished at this fellow's impu dence, who was accustomed, as I entertained THE STAGE-COACH. not the shadow of a doubt, to travel with his brandy-bottle in his pocket ; but I immediately recollected, that there are moderate drinkers, who, whatever may be the ultimate result, have not the slightest apprehension of ever becoming drunkards. This man, thought I, is of that number. " I never fail," continued the elderly gentleman, " to attend these lec tures, for I think highly of the temperance reformation, as a grand moral machine ; and I have a sufficient reason, of a private nature, for bidding it God speed. Some lecturers deal in nothing but statistics from beginning to end ; others appear to think, that intemperance, and all its awful effects, are legitimate subjects for mirth. Now I cannot think so. When I was a boy, I used to laugh at the serpentine movement of a drunkard. I used to follow and hoot at him, as he staggered, and pelt him perhaps, when he fell in the mire. But, could I renew my youth and still retain my present knowledge, I should not have the heart to do so again. When I see a poor drunkard, at the present day, I follow him, in THE STAGE-COACH. 29 imagination, to his hovel of misery, the trembling wife, the victim of his diabolical career, appears before me ; I see his terrified children, as they fly at his approach, and I have no appetite for laughter." "Poor childher ! dat ish roight, mynheer," cried the Dutchman, as he raised his staff a few inches, still grasping the end of it with both hands, and bringing its lower extremity with some violence upon the floor. This is an extraor dinary creature, said I within myself. But I was still more perplexed, when, in an instant after, I saw him brush the tear from his eye. After all, it may be nothing but the brandy, thought I. "Sir," continued the old gen tleman, still addressing himself to me, " there is one particular, in which I think you gentle men, who lecture upon temperance, are strangely mistaken ; you direct your remarks exclusively to your own sex, as though you had the same notions of intemperance in women, which the Athenians entertained of parricide, and supposed the crime of drunken ness impracticable by females." " Why, 30 THE STAGE-COACH. sir," said the gentleman in black, who sat at my elbow, and who had taken no part in the conversation before, "you will admit, that such cases are exceedingly rare." "No, sir," replied the elderly gentleman, " I shall admit nothing but the truth, and it is by no means true, that such cases are exceedingly rare. My experience in public and private life, for many years, has made me acquainted with a great many intemperate women." At this moment, the Irish lady was seized with a violent fit of coughing. " Do you not think, sir," inquired the gentleman in black, " that such examples are rare, among the higher orders of society ? " As far as my experience has gone," replied the other, " there are more drunken men, among the lower, than among the higher classes. I believe there are not so many drunken women in the lower ranks, as drunken men, but there are very many. Among the higher classes, I believe the proportion of the drunken women to the drunken men is relatively about the same. Every vice may be so qualified, and adorned, THE STAGE-COACH. 31 and subtilized, that its real essence may be as effectually concealed, as the principal ingredi ent in a quack nostrum, by the presence of some pungent, essential oil. Vice may thus pass unchallenged, through the world. Now and then, some sturdy herald may cry, Who goes there ! But such evidences of fidelity, in those high places, where sin has built itself a citadel, are not often the passports to favor and promotion. Drunkenness in high life, you must remember, is not so disgusting a spectacle. The wife of a common laborer, drunk with rum, stretched upon the floor of their dirty kennel, and surrounded by a group of filthy, starving children, is certainly a re volting object. But a fine lady, splendidly arrayed, who happens to be made garrulous, familiar, inarticulate, and at last sillily or stu pidly drunk upon Champagne, or whisky punch, or Madeira, is not such an unattractive object after all. "Pray, sir," again in quired the gentleman in black, " what do you mean, by the word drunk, in these examples ? " I mean this, sir," replied the other : 32 THE STAGE-COACH. " when a female is in such a condition, that she solicits or permits familiarities, by word or look, from the other sex, which she would not permit, and much less solicit, were it not for the Champagne, she is then drunk. But this is not all, sir : go and ask any respectable female, who has seen much of gay, fashiona ble life, if the wine, and hot whisky punch, and liqueurs, consumed by young girls, and old girls, and married ladies, at routs, assemblies, and balls, are not frequently used in such measure, as to disturb the functions of the brain and nerves in an obvious manner, and you may be sure of an affirmative answer." During this conversation, the passengers, with a single exception, were extremely atten tive to the old gentleman's remarks, who spoke with the air of a man, who had witnessed the very effects, which he so naturally described. The pretty woman in the Tuscan straw had been sitting for some time with her eyes closed. " Female drunk enness," continued the elderly gentleman, "is not confined to the two extremities of social THE STAGE-COACH. 33 life: there is a large proportion among the middling classes. Why, sir/' said he, " I have seen a well-dressed young female of that rank of society, go deliberately to a tavern bar, early in the morning, and take her dram, and have her brandy-bottle filled before she took her seat in the stage-coach." " Tonder ! " cried the Dutchman, rolling up his eyes. At this moment, the young woman in the Tuscan appeared to awaken from her slum bers. She drew her cloak more closely about her neck, and seemed to become very suddenly engaged in the adjustment of her bonnet and curls. "Sir," continued the old gentleman, whose experiences were like the contents of the widow's cruise, " I have known this very young woman, of whom 1 now speak, within half an hour from the time when she took her first dram at the bar, draw forth the stopper of the casket, that contained her jewel, and take another, as she travelled in the public coach." " Vy, mynheer," exclaimed the Dutchman, " vat a salt herring of a woman dat must pe !" Mister," 34 THE STAGE-COACH. cried the young woman in the Tuscan, ad dressing the elderly gentleman, with an ex pression of ill-nature, " why can't you let the women alone, and talk about the drunken men ? there are enough to serve your turn, I'm sure." "If my remarks are unpleasant to you or any other person in the carriage," replied he, with much suavity of manner, " I will certainly not continue them." "I don't care whether you do or not," she rejoined ; " it's very ridiculous for you to tell about women's drinking brandy in the stage. I don't believe it. Here's three of us ; now which was it ? " "I have made no accusa tion against any person present, my good woman," replied the old gentleman. " Your good woman ! " retorted the Tuscan ; " I'm not your good woman neither, by a great sight, and I guess now, mister, you better mind your business, and hold your impudent slack." " Shlack ! " said the Dutchman ; " vat ish dat ? " as he lifted up his hands in amaze ment, and half timidly turned his head to behold the speaker. The old gentleman made no THE STAGE-COACH. 35 reply, but his uncommonly expressive coun tenance was full of things unutterable. Here, then, was an eclair cissement. Of course I had done manifest injustice to the poor Dutchman, for which I would most cheerfully have craved his pardon. We rode on, for a few moments, in silence ; the interchange of glances among the company establishing the fact, that not a doubt remained in regard to the real nature of the case, or the identity of the guilty party. During the short silence, which ensued, I turned my eyes upon this young woman, whom I had thought so uncommonly pretty ; a marvellous change had taken place in her appearance, within a brief space, or the new associations, which had arisen in my mind in regard to her, had operated strangely upon my powers of vision. In her agitation, she had thrown her dress into some little disorder: her hair had fallen down ; and her bon net, accidentally, or perhaps to avoid our scrutiny, had become drawn to one side of her face. She seemed not to sit very firmly in 36 THE STAGE-COACH. her seat. Occasionally I obtained a fair view of her features. I could not doubt, that the brandy she had taken, upon an empty stomach, had already affected the brain and nerves. Her eyes had lost a portion of their brilliancy ; her color was heightened to a re* markable degree, undoubtedly in part from anger ; her lips were apart, and wore that dry, yet varnished appearance, which is not unusual with intoxicated persons ; and the general ex pression of her features was characterized by that air of defiance, which is not unfrequently exhibited by a guilty person, who, though conscious of being suspected, is still confident in the insufficiency of the evidence against him. While I was occupied in contemplat ing her countenance, some movable article, upon the floor of the vehicle, now and then struck against my foot : I cast down my eyes to ascertain the cause, and observed a flat bot tle, of that description, which, in the cant dialect of travellers, is called a pistol. It was about half full of some dark-colored liquor. I had no doubt that it was our fair Tuscan's THE STAGE-COACH. 37 bottle, and that its contents were brandy. A rapid combination of circumstances instantly accounted for its present location on the floor ; her willow basket, to which I have already alluded, was provided with a cover opening on each side ; it rested on her lap ; the jolting of the carnage, and the difficulty of keeping her balance, had canted the basket ; the cover, on the side towards me, had fallen open ; the bottle had escaped, and, sliding softly over her cloak, had fallen, unnoticed, upon the straw. I took it up, unobserved by her, and placed it in the corner of the carriage behind me. Our elderly companion, who had been completely silenced, by the unexpected harsh ness of the Tuscan's retort upon him, felt himself sufficiently strengthened, by this little incident, which occurred under his eye, to renew the conversation. " We are not far from the inn, where we breakfast," said he, looking at his watch ; " I shall relish a dish of coffee, and those, who prefer brandy, I have 38 THE STAGE-COACH. no doubt , will be accommodated, for the temperance reform has effected very little here, among the hills." "Mister," said the Tuscan, " I guess you love brandy as well as other folks. If you'll only have patience till you get to the tavern, you'll get a plenty, and I guess there's none any nearer." " Young woman, I believe you are mistaken," said I, holding up the brandy-bottle before her eyes. The effect was electrical. It would be no easy matter to describe the expression of her features at that moment. She uttered not a syllable. Amazement, that her own brandy- bottle should have gotten into my possession, and be thus suddenly produced to testify against her, mingled with an almost idiotic smile or rather grin of half-drunken shame. " I will not inquire," continued 1, addressing this unhappy creature, " if this bottle of brandy is yours, for you have asserted that there was none nearer than the tavern. Is it yours, sir ? " addressing the young man who sat before me. " No, sir," said he, " I never saw it till THE STAGE-COACH. 39 yon took it from the floor." I repeated the inquiry to the two gentlemen on my left, and received a similar reply. " Is it yours, sir? " said I to the Dutchman. "No, myn heer, I never trink em more nor tirty-foor year." I inquired of the young lady in black, who replied by a faint smile and a slight movement of the head. No one remained but the Irish woman ; "Is it yours ? " said I. " Indaad, and it is not, your honor," said she ; " its not myself that wud be after taking the crathur along wid me that a way, ye may be sure ; and enough o' the misery o' thrinking that same's hap- punt to me and mine afore now, ye may depind." "Look here, mister," cried the Tuscan, resuming the offensive, and turning upon me, " isn't that bottle yours ? " After the laugh had subsided, which this sally pro duced, " No," said I, "it is not, and if it were, 1 should be one of the most inconsist ent creatures in existence ; for, last night, I lectured upon temperance ; and propose to do the same thing to-night ; but let us see 40 THE STAGE-COACH. if the driver can give us any explanation of this mystery. Driver," continued I, putting forth my head, and addressing an uncommonly fine-looking young man, who was driving six in hand, " we have found a bottle of brandy on the floor of your coach ; does it belong to you ? " " Me, sir ! " he exclaimed. " I have nothing to do with such desperate stuff as that ; but Til take charge of it, sir." I handed him the bottle ; and, in an instant after, a crash, as it struck against the stone wall at the road side, announced its fate. " You've broke my bottle ! " exclaimed the Tuscan, as she half rose from her seat. " Dat ish droll enough," said the Dutchman ; " it ish like de judgment of Solomon's ; nopody could foind vich was de true moder, till de leetil chilt was to be cut up." The coach now stopped at the inn ; and this unhappy young woman, after alighting, was scarcely able to reach the door without assistance. After we were seated at the breakfast table, some one inquired of the girl in attend ance, if the young woman, who was of our THE STAGE-COACH. 41 company, knew that breakfast was ready. " Yes, sir/' was the reply ; " but she says she is not very well, and has taken a cracker and a glass of brandy and water by herself." As we sat at breakfast, the case of this young offender was our only topic ; and, just before we rose from table, the girl who waited, and who had evidently taken a very natural interest in our conversation, remarked, that this young woman had requested the bar-keeper to let her have another bottle of brandy ; and, when he told her that the other passengers would be displeased, if a female rode in the coach with a bottle of brandy, she had met his objection, by offering to ride outside with the driver, but that he had still persisted in his refusal. We all agreed, that the history of this unfortunate being, and of the origin of the abominable habit, which appeared to have obtained entire possession of her, must be extremely interesting ; and the task of gath ering such parts of it from her own mouth, as she might be induced, by kind and com- 4 THE STAGE-COACH. passionate inquiry, to reveal, was assigned to me. "I fear, sir," said the elderly gentle man, "you will find her so very stupid from intoxication, when we resume our seats in the carriage, that you will not be able to acquire much knowledge of her history." " I reckon she's an old offender," said the young man. " You probably reckon then without your host, my young friend," remarked the elderly gentleman ; " for she wears not the marks and numbers of one, who has been addicted to the habit for any great length of time." " I once knew a case," said the gentleman in black, " of a young woman, who became intemperate from-love." " Veil, vary veil," said the Dutchman, " vat ish de case here but love of de prandy?" "Perhaps," re marked the young lady who had occupied the corner in front of me, "perhaps she has a tyrant for her lord and master." " And that same it is, to be sure ; you've jist got a teeste o' the truth o' the hull mather, ye may be sartain," cried the Irish woman ; "there's nathing moor detistable contagious THE STAGE-COACH. 43 anonder the blissit sun, than a cantankerous, vile felly o' a husband, what's a thrinking and swearing, and moor fuller o' divilment nor a bag o' fleas, fro' marning to night. It's jist what the leddy has spukken ; it's a tyrant o' a lard and maaster what's driven the poor sowl to her present perdition." "May pe so," said the Dutchman, " but, of all de pig tyrants vat I ever read a pout, de piggest tyrant and de hardest master vas von Myn heer Prandy-pottle." "Stage is ready," cried the driver, and we resumed the seats which we had occupied before. It has been affirmed, of persons partially inebriated, rather, perhaps, in the language of folly than of philosophy, that drinking more deeply will sober them again. I by no means assert, that any such cause had operat ed upon the present occasion ; certain it is, however, this unfortunate young woman, when we resumed our journey, had undergone a remarkable change in her personal appear ance. She had lost entirely that expression of defiance, which she had exhibited before ; 44 THE STAGE-COACH. she was silent, and apparently subdued. It was very evident that she had been weeping. But what more faithless than a drunkard's tears ? I have seen them flow from the eyes of an intoxicated man, whose tongue, at the moment, stammered forth schemes of philan thropy, which failed not to evaporate with the fumes of the liquor he had drunken. 