:;OtTft;*l.
 
 ALEK & ZKYCINA
 
 c t Co*
 
 AN AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Cljmgs Clja7 anir Cljmuitta f irtaininj 
 
 AS THEY ARE AND HAVE BEEN. 
 
 BY J. B. 
 
 An clever chlels, an" bounle hizxies, 
 Are bred in sic a way as this is. 
 
 BUK>S. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON AND COMPANY, 
 
 IS WINTER STREET. 
 
 1856.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 
 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO., 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 Stereotyped by 
 
 BOBART & BOBBINS, 
 
 Mew England Type md Stereotype Founds!/, 
 
 BOSTON.
 
 So 
 /MY SISTER, 
 
 WHOSE GOOD WORKS HATE SHAMED MY IDLENESS AND PROVOKED ME TO EMULATION, 
 
 ASD FROM WHOSE VIRTUES I HAVE ENDEAVORED TO DRAW ATTRACTIVE 
 
 PICTURES OF GOODNESS, I DEDICATE WHATEVER IK THIS 
 
 VOLUME HER JUDGMENT OR PARTIALITT 
 
 MAY AfPROVK.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 MIDNIGHT has passed. Morning dawns. The fading stars 
 twinkle idly in their blue depths, or melt from view in the 
 spreading light. The fringed clouds glow in the eastern sky 
 like the bright wings of Apollo s steeds, ascending their star- 
 paved way. The god of Day of the golden harp and silver 
 bow appears. His swift arrows pierce and illuminate the 
 misty morning. They glance from ocean s breast and gild its 
 surging foam. The iceberg s towering pinnacles receive and 
 scatter his million shafts. The arctic shores, cold and deso 
 late, where the waves dash their congealing spray, where the 
 white bear snatches the unwary seal from his lurking-place ; 
 the snow-piled mountains, receding far, and resting in tho 
 majesty of desolation against the northern sky; the wide- 
 extended plains, tracked with the footprints and echoing with 
 the howls of the gaunt fox and famished wolf; the dark and 
 dwarfed forests of fir, where the reindeer gathers his mossy 
 food, all the inhospitable realms of Winter s despotic reign 
 greet with grim defiance the god of the bright bow and golden 
 song. Yet upward ascend his coursers, bearing the bright 
 banners of morning smiling in victory upon the sullen array.
 
 8 WOLISD1N. 
 
 New England s shores catch and reflect the glowing smile. 
 Here Winter rules his divided empire with a gentler hand. 
 Like a stern father, stern, but beneficent, he blesses even 
 while he frowns. His severe lessons teach us wisdom, prompt 
 us to effort, compel us to industry. He hardens our frames, 
 and stimulates our energies. He reminds us of the duties of 
 mutual kindness and benevolence. He gives occasions of 
 social intercourse, diffusing enjoyment and promoting im 
 provement. He nerves the enterprising will. He inspires 
 the generous thought. He gives vigor to the active frame. 
 He is the father of New England character, as the Summer 
 is the genial mother. Though we better love the warm lap 
 of our smiling mother, let us no less thank the sterner father 
 for the discipline of manly virtue. 
 
 Morning dawns in Wolfsden. It is time. The night has 
 been long. The beasts in the stall have consumed their 
 nightly fodder, and chewed the cud of patience, while the 
 frost has silvered their hoary brows, and hung with icicles 
 their whiskered cheeks. The silly sheep torpidly wait the 
 morning, each with his nose buried in the woolly warmth of 
 close-crowded mates. The feathered brood, cramped upon 
 their high perch, have counted with unerring instinct the last 
 hour of night, and their high-crested lord wakes the morning 
 with a cottage-rousing crow. 
 
 Awake, Alek ! Arouse thec ! Come from the land of 
 dreams ! Arise from the slumberous pillow ! A new day 
 dawns, bringing duties, cares, and enjoyments. The golden 
 moments of youth s treasury are gliding away. Up ! count, 
 secure them ! 
 
 Alek needs no second call. The bounce of his elastic feet 
 upon the floor echoes to the last note of chanticleer. With
 
 WOLFSDEN. 9 
 
 the iron-bound bucket he has drawn a copious cosmetic from 
 the deep well, and dashed his ruddy cheeks and youthful 
 limbs in unsparing profusion. His frame glows with intenser 
 life. 
 
 The fire smokes, and snaps, and sparkles, and roars, in the 
 ample kitchen chimney. The red light reflects from the 
 frosty window-panes, from the polished platters ranged upon 
 the dressers, from the gilded figures and round-visaged moon 
 upon the tall and venerable clock, and sends cheerful gleams 
 abroad upon the snowy landscape. 
 
 Shaggy Lion, with his big paws and depending ears, his 
 wide -mouth and ivory teeth, is awake, and ready for tho 
 fights and the frolics of the day. Tabby mews from the 
 cellar, where she has guarded the public weal from stealthy 
 mice and marauding rats. Alek answers their greetings, and 
 hastens to his expectant subjects in the barn. From the high 
 mow he pitches huge heaps of hay before the hungry herd. 
 The bleating sheep, the lowing kine, and the whinnying 
 horses, are bountifully supplied. Down from their high roost 
 fly a various brood, cackling hens, gobbling turkeys, and 
 screaming pintadids mingle their various language in one 
 unanimous call for food. Alek scatters corn with liberal 
 hand, and they hasten with eagerness to fill their crops. 
 
 Here come Billy and Tommy, racing and shouting through 
 the snow, barefooted, barenecked, with only their trousers 
 buttoned about their waists, as if playing among new-mown 
 hay in sultry June. 
 
 " Back to your beds, you young dogs ! " roared Alek, " or 
 I 11 duck you in the watering-trough. Hurry, or I 11 set 
 Lion on you, you ragamuflins ! " 
 
 Billy and Tommy are not much terrified with Alck s
 
 10 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 threats, but their tingling toes incline them to obedience, 
 and they retreat to the kitchen fire, to the disappointment of 
 Lion, who had already joined their frolic in the snow, and 
 wonders why they should so soon leave the sport. 
 
 A mighty wood-pile rises in substantial dignity, and bounds 
 tho door-yard on the east. The solid trunks of tall trees, 
 only lately towering in their native forest, now lie ready for 
 the axe. Well can Alek wield the keen axe, and sever the 
 knotted boughs, and rive the huge logs. 
 
 Billy and Tommy again appear, now dressed, buskined, 
 capped, and mittened, for work. On their hand-sled they 
 heap the severed and rifted wood, and with merry gambols 
 draw it to the shed, where, piled in compact tiers, it will 
 slowly season for future use. 
 
 What bright picture of the morning appears in the open 
 doorway ? 0, Frances ! beautiful amid your clustering locks 
 of gold, sending radiance from your soul-speaking eyes of 
 blue, cheering every heart with your sweet voice, how wel 
 come the summons to breakfast from lips like yours ! Alek 
 answers the invitation ere her voice can reach him ; he buries 
 the axe deep in the massive log, clasps his sister in his arms, 
 and, with a fond kiss, tosses her to the kitchen. Here is 
 spread the bountiful table. Ever may such a table be sur 
 rounded by hearts as good and kind, and faces as bright with 
 pleasant thoughts, as these ! How various their characters, 
 and yet all how good ! The father and mother, slowly verg 
 ing toward old age, rich in the experience and reflections of 
 well-spent years ; rich in the respect and love of devoted 
 children ; richer than all in the hope and full assurance of a 
 better home beyond this mortal life. Long have they^brought 
 their spirits into subordination and union with the spirit of
 
 WOLF&DEN. 11 
 
 peace and love. Long have they taught by their example 
 the excellence of their faith. 
 
 Helen, fair, placid, sedate, good Helen, why is she the 
 last one noticed ? Is it because she is always so exactly 
 where she should be and what she should be, and her pres 
 ence so essential, that, like the blue sky and the pleasant sun 
 shine, we think of her only when we miss her ? Helen, mild 
 and calm as a summer s morning, seldom speaking, yet ever 
 expressing good and wise thoughts through your soul-fraught 
 countenance ! 0, if all were not so good, you would be the 
 best of all ! 
 
 Pour the steaming coffee ! Spread the brown toast ! Slice 
 the wheaten loaf! Plenty reigns. 
 
 0, love-encircled and love-breathing family ! how blessed 
 with all that gives health to the body and joy to the soul is 
 your cheerful board ! 
 