1 have heard of a wretched individual, who, during a period of religious excitement, had impressed his fond, credulous wife, and was probably himself impressed, with a belief, that he had reason to rejoice in the hope set before him ; but, after a profiuvium of tears and prayers, confessed to his inquiring partner in the morning, that he feared " it was nothing but the rum." The apparent humiliation and penitence of this poor woman, seemed to excite the sympathy of every passenger, excepting those of her own sex. The Irish lady, in particular, turned her back towards her, as far as her relative position permitted, and appeared determined to give her, in the Scottish phrase, the " cauld showther." This THE STAGE-COACH. 45 conduct, in females, towards offenders of their own sex, is very common, and arises less from the absence of humanity than the presence of pride. The elderly gentleman, as far as I could judge from the contemplation of his features, appeared to regret that he had contributed to place her in her present predicament. The Dutchman's features had again become buckled up into that expression of severity, which they bore at an earlier period; and our other fellow-travellers were evidently solemnized. It was not the easiest task in the world, to decide upon the most appropriate mode of executing my commission. I finally, how ever, decided upon that, which was simple and direct. "Young woman," said I, with a tone and expression of kindness, " your fellow-travellers profess to be friends of the temperance cause. We have been sincerely grieved on your account ; and, as it is now clear beyond a doubt, that you have made a free use of brandy, since you have been our companion, we are desirous, if you have no 46 THE STAGE-COACH. objection, to know something of the origin of this habit." She raised her eyes with a look of distrust ; but the cordial compassion I felt for her, and which was doubtless indi cated by the expression upon my features at the moment, served, in some measure, to dissipate that feeling. " It is a source of happiness to me," I continued, " to collect a variety of interesting facts upon the subject of intemperance, and, without any reference to particular persons, to present these facts before the world, for the benefit of my fellow- creatures. I believe the history of your case must be an interesting one, and if it should not pain your feelings too severely, I think you would be willing to set up your own example as a beacon for others. I cannot believe, from all I see, that you have been very long addicted to this habit." " I never drank any spirit," she replied, " till about three years ago, just after my youngest child was born." She uttered this reply in a suppressed tone of voice, and with evident emotion. "You have been married, then? "said I. "Yes, THE STAGE-COACH. 47 sir," she replied, " I was married eight years s i nce ." Is your husband living?" I in quired. "I suppose he is; I have not seen him for more than two years." "Does he not reside at home?" said I. "No, sir," she answered, " he left me about two years a go." "Does he follow the seas?" "He has of late years," said she. "Two years," I continued, " is a long time ; and when do you expect his return?" "I don't know that he ever will come back," said she. At this moment, the old Dutchman shook his head ; and, when I turned my eyes upon the young woman again, she had bowed down her face. Her bonnet concealed her features, but the tears were falling upon her cloak. After a brief interval, I resumed the con versation. " I am fearful," said I, " that you have a bad, perhaps, an intemperate, hus band." My remark seemed to summon her to the rescue. Whatever may be the nature of domestic strife, foreign interference is rare ly welcomed, by either party. "No, sir," she replied, " I had as good a husband as 43 THE STAGE-COACH, ever lived, and there never was a more tem perate man. He was a member of the Tem perance Society. My husband was a carpen ter, and worked as hard as any man r but ha never took strong drink of any kind ; and, if I could only say the same thing of myself, we never should have parted. " How did you first contract this habit?" said L "After my last child was born/' she replied, " I had a severe fever, and was brought very low. It seemed as though I never should recover my strength. Our doctor, who was a skilful old gentleman, said nothing would raise me so soon as a little brandy. My husband asked him if nothing else would answer as well, and was much opposed to my taking it. But the doctor insisted upon it. It was not pleasant at first, but I soon began to relish it with sugar ; and, after a month's trial, I got my self into such a state, that I thought I couldn't live without it. My husband was greatly dis tressed about it, and said he would not have it in the house. I then got it privately, and the habit was so strong upon me, that I used THE STAGE-COACH. 49 to lie awake very often, thinking bow good it would taste in the morning. I have often said, and I say so now, that I would give the world, if it were mine, to be cured of this hankering after strong drink. At last, my poor children " " Poor leetil childher ! " cried the Dutchman, as he brushed away the tear from his eye " My poor children," continued the woman, " began to suffer, and my husband became desperate. At one time, he would try to coax me to leave it off; and, after I had kept myself clear of it for a week or so, he would make me a present, though he could poorly afford it. At another time, when I could hold out no longer, and he re turned and found nothing ready for dinner or supper, and the children crying, and his wife unfitted for every thing, he would talk very harshly, and threaten to leave me. I deserved it all," said she, weeping bitterly, "and I've thought, if he should come back, I would try to do better, and leave it off, though Pm afraid I should'nt be able to. I never thought he'd really go away. He seemed, at last, to 5 50 THE STAGE-COACH. be giving the matter up. He let me go on, pretty much as I pleased. He used to take the two elder children, upon a Sunday, to meeting, and leave me at home, for I was ashamed to go there, as folks had begun to take no notice of me. A few days before he went off, he said very little to me, but seemed to be busy, packing his chest. I thought all this was done to scare me ; so I took no no tice of it. He finally put his chest upon a wheelbarrow, and wheeled it away. ' Good by, John/ said I, for I thought he wasn't in earnest ; and I was sure he wasn't, when I saw him coming back, in about an hour, with out it. I told him he'd made a short voyage of it. He said nothing not a word but took the children on his lap, and kissed them, and cried over them as if his heart would break. His silence, and his taking on so, worried me more than all his threats. Next morning, he asked me to take the three chil dren, and go with him to see his mother, who lived about a mile off. So I got ready. We had an old door that watched round the house. THE STAGE-COACH. 51 My husband patted the dog. ' Good by, Cassar,' said he, and he sobbed out loud as he said it. I then began to fear he was really going ; and, as I thought how kindly he had always used me, and what a miserable wife I had been to him, I couldn't help shedding tears. But I said nothing, for I still thought he only wanted to try me. When we got to his mother's, I saw his chest outside the gate. We went in, and the old lady began to shed tears, but said not a word. I then thought he meant to leave me. He looked at the clock, and said it was about time for the stage to come ; and, turning to me, he took my hand, but it was some time before he could speak. At last, he mastered his feel ings. c Fanny ! ' said he, c there's but one way to convince you, that I'm in earnest, and that is to leave you. I took you for better or worse, but I didn't take you for a drunkard, and I won't live with you as such. You have often said you was willing to part, and could support yourself, if I would support the chil dren, and you have agreed, that they should 52 THE STAGE-COACH. live with their grandmother. I've sold my tools and some other matters, and raised a hundred dollars, which I have placed iiT her care for their use ; and, if God spares my life, they shall never want. When she writes me word, that you have kept clear of this habit for six months, I will gladly come back, but never till then.' While he was speaking, the stage arrived, and I saw them lashing on his chest. I then had no longer any doubt. He kissed the children and his mother, and rushed out of the house. I followed him to the door. c O, dear John,' said I, c don't go, don't go, John ; do try me once more ; '.but he never looked back ; and the stage was soon out of sight. ( He is a cruel, cold-hearted man, ' said I, as I sat down on the threshold of the door. 'Fanny,' said his mother, as she sat wiping her eyes, c will you abide by those words at the judgment day ? ' ' No,' said I, after a short pause, ' he is the kindest and best of husbands and fathers.' c Then, try,' said she, ' to kill that sinful habit, and win back your happy fireside.' c I will try,' THE STAGE-COACH. 53 said I ; and I have tried, but how poorly I have succeeded, you all know too well." When the poor creature had finished her narrative, which bore irresistible marks of truth, in the very manner of its delivery, there was not an unmoistened eye among us all. The elderly gentleman gave her the most ad mirable counsel. The old Dutchman turned round and gazed upon her, while the tears trickled down his weather-beaten features : " Mine Got," he exclaimed, taking off his hat with an air of the deepest reverence, while he spoke, " ven vill dere pe an end of dish accursed trade ! Ven vill a pody leave off selling de fires of hell to hish neighbor in ex change for de poor leetil childher's pread ! " I learned from this woman, that, after her husband's departure, she had obtained em ployment in a manufactory in the town of . Upon my return, I had occasion to stop there ; and, having ascer tained her name from the way-bill, I dis covered that a female, bearing the same 54 THE STAGE-COACH. name, had been discharged, a short time before, for intemperance. In the course of some remarks, which I made upon this occasion, I alluded to the traffic as a heart-sickening employment. The young man who sat immediately before me, admitted that it was such, and stated that he had tended a country dram-shop for several years. He was a shrewd young man, but wholly uneducated. We requested him to give us some account of his experience in the rum-selling line, which he did substantial ly as follows. THE STAGE-COACH. 55 PART SECOND. " I WAS rising twelve, when I went to tend for my uncle, 'Zekiel Snooks. I kept with him nine years, till I was twenty-one, lacking a few days. Mother didn't altogether like the business ; but father had got down to heel, and they thought 'twas a good chance for me to get along in the world. Uncle Snooks, when I first went, kept a pretty considerable smart sort of a concern, I tell ye. There was a'most every thing there that country folks wants, from a ploughshare clean down to a silk glove. But that didn't last a great while. Arter a spell, he gin up the biggest part o' sich goods as was not a great deal called for, and stuck to the main chance. No man knew which side his bread was buttered on better than uncle 'Zekiel. He was up early and late, looking arter 56 THE STAGE-COACH. things ; he never lost a minute. I never knew him speak my whole name since I was born. He used to say he couldn't spare time for't. c 'Kiah/he used to say, when he had a little leisure of a Sunday night, arter prayers, c 'Kiah, my lad, you must keep the run o' matters. I've lost a mint o' money, stocking my store with a pack o' trash that rusts, or rots, or goes out o' fashion afore it'll sell. When folks gets a leetle down, the farmers scratch up their ground as well as they can, and the mechanics tinker along with their old tools ; and their wives patch up their old gowns and petticoats, and wear their old bonnets, and coax the holes in their stockings clean out o' sight. The squire, maybe, turns his old coat two or three times, afore he'll come to my shop to buy cloth for a new one ; and the doctor runs down sugar, and tea, and coffee, jest because he can't afford 'em. But there's one thing, 'Kiah, that never goes out o' fashion, and that's the good stuff; and there's nothing that brings in a profit like that. New England is the great THE STAGE-COACH. 57 stand-by, my boy, and I mean to look to that, as the main chance.' Uncle 'Zekiel was a pretty good sort of a man for them days. There was no temperance societies then, as I know'd on. That was about fifteen years ago. I am now about twenty-seven. " Uncle Snooks, jest about a year arter I went to tend his shop, did give up selling a great sight o 5 things, that he used to have, and got to sell a great deal more liquor. He sold a monstrous sight on it, for a'most every body took more or less, in them times. He made a great profit, as I thought ; but, some how or other, he grew rather poorer every year. Our rum cost about twenty cents '<* gallon, afore it was rectified." " Vat ish dat vat you mean py rec tified']" inquired the old Dutchman. " Why, uncle 'Zeik used to rectify all the rum he bought, by adding about a quarter part of fresh spring water, and then we retailed it at six cents a glass, a pretty slick profit, any how. There was no where else to go in our town ; so it all went off well 58 THE STAGE-COACH. enough, nobody grumbled. Uncle got cotched once, though, confoundedly. 'Bijah Cody cotched him. We got a fresh hogshead one Saturday ; and, arter we'd shot up shop, uncle Snooks and I staid to rectify it. I never could tell jest how it happened, but 'Bijah had got asleep on a bag of meal that was on the floor behind the settle, and we didn't see him when we locked ourselves in. The noise we made a shetting up waked him, I guess, and he seed the whole proceedings. We drawed off about sixteen gallons into an empty berril, and then began to rectify what remained in the hogshead. We hadn't poured in more than four or five gallons of the spring w r ater, afore 'Bijah set up a haw, haw ; c Holloa ! ' says he, i let's have a thimble-full afore you make it any stronger.' Uncle 'Zeik, ye see, was a member of the church, and he felt proper bad, I know. The drops o' sweat stood on his forehead like rain-drops on a cabbage-leaf, arter a shower. ' You won't make no noise about it, 'Bijah, will ye ? ' said he. c Haw, haw, THE STAGE-COACH. 59 haw, haw, haw,' said 'Bijah. That was all uncle 'Zeik could get out of him, till he told him he should have as much as he wanted, whenever he called. He lived four years arter that; and every day, foul or fair, he worked upon our dimijohns and berrils like a suction hose. Uncle had to pay the tribute. 'Bijah was confounded impudent, to boot. He'd bring in three or four at a time ; and, arter treating 'em all to as much liquor as they'd drink, he'd turn round to uncle Snooks and tell him to charge it to his petiklar account, rolling his eyes, and running his red rag into the side of his cheek in such an oddfangled way as made uncle 'Zeik hang his head and look as mean and small as a weasel. I used to think, that I wouldn't feel as he did then, for the vally of all the rum in the universe. But this was only a small touch of the troubles that uncle 'Zeik suf fered in the rum business. Many a one, that burnt himself up with rum afore he died, got his first glass in that shop ; and there many a poor fellow drank his last. We used to have 60 THE STAGE-COACH. raal high times there now and then. Two thirds of all the quarrels and rights, and a'most all the lawsuits, in our town, I guess, begun in uncle 'Zeik's shop. " There was no talk ahout temperance so cieties, in our town, at that time, as I telPd ye. So long as a body could pay for his liquor, no body else meddled with him or his concerns. Now and then, when the neighbors thought any one drinkt more than was good for him, and lickt his wife too much, they used to talk of having on him posted. But uncle 'Zeik was one of the slickmen, and took his part at the board so long as he had any property, and always got him clear. Sometimes, a poor fellow would be hauled up afore the church, for being drunk every day in the week. But uncle 'Zeik, who, as I tell'd ye, was a church-member, and kept the run of every body's drinking in the parish, used to make it out that he wasn't drunk half so often as every day in the week, by a great sight ; and then he'd look round among the church-members present, as sharp as an old THE STAGE-COACH. 