 Thus far had I proceeded, when an inquisitive face came 
 peering over the page ; and soon a remonstrating voice 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Why, brother, is this the way you begin your long- 
 promised history of Wolfsden ? Here you have already put 
 in the whole of Deacon Arbor s family, with not the slightest 
 account of who they are, or where they live, or when they 
 were born, or any other of the proper beginnings of a story ! 
 If you set out in this prancing, curveting style, when will 
 you get to your story s end, and who can follow you, or guess 
 where you are going ? " 
 
 " Dear sister," said I, " it s the very thing I do not want 
 you to guess. I am preparing pleasant surprises, unexpected 
 results, astonishing developments, and astounding catastro-
 
 1 2 WOLFSDKN. 
 
 phes, for what else do readers care for, in these days of 
 wonderment ? " 
 
 " Poh, brother ! there are common-sense folks, now-a-days, 
 as many as ever, though book-makers seem to forget them. 
 Write a plain, straight-forward, common-sense history of 
 Wolfsden, with a genealogy of all the inhabitants, and then 
 every family in town will subscribe for a copy, and you will 
 be famous." 
 
 " Dear sister mine, your words are inspired with wisdom. 
 Go and borrow every family register in Wolfsden, and in the 
 mean time I will begin at the beginning, and our town shall 
 be chronicled according to rule." 
 
 " That s a sensible brother," said my sisterly critic ; " but 
 it would be a pity to throw away what you have already 
 written. Can t you alter it a little, and let it stand for the 
 preface ? You know that nobody ever reads the preface ; so 
 it may as well be nonsense as anything else." 
 
 " Sister," said I, a little piqued, " I will have it printed 
 where it shall be read. Let me tell you," said I, holding up 
 the sheet, " that this is very fine writing, only a little too 
 high-flown for your understanding. I will have it for the 
 first chapter in the book ; and, since I must make another 
 beginning, I will call this the PRELIMINARY FLOURISH, and 
 mark it P. F." 
 
 " Dear brother," said the kind creature, " print it where 
 you will. There must be something in every book, as you 
 say, that nobody can understand. I have always found it so ; 
 and it may as well be at the beginning as elsewhere, for then 
 we can the easier skip it. So I 11 go and borrow the geneal 
 ogies, and you may begin the beginning."
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 WOLFSDEN is a quiet nook among the mountains in Maine, 
 where the sun delights to prop himself among the tall trees, 
 while he peeps down the green valleys, and sees his face 
 reflected in many a winding stream and placid lake. Toward 
 the south and east the view extends to a far-distant horizon, 
 where, aided by a telescope, you may see the sky shut down 
 upon the ocean. 
 
 Toward the north and west the high and rugged hills of 
 Wolfsden are surmounted by higher hills beyond, which grow 
 more and more wild and savage as they approach the White 
 Hills, whose vast and lofty chain seems, at this distance, but 
 as the highest step in a series of ascending mountains, which, 
 beginning far toward the east, rise by regular gradation to 
 the clouds. 
 
 Scenes of rural beauty are more delightful when contrasted 
 with the sublime and terrible. Along the base of those high 
 and desert mountains are scattered the cultivated farms of a 
 happy and well-instructed people. Primitive and plain in 
 their habits, and moderate in their aspirations, they pass 
 their time chiefly in providing things convenient for the pres 
 ent life, and in preparation for the life to come. 
 2
 
 14 W L J 1 S D E N . 
 
 There is no strong dividing line separating people into 
 classes. Each family owns a farm of a hundred or two of 
 acres, divided into fields, pastures, and wood-lot, with house, 
 barn, orchard, garden, and other improvements, of which the 
 greater or less apparent perfection is the chief external sign 
 of abundance or deficiency in worldly goods. 
 
 I dwell in mind amidst those scenes of my early days, for 
 there my eyes first saw the light and my first ideas were 
 awakened. I knew the sweets of home affection ; of a 
 mother s love and sister s fondness. There I found friend 
 ships around me, and became conscious of the emotions which 
 beauty can inspire. There were genial minds, and kind 
 hearts, and loving eyes, among my school companions ; and 
 when lessons were learned, what else was left to the ever- 
 busy mind of childhood, but mischief, or merriment, or love ? 
 But, under the birchen rule of a country schoolmaster, mis 
 chief and merriment are dangerous resources, while love 
 quiet, deferential, unspoken love has nothing of danger, 
 and yet fills the void of the earnest heart, and gives fleetness 
 to the wings of weary time. 
 
 I am to speak little of myself in this story, little of my 
 self, and nothing of my love. It was unspoken, and so it 
 shall remain. The sweet idea of her soul-revealing eyes as 
 she met my admiring look ; how happy I was to see her 
 enter the school-house ; how I knew her neat and pretty 
 hood among the flock, as I saw afar off their merry coming ; 
 how a grace and excellence seemed to surround and separate 
 her from all others ; her mild, and yet intellectual look ; her 
 rosy, and yet reserved and unapproachable lips ; her agile, 
 and yet gentle and graceful motion ; her knowing that I
 
 \f L F S 1> E N . 15 
 
 loved her, and yet minding it so little, while my soul was 
 swelling with the magnitude of its emotion ! 
 
 Ah, the beautiful spring of life is past ! Its lovely blos 
 soms are perished, and there is no fruit to glad my autumn. 
 Yet I cherish the fragrance of their memory. I will not 
 speak of our pleasant times, when the boys and girls of our 
 neighborhood assembled to spend a winter evening, how I 
 managed to be near her ; and when the apples were named, 
 that in eating them we might know by the number of the 
 seeds our present feelings and future relations to each other, 
 how happy I was when some one would give my name to her 
 apple, and the seeds would come out plump, and read, " He 
 loves, she loves, both love ; " and how, when another name 
 instead of my own was so blessed, I pretended to care noth 
 ing about it. And when we separated, how eager was I to 
 be ready with my arm to escort her home before another 
 should usurp my place ! 
 
 Nor how I sought occasion to be by her side when study 
 ing her lesson ; and when she was puzzled with a sum, to 
 take the pencil from her dear fingers, or perchance from her 
 sweet lips, and, first putting it to my own, which she would 
 not notice, proceed to put down the figures as they should be, 
 tind whisper arithmetical explanations, while tenderer words 
 were trembling on my tongue. 
 
 Why should I speak of this ; or how, when roses were in 
 bloom, and strawberries were ripe, I found the fairest and 
 picked the ripest ever by her side ; or how I watched her in 
 meeting, and forgot the text ; and at singing-school heard no 
 melody but hers ; and but I am determined to say nothing 
 about it. Thirty summers have passed away since those 
 bright spring-days of my life. I hear and feel the blasts of
 
 16 W L F S I> K X . 
 
 autumn, and Frances Arbor is gone where she should be, 
 where spring, and youth, and loveliness, are perpetual. 
 
 Every one has noticed that, even in the most rustic popula 
 tion, some families seem endowed with a natural refinement 
 of character, extending not only to personal manners, but to 
 sentiments and feelings ; and that even in the same family 
 some individuals will excel others in these respects. This 
 was strikingly shown in the family of Deacon Arbor. Fran 
 ces was as graceful as the sparrow which flitted around her 
 sunny head, and agile as the pet lamb which delighted to 
 frisk about her path ; while Alexander, or Alek, as we called 
 her eldest brother, was as awkward as his two-year-old steers 
 which he exercised daily in trying to " break," and which, as 
 if conscious of their master s awkwardness, acted as if deter 
 mined to break him. Alek, however, was victorious; the 
 steers became docile, well-behaved oxen, while Alek grew up, 
 as far as externals go, an awkward, lubberly, left-handed 
 blunderhead. 
 
 But Alek had solid qualities of heart and mind, as well as 
 of person. He was four years older than Frances, and two 
 years more than myself, and was one of the most successful 
 competitors in the athletic and often boisterous games and 
 exercises of our school-intermissions and half-holidays. I 
 owe to his good-will and strong arm much of my exemption 
 from the tyranny and violence which my imprudence often 
 provoked, and my strength could not repel. It might be 
 that I won his partiality by the frequent assistance which I 
 bestowed upon his " sums " and other lessons; but I loved to 
 refer it to a more flattering motive, the kind partiality of 
 Frances, whom he loved as such a sister should be loved. 
 