61 hen-hawk, and say, ' Let him who is entirely without sin in this respect, cast the first stone at him.' Then there used to be sich a spell of sneezing, and coughing, and snickering ; and so the matter dropped. Church-mem bers then, and ministers too, in them days, used to make nothing of taking a comforting glass. Our minister, Parson Cogle, seldom stopped in at uncle 'Zeik's shop without tasting a little Cogniac, and nobody thought the worse on him for that. c How,' said he, one day, to uncle 'Zeik, c how do you construe the law which forbids you to permit persons to drink to excess in your store, Mr. Snooks ? ' c I'm raal glad to hear you propound that are point/ said uncle 'Zeik ; 4 there's nothing, to my notion, half so diffi cult in all Hebrews. There isn't more differ among cattle in their power to take off their load, than there is in the power of men to take off their liquor. There's Farmer Ridgerow, half a mug of toddy knocks him right up, so that he wouldn't know a harrow from a hog's-troth. Then agin, there's 62 THE STAGE-COACH. Squire Pauncher, he's told me, many a day, when IVe ax'd him, jist in a dilicate way, as I've been a handing him the fourth or fifth mug, if he wasn't afeard 'twould set a leetle heavy on his vitals, he's told me 'pon his honor, that he didn't feel that he got the good of the liquor at all, till he felt it somehow reach the right spot. The squire's a man of sense, and you may rely on't, parson, it's one of the most difficult things in natur, to say when a body's drinking to excess. The Ginral Court had ought to make this matter more plainer. One thing's sartain, when a body's drinkt out his money, here's a clear case of excess ; and, arter a good deal of thought, I've made up my mind that this was the ginivine meaning of the legislatur.' "My mother used to say very often, long afore temperance societies came into vogue, that selling liquor was an ugly business : and she tried hard to get father's consent to my leaving uncle 'Zeik ; but he wouldn't agree to't. She had the right on't. 'Twas pretty tough ? for a young man, who got nothing but THE STAGE-COACH. 63 an insight into the tricks of a trade that he didn't relish, to look on and see how it worked. A monstrous number of likely young men, and a good many young women too, was used up in uncle 'Zeik's shop, while I was 'printice. The first liquor they took, as like as not, was all in an accidental sort of a way. Uncle couldn't make change into a few cents, and so he'd say, < Well, it isn't exactly the price of a glass, but I won't stand with a good cus tomer ; ' and while he was a saying so, he'd fill a glass and reach it out, and afore a body could think whether he wanted it or not, down it went, and so the ice was broken. 'Twas raal melancholy to see the beginning and end of some on 'em, from the time they laid down the dollar for six cents worth of rum and the rest in tea and sugar, to the time when they laid down a pistareen for three cents worth of tea and the rest in rum. I've some times felt a kind of guilty myself, when I've passed a castaway, working among the town's poor, on the public road, with his bloated face and ragged clothes ; and remembered that I 64 THE STAGE-COACH. handed him his first glass in uncle 'Zeik's shop, when he was an industrious and happy young man. " Uncle Snooks had a pretty hard time on it sometimes, when the women folks used to come and plague him, about not selling any more to their husbands. There was one Barny Belcher, who drinkt up his farm. They used to say his old cow choked him, because he sold her last of all his stock, and died in a fit, while he was drinking the very first dram, that he bought with the money he got for her. Barny's wife tormented uncle ? Zeik from morning to night ; and her perse cution, together with the loss of his property, as I always thought, drove him out of his busi ness and shortened his days. She was a proper firebrand, though she never took any spirit herself. There wasn't a happier couple, in our parish, when they were first married ; and they had a family of four little children, that every body used to notice, for their neat appearance. I've seen 'em many a time, of a Sunday, going to meeting, hand in hand, THE STAGE-COACH. 65 and all four abreast, along with their father and mother. Barny was a very thrifty farmer, and I never thought he was the man to die a drunkard. It used to be said, that there hadn't been a likelier couple married in the parish, for many years ; for, though they had almost nothing to start with, yet they were, both on 'em, amazing handsome to look at ; they were as smart as a couple of steel traps, and very industrious into the bargain. They did surprising well for several years. But he got to be an insign, and rum and rigimentals did the business for poor Barny, in less than no time. When he got to be pretty bad, she first came to the house, and then to the shop, to get uncle 'Zeik not to let him have any more liquor. They had a good many talks about it, but uncle 'Zeik would have his way. At last she consulted a lawyer, and came over to the shop, and gave uncle 'Zeik a raal dressing, afore more than a dozen custom ers. < Well, Nelly Belcher,' said uncle 'Zeik when she came in, resolved to be beforehand with her, c what do you want to-day?' 6 66 THE STAGE-COACH. ' Mercy,' said she, ' if I can't have justice. You know well enough what I want. I no\v request you once again, to sell my husband no more spirit.' 'And how can I help it?' said uncle 'Zeik, somewhat disturbed by her resolute manner. '1 have taken a lawyer's advice,' said she, ' and you have no right to sell to common drunkards.' ' Do you say that your husband is a common drunkard ? ' said he. 'To be sure I do,' she replied. 'I really do not think your husband is a common drunkard, Nelly Belcher,' said uncle 'Zeik. ' Snooks/ said she, clinching her fist, 'you are what you are. You know- that Barny's a common drunkard, and you made him so, you old licensed, rum-selling church-member.' ' Go out of my shop,' cried uncle 'Zeik, stepping towards her. 1 I wouldn't touch the poor woman, Mr. Snooks,' said one of the company ; ' she's driven on by the state of her husband and children.' ' Touch the poor woman ! ' cried Nelly, stretching herself up, and she was the tallest woman in the parish, 'let him lay the THE STAGE-COACH. 67 weight of his rummy finger upon me if he dares ; and, though I'm poor enough in purse, Heaven knows, I'll show him that I've the spirit of my father, who thrashed him, when he was eighteen, for stealing a sheep-skin. I won't go out of his shop, nor budge an inch, till F\ 7 e said my say, in the presence of ye all.' 'Nelly Belcher,' said uncle 'Zeik, 4 you'll have to pay for this.' c Pay for it ! ' cried Nelly, with a screaming voice, e and havn't you got your pay already? Havn't you got the homestead, and the stock, and the furniture? And didn't Barny pawn the chil dren's clothes last Friday, and bring you every cent that he got for 'em ? You've got every thing, from the ridge-pole down ; you've got it all here, among your wages of iniquity ; ' and, as she said this, she gave a blow, with her fist, upon the top of uncle 'Zeik's till, that made the coppers pretty lively, I tell ye. < Snooks,' said she, e you've got every thing. I havn't a pint of meal nor a peck of potatoes for my children. Stop. I'm mistaken; there's an old rum-jug in the house, that's been 68 THE STAGE-COACH. in your sliop often enough ; you ought to have that ; and there's a ragged straw-bed ; you shall have 'em both, and any thing else you'll find, if you won't let Barny have any more rum. You've made your bargain, Snooks, your own way ; but there's a third party to it, and that's the devil. You've got poor Barny's money in your till, and the devil's got your soul in his fire-proof, and he'll keep it there safe enough, till the day of judgment.' Uncle 'Zeik offered 'Bijah Cody a hand some present, if he'd turn her out of the shop. ( I'd a leetle rather not, Mr. Snooks,' answered 'Bijah, with a look, that showed, plainly enough, how much he enjoyed uncle 'Zeik's torment. 'Look here, Nelly Bel cher,' said uncle 'Zeik, and he was getting wrathy, for he stamped his foot pretty con siderable smart, 'the second Tuesday of November the court will sit, and you shall answer for this.' { What care I for your court ? ' replied she ; ' the day will come, and it may come this hour, when a higher court will sit ; and you shall answer for more than THE STAGE-COACH. 69 all this a thousand fold. Then, you cold- hearted old man, I will lead my poor ragged children before the bar of a righteous God, and make a short story of their wrongs, and of that poor young man's, who has fallen by your hands, just as surely, as though you had killed him with ratsbane. There's not one of you here,' continued Nelly, ( that doesn't remember me and Barny when we were married. You was at our wedding, 'Bijah Cody, and so was you, Lot Mason. Now I ask you if you ever dreamt that we should come to this ? Was there ever a little farm better managed ? And, if I was not a careful, faithful, industrious wife to Barny, I wish you to say the very worst of me to my face.' 'Nobody doubts it, Nelly,' said 'Bijah. ' And were my little ones ill treated ? Hadn't they whole clothes for Sunday, and wasn't they constant at meeting, for years, till this curse crept in upon us, like an adder ? And, till then, did ye ever see a likelier man than Barny? And, as for his kindness to me and the children till that hour, it's for me to wit- 70 THE STAGE-COACH. ness ; and I say it before ye all, that, before he tasted this old man's liquor, there never was a hard thought or a bitter word between us. He was the boy of my foolish love, when he was seventeen, and the man of my choice, when he was three and twenty. I gave him an honest heart, that never loved another, and the trifle of worldly goods, that my old mother left me ; but he has broken the one and squandered the other. Last night, as I lay upon my straw-bed, with my poor children, I thought of our young days, and our little projects of happiness ; and, as I saw poor Barny, in my fancy, just the trim lad that he was, with his bright eye and ruddy cheek, I felt my eyes filling with tears, as they're filling now. I hope I may never shed another,' said she, dashing them off with the back of her hand, and resuming her look of vengeance. I'm going to cross your thresh old, for the last time, and now mark me well. I ask you, once for all, to sell poor Barny no more liquor. If you do, I will curse you till I die, as the destroyer of my husband; and I will THE STAGE-COACH. 71 teach my children to curse you when I am dead, as the destroyer of their father.' " ' She ought to be shut up as a common brawler,' said uncle 'Zeik, as she left the shop. But the solemn impression, which poor Nelly had made upon us all, prevent ed us from saying any thing to comfort him. i You said you didn't think Barny Belcher was a common drunkard,' said Lot Mason. ' No more I don't,' replied uncle 'Zeik, C I consider him a very uncommon drunkard.' ' That's rather too cold a joke for my stomach just now,' said 'Bijah Cody ; and he walked out of the shop. He, ana Lot Mason, and Barny, used to be great cro nies, formerly ; and Nelly's talk had reminded him of it. 'Bijah's eyes were pretty red, when he went out, and he hadn't been drink ing neither. He never came into the shop after that day. Two or three others, that were there, told uncle 'Zeik, that they thought he was wrong to sell Barny any more ; and the old man came home quite sober, and down in the mouth. He had a horrid nightmare that rJ THE STAGE-COACH. night, and Miss Snooks said she had to shake him a'most a quarter of an hour, afore she could stop his bawling and yelling. He wouldn't tell his dream to nobody for some time ; but, at last, he got superstitious, and kind of confessed it to Parson Cogle, who told it about the parish, in confidence. It seems uncle 'Zeik dreamt he was chased all night by a monstrous hogshead of rum, that he'd rectified, and he thought, as it came rolling down hill after him, that it would crush him to atoms every minute. " Uncle Snooks soon forgot his dream, and began to sell rum to Bamy Belcher as before, whenever he got any money. It was thought, by a good many, that Nelly had lost her reason, or very near it, about that time. She soon found out, that Barny got rum at our shop ; and sure enough, she brought her four little children, and, standing close to the shop door, she cursed uncle 'Zeik, and made them do so too. It worried him properly. When ever she met him in the road, she used to stop short, and say over a form that she had, in a THE STAGE-COACH. 73 low voice, but every body knew, by her raising her eyes and hands, that she was a cursing uncle 'Zeik. Very few blamed her ; her case was a very hard one ; and most folks excused her on the score of her mind's being disordered by her troubles. But even then, she made her children obey her, whether she was present or absent, though it was said she never struck 'em a blow. It almost made me shudder sometimes, when I've seen these children meet uncle 'Zeik. They'd get out of his way as far as they could ; and, when he'd gone by, they'd move their lips, though you couldn't hear a word, and raise up their eyes and hands, just as their mother had taught 'em. When I thought these children were calling down the vengeance of Heaven upon uncle 'Zeik, for having made them fatherless, it fairly made my blood run cold. After the death of her husband, she became very melancholy, and a great deal more so, after the loss of her two younger children. She didn't use to curse uncle 'Zeik after that. But she always had a talent for rhyming, and 7 74 THE STAGE-COACH. she used to come and sit upon the horse-block before our shop, and sing a sort of a song, that was meant to worry uncle 'Zeik, and it did worry him dreadfully, 'specially the chorus. Whenever he heard that, he seemed to forget what he was about, and every thing went wrong. 'Twas something like this : ' He dug a pit, as deep as hell, And into it many a drunkard fell ; He dug the pit, for sordid pelf, And into that pit he'll fall himself.' One time, when poor Nelly sung the chorus pretty loud, and the shop was rather full, uncle 'Zeik was so confused, that he poured half a pint of rum, that he had measured out, into his till, and dropped the change into the tin pot, and handed it to the customer. " I raally felt for him, for, about this time, two of his sons gave him a sight of trouble. They used to get drunk, and fight like sar- pents. They shut the old gentleman down cellar one night, and one on 'em, when he was drunk, slapped his father in the face. THE STAGE-COACH. 75 They did nothing but run him into debt ; and, at last, he got to taking too much himself, jest to drown care. Dr. Tilton said, that old Nelly was right, and that uncle Snooks would fall into his own pit, afore he died. Mother, at last, got father's consent, that I should leave, and I've been in an English goods store ever since. Dr. Tilton often said I had a wonderful escape. If I'd had as much relish for liquor as most folks, I s'pose I should have got into the pit as well as uncle 'Zeik." " Ish de old man alive now ? " in quired the Dutchman. " Yes, he's living," said the narrator. "After the Temperance Society was formed, he lost his license, and got to be starving poor, and the town had to maintain him. He's been crazy for several years. I went to see him last winter with father, who's tried to get him into the state hospital. It made me feel ugly to see him. He didn't know me ; but all the time I was there, he kept turning his thumb and finger as though he was drawing liquor, or scoring it down with a bit of chalk upon the wall. It 76 THE STAGE-COACH. seemed as if he'd forgot all his customers but one ; for, though the wall was covered with charges of rum, and brandy, and gin, and flip, and toddy, the whole was set down agin Barny Belcher." " Veil," said the Dutch man, "jest dat vay my neighbor, old Peder Pendergrash, kick de bucket. He trade in dat shtufF more nor twenty year. He vas vary poor at de last; he vas vary drunk; and, afore he die, he vas raven all de time about viskey." " It is greatly to be deplored," said the gen tleman in black, who sat next me, " that the church should occasionally be made to suffer, through the misconduct of its members." "It is so," said the elderly gentleman, "yet we frequently encounter a mawkish sensibility upon this subject, which is exceedingly ridic ulous. If free ships make free goods, it by no means follows, that church membership, or the pastoral office, forbids the right of search. Yet there are certain persons, who very ab surdly strive to conceal the follies and vices, which occasionally mark unworthy members, THE STAGE-COACH. 77 amid the great mass of excellence, which undeniably characterizes the body. Profess ing Christians, and particularly ministers of the gospel, should utterly reject the idea of casting the whole amount of Christian graces into common stock, and dividing per capita. We are, now and then, compelled to make the painful discovery, not only of error, but of gross and abominable sin, among professing Christians ; but their respectability, as a body, defies the malicious ingenuity of man. There is not a legitimate branch of that tree, which Christ planted, to which this remark is inap plicable. Upon the body, there are, undoubt edly, excrescences, unsightly and corrupt, and their existence has just the same effect in lessening the integrity of the whole, as have the mountains of the earth, in lessening its sphericality. It would be nothing less than folly and madness, in one, who labored under a cancer, to suffer it to remain unextirpated, lest he should disclose the imperfection of a certain portion of his tabernacle. None, but 78 THE STAGE-COACH. a pompous and vain-glorious prelate, will ex pand his cassock, and display the apparatus of his order, and come down in all the parade of canonicals to the rescue, when nothing more is proposed than an inquiry into individual char acter, or the affixation of the brand of public scorn upon a convicted hypocrite. No, sir, purgation is a salutary process, and I am never weary of seeing rum-selling deacons, church-wardens, church-members, and guz zling clergymen exposed to the public gaze." " If dere ish not good sense in vat dish old gentleman zay, I don know vere he ish," said the Dutchman. " I've got a goot minish- ter now ; he trinks de colt vater ; he needs notting shtronger. Ven he come to trink- ing toddy, den I vill pe my own minish- ter." " I agree with you entirely, sir," said the gentleman in black. There is an undiscrimi- nating portion of the community, which is liable to be misled, and there is a wicked portion, quite willing to mislead them. It is THE STAGE-COACH. 