 Ah, Alek ! genial, generous and warm-hearted bear, in your
 
 WOLFS DEN. 17 
 
 shaggy coat ! How shall I describe you, that others may love 
 you as I did, in spite of your rough and rustic garb ? And 
 yet you were not so awkward, after all, only when you had 
 on your Sunday coat, and gay vest, and shining hat and boots, 
 and no place where to put your great, brown hands, and no 
 way to apply your great, ox-like strength. A whale or a 
 porpoise is ungraceful when out of water, but in his native 
 element he is quite at home. So with Alek. Who could 
 swing the axe in the forest or at the wood-pile, or the scytho 
 in the meadow, with better grace than he ? Or who could 
 guide the plough or handle the hoe with more dexterity ? Or, 
 if we come to good looks, who had redder cheeks, or brighter 
 eyes, or whiter teeth, or curlier hair, or a more eternally 
 good-natured, half charitable, half self-complacent laugh, like 
 one who thinks pretty well of everybody, and very well of 
 himself? For, however diffident, and deferential, and even 
 self-depreciating, his deportment might appear abroad, and in 
 his Sunday suit, yet, when at home and in his working dress, 
 
 or -undress, for his coat was always off, and generally his 
 vest and hat, he appeared sufficiently confident of himself, 
 and much as one born to command, not oxen merely, but men, 
 
 that is, workmen, the only kind of men with whom he really 
 cared to have anything to do. 
 
 And then, too, though unskilled in ready and graceful 
 speech, Alek could feel and cherish the emotions of a great 
 heart, a heart seemingly formed by nature in a rustic work 
 shop, but where, as everywhere else in this rustic region, 
 there was an abundance of material, of the soundest and best 
 quality. As he went forth at early dawn with axe, or hoe, 
 or scythe, or with whip beside his team, to the business of 
 tho day, attended perhaps by a hired man or his boy-brothers, 
 2*
 
 18 WOLFS DEN. 
 
 or only by his constant companion, the heavy, shaggy, half- 
 Indian and half-Newfoundland dog, Lion, who everybody 
 said was like his master in knowing more than he could 
 tell wherever Alek might be, and however employed, the 
 sense of an ever-present and all-seeing Power was ever with 
 him ; not a terror or restraint, but a high companion and 
 friend, a friend possessing every power but that of injus 
 tice or unkindness ; one with whom he might happily and 
 profitably commune at any moment and all the time, or whom 
 he might neglect and turn his thoughts away from at any 
 time, without giving offence, though with great loss to him 
 self. He saw in the dewy grass, in the fresh morning flowers, 
 in the merry birds flitting among the branches, in the brisk 
 squirrel, who, secure in his lofty perch, chattered a defiant 
 reply to the big and shaggy Lion barking a good-natured 
 good-morning beneath his tree, in all these, and in every 
 thing around and beyond him, Alek saw the unfailing good 
 ness and the persevering workmanship of his great and 
 unseen, but not unknown, companion and friend. And he 
 felt that, in the companionship of nature s God, there could 
 be no want of society ; and with the evidences of His works 
 everywhere about him, it was a noble business to WORK. And 
 as he thought of this great Companion, and how his own com 
 prehension was enlarged by communing with him, and in 
 creased knowledge gave increased power of comprehension, he 
 thought how excellent it was to gain much knowledge and 
 enlarge the resources and the power of thought ; and he 
 resolved to know all that he could learn from nature, or men, 
 or books. He did not wish to change his pursuits or position 
 in life, for he was content with both, and had not thought 
 that there might be a worthier or happier. The germ of
 
 WOLFSDEN. 10 
 
 restless worldly ambition had not yet begun to develop itself 
 within him. 
 
 But yet he knew well that there was a busy and ambitious, 
 an exciting and magnificent world, afar off, beyond his humble 
 and happy sphere. Beyond the hills of his father s farm, 
 and the higher hiils of neighboring farms, successively swell 
 ing to mountains toward the north, arose the vast, chain whose 
 dark, forest-clad sides ascended and blended with the gray 
 mist and ihe blue sky, till their white tops were lost in the 
 clouds. Beyond these, he knew that the road through the 
 " Notch" led to the busy tumult of a very different kind of 
 life, to gay and populous towns, and proud and wealthy 
 cities, filled with the commerce and fed with the riches which 
 the St. Lawrence receives from opposite sides of the great 
 world. 
 
 The Saco, too, rolls its impetuous waters from amidst those 
 mountains on the hither side, now winding its dark and devi 
 ous way through trackless forests, undisturbed by man or 
 animal, except by the leaping of the salmon, or the smaller 
 fry of the finny tribe, or by the plash of their fierce and cun 
 ning pursuers, the otter, or mink, or hawk, or by the rush 
 of the timorous deer from the gaunt pursuing wolf, or the 
 crossing of the prowling bear or stately moose, unfre 
 quented by man or animal, except by the wild beast or Indi 
 an, ever rushing, and eddying, and rolling over its rocky 
 or sandy bed, now dashing over an opposing precipice, now 
 leaping and chafing in white foam down a long and rocky 
 descent, now seeming to pause a moment in the peaceful 
 bosom of a dark-fringed and white-shored, quiet lake, yet 
 ever through deep forests, or over opposing precipices, 01
 
 20 \VOLFSDKN. 
 
 down steep rapids, or through quiet lakes, or amid green 
 meadows, roiling its waters to the ocean. 
 
 As Alek would sometimes visit its summer solitude, or 
 skate upon its wintry expanse of ice, he would think to what 
 strange scenes and agitating pursuits this river s course, or 
 yonder mountain-pass, might lead him, and how, perhaps, 
 his sagacity to discern, and perseverance to strive, and 
 strength to do, might find or force a path to distinction 
 among the striving crowd ; for Alek, as has been intimated, 
 was not of a disposition to distrust his own powers, but, on 
 the contrary, had much of that feeling of capability which 
 vigorous youth and rustic inexperience usually inspire even 
 in the most unassuming .persons. Yet he felt no temptation 
 to engage in the world s strife ; he clung to his quiet home, 
 to the peace and plenty of his paternal roof, to the constant 
 and careful love of his honored and venerated parents, the 
 watchful affection of his elder sister, the endearing fondness 
 of Frances, whom everybody loved, and to the boys, Billy 
 and Tommy, who, whatever others might think, looked upon 
 Alek as their all-endowed and all-accomplished leader and 
 instructor. 
 
 We will not further describe the different members of the 
 family to the reader, until they have occasion to appear in 
 the coming incidents of this history. There was nothing 
 very peculiar in the others. Frances was chiefly remarkable 
 for her grace and loveliness ; and Alek chiefly so, at least to 
 the generality of people, for his awkwardness and homeliness, 
 although nature had given him a form and features which 
 art might rejoice to train and polish, and place among the 
 favorites of fashion. 
 
 In every New England town there is a place where its in-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 21 
 
 flucnce and fashion centre. It is generally near the territorial 
 centre, and is known as " The Village," " The Corner," or 
 sometimes " The Meeting-house ; " this latter appellation 
 being derived from its church edifice, which is the chief archi 
 tectural ornament of the town, and always on Sundays and 
 holidays the great centre to which all worthy people converge 
 for worship and social reunion. The town-house, with the 
 selectmen s and town-clerk s office, and generally a tavern, a 
 store or two, where all varieties of merchandise are sold, 
 a few mechanics shops and houses, a physician s, and per 
 haps a lawyer s office, sometimes a high school, and a few 
 houses of the more wealthy or aspiring class, combine to give 
 it an air of magnificence in the eyes of home-born and home- 
 staying townsmen. Here, of course, is to be found whatever 
 pretension of gentility the town aifords. There is enough of 
 society for emulation, and comparison, and criticism, and what 
 ever else of good or evil grows out of social proximity. Here 
 the singers meet for a weekly concert. Here is the quarterly 
 military training, and here the annual speeches and guns in 
 honor of our glorious independence are fired off, and the 
 occasional ball, or " sociable," is held. To each town this 
 central village is what the capital is to the state, a place 
 which all regard with a blended feeling of pride, jealousy, and 
 admiration. 
 
 Our neighborhood was somewhat remote from the centre 
 of the town, so that we generally rode, when business, or 
 recreation, or devotion, called us thither. In winter, Alek 
 would delight to harness his favorite colts a spirited and 
 well-matched pair to the big " pung," and, filling it with all 
 the younger members of the family, and smuggling in, when 
 possible, a fair cousin or two, give loose rein, and scamper
 
 22 W L F S D E N . 
 
 away through clouds of snow, and perilous drifts, with boys, 
 girls, horses, and the faithful Lion, all equally zealous and 
 eager in the duty of Sunday devotions, and quite outrunning 
 the zeal of the father and mother, the staid deacon and his 
 placid wife, and the serious mare that followed soberly be 
 hind. Yet often in such cases it might be seen how zeal 
 outruns discretion, verifying the maxim, " the more haste 
 the worse speed," as when a pair of high-mettled steeds are 
 harnessed to a "pung" filled with not too serious boys and 
 girls, and driven by a Jehu who fears a snow-bank as a pig 
 fears a clover-field. Were there not some smashings, and 
 some overturnings, and some premature buryings, and some 
 unexpected resurrections ? And did not Alek always find a 
 plausible reason for such disasters, though the others declared 
 he did it on purpose ? There are many reminiscences of 
 that sort, which we, surviving relics of those giddy days, 
 recall to each others recollection in our sober meetings. 
 
 We always noticed that these accidents never happened 
 when Margaret Murray was of our party. She was the only 
 daughter of a neighbor, distantly related, who lived about a 
 mile from Deacon Arbor s, in the direction opposite from the 
 meeting-house. She would sometimes visit her cousin Fran 
 ces of a Saturday, and pass the night, and would, of course, 
 be one of the party to fill the " pung," and share the perils 
 of the Sunday pilgrimage of devotion. At such times, 
 though the colts would prance as proudly and fly as swiftly 
 through the snow as ever, yet the pung would keep right-side 
 up, and bring its lively freight safe to the meeting-house 
 steps ; so that, by oft-repeated observation, it came to be 
 understood that the pung would not tip over when Margaret 
 Murray was in it. Alek always had a reason, but the girls
 
 WOLFSDEN. 23 
 
 Buid that the pung would not hear to reason, except when 
 Margaret was there. 
 
 But every rule has its exceptions, and the pung once forgot 
 to be reasonable, although the fair Margaret was on board. 
 It happened on this wise : 
 
 An old lady from Portland was making a visitation in our 
 neighborhood, taking turns at every eligible house where a 
 claim of acquaintance or hospitality could gain admittance 
 for her. The slightest invitation which civility, in such a 
 neighborhood, requires to be bestowed on even a disagreeable 
 acquaintance, was construed by her into an earnest wish for 
 at least a week s sojourn ; during which time she would man 
 age to pry into every one s affairs, and make herself as med 
 dlesome and disagreeable as possible. She had great claims 
 to " gentility," upon which she plumed herself, and upon the 
 grounds of which she, as a matter of course, seemed to ex 
 pect, as she certainly managed to get, a great share of defer 
 ence and attention. Reverence to age, and respect for even 
 its caprices .and weaknesses, are traits of New England char 
 acter ; and -old Mrs. Simperkins had no delicate scruples 
 about stretching the chain of toleration to its utmost tension. 
 So that, although ignorant, conceited, vulgar-minded, and 
 mischievous, she managed to command the best attentions 
 and hospitalities of our town for two mortal months, of 
 which two weeks were divided between Major Murray s and 
 Deacon Arbor s, where her affectations and pretensions, her 
 shallowncss and conceit, had pretty nearly neutralized the 
 natural respect and welcome accorded to aged womanhood. 
 Not that this feeling found utterance even in private, though 
 every one felt that it would be a relief to be free from her 
 society. It may be mentioned that- she claimed to be " a
 
 24 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 hinglish lady," and to have been " heducated Inn the ighest 
 border bof society," and to be quite conversant with " duch 
 esses, countesses, and hall the igh life hof Lunnun." The 
 probability is, that she had been employed in some cockney 
 milliner s establishment, this being her occupation in Port 
 land, where she had temporarily shut up shop to come upon 
 her mission among us. 
 
 Alek, although so tolerant of everybody, and especially 
 deferential to the claims of age and womanhood, was quite 
 disgusted with the old lady s character ; especially with the 
 shallow hypocrisy which she wore, like her ribbons and 
 ruffles, as the advertisement of her trade. But the chief 
 annoyance was her constant claim to be present in all the 
 social gatherings of the young people, where her society was 
 always felt to be superfluous. 
 
 It happened that Margaret Murray came on the Saturday 
 of Mrs. Simperkins week at the deacon s, and that three or 
 four other young friends " happened in," which made as near 
 an approach to a " party " as might be allowable at a deacon s 
 on a Saturday evening. A fire was built in the "fore-room," 
 and there was a cheerful time. We had tea, and toast, and 
 doughnuts, and pies, and all the plenty of a substantial farm 
 house supper, where people eat as they do everything else, 
 in earnest. We had conversation and sober amusements, as 
 usual, till the " old folks " had retired to their room, which 
 they always did in season to allow an hour or two of livelier 
 play to the young ; and then we were as merry as we could 
 very well be, though all were secretly annoyed at Mrs. Sim 
 perkins presence, who not only remained, but assumed, as 
 usual, to be the important personage of the company. We 
 boys, including Alek, were not only vexed by her presence,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 25 
 
 but that the girls should show so much deference to her pre 
 tensions, and so perversely decline ours ; which vexation, how 
 ever, we swallowed with our supper ; and, with the apples and 
 nuts, and a stolen kiss or two, we made ourselves about as 
 happy as usual. 
 
 Next morning, after breakfast, Alek had the colts harnessed 
 to the pung a little earlier than usual, as he was careful to 
 do whenever Margaret was to be one of the party ; for it had 
 happened sometimes that the major and his wife, who had to 
 pass by the deacon s on the way to meeting, had come along 
 and had called to take Margaret along with them, much to 
 our dissatisfaction. I suppose we had all a secret presen 
 timent of Mrs. Simperkins society ; though nothing was said 
 till the pung was brought to the door, when, there she stood, 
 with her bland and malicious smile, the first one ready, 
 and evidently prepared to take the first place in our convey 
 ance. This was bearing pretty hard on Alek s patience, and 
 he ventured gently to suggest that she had better ride with 
 the old folks ; that the pung was not so comfortable as the 
 sleigh ; that the colts were very wild, and the roads much 
 drifted, and we were almost sure to be upset. But Mrs. 
 Simperkins, who had, doubtless, learned that the pung never 
 upset with Margaret in it, was deaf to all remonstrances ; 
 and, being supported by the girls, who apparently enjoyed 
 our vexation, although sharing in it themselves, she crowded 
 herself into the party. It was very remarkable that the 
 colts, which, being well trained, were generally very quiet 
 during the process of loading, now, in spite of Alek s reining 
 and scolding them, and snapping the whip, or perhaps having 
 some secret divination of their master s present mood, were 
 uncommonly restive and unaccommodating, starting backwards 
 3
 
 26 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 and forwards as the girls were crowding into their places, 
 and pitching them in every direction ; and especially when 
 Mrs. Simperkins was clambering into her seat they gave a 
 sudden start, which, but for the girls around her, would have 
 tumbled her over ; but, as if to make amends, they were very 
 (juiet when Margaret, who got in last, was taking her seat. 
 Sagacious colts they were ! 
 
 But after all this difficulty we started off in fine style, and 
 I could see, by a pleased twinkle in Alek s eye, that there was 
 fun of some kind ahead. The colts scampered, the snow flew, 
 the girls screamed alternately with excitement or terror, as 
 we dashed along through the blinding drifts, until, about 
 half-way to the meeting-house, a tremendous bank of snow 
 loomed up directly in the road, presenting an apparently im 
 passable barrier. We knew very well that Alek could guide 
 us by it, or through it, or shipwreck us in it, at his option ; 
 and, but for Margaret s presence, should have expected the 
 latter, which indeed I began to suspect would be our lot, at any 
 rate. This suspicion was soon confirmed, when, as we neared 
 the drift, Alek quickly placed one foot outside the box, and 
 one hand under an arm of Margaret, who sat very near, and, 
 giving the reins a shake and a jerk, in an instant we saw him 
 spring, with Margaret on his arm, from the right side of the 
 pung, and at the same moment we were all floundering over 
 head and ears in the snow-bank on the opposite side, while the 
 horses were plunging, almost completely buried in the snow. 
 As we struggled out of our awkward positions, we saw Alek 
 disentangling and backing the horses out of their difficulty, 
 and Margaret standing in a smooth, hard place, entirely 
 untouched by the disaster, but looking with great sympathy 
 upon our distress ; though, being bundled and bound up in
 
 W L F S D E X . 27 
 
 wrappers, cloaks, shawls, and furs, she could scarcely move tc 
 give the least assistance. However, we struggled bravely, 
 helping each other to a perpendicular position as fast as possi 
 ble ; and Alek, having relieved and righted the team, and put 
 Margaret in the pung, soon came to our assistance. Pie was 
 full of apologies and explanations ; but he evidently felt like 
 a man who had begun the day very well. He was over-pro 
 fuse in his aid and sympathy for poor Mrs. Simperkins, whose 
 crushed bonnet, and draggled ribbons, and general derange 
 ment of millinery, gave good color of justice to the anger of 
 her countenance. I think that a sense of having over-pun 
 ished the old lady reacted upon his generous nature, so as 
 really to kindle a name of kindness toward her ; for he was 
 very careful to soothe her fears, and convey her safely the 
 rest of the way, and upon our return urged her to ride back 
 with us, assuring her there would be no danger of another 
 overturn. She would not, however, venture herself with us 
 again, but rode with the old folks ; arid, what was sadder still, 
 we had to part with Margaret, who, as usual, returned home 
 with her father and mother. However, we all went home in 
 good spirits, especially Alek, who looked as though .he had 
 gained much good from Parson foreman s sermon, and had 
 acquired a stock of charity and good-humor sufficient to out 
 last the visitations of a dozen Mrs. Simperkinses.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DEAR images of early days, when life was full of freshness, 
 when the glad young blood bounded through elastic veins, 
 and an overflowing vitality supplied the nerves with energy, 
 and the heart with abundant feeling ! Sweet were our daily 
 duties, dear were our ever-recurring social enjoyments, and 
 bright our anticipations. Or, if a pang of disappointment, 
 of jealousy, or some fancied injury, pierced our sensitive 
 bosoms, how soon was the wound healed, and the pain for 
 gotten ! 
 