79 thus, that the church is made to suffer by such exhibitions. I do not say, that she loses, in one way, more than she gains, in another. The serious contemplation of these delinquencies, in those, whose holy office seems to furnish a rampart of more than ordinary strength, is likely to increase our power of resistance, by teaching us a solemnizing lesson of human frailty, and thus leading us to the throne of grace in prayer for an unearthly support. The subject of intemperance is certainly one of the highest interest ; and I am far from thinking, that our day, thus far, has been employed un profitably." " Jest so it seem to me," said the Dutchman ; " de shtory of a poor trunkard ish like a beacon on de preakers, if a pody vill only keep a goot look-out. I followed de zea, and trinkt brandy more nor tirty year. Tirty-foor year ago, I vowed I would leave em off, if God should shpare my life. I vas on a wreck, ven I made de vow." "You have lived long, and probably seen much of the world," 80 THE STAGE-COACH. said the elderly gentleman, who, like myself, had conceived a respect for the Dutchman's good sense and good feelings, " suppose you give us a leaf out of your log-book, sir." " Vary veil, mynheer," said the Dutch man. THE STAGE-COACH. 81 PART THIRD. " I'VE heer'd mine oold fader zay dat it vas thought, dere vasn't an honest man in hish day, in all Holland, vat trinkt coold vater. Vansittart, de great burgomaster, clapt apout a dozen in irons vat he found trinking coold vater, togedder ; bekase he knowed dey vas a plotting mischief agin de States General. My fader zay de council of de Lutheran chuch in Leyden, vere he vas porn, hauled dere oold minishter, Van Oort, over de coals for giving a beggar coold vater mitout any prandy, bekase, de council zay, he vas not given to hospitality. Oold Van Krutzen, de sexton of our chuch, used to hire me, ven I vas leetil poy, to help him shcour de communion plate, and he always give me a trink of de wine vat vas left. Dat vas de vay I begins. Poor Van Krutzen, he got to be a trunkard. 82 THE STAGE-COACH. Von toctor zay he must leave off prandy. So he try dat vay. After a leetil vile he thought he vas a dying ; so he send for his oold toctor, and he zay, de toder toctor vas a pig quack, and told de patient to trink prandy agin. Van Krutzen lookt up and shmile, and ax de toctor how much he should take dat day. c Von ounce/ zay de toctor. So, ven he vas gone, Van Krutzen zay to his son, ' Herman, get de measure pook, my poy, and read how much make von ounce.' So Her man gets de pook, and read, ' sixteen drains makes von ounce.' f Dat ish de toctor for me,' cried Van Krutzen, as he rubbed his hands ; ' I never took so many drams pefore in von day.' " Ven I vas going my firsh voyage, as capin- poy, my fader put me in de shtage to go to de seaport apout foorty mile. De shtage vas upset; von man preak his head, anoder his leg, and De Groot, de triver, vas kilt upon de shpot. De Groot vas trunk ; dat vas prandy. Ven I got to de seaport, I sh troll apout de town half de night, get into pad THE STAGE-COACH. 83 company, lose de leetil monish vat my oold moder give me. and vas lock up in de vatclr'ouse : dat vas prandy. De ship vas vaiting for fair vind eight day. At lasht he come, vest-nord-vest. Den de captain vas not to pe found till de next day. Ven dey find him. he vas so foil of de shtuff he couldn't navigate de ship: dat vas prandy. De vary firsh night after ve gets to zea, ve runs down a leetil shcooner ; shtruck her jest apout midships. After she fell off, she took a lee lurch to port, and vent down head foremost. Ven I hear de shock, I runs upon de deck, and jest zee her go. De crew cry for us to shtop. Ve hove de topsails apack, and gets out de poat, but ve vas running eight knot; and, afore de poat could pull pack to de place vere she vent down, dey vas all drown but von. who held on to a shpar ; ve save him. Tirteen lives vas lost, he zay. It vas pright moonlight night, but our vatch vas trunk; dat, you zee, vas prandy. De captain vas trunk all de time ; so he don know vat he zay. He cursh and shwear ten knot an hour. He 84 THE STAGE-COACH. shcream to one man to pull de fore-top pow- line, ven he mean, like enough, de main-sheet. So de poor fellow he pull de fore-top powline, jest vat de captain zay. Den de captain he tie him up to de rigging, and give him two dozen mit de oold cat, bekase he don pull de fore- sheet ; dat vas prandy. Von dark night, ven ve had a lee shore, de man at de helm, he vas goot zeaman, he zay, ' Captain Van Brandt, don you tink we petter keep her a leetle nearer de vind, and hold off de land till de day preak?' Den Van Brandt he cursh and shwear; he vas pretty trunk dat night. e Vat, in de name of Tutch tonder,' he zay, as he shove de man from de helm, ( vat ! you tell me how de oold ship shall pe shteer ! You're a lant-lupper,' he zay ; ( de cook can shteer more petter dan sich a green horn as you.' So he called up de nigger cook, and tell him how to shteer ; and, to show de oder man vat a fool he vas, he sail de ship a point vreer on de vind. Cato vas vary proud to shteer de ship ; and ven de captain turn in, he tink he shteer petter, if de compass THE STAGE-COACH. 85 vould not shake apout mit de roll of de ship ; so he open de pinnacle, and put a chip under de compass to keep him shteady, jest as he do mit his shpider in de cabouse. Apout an hour after Captain Van Brandt turn in, de cook shteer de ship right on de preakers. I vas knock out of my berth. De zea made a clean breach fore and aft. It vas de young flood ; dat vas goot luck. Ven de day come, ve lighten de ship, and get out an anchor ashtern, and, mit de full zea, ve get de oold hulk afloat. De vater-casks vas stave, and Cato vas gone. He zay he know Captain Van Brandt vould kill him ; so, ven de ship shtruck, he jump overpoard ; all dish vas prandy. Dish vas de lasht trip dat ever Van Brandt vent to zea. He die apout two mons after he get ashore of de liver complaint. De toctor zay dat it vas prandy. He vas hurried de same day mit de Burgomaster's lady, vat die of de same dishtemper. " I have seen great deal of trouble in dish voorld, and prandy vas at de pottom. De lasht voyage I go to zea, I vas de shkipper 86 THE STAGE-COACH. myself. I trinkt prandy den like oder volks. De mate, Jahn Grontergotzler, did jest so. After a sb quail or a shpell of tough wedder, ven all de trouble arid danger vas over, ve used to take de shnaps of prandy pretty freely. Von or de toder, me or Jahn Grontergotzler, vas commonly a leetil trunk in pleasant wed der. But ve took turns, so dat von should be sober to take care of de prig. Von time, ve had a terrible shtorm, in de Pay of Piscay it vas. It hold on four days ; den dere come clear wedder. Ve thought it vas all over, and, vile de men vas repairing de damage vat de shtorm did, Grontergotzler and me took more prandy dan vas goot for us. Den it began to blow agin, and de shtorm came back ten time vorse dan pefore. Grontergotz ler vas an oold man. Ven he vas sober, dere vas no petter to hand, reef, or shteer, dan oold Jahn ; but ven he vas trunk, he vas goot for notting. De crew vas all young men ; some of deni vas only poys, and cley had all been trinking a leetil. I shtaggered up to de helm, ven I saw de shquall coming, to THE STAGE-COACH. 87 help de man dere to get de prig before de vind ; but I vas too late. De shquall took her on de proadside, and trew her on her peam- ends, jest as a shtrong man vould trow a leetil poy. Five men vat vas aloft, mending de sails and rigging, vas thrown into de zea, and not von got pack to de prig. Den came anoder zea, and trew her more over dan pe- fore. Ven I could zee, I look round for de living. Trunk as he vas, Jahn Grontergotz- ler he vas vary shtrong man vas holding on to de main chains ; and close to Jahn vas Peder Oortzen, de capin-poy. De shtorm now seem to be content mit de mischief he had done, and dere vas no more shqualls. Every great wave passed over us. I vas in de fore-chains, and had lasht myself mit a rope ; but de prandy made me shtupid, and I made up my mind dat I musht go. . I saw dat oold Jahn must go firsht, for he vas so trunk, dat he sometimes held by von hand. I vas not so trunk myself, as not to feel for poor Oortzen, de capin-poy ; I promished his moder to take care of him. I called to him, THE STAGE-COACH. and told him to keep out of de oold mate's reach, for he would go down soon, and if he got him in his grip, dere vould be no chance for him. c O, Captain Plombaak,' cried de leetil poy, c I can't hold much longer.' Jest den, Grontergotzler let go, and, in his shtrug- gle, clutched Peder's right leg mit his hand. I cried to de poor lad to shake de oold man off; but he could not get rid of Jahn's death- grapple ; no more could he support de weight of de oold man, and his own peside ; so he soon let go von hand, and den de toder, and, giving a shriek, he sunk mit oold Grontergotz ler to de pottom. I vas den all alone, and I vas glad I vas not too trunk to pray ; my moder larn me to pray, ven I vas no more tall dan dish," measuring half the length of his hickory stick. "I pray to mine Got to shpare me, and I vow to trink no more pran- dy, and to try to pe a goot man. Jest as de day vas done, I vas taken vrom de wreck, by an English man-of-war. I have kept my vow ; I have trinkt no more prandy, nor any oder shtrong trink, for tirty-foor year, and I THE STAGE-COACH. SVJ have tried to be a goot man, so far as I know how, but de merciful Got, who has shpared me. musht pe de judge of dat." As he uttered these last words, the tears streamed down the furrows of the old Dutchman's face, and we were all deeply affected by his simple narrative. For a short time, we rode forward in silence. " It is a painful truth, sir," said the lady, who sat before me, directing her eyes, as she spoke, towards the elderly gentleman ; " it is a painful truth, as you have remarked, that examples of intemperance are to be found among women. They certainly are, and among females of every grade in society. I have seen poor women, thoroughly drunk upon rum ; and very fine ladies, who have dropped in, here and there, among their acquaintances and at confectionary stores, of a morning, and who had become ridiculously tipsy, and even worse, before they reached their own homes. I do not desire to excuse or even to palliate the offences of females, in this respect. But I believe, sir, there are no 8 90 THE STAGE-COACH. female distillers, nor wholesale brewers, nor wine-makers. The manufacture of the means of intoxication is pretty much in the hands of of your sex." " Your observation, madam," replied the elderly gentleman, " is perfectly just ; and, in domestic life, though the husband may be driven to intemperance by the wife's extravagance, or defection, yet I believe a vastly greater number of wives are made drunk ards, by the example of their husbands, than husbands by the example of their wives." " You spoke, sir," continued the lady, " of in temperance among the clergy. I scarcely know which is the more likely to excite our sorrow and surprise, an intemperate female of rank and education, or an intemperate clergy man." "The clergyman madam, beyond all doubt," replied the elderly gentleman ; " he has been solemnly set apart, with his own free consent, for the service of his Lord and Master." " The village, in which I was born," said the lady, " and in which I have passed the chief part of my life, is somewhat remarkable, for a succession of intemperate THE STAGE-COACH. 91 clergymen. Three, within my own knowl edge, were intemperate men. They are now dead, however, and there is a proverb, you know, sir, which, in the opinion of many, exempts them from all censure." "There is a proverb," replied the elderly gentleman, " I am aware, which forbids us to say any thing but good of the dead ; but I doubt the wisdom and the policy of such a proverb. I have more respect for the practice of the ancient Egyptians, which was precisely opposite. They suffered their living monarchs to reign uncensured ; but, upon their decease, they proceeded formally to try them upon their merits, and awarded praise or censure to their memories accordingly. Few men are utterly regardless of posthumous reputation, whether its boundaries be the whole world or the corner of some little hamlet. It is said, that he, who dies, can take nothing with him : surely he should not be permitted to take with him into the grave of oblivion the repu tation of his misdeeds. The highest and holiest motive is the love of God, But it is 92 THE STAGE-COACH. not inconsistent with the full and free opera tion of this heavenly spring, that others should act simultaneously with it, for the production of the same result. Thus the desire to leave our children that, which is infinitely better than riches, a dying father's good name, is a legitimate motive. How soothing, in a dying hour, surrounded by our children and friends, to ask, in the cheering confidence of truth, and in the language of the prophet, Whose ox have I taken ? or whose ass have I taken 1 or whom have I defrauded 1 WJiom have I oppressed T or of whose hand have I received any bribe to blind mine eyes therewith ? If dust to dust is to close the account forever, as between man and man, a strong inducement to good conduct is taken away. Judgment is with the Lord ; but I perceive in the just ex pression of opinion, touching the merits of the dead, no presumptuous interference with the final decrees of an all-righteous God. We have given this day, thus far, to the subject of intemperance, and I shall be quite con tented, if the remainder of it be bestowed in a THE STAGE-COACH. 93 similar manner; and, unless you have a serious objection, I should be gratified to hear some account of your three clergymen, whose errors ought not to terminate in their own personal affliction and disgrace, but extend beneficially in the shape of a solemn warning to others." "I have nothing to offer, sir," rejoined the lady, " in opposition to your reasoning; and I will briefly relate all that I recollect of their intemperate habits." 94 THE STAGE-COACH. PART FOURTH. "THE temperance reformation has produced so great a change in practice and opinion, since the days of my childhood, that I have sometimes half doubted the accuracy of my own recollections. I occasionally ask myself, if it were really the case, that ministers of the gospel accustomed themselves, at any period, on week days, and upon the Sabbath, to the use of rum, and brandy, and gin, and their various compounds, such as sling, and toddy, and flip. But my memory suffers me not long to remain in uncertainty. A mass of melancholy facts soon gather to its aid, and leave not a doubt upon my mind. My earliest recollections of strong drink, are directly asso ciated with the person of the clergyman, who was settled in our village, when I was born. He baptized me. That was twenty-nine THE STAGE-COACH. 95 years ago. Temperance was seldom spoken of, when I was a little girl, except in a general way. There was no such thing as a Temper- unce Society. Mr. Motey was about sixty, (it that time, and had preached for our people more than twenty years. He was very fond of me, when I was a little girl, and used, al most always, when he came to our house, to take me upon his knee. Sometimes I was pleased to sit there, and at other times, I ran away ; and when my mother asked me why I did so, I remember to have told her, that I did not like to sit upon Parson Motey 's knee, when his breath smelt of rum. She told me, that I must treat clergymen with respect, and that ministers had a hard task to perform, and must have spirit to support them like other people. I soon acquired such a knowledge of Parson Motey 's habits as enabled me to know, without approaching him, whether he had been drinking spirit or not. When he had not, his manners and tone of voice, were mild and paternal ; but, when he had, they did not seem like a minister's ; his face was 96 THE STAGE-COACH. flushed ; bis voice was loud ; and his manners were light. He told very droll stories, and laughed very boisterously. Upon such occa sions, I used to run away, and peep through the crack of the door ; and, when he had gone, I remember to have said, * Mother, what a funny minister Parson Motey is ! ' The idea, that our old minister had done wrong, in this respect, never entered my mind. I can assign no cause, peculiar to myself, but, as I have stated, his breath was very disagreeable to me, as a child ; and his habit of taking spirit became such a daily custom, before I was six years old, that I never sat upon his knee after that age. Parson Motey was a great favorite with his people. He fell away sadly before he died, and I have now no doubt, that the habits of his parishioners, which were almost universal, some four and twenty years ago, operating upon his social nature, occasioned his downfall. Wherever he came, nothing was too good for the minister ; and nothing was better than a cheering glass. There was nothing, in the nature of this good THE STA^E-COACH. 97 thing, which confined its employment to any particular hour of the day. Mrs. Motey her self was satisfied, to use her forcible expres sion, that it was the very life and soul of her husband. She was everlastingly stirring up something for Mr. Motey ; and, if it were not precisely agreeable, it was no fault of hers, for full thirty-three and a third per centum of the racy mixture, whatever it might be, was commonly consumed by Mrs. Motey, during the process of preparation. 1 became intimate at the parsonage, as I grew older, and have frequently witnessed her performances. She invariably sipped a little of the raw material, whether rum, gin, brandy, or whisky, origi nally, no doubt, to ascertain its quality ; but, at last, from the mere force of habit. As she poured in water, she tasted it again, to judge of its strength ; when she added sugar, she once more sipped a few drops, f to be sure that it was sufficiently sweet, for no man had a sweeter tooth than Mr. Motey ; next came the nutmeg, and again this faithful creature 9 98 THE STAGE-COACH./ applied the lessening compound to her lips ; the poker, which seemed to be heated in a ves tal furnace, for it was kept constantly ready for action, the poker was now immersed in the hissing and bubbling compound; and then for she would not burn Mr. Motey for the world then she lingered over the blessed strengthener, blowing and sipping alternately for five long minutes. It was amusing to wit ness the reverential air, with which she tottled up to her lord and master, and presented all that remained of the fruit of her labors. She seemed almost to worship her good husband, and Jupiter had not a more obsequious cup bearer in Ganymede. In the morning, Mr. Motey must not go out without something to keep the wind off his stomach. He must take a little brandy before dinner, for an appetite, and a little after, for a digester. He must lace his coffee with a little brandy, to prevent it from gnawing on his vitals ; and a cup of hot gin sling, to promote repose. If she visited in his company, she would scarcely be STAGE-COACH. 99 seated, before she whispered in the ear of the hostess, < Mr. Motey, I think, my dear, would like to take a little something.' " Mr. Motey was a man of talents. He had full possession of the love and respect of his parishioners, till he gradually lost them both, as this habit of intemperance became more manifest, from year to year. It is fully im pressed upon my memory, that his conduct in the sanctuary was occasionally very extraor dinary. I have known him deliver a funeral sermon in the morning, in his ordinary man ner, himself apparently unmoved, w ; hile the relatives were evidently convulsed with sor row ; on the afternoon of the same day. I have heard him deliver a very common-place discourse, upon some point of doctrine, entire ly unsusceptible of pathos, and, during the delivery, 1 have seen him shed tears profusely. At that time, my father, who was a farmer, had a man in his service, who had previously lived in the family of Parson Motey. This man heard my father expressing his surprise after meeting, and remarked that he guessed 100 THE STAGE-COACH. he knew bow it happened. c And how do you account for it, Jedediah ? ' said my father. ' Why, sir/ he replied, ' if I may be so bold, it's hot sling. It always acts jest so upon the old gentleman. The old lady never fails to stir him up a mug arter preaching, and now the intermission's so short, it takes holt on him, jest about the eend of the second prayer or the beginning o' the sarmon. Hot sling makes the old gentleman as kind as pie. He come out into the kitchen one Sunday night, and told me how he had some thoughts o j building me a house and barn.' " His habits became, at length, so very bad, that the necessity of a separation began to be whispered about. Upon one occasion, we had rain for six days, without an hour's intermission. It was in mowing time; and, unfortunately, the farmers had cut vast quan tities of hay, which lay spoiling on the ground ; On Sunday afternoon, while it was pouring down in ^torrents, Parson Motey prayed most fervently, that the windows of heaven might be opened, complaining that the whole earth THE &fG *>!(< AG# r COACH. fit terminated the old gentleman's career. His widow survived him a few years only. Three of his children are drunken paupers in the poor-house of . " Our pulpit was supplied for about three months, by different preachers. Of all those who officiated among us, no one appeared to excite so much interest, as the Reverend Philander Featherweight. He was a very handsome young man, and certainly exerted a powerful influence, in calling out the un married females of our congregation, between the years of fifteen and thirty. During the last five years of Mr. Motey's ministry, the McTweedle pew had remained almost entirely unoccupied ; but no sooner was it matter of rational conjecture, that Mr. Featherweight would be our pastor, than the pew was furnished with new cushions, and the seven Miss McTweedles were constantly in their seats, during morning and evening service. Mr. Featherweight was undoubtedly indebted, not a little, to his personal appearance and address, for his rapid growth in the good THE STAGE-COACH. 103 graces of our young people. His whiskers were the largest, and the blackest, and altogether the handsomest,, that had been sported in our parish, for many years ; though there were some, who thought them not quite so glossy, as those of young Atherton the stao-e-driver. When the Reverend Philander o Featherweight walked across our common, with the velvet facing of his cloak thrown gracefully over his shoulder, a la cavalier, a warm-hearted friend of mine, Miss Arethusa Cooley, avowed her conviction that he would certainly fill the church. His dress and man ner were, according to the good old standard, somewhat unprofessional. 'Even the dress of a clergyman,' says an agreeable writer,* 1 should be in character, and nothing can be more despicable than conceited attempts at avoiding the appearance of the clerical order ; attempts, which are as ineffectual as they are pitiful. Dr. Porteus, the Bishop of London, in his excellent charge, when presiding over the * Boswell's Life of Johnson, Lond. Ed. 1835. Vol. viii. p. 50. 104 THE STAGE-COACH. diocese of Chester, justly animadverts upon this subject, and observes of a reverend fop, that he can be but half a beau.' Mr. Featherweight's sermons were exceedingly flowery, and his gestures were not ungraceful. Old Deacon Tower, who was a man of sterling worth, and 7 O ' sterling sense, was evidently dissatisfied with the new candidate. The deacon was a man of few words, and, when the Reverend Phi lander Featherweight was commended, by some young people, in the good deacon's hear ing, for his beautiful tropes and figures, and his elegant gestures, the deacon observed, with a pleasant smile, < Not only so, but also.' " Mr. Featherweight was nevertheless get ting to be very popular with our people, and it became pretty generally understood, that he would have an invitation to settle. These fair prospects were destined to be blasted. A deputy-sheriff arrived in our village, and arrested the Reverend Philander Feather weight for a debt, contracted in the town of . Some of our people ob- THE STAGE-COACH. 105 tained a sight of the writ, and the account an nexed, and it was soon whispered about, that the claim was for the amount of a confection er's hill of two years' standing, and that the principal items were jellies, cakes, and cor dials. ' What do you think of this ? ' said my father to old Deacon Tower. ' Providential/ replied the deacon. This incident closed the account forever between our people and the Reverend Philander Featherweight. When the breach has been once effected, it is surprising how rapidly the waters will find their way through the crevasse. No sooner had the reputation of this young man become a questionable matter, than every sharp-shooter of the village made use of it for a target, and reports, of \\hich several were but too well founded, were extensively circulated, to the disparagement of the Reverend Philander Featherweight. It was proved, beyond all doubt, that his habits were intemperate ; and that he had concealed his evil disposition, during his period of probation, that he might the more certainly secure a settlement. 10(5 THE STAGE-COACH. "We continued more than eighteen months, without a settled minister, depending, for the services of the sanctuary, upon such clergymen as we could obtain from week to week. Those individuals, upon whom the selection of a minister chiefly depended, had become ex tremely wary, and went to their work, after their past experiences, with fear and trembling. At last, the voice of the people appeared to fall, with a remarkable degree of unanimity, upon the Reverend Cyprian Pottle. He was ^bout thirty years of age. His personal ap* pearance was inferior to Mr. Featherweight's , but he had the reputation of great learning and piety. He was short and thickset, with a round, rosy, shining face, brimful ofbonhom- mie. He was married ; and, on that account, less likely to breed disturbance in the parish. After a careful investigation of his character, he was settled ; and the McTweedles soon fell into their old habit of neglecting the ser vices of the sanctuary. ' Of one thing,' said Deacon Tower, c we are morally sure Mr. Pottle never takes any spirit, and disapproves THE ST AGE-GO ACH. 107 of it altogether.' Our new minister seemed determined to set the fears of the parish at rest on that score ; for, upon the third Sabbath after he had been settled among us, he preached a sermon on temperance. He spoke of the evils of drinking spirit, denouncing drunken ness, with unmeasured severity. Even at that early day, he had the boldness to declare his belief, that spirit was not only the frequent cause of poverty, and crime, and death itself, but that it was quite useless to mankind, un less in some extraordinary cases. At the close of this discourse, he intimated his in tention to pursue the subject in the afternoon. " Those, who had an abiding terror of the rock, upon which Parson Motey had fallen, in his latter days, were greatly comforted by this discourse. Deacon Tower came forth from the meeting-house, with a smile of high satisfaction upon his countenance. c This is our man,' said he, rubbing his hands together. 'I've my doubts,' said Colonel Millet, the tavern-keeper. ' Why, colonel,' rejoined the deacon, c you must not think too much 108 THE STAGE-COACH. of your trade.' 6 'Tisn't o' my trade neither that I'm a thinking, Deacon Tower/ replied the colonel, * but of your minister. Gurney, that teams for me, told me yesterday, when he went down to the city, that he carried a note from the minister to a wholesale dealer, and that he brought back a cask of English porter, marked Rev. Cyprian Pottle.' ' Are you certain of this? ' inquired the deacon. Jest as sartain,' replied the colonel, as that your old mare's windgalled. Why, do you suppose its skim-milk, that gives a body such a fresh color, deacon, eh?' The deacon was not much elated with this piece of infor mation ; and, when he resumed his seat in the afternoon, his confidence was not quite so strong, as when he left it in the morning. The habit of drinking spirit was so very general in our village, that the morning's discourse gave no little offence. Nevertheless, the meeting house was unusually full in the afternoon ; many who were not present in the morning, had heard of the sermon, and were desirous of hearing the new minister handle a subject, THE STAGE-COACH. 109 which had never been brought before them by Parson Motey. He took his text, in the afternoon, from Paul's First Epistle to Timothy, fifth chapter, and twenty-third verse. Drink no longer ivater, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine often infirmities. Some of the most sedate, among his parish ioners, were greatly disturbed at Parson Pot tle's manner of handling this text. A frequent repetition of the passage occurred in his dis course ; and in no instance did his accent fall on the word little, but invariably on wine, as contradistinguished from water. He did not once advert to the important fact, that Timothy was a man of feeble constitution, a ( mortified man to the pleasures of sense? as I think he is called by Henry, in his commen tary on this passage. Indeed, I have no doubt, that very many of Parson Pottle's hearers were impressed with the idea, that this direction of the apostle was of general application. He stated expressly, that tvo reasons were offered by the apostle, for avoid ing water, and drinking wine, one, the stom- 110 THE STAGE-COACH. acJCs sake, and the other, often infirmities, and that either was sufficient. He asserted that distilled spirit was unknown, as he sup posed, in Paul's time ; that it was man's con trivance ; but that fermented liquors were then known and commended ; that beer, especially, which was supposed to have been first made in Egypt, was a remarkably wholesome and nutritious beverage ; that it was a good crea ture of God ; that our Saviour made wine himself at the marriage feast ; and he strongly intimated, that it was very creditable to drink it occasionally, and always at weddings, as a testimony of respect for the Redeemer. During the delivery of this discourse, the Parson was exceedingly drowsy, and gaped repeatedly. After meeting, Deacon Tower endeavored to keep out of Colonel Millet's way, and go home as soon as possible. But the colonel hailed him, as he was getting over the rail- fence, to get home the shortest way ; and the deacon, who well knew the colonel's bois terous manner, turned back into the road, and joined him, to prevent his remarks from being THE STAGE-COACH. Ill overheard. ' Well, Deacon Tower,' said he, c what do you think of the new minister now ? ' The deacon shook his head, and looked grievously, but uttered not a syllable. c Dea con,' continued the colonel, ' my opinion isn't no great shakes, I suppose, but I'll tell ye what Gurney, the teamster, said jest now, on the meeting-house steps, right out, afore every body ; says he, If there baant hops and malt in that are sarment, my name's not Noah Gurney ; for,' says he, c one o' the bottles in the cask o' porter I brought up for him, broke a coming up, and I'd nothing to save it in, so I drank a part on't, and it took sich a holt o' my narves, that I got sound asleep in my wag gon, and, arter I woke, I felt, a good while, jest as the minister looked while he was a preaching.' I guess we've got out o' the frying-pan slick into the fire, deacon.' The deacon shook his head mournfully, but ven tured not to reply ; but the good old man was made sick by his painful apprehensions for the result. He was himself a highly respectable expounder of holy writ ; and he was severely 112 THE STAGE-COACH. shocked by such a palpable perversion of Scripture ; and, when he reflected upon the story of the cask of porter, and Parson Pot tle's lethargic manner, during the delivery of his afternoon's discourse, he had some fears that the poor man's appetite for stimu lants had warped his construction of God's word. Wine, in truth, said the good deacon within himself, is a moclcer. " Such were the habits of our people, that they would never have thought of scrutinizing the private life and conversation of their minister, if he had not proclaimed open war upon their idols, in the form of stone jugs. His free indulgence in the use of fermented o liquor would have passed unrebuked, had he not so severely reprobated their employment of distilled spirit. As it was, he had gone too far to retrace his steps with dignity or grace ; and the people were too highly incensed to forgive or forbear. He had thrown the first stone, and, in their judgment, gratuitously ; nay more, provokingly ; and there were some persevering spirits among them, who were THE STAGE-COACH. 113 resolved to ascertain, if any portion of the parson's house were made of glass. He, who has ever made a village his place of residence for any other than a very limited period, must have perceived how skilfully the art of espionage is conducted there. Hundreds of prying eyes were turned upon the movements of the Reverend Cyprian Pottle. The tongues of man-servant and maid-servant were put in requisition, and the very ox and ass, had they been as talkative as Balaam's, would have been examined and cross-examined by the parish. Ears, even the dullest of hearing in the village, were opened wide for the reception of a thousand tales. So that, by the combined exertions of eyes, ears, and tongues, it was well under stood, in the course of a few months, precisely in what manner, from sun to sun, the parson lived, and moved, and had his being. The squabbles of Parson Pottle and his lady were soon bruited abroad ; it was even rumored, that they disputed which of the tw r ain had drunk the larger half of the bottle of porter 10 m 114 THE STAGE-COACH. at the dinner-table. His reputation for piety and learning had undoubtedly been overrated upon his first arrival ; and there were not a few, who now began to deny his legitimate title to either. He was not deficient in cunning and a ready apprehension of the characters of men. It required a brief application only of Parson Pottle's powers, to fathom, to the very bottom, the simple, single-hearted disposition of good, old Deacon Tower. The deacon, about a year after Mr. Pottle had come among us, was urged, by the graver portion of our people, to visit him, and advise him of the reports, which were circulating to his disad vantage. The deacon, though with great reluctance, waited upon him, to execute this embarrassing commission. The parson's fea tures were as flexible as caoutchouc ; and it was really surprising to witness the various expressions, which they assumed, as different emotions predominated over the inner man. Although they were surrendered, at one mo ment, to the broadest development of perfect good humor, at the next, they were the very THE STAGE-COACH. 