 Of all the models of propriety, of quiet, unassuming dig 
 nity, softened with gentleness, of all the daughter-like and 
 wife-like and mother-like qualities which go to make up a per 
 fect woman, I have seen none surpassing my remembrance 
 of Helen Arbor. She was the elder sister of Alek, and, like 
 most elder sisters, the best-instructed, best-dispositioned, and 
 best-qualified member of the family. The father might be 
 tardy, but Helen was always prompt. The mother might 
 forget, but Helen always remembered. Alek might blunder, 
 but Helen did everything rightly. Even sweet Frances might 
 sometimes be wayward or mischievous, or in some way betray 
 her descent from Eve ; but Helen might have been born free 
 from all original sin (if such a thing had been possible in her
 
 WOLFSDEN. 29 
 
 father s creed), as she certainly grew up and lived without 
 any visible faults of her own. Helen was not strikingly beau 
 tiful, though everybody allowed that she was good-looking ; 
 and the girls, especially those who had pretensions of their 
 own to beauty, all declared that she was full as handsome as 
 Frances. 
 
 But, though thus endowed and graced with all the excel 
 lences which would have made her a treasure of a wife, to a 
 man worthy of her, Helen was now twenty-five, and still sin 
 gle, and even without the reputation of ever having had a 
 suitor. I know not how it was, but there was something so 
 mind-like in her countenance, so much apparent depth of 
 judgment, and power of discernment, that the most presump 
 tuous spark had never ventured an approach to flirtation ; 
 and more serious suitors, if they had ever appeared, had been 
 quietly dismissed, and the world was none the wiser. 
 
 It may here be recorded that Helen s maternal ancestry 
 were of Quaker descent. Mrs. Arbor, generally called "Aunt 
 Deborah," as everybody likes to call s6 good a woman, was 
 the grand-daughter of Mathew Purington, a prominent Friend 
 before and during the Revolution, and who, living near Boston 
 in those troubled times, had " borne testimony " against the 
 violence of both sides, to both General Washington and Gen 
 eral Howe, in a manner characteristic of his faith. Aunt 
 Deborah spent her childhood and formed her early associa 
 tions among the descendants of the old Quaker, who are now 
 numerous, and form a considerable portion of the " meeting " 
 still flourishing near its original locality, which is now the 
 heart of a city famous all over the United States for its 
 manufacture of shoes. 
 
 Aunt Deborah was not born a member of the sect, he: 
 3*
 
 30 \TOLFSDJEN. 
 
 mother having been " read out of meeting " for choosing a 
 husband who was not a member thereof; but she honored and 
 perhaps prided herself in her Quaker ancestry, and, besides 
 practising their common virtues, she retained many of their 
 peculiar sentiments, especially a faith in the " inward light," 
 which, being cherished and followed, she believed to be a sure 
 guide, not only in spiritual, but also in worldly afl uirs ; and 
 that warnings and revelations of things important to be 
 avoided or to be done were thus communicated to the spirit 
 ually minded. This undoubted faith of Aunt Deborah was 
 confirmed, not only by early teachings and the really remark 
 able experiences of early Friends, but also by her own expe 
 rience in frequent cases, one of which came under my own 
 observation, and is so impressed on my memory that I can 
 hardly proceed without telling it. 
 
 It happened that Alek and I went one day to a distant 
 part of the town, to give to a poor man, who had been dis 
 abled by accident, a day s work in harvesting. Among a few 
 others who were gathered for the same purpose was Josiah 
 Brown, a strong, active, and generally good-natured fellow 
 enough, but of a violent temper when provoked. A difficulty 
 arose between him and Alek, about a matter which was after 
 wards explained, but which produced much ill-feeling and 
 harsh language between them at the time, and which, but for 
 the presence of others, might have ended in blows ; for Josiah 
 was very violent, and Alek, though averse to a quarrel, had 
 hardly enough of his brave Quaker ancestor s blood or spirit 
 to bear violence without retaliation. However, they parted 
 without anything more serious than hard words and hard 
 thoughts, which, to Alek s peaceful mind, were an unpleasant 
 burthen, though it seemed to be pretty much worn off and
 
 W L F S D E N . 31 
 
 forgotten before we reached home. Alek attended to his out 
 door affairs, and went in to supper with his usual good-natured 
 look ; but his quick eye noticed that his mother looked graver 
 than usual. He knew that she could not have heard of the 
 quarrel, for it had taken place just before he started for home, 
 and no one came before him, or could have passed him on the 
 road, or could have any motive to tell his mother of so trifling 
 but unpleasant a matter. But, when the family were out of 
 the room, to his great surprise she said to him, " My son, have 
 you had a quarrel with anybody this afternoon? " 
 
 "A quarrel ! " said Alek, forcing a laugh ; " with whom, 
 and for what ? You know I am no quarreller. You might, 
 as well think of your grandfather Purington s quarrelling." 
 
 " Yes ; but, Alek," continued his mother, " I feel impressed 
 to ask you if you have quarrelled with anybody, with Josiah 
 Brown, for instance, or anybody else ? " 
 
 Alek saw that evasion was out of the question, and replied, 
 " Well, mother, I did talk to Josiah Brown rather plain, 
 perhaps, but I said nothing but what was true and right." 
 
 " My son," said his mother, " you doubtless said what was 
 true, but what was not right to say, at least in the spirit of 
 anger. Now, my son, you think that Josiah Brown has done 
 you some wrong, and I will tell you how to get the advantage 
 of him. Will you take my counsel ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother, I always take your counsel." 
 
 "Well, Alek, in the first place forgive in } r our heart what 
 ever injury Josiah may have clone you ; then examine can 
 didly whether you have not done him some wrong, in his feel 
 ings or otherwise, which ought to be confessed ; and, whether 
 you have or not, go to him at the first opportunity, and bo 
 reconciled."
 
 32 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 " I will, mother. But who told you anything about it ? " 
 
 " No one, my son : it was impressed on me about an hour 
 before you came home." 
 
 " Well, mother, that was just the time I had the words 
 with Josiah." 
 
 Alek told me, the next day, of this conversation with his 
 mother, adding that he believed she knew his very thoughts, 
 and that it was of no use to keep any secret from her. 
 
 " In that case," said I, " you are well guarded, for you 
 have both God and your mother watching you. I think you 11 
 go pretty straight." 
 
 " Well, I mean to do just that very thing," said Alek. 
 
 Ah, Alek ! trust not thus in your own strength ; for it is 
 spiritual as well as carnal pride which goeth before destruc 
 tion, and a self-righteous as well as a haughty spirit before a 
 fall ! And yet Alek s moral strength and firmness might seem 
 reliable. It had already been often proved, and the very next 
 evening, after his day s work, he rode over to Job Brown s, 
 found Josiah, and, offering his hand, said, " I was wrong yes 
 terday let us overlook the affair." 
 
 " 0, nc, I was wrong," said Josiah, melting at once ; " I 
 am sorry you came to me in this way I mean I wish 
 I had gone to you ; but I had n t spunk enough to do it, 
 although I found out, soon after you went away, that I was 
 entirely in the wrong it was all my mistake. But how can 
 you say you were wrong, when you know you were entirely in 
 the right ? " 
 
 " I mean," said Alek, " that I was wrong in losing my tem 
 per, and using hard language ; but it is none of my merit 
 finding that out, and coining to own it. It s all mother s
 
 WOLF8DEN. 33 
 
 doings ; and you may be sure when I do anything right, or 
 mend anything wrong, that mother has a hand in it." 
 