115 image and superscription of the coldest austerity. He had been forewarned of the deacon's design, and met his first accost, in such a formal and forbidding manner, that the old man departed, after a little unimportant conversation, without the slightest allusion to the real object of his visit. I have seldom met an individual, of as limited powers, whose look, and manner, and sonorous voice, had such a withering effect upon persons of indif ferent nerves. I recollect an amusing illus tration of this fact. I called one day at the parsonage, with a neighbor of ours, a Mrs. Matilda Moocley. After a pause, { Mr. Pottle,' said she, shame and folly. I requested my landlady to step into my chamber, and, with very con siderable stammering and circumlocution, made THE STAGE-COACH. 143 a clean breast before this truly catholic con fessor, who laughed heartily at my confu sion. ' Bless you, Mr. Meredith/ said she, < what a terrible fuss you have made about just nothing at all. Why, I certainly thought you was going to tell me you was in debt, or ia love, or something of that sort. You must have some boiling hot coffee and but tered toast. That's what I used to ^et always a for Mr. Southerly. He boarded with me two years, when he was first settled. He was corned twenty times, before he got seasoned. You'll get used to it, one of these days, Mr. Meredith, just as Mr. Southerly did.' From that time, I conceived a very high opinion of my landlady ; her coffee and buttered toast relieved my body of no small portion of its torment, and the very philosophical view, which she had taken of the whole affair, afforded unspeakable comfort to my mind. There can be no more perfect illustration of the imperfection of my own moral sense, nor of the weakness of rny own principles, at that period of my life. 144 THE STAGE-COACH. " Upon the following morning, I was suf ficiently recovered, to resume the performance of my parochial duties. Experience, how ever, had taught me to husband my energies ; I soon found, that I could bear half a dozen drams, of a morning, exceedingly well, and I limited my pastoral visits accordingly. In the course of three or four months, I had become perfectly familiar with the duties of my voca tion, as I then understood them ; and that frequent use of stimulants, which had been decidedly disagreeable in the commencement of rny pastoral career, in less than six months, became not only agreeable, but even es sential, as I then imagined, to my health and comfort. At ordinations, funerals, and weddings, I fully sustained my character, as a worthy successor of the Reverend Hallowell Southerly. " He, who has taken the king's bounty, saith the proverb, must stand by the monarch and his cause. I had so far sanctioned the habits of my parishioners, by my own practi cal acquiescence, that, if I had been willing THE STAGE-COACH. 145 to admonish, the language of reproof would have come with an ill grace from their pastor. Words of sage counsel fall but with feeble power upon a drunkard's ear, from alcoholic lips. Of all the follies and vices, which came to my knowledge, intemperance and its manifold effects were the last, which I felt myself at liberty to rebuke. During the first four years of my ministry, many drunkards paid the debt of nature in the village of Micklefield ; and I doubt, if there be a place of sepulture upon earth, containing an equal congregation of the dead, whence a greater number will arise, in the day of the resurrec tion, from the drunkard's grave. " During these three or four years, I do not deny, that I had many compunctious visita tions of conscience. The weight of my responsibility occasionally became oppressive ; and, more than once, I resolved to abandon my faithless stewardship, and win my bread, in some humbler vocation. I think I should have done so, if the intercessions of Deacon Anthony had not prevailed against my judg- 13 146 THE STAGE-COACH. ment at that time. The deacon was an excellent man ; but, according to the univer sal practice of the age, he used brandy, as a common beverage. He candidly declared to me, that it was a great help to him in prayer and exhortation. I told him, that I had sometimes been pricked with a conviction, that I was an unfaithful steward ; that I beheld drunkards dying all around me ; that, although there was a great amount of drunk enness in almost every other village, Mickle- field had become a by-word ; that, when I first became its minister, I was temperate, and even abstemious; but now, I had so fallen under the influence of the social rule, that I often felt myself the worse for liquor; and that I thought it my duty to ask a dismission. I must honestly admit, that, while the lady was relating her narrative of the unfor tunate Mr. Pottle, my thoughts were repeat edly carried back to the first four years of my ministry in Micklefield. Deacon Anthony begged me not to think of a separation. He assured me, that I was quite as popular as THE STAGE-COACH. 147 Mr. Southerly had been, in his very best days; that the people were not worse than they had been, at that time ; that spirit, though a good thing, and one of the neces saries of life, would, like other good things, be abused by some people of course ; that there had always been about seventy or eighty common drunkards in Micklefield, for forty years, ever since he had kept shop, and that the population had remained about the same ; that it did not seem to him that seventy drunkards in a population of seven hundred were more than might be expected ; that, whether I staid or went, things would go on much after the old sort ; and that the people would make the parish too hot for any minister, that drew the cord too tight for them. I told the deacon, that there was a great amount of intemperance in Micklefield, among those, who would never be accounted common drunkards ; that I should be unwill ing to be ranked in that class myself; but that I was convinced my habits had already injured my health and diminished my useful 148 THE STAGE-COACH. ness. The deacon smiled, and told me I was apt to be low-spirited ; and, with such a patronizing and confident expression, poured out and handed me a glass of bitters, that I swallowed the prescription, half satisfied that my opinions were vain imaginations after all, possibly the result of hypochondriasis. " Upon one point I could not be deceived : I had lost my appetite and strength ; my slumbers were broken and unrefreshing ; pains in the head, stomach, and bowels tormented me with little interruption ; and my craving for strong drink became more troublesome and uncontrollable. " Shortly after I had made a statement of my views and feelings to Deacon Anthony, I was called to administer Christian consola tion to a parishioner, who was upon her death-bed. Mrs. Kidder had buried her husband about eight months before. He was a very respectable drunkard. I mean to say, that, for some years before his death, he was careful never to appear abroad, when he was the worse for liquor. He never frequented THE STAGE-COACH. 149 the dram-shops of the village ; but, being a wealthy farmer, his house was most hospita bly stored with the means of indulgence, and he confined his operations to the bosom of his family. His widow was now about to be called from this world. Her death was a hard one. She dreaded to die, or rather hei agonized spirit longed to live. Our miserable relation to each other had poorly qualified me for the office of counsellor, in such an hour as this. I have never felt my sinful deficien cy more sensibly than upon this occasion. It was an awful trial. When I entered. Dr. Snuffler, the physician of Micklefield, was present, and no other person, excepting the old lady's daughters. Her mind was highly excited, partly by bodily pain, partly by the dread of dissolution, and partly by liquor. I felt myself exceedingly embar rassed in the performance of my duty. The familiar, and even undignified, intercourse, which was an unavoidable consequence of the dram-drinking habits of the times, not only deprived the present occasion of its solemnity, 150 THE STAGE-COACH. but filled the principal performer with a sense of unseasonable diffidence and shame. c Dear Dr. Snuffler,' said the poor victim, as I drew near the bed, ' I won't die.' c Well, well/ said the doctor, ' we'll see about it ; maybe you won't.' ' I tell you I won't die,' she replied. The old lady's pretty much lost her mind,' said the doctor. c No such thing,' said she ; ' I tell you I won't die I won't.' 'Mrs. Kidder,' said the doctor, ' here's Mr. Meredith, come to make a prayer.' c I won't have no prayer,' said she ; ' I'll have some more apple-toddy.' c She's had four tumblers this forenoon,' said one of the daughters. c Never mind,' said the doctor, ( it'll make no difference; give her another, and she'll lay quieter during the prayer.' In such a condition of things, I attempted to pray, the old lady interrupting me continually with cries for apple-toddy, and declarations that she would not die. I resumed my seat. The sweat stood in big drops upon my brow. ' You are not well yourself, Mr. Meredith/ said the doctor, as he THE STAGE-COACH. 151 felt my pulse. I made no reply. My spirit had never been so exercised before. As I prayed, the thought overpowered me, that I had been nearly four years the pastor of this dying, impenitent sinner, and that I had done literally absolutely nothing, for the salvation of her soul. I almost fancied myself at the bar of God, holding in my trembling hand the barren record of my miserable stewardship. The doctors atten tion was soon called to the dying woman. * She is going,' said he, see, how she catches at the bed-clothes ! ' Amidst the sound of the death-rattle in her throat, though more and more faintly, she continued to exclaim, I won't I won't.' The ruling passion was still strong in death, for the very last words that I heard were c apple-toddy.' One strong convulsion closed the scene. " I returned to my lodgings in a state of great mental depression. The exertions of my well-meaning landlady to raise my spirits were ineffectual. I passed a restless night, 152 THE STAGE-COACH. and the next morning was unable to rise from my bed. My habits had undoubtedly affect ed my general health. Dr. Snuffler was called in, and stated that my symptoms were such as commonly preceded a typhus fever. His prognostications were correct. For seven weeks, I was confined to my chamber ; and, during a considerable portion of that time, I was delirious. When, at length, it pleased God to restore my reason, the first object, which engrossed my attention, was a young man, about four and twenty years of age, who was sitting by my bed-side, and holding my hand. I gazed intently upon his features ; they were those of an utter stranger. I had never beheld an expression more perfectly gentle and serene. f I have been wild and wandering,' said I. The stranger made no answer to my remark, but eyed me with a look of doubtful scrutiny, as one who still questioned the perfect restora tion of my reason. ' To whom,' said I, 'am I indebted, for these kind attentions?' c My name is Anderson,' he replied. 3 THE STAGE-COACH, old Gabriel Kelly rose up, in evident jndig- nation, and walked out of the meeting-house. This was a fortunate occurrence. Had the example been set by any one of my less culpable parishioners, it might have been followed by others ; but the pioneer, in the present instance, was an incomparable drunk ard, and no one appeared willing to follow such a notable file-leader as Gabriel Kelly. My sermon was simple in its arrangement, practical, and direct. I expressed my opinion very plainly, that our village was remarkable for intemperance ; that, when I first assumed my pastoral duties, I was a temperate man ; that my desire of pleasing man was then paramount to my desire of pleasing God ; that a non-conformist was not more offensive to the professors of an established religion, in certain countries, than a water-drinker, in the midst of an intemperate population ; that a clergyman, who would not imitate the dram- drinking habits of his people, inflicted a negative insult upon some one of them, as often as he refused the proffered cup; that THE STAGE-COACH. 169 my desire of popularity had induced me to be sociable with my parishioners, which I readily perceived was an impracticable mat ter, without the assistance of strong drink ; that I had, according to my conscientious construction of past conduct, sinfully yielded to the temptation, until a craving for that beverage, which, in the outset, was by no means agreeable, had brought me to the condition of a tippler. I quoted the remark of a French writer, who has observed, that, in the misfortunes of our very best friends, there is commonly something not altogether disagreeable to our feelings ; and that even the funeral of a parishioner had not been without its fascinations for us all, for the bottle, on such occasions, was always full, however empty and impotent the prayer. I recited before them the vow which I had made upon my sick-bed, and, as I had feared, upon my dying pillow, while I had been suffering from the effects of those evil habits, which I had contracted during my unworthy ministration. That vow I renewed 15 170 THE STAGE-COACH. in the most solemn manner, before them all. The congregation were grave and atten tive, beyond my most sanguine expectations. Nothing occurred, after the departure of old Kelly, to mar the solemnity of the services, with a single exception. While I was press ing earnestly, upon the consideration of my hearers, the uncertainty of life, the certainty, and the possible suddenness, of death, and the horrible idea of being summoned drunk before the bar of an indignant God, old Mrs. Troutbeck, the butcher's widow, fainted away in her pew, to the great con sternation of the assembly, by some of whom it was probably accounted an awful illustra tion, as the old lady's habits were notoriously bad. She was removed into the open air, and speedily recovered. "As I walked down the aisle, after the service, though few of my male parishioners remained to greet me, I was received by several of the females, with unusual cordiali ty ; and some of them, as they shook hands with me, could not refrain from shedding THE STAGE-COACH. 171 tears. As I passed through the porch, and bowed kindly, but solemnly, to such of my people as still lingered there, they returned my salutation with unwonted respectfulness of manner, some of them even touching their hats, a thing almost without precedent in the parish of Micklefield. "There was a man in my society, who, from my first arrival in Micklefield, had treated me with marked neglect. His name was Kirk Bradish. He was a farmer, and supposed to be the wealthiest man in the village. From this man, and his wife, Elspeth, I had never received the slightest token of friendship. I had been forewarned, by one of those volunteers, who may be found amongst every people, ready to furnish all descriptions of small knowledge to the new minister, that Kirk and his wife were unsocial people, and never treated. I called upon them, once or twice, as a matter of duty, was civilly but coldly received, and there our intercouse seemed likely to terminate. They lost their only child, about 172 THE STAGE-COACH. two years after my ordination, and removed the body full twenty miles, to the town in which Mrs. Bradish was born, and there it was buried. I was highly offended, when I heard that Kirk Bradish had assigned, as a reason for this conduct, that he intended his child should have Christian burial, and that there was no such thing to be had in Mickle- field. I disbelieved the story at first, but it was soon confirmed by several of those witnesses, who are ever the swift messengers of ungrateful tidings. Our greetings were accordingly cold and uncompromising, and I set him down as the greatest enemy I had in Micklefield. When I was leaving the meeting-house steps, after the services of the afternoon, leaning, for support, upon the arm of my friend Anderson, I was agreeably surprised, by a cordial greeting from Kirk Bradish and his wife. The old lady took me by the hand, and exclaimed, c God bless you, Mr. Meredith, and give you strength and length of days to do his holy will ! ' I was much affected by the earnestness of her THE STAGE-COACH. 