 " Well," said Josiah, " you have mended your wrong, if 
 you did any, and left me no chance to mend mine, and that I 
 call getting the advantage of me. Now, I only ask you, when 
 you see me play the blackguard again, just give me a good 
 kicking, and I 11 take it kindly, and thank you into the bar 
 gain." 
 
 Alek laughed, and, after going into the house and chatting 
 with the family a while, went homewards feeling quite com 
 fortable, reflecting what a mother he had to give good advice, 
 and especially thinking of the remarkable coincidence of lan 
 guage in his mother s counsel, and Josiah s confession that he 
 had (jot the advantage of him. 
 
 " There is something," said Alek, " in this inward light, 
 that is wonderful. Mother says we may all have it by attend 
 ing to it ; but I think it won t come easy to any of us, except 
 Helen. She s got it, safe enough, though she says nothing 
 about it." 
 
 Thus meditated Alek, while his colt, with loose rein and at 
 his own pace, bore him quickly home. 
 
 "All right, mother ! " said Alek, exultingly, as he came into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " Yes, all right, my son," said his mother, just as if she 
 knew where he had been, and all about it. 
 
 Josiah Brown told me, a good while after, about Alek s 
 coming to feconcile the matter. "And," said he, " that just cut 
 me the worst kind. But there is one comfort, he gave his 
 mother credit for it, and it s my mind them Arbors would n t 
 be so much better than everybody else, if it was n t for their
 
 34 \V L F S D E N . 
 
 mother. It does a fellow more good to have her just speak to 
 him, than to hear Parson Boreman preach seven years." 
 
 Alek s mother had once reproved Josiah, when a boy, for 
 swearing at his horse, and with such good effect that folks 
 said he went home and asked pardon of his horse, on his 
 knees. That might not be true, but it is a fact that he broke 
 himself of the habit of swearing. 
 
 People everywhere admitted Aunt Deborah s excellence, 
 and that Helen was just like her ; and thought it a pity that 
 she should not marry, and bring up just sucli another family, 
 instead of living and dying an old maid, as she was likely to 
 do. From this latter destiny there could be no doubt many 
 a nice young man would be glad to save her, if he had only 
 the courage to " propose ; " but, for want of it, or some other 
 cause, the prospects in that direction looked rather blank. 
 
 But it takes everybody to know everything. The world is 
 a prying, inquisitive medley of all sorts of folks, having all 
 sorts of notions, and finding out and guessing all sorts of 
 things ; and yet it often happens that some quiet, simple-seem 
 ing, grave-looking old gentleman or lady knows a thing or 
 two, of which the slightest whisper would set the same shrewd, 
 prying, self-ccmceitcd world a wondering for a week, and buz- 
 xing for a month. For instance, if Aunt Deborah should tell 
 all that was thought, said, and done, when she, and Helen, 
 and the deacon, visited Uncle Lemuel s family, at Saco, three 
 years ago this winter; how Cousin Hezekiah, the school 
 master, at first eyed her as keenly as if he thought she might 
 in some way belong to him, and then so timidly spoke and 
 shook hands with her as if he feared she might belong to 
 somebody else, and then was so anxious, and inquisitive, 
 and communicative, as if that question must be settled soon
 
 WOLFSDEN. 35 
 
 in one way or another ; and how he invited Helen to his 
 school, and introduced her to all his favorite scholars among 
 the girls and young women, but not to one of the boys or 
 young men ; and how he carried her home from school 
 alone, forgetting to invite the girls to jump in and fill up the 
 sleigh, as usual ; and how flustered and fidgety, and yet 
 how very happy, he seemed, all the time of her visit ; and 
 how very grave and pathetic he looked when they came away ; 
 and how he put a large hot stone in the bottom of the 
 sleigh, and tucked the buffalo-robe about her, as though he 
 supposed she might be some tender vegetable, very suitable to 
 be cooked over a hot stone, but not hardy enough to be ex 
 posed to the frost ; and how he shook hands with her at 
 parting four times as long as was necessary and proper ; and 
 how, since that time, Aunt Nabby, his mother, had written 
 to Aunt Deborah, her mother, every three months, enclosing 
 a letter directed, in a nice, schoolmaster hand, to Miss Helen 
 Arbor ; all these things, which Aunt Deborah often talked 
 over with the deacon, and sometimes with Helen, what if 
 she had hinted to some sagacious secret-finder for the wonder- 
 loving world ? How would the wonder-loving world have 
 stared, and buzzed, and looked wise for a month ! Ah, busy 
 world, be not too impatient! Everything shall be known in 
 due time. In the warm and mellow mould of all bounteous 
 earth seeds of mysterious organization lie hid and unsus 
 pected. Yet not too long shall they remain in their secret 
 hiding-places, for the genial season comes on apace, when they 
 shall burst their dark coverings, and bear the glossy leaves, 
 the bright flowers, and the fragrance of their destiny. So 
 from the dark unknown do we arise to light and lifo. We are 
 nourished in weakness, imbecility is taught to reason, and the
 
 36 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 low instincts give place to high aims, until the soul aspires to 
 a destiny which only the hereafter can reveal. 
 
 Deacon Arbor held, with unswerving steadfastness, the creed 
 of New England doctrine, as stamped and moulded into the 
 consciences of their own and succeeding generations by the 
 Pilgrim Fathers. He knew, indeed, that it had been disputed 
 and strongly controverted ; and perhaps his own meditative 
 mind had been disquieted with doubts about doctrines which 
 religious consistency required him to hold fast. But his doubts 
 had never disturbed his faith in the goodness of God, in the 
 truth of his Redeemer, and the blessed salvation which he 
 felt assured he should attain, by direct communion with him, 
 even though the Westminster Catechism should err. 
 
 In Helen s mind were blended, in finer and softer texture, 
 yet with equal strength, the elements of her father s faith and 
 the mysterious " inward light " inherited from her mother. 
 If she meditated less upon the " plan " unfolded in the cate 
 chism and creed of her paternal church, she received them 
 with perhaps a more undoubting faith from their very incom 
 prehensibility, and drew richer consolations and higher motives 
 to holiness from the depth of doctrines too divine to be sub 
 jected to the scrutiny of human investigation, or to be ques 
 tioned by human reason. In her were manifest the results of 
 that vital piety which, independent of the garb of doctrines 
 surrounding it, penetrates and finds its congenial home, and 
 makes its sanctuary, in the sincere and earnest heart. And 
 though she declined to dispute about matters too high for her, 
 and took no part in the doctrinal discussions which kindled 
 the zeal of neighborly disputants, she well knew how to take 
 the shortest way to the surest knowledge , for she trusted the 
 " true light which lighteth every man that comcth into the
 
 WOLFSDEN. 37 
 
 world," and that " whoso doeth his will shall know of the 
 doctrine." And therefore her life became, not only the most 
 successful pupilage, but also the best exemplification of Chris 
 tian truth. 
 
 But still more in the gentle and lovely Frances, whom we 
 generally called Fanny, did piety present its most attractive 
 grace. She seemed born to put to its hardest trial the stern 
 dogma which declares the total depravity of all mankind, and 
 that every descendant of Adam is a child of wrath. A stum 
 bling-block in the Calvinistic believer s path, even from her 
 mother s womb, she grew up a child of grace, recalling to 
 every beholder s mind, as each germ of her nature unfolded, 
 the sweet words of him who said, " Of such is the kingdom 
 of heaven." The open, unaffected, childlike, and perfectly 
 natural form of her piety, was a puzzle to those to whom the 
 garb of peculiar solemnity and peculiar phrase seemed essen 
 tial to religion. She thought and spoke of the Saviour, not 
 as of an awful and mystical being, unapproachable except 
 through prescribed forms, which the initiated must regulate, 
 nor yet as the still more unnatural object of ecstatic adula 
 tion and rapturous adoration, but rather as the sure and faith 
 ful friend in heaven, to whom she might always turn in confi 
 dence as to her earthly father, and to whose arms she would 
 run, if now on earth, with full assurance of the same welcome 
 reception that he gave to the little children of Judea. 
 
 Yet if Fanny was a puzzle to believers in the creed of 
 total depravity, Alek, on the contrary, was an exemplification 
 of its truth. He was often alluded to as showing how the 
 natural man might possess all the amiable qualities of natural 
 goodness, and yet be destitute of saving grace. 
 