173 manner, and thanked her for her kind wishes. c You are feeble, you will go home in my chaise, Mr. Meredith ? ' said her hushand ; ' here, let me help you in.' Kirk's theory and practice of friendship were so closely allied, that I had no time for debate. In a moment I was riding, side by side, with the greatest enemy I had in Mlcklefield ! Mr. Anderson followed, on foot. We rode on in silence, till we had nearly reached my lodgings. 'Mr. Meredith/ said he, as we were drawing up before the door, c you have a hard task before you, but I was sure, when i heard you this morning, that you bad an unearthly support, and that the grace of God had been shed abroad in your heart.' My feelings were too strong for utterance. I had supposed, that, in the performance of my vow, I should be compelled to enter the field against every member of my parish ; that I should commence my arduous work of reformation without one earthly friend. It was otherwise. God had already raised up on his side, the most powerful of my parish- 174 THE STAGE-COACH. ioners ; for, if wealth is a powerful instru ment, in the hands even of bad men, it may be made still more so with those, who are willing to exert the influence it affords to its proprietor, on the side of virtue and religion. I made no reply, but shook the honest farmer by the hand, which he returned with a cordial grasp, that, from such a man, was equivalent to a covenant, under seal, acknowl edged, and recorded. " I passed an hour with my friend Ander son, who congratulated me on this auspicious beginning. When my good landlady return ed, who had dropped in upon a few of her neighbors, after meeting, she informed us, that there was a great excitement in the parish. The morning discourse might have passed off quietly enough, as she supposed ; but the ser mon of the afternoon had set the congregation m a blaze. Several of the females, she re marked, were decidedly in my favor, and wished their husbands could be persuaded to leave off spirit, but the men were excessively angry. She had gathered the information, THE STAGE-COACH. 175 that a town-meeting would soon be called in consequence of my conduct. " Before breakfast, on the following morn ing, I received a visit from Deacon Anthony, who desired to see me in private. He endeavored to be civil, but was evidently offended by the course I had pursued. ' Well, Mr. Meredith,' said he, c it's just as I told you ; you've thrown the whole parish into an uproar. I thought you understood our people better. Do you think your whole congregation are going to give up spirit, be cause it don't agree with you?' ' Certainly not, Deacon Anthony,' said I ; ' I truly wish they would give it up, not to please me, but to please their Maker, who has warned them against drunkenness ; and to benefit them selves, and their families.' l Pshaw 1 Mr. Meredith, you're getting to be notional.' 6 I do not think so, deacon,' I replied ; c you once told me, that, for many years, the aver age of common drunkards in Micklefield was about seventy or eighty. This number, I understand you, remains unimpaired. The 176 THE STAGE-COACH. drunkards themselves stagger into their graves, but, to maintain the average, their places must be supplied. Now, since you appear to be perfectly contented with this condition of things, permit me to ask you who, among our people, are to supply their places. 'I'm sure I can't tell,' said the deacon ; c perhaps you think, that I, myself, may become a drunkard, Mr. Meredith.' c No, sir,' I replied, c I think you may possibly escape ; you com menced the use of spirit, as you have told me, after your constitution was pretty well con firmed. When I was last at your house, you had your son Amos upon your knee. I think he is not yet six years old. You held a glass in your hand ; you had drunken the liquor, and were giving your child, with a spoon, the rummy sugar at the bottom. I never shall forget his eagerness, as he ran towards you, when you were mixing your dram, indicating how well he understood the process, and how much of a little slave he had already become to his appetite for rum and sugar. I recollect that, after he had received THE STAGE-COACH. 177 the whole reliquium, he cried for more; and that, when you gently reprimanded him, he exclaimed in a passion, " I don't care ; when I grow up, I'll have as much rum and sugar as I want." Now, Deacon Anthony, I ask you, affectionately, but most solemnly, would it be contrary to the common course of things, if little Amos should, at some future day, be one of the common drunkards of Mickle- fielcl?' The deacon's countenance was im mediately convulsed with conflicting emotions. He was angry, but he was shocked and violently agitated, by the picture I had drawn. 'Mr. Meredith,' said he, < don't you trouble yourself about Amos. But let's cut this matter short ; you're settled here for life ; there's no agreement about salary, only that we're to give you a reasonable support according to our ability. Now we seem to be getting poorer every year. This year, in particular, every thing has gone behindhand. We had a horrid freshet in the spring, and it'll cost the town a sight o' money for the upper and lower bridges ; both were carried 178 THE STAGE-COACH. away, you remember. Then crops have been short; besides ' c Stop, deacon/ said I, 'save yourself this trouble, and tell me frankly your wishes.' c Why, to be plain, Mr. Meredith, we don't doubt a man of your talents can find a settlement, that will suit him better, and if you had as lieve as not, I think the people would be willing to pay up what they owe you, and make you some sort of a present, and put an end to the contract.' ( I perfectly understand you, Deacon An thony,' said I, 'and I now tell you, after grave and prayerful consideration, that I will not leave Micklefield, until I shall have atoned for my errors. You speak of the amount they owe me ; they owe me nothing. I have already eaten enough of the bread of unfaithfulness. What they please to give, I will receive. If nothing, I am ready to starve, if it be God's will, and to wear that sackcloth, which I have so well deserved.' ' Well, Mr. Meredith,' said he as he rose to go, ' then they'll call a town-meeting, and settle it their own way.' c I shall pray God I THE STAGE-COACH. 179 to give them wisdom in all their deliberations,' said I. " Deacon Anthony's predictions, touching the affairs of Micklefield, were about as likely to be verified, as those of the master of a puppet-show, respecting the movements of his little operatives. In the early part of the following week the notices were abroad ; and, after certain unimportant matters, the main object was set forth, in the usual phraseology of the warrant, to see what measures the town will take to fix the minister's salary ; the design of which was in fact to fix the minister, if I may be permitted to adopt the expression, employed by the lady in her nar rative of Parson Pottle. The day arrived. It was then very common for clergymen to attend these assemblies and take a busy part in town affairs. Upon this occasion, I was absent of course. The son of my landlady gave us a full account in the evening. He stated, that the parish was very much excited by my late course ; and that the affairs of the meeting had been conducted in a bitter spirit. ISO THE STAGE-COACH. One person moved, that a committee be ap pointed to invite the minister to resign. Deacon Anthony assured the meeting, that he had sounded Mr. Meredith, and that such a course would consume time and produce no possible good. Squire Higgle, the attorney, in answer to a question from one of the distillers, gave his opinion, that no legal ground existed for terminating the contract. It was then moved by one of the distillers, and seconded by an inn-holder, that, consider ing the poverty of the town, it could not afford, during the present year, to pay more for the support of a minister, than one dollar per Sabbath, or fifty-two dollars per year. This motion was opposed with great zeal, by one person only, who had never spoken in town-meeting before. He inquired after the real object of this meeting ; and boldly put the question to the distillers, and inn-holders, and dealers in liquor, if their real object were not to rid the town of a man, who was likely to interfere with their traffic. The speaker was called to order, and Deacon Anthony THE STAGE-COACH. 181 the moderator, informed him, that it was not in order to call on members of the meeting in that manner; and that all his questions must be put to the moderator. ' Well, then, Mr. Moderator,' continued the speaker, ( I put the question to you ; Can you lay your hand upon your heart, and honestly say, that you are not desirous of driving your minister out of town, because he is likely to lessen the rum profits of your shop ? ' The directness and unexpectedness of this appeal, while it deprived the deacon of the power of utter ance, had an obvious effect upon the assem bly, which effect was increased, by the reso lute, uncompromising manner of the speaker. Under a specious misnomer, how easily we become familiar with the perpetration of sin and folly ! The dissipated and the drunk en only drown care. The miser obeys the injunction of holy writ, and provides for his own household. The well-trained members of a political party may be too thoroughly accustomed to the exposition of their corrupt motives, to be diverted from their course ; but 182 THE STAGE-COACH. it was not precisely thus in the town-meeting of Micklefield; and, while the speaker con tinued to expose the injustice of a measure, designed to crush a clergyman, because he had resolved to do his duty, more than one, either from principle or shame, seceded in his heart from the main body. When the vote was taken, the motion was lost by a very small majority. It was, however, voted to fix the salary at one hundred and four dollars, for the current year. For several years, I had annually received about two hundred and fifty dollars ; and, until the present occasion, as I have stated, the salary had not been limited to any particular sum. Notice of the new arrangement was sent me by the town-clerk. Deacon Anthony was probably ashamed to be the bearer of this intelligence himself. The final motion was also opposed with great earnestness by the speaker, who had opposed the first. This speaker was Kirk Bradish, the man, whom I had once accounted the greatest enemy 1 had in Micklefield. " On the next Sabbath morning, the meet- THE STAGE-COACH. 183 ing-house was unusually full; many being desirous, without doubt, of witnessing the ef fect, which the late vote had produced upon the minister. I preached from 2 Corinthians, ix. 6, 7 He that soweth little shall reap little, and he that soweth plenteously shall reap plenteously. Let every man do accord ing as he is disposed in his heart, not grudg ingly or of necessity, for God loveth a cheer ful giver. My text had possibly led not a few of my parishioners to expect a sermon, full of complaint, on account of my strait ened condition. But I really felt, that I de served nothing at their hands ; and I told them so, in the heartfelt language of simplicity and truth. I thanked them for the allowance they had voted me, and stated my desire to live even upon a smaller sum, if my present salary should be found burdensome to the parish. I compared the luxurious lives of many mod ern clergymen with the necessities and distresses, the watchings and fastings, the stripes and imprisonments of the primitive apostles. I told them, that I desired nothing so ardently 184 THE STAGE-COACH. as the salvation of their souls, and tnat the/ should, one and all, decide as I had done, between God and Mammon. Many of my hearers were deeply affected. Those, who, when I commenced, had planted themselves in their seats, with an expression of dissatis faction and even defiance, and who had an ticipated a sermon full of censure and crimi nation, hung their heads for shame and dis appointment. When I passed down the steps, the touching of hats became so contagious, that I began to hope for a reformation in the manners of Micklefield. There was an old sailor in our parish, long retired from the sea, who was a moderate drinker. This man, Captain Plunket, had an only son, who was exceedingly dear to him, but was becoming a fearful drunkard ; and it was thought he would one day break the old man's heart. As I came out of the meeting-house, Captain Plun ket caught me by the hand, with a convulsive grasp. c God bless ye, Mr. Meredith,' said he. His lip quivered, and the tears came into his eye. c You don't know what you've THE STAGE-COACH. 185 done for me.' c And pray what is it, sir ? 9 I inquired. c What is it ! ' said he ; ' why, my son John, that was head on the rock, has come right about. That shot you fired last Sunday afternoon, took him right betwixt wind and water, and he's been plugging up ever since. Why, sir, he says he'll never touch another drop, while he lives. He's coaxing me to leave off too.' c Take his advice, rny old friend,' said I, pressing his hand. Would ye ? ' said he. c Indeed, I would,' I replied. < Well, I'll think on't,' said the old man, c I will, really.' I was not prepared so speedily to witness the fruit of my labors, and I failed not to bless God, for the increase. " Previously to my conversion, for such I may justly call it, I was in debt, though not to a large amount. I was particularly anxious to be absolved from this obligation. My chief creditor was one of the malecontents of my parish, and had already begun to press me for the amount of his demand. My land lady had offered to loan me the amount, but I 16 186 THE STAGE-COACH. was at that time negotiating with her for hum bler accommodations, and lower board, and thought proper to refuse her offer. 1 had no other convertible property than my library, which I had taken much pains to collect. It comprised about four hundred volumes. Of these, I had catalogued about three hundred, which I thought I could most easily relin quish ; and, having annexed the lowest prices', informed my landlady, that I intended to sell them separately or together. A few days after, she came to inform me, that she had found a person, who, she thought, would like to be a purchaser, and, if I pleased, would show him up. I begged her to do so ; and, in a short time, Kirk Bradish entered my apartment. c l'm not much of a reading character, Mr. Meredith,' said he, c but its a pity such a fine library should go out of the parish, and my good woman's of a mind that I better buy it.' I showed him the cata logue, and the reduced prices. e Well,' said he, c please to make a bill of sale, and I'll pay you for it.' He counted out the money, THE STAGE-COACH. 187 and put the bill of sale in his pocket-book. 'When will you send for the books, Mr. Bradish ?' said I. C I can't rightly say/ he replied, ' but I'll let you know the day before, if that will answer.' ' Perfectly well/ said I. A month after the transfer, I reminded him, that he had not sent for his books, and have done so repeatedly since, but he always replies, c I'm to let you know a day before, and you said that would answer.' " My efforts, to obtain more humble ac commodations of my landlady, were in vain. She put me off with various excuses, and thus compelled me to retain the best apartment in her house. A few days before my quarter bill became due, I told her, that the necessity of adapting my expenses to my limited means would compel me to leave her house, unless she would permit me to occupy an upper chamber. The old lady smiled, and bade me not take so much thought for the morrow. I had reserved enough to pay for my board ; and, when quarter day arrived, I put down the money, and, as usual, requested a receipt. 188 THE STAGE-COACH. ' You will find it/ said she, c on your table ; it has been already paid.' I was unable to get any explanation from her ; and, when I expressed my conviction, that it was the work of Kirk Bradish, she simply placed her finger on her lips. When I taxed him with this act of beneficence, however, he denied all agency, in such a manner, as left me no doubt of his sincerity. In this way, my board continued to be paid by some unknown benefactor, for six years. I have never been able to unravel the mystery, in any other way, than by the correspondence of events. It was never paid in this manner, after I committed the remains of old Captain Plunket to the grave. The town-meeting produced a very differ ent result from that, which its projectors de signed. It increased the number of my friends, and taught me, that, even with a ref erence to the comforts of the present world, it is easier to serve the Lord, than Baal, if we seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. " Although we had not then such means, THE STAGE-COACH. 