 " There is Alek Arbor," they would say ; " everybody knows 
 4
 
 38 W O L F S D E N . 
 
 that he is perfectly honest and faithful, and would go further 
 out of his way to do a good turn to a poor person, or to atone 
 for a wrong action, than some Christians that could be named ; 
 and yet, after all, everybody knows that he is not a Christian ; 
 for, though he understands the Bible very well, at least, 
 the letter thereof, and keeps the Sabbath outwardly, yet he 
 has never experienced religion, nor even been under convic 
 tion. We must regard him as a child of the devil under the 
 law, and therefore under the curse ; for what saith the Scrip 
 tures ? lie that is not with me is against me, and he that 
 gathereth not with me, scattereth ; by which we are to un 
 derstand that we should gather ourselves into the church, or 
 we shall be scattered as the chaff." This clear and conclusive 
 exposition of Scripture of course completely defined Alek s 
 case. 
 
 And yet, of these devout neighbors, who so confidently and 
 conscientiously settled Alek s spiritual condition, not one 
 would hesitate to grasp his hand in warm friendship, or give 
 him the most hearty welcome to the festivities of his fire 
 side. Even Major Murray, the most reliable, or at least the 
 most unyielding, of the champions of the faith, seemed by no 
 means alarmed at the possible contingency of having this 
 child of the devil for a son-in-law a contingency which 
 neighborly gossip could not fail to convey to his ears, even 
 if his eyes had failed to discern the signs of the times. But 
 this was only a thing in the common course of the faith, 
 which permits the deacon s progeny and the devil s progeny, 
 like the wheat and tares of Scripture, to grow together till the 
 harvest. Besides, who could know that Alek might not yet 
 be plucked as a brand from the burning ?
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Now look out for a Snowstorm. FARMER S ALMANAC. 
 
 STERN Winter holds his ancient reign. The cold constella 
 tions, who watch his empire from their high places, sparkle 
 with keener lustre. The winds awaken and gather their 
 forces from the valleys and mountain-tops. Their voices roar 
 in wild disorder through the leafless forests, and blend in sol 
 emn harmony over wide, dismantled plains, while they fling 
 their fleecy tribute in his path. The night of the busy year ! 
 He brings sleep to a million eyes. The insect tribes hide in 
 the rough bark of trees, or in the gray moss at their roots, or 
 bind their silken drapery to the fluttering leaf, and wait in 
 dreamless slumber the vernal breath which shall renew their 
 life. The humble hibernating and amphibious animals make 
 their beds in fissures of the rocks, or dens of the earth, or 
 beneath still waters. Half of nature s life waits in torpid 
 repose the coming spring. But man and the nobler beasts 
 rejoice in the stern, sinew-bracing blasts of winter. To the 
 New England farmer the season comes with welcome. The 
 cares of summer and the bounties of autumn are supplied 
 with a purpose and a use by the requirements of winter. The 
 fleeces of his flock, transformed to comely garments, protect 
 and adorn his family. His well-filled granary and cellar sup 
 ply the solid nutriment and savory cheer which generous life
 
 40 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 and liberal hospitality love. From his mows of fragrant hay 
 he spreads their welcome food before the lowing cattle, and 
 answers the whinnying welcome of his horse with a heaped 
 measure of oats from the bin. From the towering wood-pile 
 huge logs are supplied to the ample chimney, which sends 
 ruddy heat through the capacious kitchen, where the experi 
 enced mother, and her neat daughters, pursue their domestic 
 affairs, while the younger fry clamor in their various sports. 
 
 Such was now the cheerful, busy scene in Deacon Arbor s 
 kitchen. There has been even a more than common diligence 
 there for a few days past, attended with an air of mystery 
 portending the coming of more than common events. Baskets 
 of apples have been brought from the cellar, peeled, and con 
 signed to the chopping-tray, compounding a delicious mass, 
 which yonder long row of pastry-covered plates shall soon 
 receive and bear to the hot oven. The voracious mouth of 
 that hot oven ! What interminable plates of various pies, 
 what pots of pork and beans, what pans of various puddings, 
 and deep platters of chicken pasties, what swollen loaves of 
 bread, the white and the brown, enter the capacious cavern at 
 the end of this busy week ! Yes, it is the end of the week, 
 and the month, and the year. To-morrow is Sunday, and 
 New Year s Day. It is well to welcome the birth of the new 
 year with ample cheer. May it be a happy year, such even 
 as the last ! It promises to be so, and is welcomed with abun 
 dant bounty. It is welcomed with complacent grace by the 
 benignant parents, with beaming smiles by the expectant daugh 
 ters, and with the glad and noisy mirth of the uproarious boys, 
 13illy and Tommy, who often press the compliant Alek into 
 their wild sport. He tosses them into the drifting snow. 
 They scream with mingled indignation and delight, and pelt
 
 WOLFSDEN. 41 
 
 
 
 him with snow-balls. Now at once they clasp and entangle 
 his legs, and tumble him into the drift, and strive to keep him 
 down and bury him before he can regain his feet. He strug 
 gles and recovers, in spite of their combined efforts. They 
 turn and scamper away, to escape the coming retribution. 
 Billy succeeds, and gains the sanctuary of the kitchen, where 
 he is safe, and where, 0, lucky Billy ! a mighty pan of dough 
 nuts, hot and smoking from the fatty caldron, greets his 
 sparkling eyes, and invites his watering mouth. He seizes 
 one, and is about to make a general onset. Helen, who pre 
 sides with the ladle, tells him to be off. She will not have her 
 doughnuts eaten while she is cooking them. Billy insists, but 
 compromises for one more, with which he again ventures forth, 
 in time to learn the fate of Tommy. Luckless Tommy ! Alek 
 caught him just as he had gained the door-stone, and threw 
 him into a deep bank of snow, and then wallowed off, with 
 long strides, to visit the cattle in the barn. Tommy had just 
 extricated himself from the smothering bank, and, all white 
 with snow, and panting with exertion, reproaches Billy with 
 having, in the heat of the conflict, made so cowardly a flight, 
 quite forgetful that he had himself joined in it, and only lost 
 the race by chance, when overtaken. Billy mollifies him with 
 his extra doughnut, and they hasten to the barn, where Alek 
 promises them sport in breaking out the roads, as a recom 
 pense for their defeat. 
 
 It has snowed all the night, and now the morning has far 
 advanced, and still it snows. Abroad, far as can be seen, over 
 the broad fields, in the deep valleys, upon the hills steep sides, 
 is spread the deep and still-accumulating wintry store. The 
 fences disappear, the shrubs and bushes vanish from the land- 
 4*
 
 42 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 
 
 scape. The river s winding track is hidden. The trees of 
 the orchard, and the long rows that border the lane on eithei 
 side, seemingly shortened in their trunks, struggle to raise 
 their over-burthened branches above tjie overwhelming snow. 
 From up in the sky still come down the exhaustlcss stores. 
 Looking upward, how dark and murky seem those winged 
 messengers of the clouds ! Looking downward and abroad, 
 how sublimely they tell their silent part of the great story 
 of earth and heaven ! How awful the aspect to him who 
 sees in the storm the hand of Him who directs it ! How 
 dreadful to the misguided or improvident wanderer, who has 
 no shelter from its unpitying rigor ! Yet how cheerful the 
 contrast of its out-door inclemency renders the bright and 
 busy kitchen, where the blazing fire sends forth its radiant 
 heat, blended with the music of the kettle and the fragrance 
 of the coming feast ! 
 
 So dark and threatening seems the storm without, so pleas 
 ant and promising the scene within. There the drifts swell 
 higher and higher with the cold, driving snow. Here the fire 
 blazes higher and higher, and higher swell the piles of good 
 cheer. The inhospitalities of the storm without are more 
 than compensated by the hospitality within. Our garrison 
 is supplied with provision and stored with ammunition to 
 withstand the siege of winter, till the tardy April sun shall 
 come to the rescue. And full are we, every mother s son 
 and daughter too, of the spirit and bravery which dares to 
 sally forth and defy the storm. 
 
 Yes, it is even so ; we will not be enclosed and pent up 
 here. Why, the roads are piled above the fences with impass 
 able drifts, and still the snow is coming down and heaping 
 up ! Shall the elements be so active without, and we idle
 
 WOLFSDEN. 43 
 
 within ? And see, a flock of snow-birds come as if from 
 the clouds, and hop from spray to spray, and from limb to 
 limb of the bare lilacs and plum-trees in the garden. Their 
 quick and lively chirp foretells the coming of friends. Other 
 omens have indicated as much. The kettle sings the sleigh- 
 
 o o 
 
 bell tune ; brands fall from the fire, and stand on end in the 
 corner ; two strangers were seen in Helen s cup of tea, last 
 evening ; a cricket hopped across the floor, and the cat has 
 twice leaped up in a chair to look out at the window. The 
 good mother has carefully noted all these signs, and even 
 Helen, generally incredulous, seems to believe them ; while 
 Fanny, with a roguish dimple, says she guesses that the let 
 ter which came last Saturday evening, and which she was 
 not permitted to read, was the thing which inclined mother 
 and Helen to put so much faith in signs. 
 