189 as are derived from the principle of associa tion, yet the village of Micklefield presented no contemptible example of local reform. Clergymen are eminently the fuglars or ex emplars of their parishioners, and accordingly they lie under a fearful responsibility. I con tinued, by example and by precept, to oper ate upon the feelings and upon the reason of my flock ; and my success was vastly be yond my most sanguine anticipations. Though temperance societies and temperance pledges were, at that time, unknown, the mischievous effects and the utter inutility of every intox icating liquor as a beverage, were well under stood, by those, who considered the subject with attention. Sensuality and selfishness inculcated a different and a more popular doctrine. It was almost futile to war against a people, whose very habits so obviously tended to elevate the creature, and depress the Creator, with such weapons alone, as the spiritual armory affords. At first, and before the pervading spirit of temperance itself had prepared the way, for the higher and holier 190 THE STAGE-COACH. influence of the gospel, the success of my efforts seemed mainly to depend upon a cor rect demonstration of such temporal evil, as springs manifestly from intemperance. Loss of money, and land, and comfort, and respec tability, and health, and domestic happiness, and friends, and reason, and life itself, such considerations were simple and intelligible, and readily traced to intemperance as their source. I found it of much advantage, even in iny sermons, to introduce the opinions of those medical writers, who delivered their sentiments long before the first conception of such a thing as a Temperance Society ; and upon whose pages may be found the great leading features of total abstinence. I often said to my people, 'Many imagine hard labor cannot be supported without drinking strong liquors. This is a very erroneous notion* Men, who never taste strong liquors, are not only able to endure more fatigue, but also live much longer than those, who use them daily.' * * Buchan, p. 85, Coffin's Ed. THE STAGE-COACH. 191 " Long before the great temperance reform ation arose in our land, Micklefield enjoyed a reformation of its own. So manifest were its advantages, that, although, for the two first years, my parishioners inflicted the petty municipal indignity upon their pastor of elect ing him hogreeve of the village, the attempt to repeat it, for the third time, was resisted by a large majority, who were already sensible of their increasing happiness. In the course of seven years, the fires of three distilleries were extinguished. At the present day, no license is granted in this village ; and it would be no easy matter to find a town, in the same commonwealth, more remarkable for its indus try and sobriety than the village of Mickle field. My good old friend, Deacon Anthony, who is yet living, at a very advanced age, has thanked me a hundred times for my resolution, in remaining with my parishioners. Years have gone by, since he abandoned his cheerless occupation, and became, in fact, that, which he had long been, only by pro fession, a sincere Christian deacon. A short THE STAGE-COACH. account of his conversion shall close my narrative of the parish of Micklefield. About four years after my severe illness, I received a message from old Gabriel Kelly, requesting me to visit him, as he was thought to be dying. I made my way with all possi ble expedition to his miserable dwelling. 1 reached the door almost at the same time with Deacon Anthony, who appeared some what embarrassed by the meeting. 'Kelly is dying,' said I. we,at the eucharist, whatever the character of that wine may have been, will appear neither an " adul teration " nor an "innovation " upon primitive usage. So much misconception has prevailed, and still pre vails, that it may not be a worthless sacrifice of time, for those, who have not duly considered this highly interesting subject, to give their attention to the evidence subjoined. Upon Matthew xxvi. 27, Bloomfield has the follow ing commentary : " Wine and water were used in the paschal cup ; and the Rabbins say, over wine unmixed with water, no blessing is asked. This cus tom of mixing wine with water was adopted by the first Christians, and is still continued by the Roman ists. See Justin Martyr, Clement, Cyprian, cited by Grotius." 280 APPENDIX. Water, mead, or hydromel, milk, the juice of the grapes pressed forth at the table, at the time of the celebration, these and other matters were em* ployed from the earliest times, at the eucharist ; and, while approved by some, were condemned by others. These facts are stated by Bingham, in his Antiquities, fol. ed. vol. i. book xv. chap. ii. sec. vii. Bingham is a writer of the highest authority. The use of water alone was reprobated by many ; so was the use of wine a,' one; in proof of this, he quotes Cyprian, Ep. 63 ad Caecilium. Cyprian was born in the beginning of the third century. The third Council of Carthage, says Bingham, expressly decreed, that nothing should be used but what Christ offered, that is, wine and water; and he adds, that St. Austin was a member of that Council, who quotes Cyprian's epistle with approbation. Gennadius, who wrote in the fifteenth century, ques tions not the ancient custom of using wine and water t but gives two reasons for it; first, because Christ did so, and secondly, because water and blood flowed from his side, when he was pierced. We have nothing to do with the second reason of Gennadius ; we desire only to establish the fact. St. Ambrose was of the same opinion. Milk, and also water, alone, and new wine, pressed from grapes at the table, and upon the occasion, were severally condemned at the Council of Braga. But the same Council expressly approved of wine and water. The Council of Auxerre decreed against honey and mead, but expressly in favor of wine mixed with water. Justin Martyr, Apol. ii. p. 97, and Irenseus, lib 4, chap. 57, explicitly state, that wine APPENDIX. 281 mixed with water, was used at the Lord's supper. Ire- nseus was born A. D. 120. The birth-time of Justin Martyr is not known; he was converted A. D. 130. Bingham does not consider it necessary to mix wi/te wil/t water, but his words clearly prove, that he enter tained no doubt that such had been the primitive usage. " Yet. after all," says he, " as there is no express command for this in the institution, notwithstanding this general consent of the ancient Churches, it is com monly determined by modern divines, as well of the Roman as Protestant communion, that it is not essen tial to the sacrament itself." It would not be deco rous to offer our own version, unaccompanied by the original text. St. Jerome, commenting on Mark xiv., writes thus: " Accepit Jesus panem, &c. formana sanguinem suum in calicem, vino et aqua mixtum, ut alio purgemur a culpis, alio redimamur a pcenis." " Jesus took bread, &c. and forming his blood in the cup, with a mixture of wine and water, that, by one, we might be cleansed from our sins, and, by the other, redeemed from our punishments." Probably the most able writer upon this subject, is Gerard John Vossius, whose works were printed at Amsterdam, in six volumes, folio. In vol. vi. p. 42G, he treats " de sacris comae Dominicse symbolis;" " concerning the sacred symbols of the Lord's sup per." Having treated of the bread, he proceeds, on page 439. to treat of the other element. " Venio mine," says he," ad alterum symbolum, quod vinumesse, inde cognoscimus, quia illud yevv/^a rije afinfXov disertim appellet Christus." "I come now to the other sym- 24 232 APPENDIX. bol, which we know to be wine, because Christ express ly calls it the fruit of the vine." That is to say, Vossius had the same reason, which we have, and no other, for calling " the fruit of the vine " by the general name wine, whether fermented or not. This writer is op posed to the use of water alone, at the eucharist, but he expresses not the slightest doubt of the fact, that wine, mixed with water, was generally used in ancient times. He proceeds, in the third thesis, to inquire what shall be substituted, if wine cannot be had, and quotes an extract from one of Beza's letters, and ap proves the doctrine it contains. Beza died early in the seventeenth century. The extract runs thus r " Ro- gatus piae memoriae vir D. Calvinus a fratribus, qui turn in America erant, ubi nnllus est vini usus. lice- re tne pro vino, uti in coena Domini, vel aqua simplici, qua plerumque illic utuntur, yel alio illic non inusitato potionis genere : respondit, fuisse in hoc instituendo sacramento consilium, ut spiritualis alirnonise nobis sub com munis cibi et potus symbolis representaret : ac proinde, si non fuisset turn in Judsea communis vini usus, procul dubio alia vulgari potione usurum fuisse, quod ex ipsius scopo ac consilio liqueat. Itaque nihil a Christi consilio ac voluntate alienum facere videri. qui non contemtu, neque temeritate, sed ipsa necessi tate adacti, pro vino aliud in iis regionibus usitatae pe- tionis genus usurparent. Hoc D. Calvini responsum, ut optima ratione nixum, et Christi consilio consenta- neum, noster coetus adeo comprobavit, ut eos super- stitiose facere censuerit, qui a vini symbolo usque adeo penderent, ut alteram ccense partem omittere mallent, APPENDIX. 283 quani aruAoyop aliud symbolum, ita cogente necessi tate, usurpare." " D. Calvin, a man of pious memo ry, being asked by his brethren, who were then in America, where wine was not used, if it would be lawful to use, at the Lord's supper, either pure water, which was the common drink there, or any other cus tomary beverage, replies, that, in instituting the sacra ment, it was intended, under the symbols of common meat and drink, to represent a spiritual aliment ; and, if wine had not been a common drink in Judea, at that time, it is clear, beyond all doubt, from the very scope and design of the institution, that some other common beverage would have been employed. Therefore, those persons, who substituted some other customary drink of those regions for wine, having acted neither contemptuously nor rashly, but from necessity, appear in no wise to have contravened the will or design of Christ. This answer of D. Calvin, full of sound sense, and so agreeable to the design of Christ, our assembly so entirely approves, that it considers those as acting superstitiously, who lay so great a stress on wine, that they had rather omit the rest of the supper, than em ploy any other analogous symbol, in such cases of necessity." We have given, as we believe, a faithful translation. The opinion of D. Calvin is approved, not only by Beza and Vossius, but by the " assembly." So far as the opinions of D. Calvin, and Beza, and the " assembly " are entitled to pass for authority, we can not doubt, that, wherever the fruit of the vine is not a lt common beverage," any other innocent beverage may be employed, provided the communicants are not 284- APPENDIX. moved to the change by a spirit of " rashness " or " con tempt " for the ordinance. The -tiectsyity does nut seem to depend on the fact, that not a dn>p of wine can be had, but that it is nM a cow won bfv.rage. Ifftr- mented wine, therefore, were used at the original insti tution, how can it be considered essential, under ail circumstances, to a just performance of the rite ? The Council of Cleraiont, can. 23, enjoins the com munion in both kinds, adding two exceptions. " me of necessity and the other of caution ; " the first in favor of the "s/c/i," the other of the " abstemious" <;r those who had an aversion for wine. We now pro ceed to give th>-> remninder of the extract from the- letter of Beza. " There v/ero some," says Vossius, " who might object to water, because of the imperfectness of the analogy, inasmuch as water was not composed of many grupts, signifying that wo ;;ro iiianu members of one body : " " Deinde qriia obiici poterat aquae in simile potione non inesse j'Aoy/v illam, ut ex multis acinis confiat, ad iimtiuun coujunctionem testandaiu/' To this the letter of Beza replies ud fellows : " That truly the analogy of bread, composed of many grnins, and wine, of many grapes, is not, to be disregarded ; but still it should not be too precisely enforced ; for it is enough, if the unity of the members be signified by the use of the symbols, that is, ?nft(.?and drink, in svmr kind, and by testifying the snme faith : " " Non esse quidnu negligendam, at non tamen adeo precise urgeridarn aria- logiam panis ex multis granis, et vini ex inulUs acinis c(;n- fecti : sed ad illam mutuamconjunctionem testiflcar;d.mi sufficere, quod iisdern in genere symbolic, nempe cibo et APPENDIX. 285 poti> utamur, eandemque fidem testificemur." A ques tion was afterwards proposed in relation to abstemious persons, and such as were unable to take wine on account of its effects : to this he replies, rather than omit the whole supper, let such use water or any other custom ary drink ; nor doubt that the blood of Christ would be as surely communicated to him by the symbol of such drink, as by that of wine, since the promise is general, and refers to all the faithful : " Potius quam integram crenam non peragat, vel aqua, vel alia sibi familiar! potione utatur : neque dubitet, tarn sibi sub hoc potu, quam sub vino, sanguinem Christi communicari, cum promissio sit generalis, et ad omnes fideles spectet." Philip Melancthon observes, that the Ruthenians acted rightly, who substituted hydrornel, or honey and water, at the eucharist, on account of the scarcity of wine. Upon this, Bellarminus exclaims, lib. iv. c. 24, de Euchar. : " Sed quis dedit Philippo auctoritatem mu- tandi sacramentorum materiarn?" " But who gave Philip authority to change the material of the sacra ment ? " Whereupon Vossius remarks, " As though Christ, in the institution of the supper, referred not generally to the utility of some drink, but particularly to the propriety of wine ! " " Quasi Christus non univer se utilitatem potus, sed particulatim vini proprietatern in institutione respexerit ! " To exhibit the character of Bellarminus, Vossius observes, This Bellarminus presently adds, " How much more wisely has the Church of Rome conducted; she has not changed the materi als of the sacrament, but remedied its defects, by ad ministering to the people in one kind : " " Quanto 286 APPENDIX. sapientius ecclesia (Romana) non mutat sacramento- rum materias ; sed incommodo illi mcdetur, unam speciem tantum ministrando." In contemplation of such facts, and with the opinions of the ancient fathers before us, is it not perfectly absurd to proclaim, that nothing can rightfully be employed at the communion, but fermented wine, and that even this cannot be min gled with water, without " an unhallowed innovation" ? Vossius, in his fourth thesis, vol. vi. p. 440, proceeds to inquire " an vinum aqua dilui sit nccesse : " if it be necessary not if it be an " unhalloioed innovation" so to mix the wine and water. No person can fail to perceive, that, however unnecessary, in the view of some persons, Vossius never surmised that it was un lawful, much less an " unhallowed innovation" Our readers are convinced, by this time, that this most learned and sagacious writer knew something more of these matters than certain modern divines. Vossius expressly states " Christum ipsum prascipisse, ut aqua vino misceatur sensit Cyprianus : " Epist. 63, ad Caecilium : " Cyprian thinks, that Christ commanded water to be mixed with wine" Vossius also refers to the third Council of Carthage, which decreed the same thing, (can. 24.) that, in the sacrament of the body and blood of our Lord, nothing more should be offered than the Lord himself delivered, that is, bread and wine, mixed with water : li ut, in sacra^entis corporis et sanguinis Domini, nihil amplius offeratur, quam ipse Dominus tradidit, hoc est panis, et vinum, aqua mix- turn." Commenting on this opinion, Gregory Valentin remarks, that this is much more probable than the no- APPENDIX. 2S7 tion that this practice originated with the church : "hanc sententiam esse magis probabilem, quam ilia, ut solum Ecclesiastic! sit praecepti : " Disput. vi. qusest. 11, de Euch. mat. punct. 1. Gregory adds, that Ho- sius, Alanus, and Scotus have expressed the same opinion. These writers, says Vossius, place the foun dation of this opinion in the example of Christ, who, as Justin, Irenseus, and others of the ancients inform us, diluted the wine : " Fundamentum hi seritentiaB suae ponunt exemplum Christi, quern diluisse vinum tradunt Justinus, Irenaeus, et alii veterum." Vossius is rather in favor of omitting the water, on the ground that it is not absolutely necessary, but the notion never occurs to him that such mixing of wine with water ia unlawful, or in any way improper, much less, that it is an " unhallowed innovation." On the contrary, he quotes Justin Martyr's words to prove that bread, wine, and water were employed. Justin, who was converted, as we stated before, A. D. 130, in his de scription of the supper, (apolog. 11,) speaks of the eucharistal bread, and wine and water, " rov fvjfccQi- dtvTos UQTOV, xat oiVov, xai i'darog." It is for the same reason, says Vossius, that Irenaeus speaks of the tem pering of the cup ; " temperamentum calicis," lib. iv\ cap. 11. Cyprian, continues he, speaks of it in many places; so do Julius, Basil, Gregory, Chrysostom, Je rome, Augustin, Proclus, Bede, Damascenus, Rabanus Mautus, Paschasius, Algerus, Nicephorus, and many others of the fathers and ancient writers. The curious reader may find the particular passages with ease, by recurring to the references of. Vossius. The wor,da. 288 APPENDIX. employed, at the Council of Trent, are these: The holy Synod r.diu^nishcs, therefore, that it is command ed by the Church to its ministers, that they shall mix water with the wine, in offering the cup, because it is believed that Christ our Lord did so, &c. : " Monet deinde sancta Synodus, prseceptum esse ab Ecclesia sacerdotibus, ut aquam vino in calice offerendo misce- rent, turn quod Christum Dominum ita fecisse creda- tur," etc. It is, surely, unnecessary to press thi evidence any farther. ' I '