 But there is evidently too much expectation and energy to 
 brook confinement. Alek and the boys have* returned from 
 the barn all agreed upon the necessity of breaking out the 
 roads, and the deacon says he guesses it may be as well to do 
 so. The deacon is district surveyor this year, and, therefore, 
 his decree is the law of the road. Alek had a whisper with 
 his mother this morning, and gave a nod in reply, such as 
 are often the seeds of mighty resolves and deeds. A hasty 
 and ample meal soon spreads the table, and is as quickly 
 despatched. 
 
 And now the four strong oxen are brought from the barn, 
 and ranged in their yokes in due order, with Alek by their 
 side to lead the way. Onward they move, now wallowing 
 along, and forcing their unwieldy weight through the yield 
 ing snow ; now floundering inextricably in a drift which 
 buries them to their backs ; now, again, partly uncovered by
 
 44 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 the quick aid of a dozen snow-shovels, for several men and 
 boys, notified by Alek s prudent foresight, have arrived, 
 they struggle onwards with a vigor and perseverance which 
 never fails to force the most formidable intrenehments of 
 winter, and to keep open the lines of communication between 
 beleaguered villages. Through drifts and banks, with cheers 
 and shouts, they force their way onward to the village, 
 gathering reinforcements from every farm-house which they 
 pass. 
 
 Colonel Bowler s was the first house on the way. The old 
 colonel the father and grandfather of a throng of Bowler 
 men, and Bowler women, and Bowler boys, and Bowler girls, 
 the former already in the snow-subduing party ,-and the latter 
 peeping from every window was as lively as any of them. 
 "With his old military spirit, the spirit of 70, as he jocosely 
 said, though with no claim of revolutionary honors, for he 
 was but a boy in those days, but because his own age now 
 approached that ever-honored date, he gave out his orders, 
 and marshalled his reinforcement. 
 
 "Isaac, yoke old Brown and Turk, and put them ahead ; 
 put Star and Bright behind, and the steers in the middle ; 
 hitch em to the logging-sled, and fasten the bob-sled behind ; 
 roll on two of the mill-logs,- and let the butts drag behind. 
 Old Brown and Turk will show you where the road ought to 
 be, and the logs will make some little marks, so you 11 know 
 it. Tom, Ilany, Jim, and the rest of you, put ahead with 
 your shovels, and clear the drifts. Adjutant, my boy, must 
 you go? Well, tell your mother to tie your cap over your 
 ears, and pull a pair of stockings over your shoes." 
 
 Sammy was the youngest of the boys, only seven years, 
 old, and the colonel called him his adjutant. The colonel
 
 W L F S D E N . 45 
 
 was fond of his grandson, and loved to u.se his old military 
 terms and phrases. 
 
 "I am getting to be old," he would say, "but I don t need 
 the old man s staff, and I don t think I shall, so long as I 
 can keep up my military staff. The adjutant is a brave sol 
 dier ; he puts away my chapeau " (so the colonel called his 
 raccoon-cap), "and brings my slippers, and reads me a chapter 
 in the Testament, and two pages of Weems Life of Washing 
 ton, every night. And a brave fellow, too, he is with .his 
 rations. Don t he know how to forage for apples and dough 
 nuts ? He beats Johnny Horner with his Christmas pie, and 
 stows away a bowl of pudding and milk in no time ; but 
 he is a sad dog to sleep in the morning, next winter we 
 shall teach him the tune of early to rise. We shall beat 
 the feveille in his ears at day-break. But, adjutant, bring a 
 mug of cider, and you, girls, go and draw it for him ; the 
 oxen are ready, and we 11 have a fair start." The colonel 
 never forgot anything, especially the cider. 
 
 Refreshed with rest and cider, and reinforced with men, 
 and boys, and oxen, and steers, away, shouting, and plunging, 
 and wallowing, now shovelling a passage through a huge 
 drift in advance of the oxen, now gathering together on the 
 .sleds to crush down the snow, they work their way over the 
 ridge, and down the hill, and through the woods. Old Brown 
 and Turk plod perscveringly on. They are the colonel s boast; 
 the biggest oxen in town by four inches in their girth ; the 
 heartiest at a pull, and the surest on the road. The colonel 
 evidently mixes up the merit of the oxen with his own, and, 
 with true military justice, appropriates to himself the laurels 
 won by the prowess of his host. 
 
 And so, plodding, and pushing, and plunging, they work
 
 46 \V L F S D E N . 
 
 their way ahead. The colonel maintains his post on the long 
 logging-sled, touching up^he hinder cattle, and directing the 
 efforts of the boys. Ike keeps by the heads of Turk and 
 Brown, and Alek with his team lags behind, prepared to 
 take their place again in front, when Turk and Brown shall 
 need relief. Alek has pride in his team, but he will not dis 
 pute the palm with the colonel. If it were only Ike, it would 
 be quite another thing. On the other hand, Alek takes un 
 disputed precedence in the matter of colts, which the colonel 
 affects to think quite beneath the dignity of men, though he 
 allows Alek s to be pretty nags enough. 
 
 " But wht a waste of time to drive them ! Old Turk and 
 Brown will take him once a week to the village, for his news 
 paper, and take a load of wood, besides. Oxen are the only 
 reliable cavalry for the farmer. What are colts good for ? " 
 
 Thus arguing the superiority of his team, and directing 
 the general force, the colonel gets over the ridge, and down 
 the valley, and through the wood. Just beyond the wood, 
 near " Bragly s Corner," are the cheerless-looking, dilapi 
 dated house and hovel and shop of Bang Barker, the thrift 
 less, broken-down blacksmith. In the house is his lean, dis 
 contented, much-abused, and equally abusive wife. She was 
 born with some of woman s blood in her veins, and some of 
 the wolf s. Circumstances have suppressed the woman, and 
 developed the wolf, llomulus and Ilemus would have found 
 in her a famous nurse ; but she would have made Arabs of 
 them, instead of Romans, at least, such her own progeny 
 have proved. Four darling boys had she brought forth, and 
 brought up, who, with precocious genius, had successively 
 beaten their mother, set fire to the hay-rick, stolen Siah 
 Brown s donkey, robbed widow Bowler s turkey -pen, and done
 
 WOLFSDEN. 47 
 
 numberless other mischiefs, before running away and going 
 to sea, as they had all done before the age of fifteen. One 
 hopeful boy, not yet eleven, and another, "a girl more young 
 than he," as the ballad says, remained. Whether they shall 
 emulate the spirit of their elder brethren, remains yet to be 
 seen. It all depends upon themselves ; there is no lack of 
 like education. 
 
 Bang Barker was a broken-down blacksmith. Rum broke 
 him down. Folks say that when he began at Bragly s Cor 
 ner, twenty years ago, there was not a better prospect for a 
 man in twenty miles. He was then twenty-five, a giant in 
 strength, and a good workman. Even now, there was not a 
 surer hand at giving the right temper to an axe, if he were 
 only drunk enough ; or a quicker workman to shoe a yoke of 
 oxen, if he could only be caught sober enough. But he sel 
 dom shoes oxen or tempers axes now. The uncertainty of 
 finding him in a right mood for either operation has driven 
 custom another way. When a neighbor came with an axe to 
 temper, he was not drunk enough, and the customer must get 
 a pint at Bragly s for an eye-opener ; and when oxen came 
 to be shod, the pint from Bragly s had shut the Cyclops 
 eyes. A big, bushy-headed, black-bearded, broad-chested, 
 bullying sort of a Cyclops, was Bang.. He could throw a 
 barrel of cider over his head, and had knocked down an ox 
 with his fist. His arms were as strong as ever, but his legs 
 tottered under his burly body with uncertain steps, to which 
 not even Bragly s rum could give steadiness. 
 
 In the little slab-covered hovel back of the house stood an 
 old cow, munching some sorry-looking husks and poorly-made 
 hay ; and a few forlorn fowls divided themselves between the 
 hovel and the perch, while a discontented pig, who seemed to
 
 48 W L F S D E N . 
 
 complain that he was not fat enough to be killed, and put out 
 of this sad and starving world, into a comfortable pork-barrel, 
 hasted from hovel to porch, and from porch to hovel, seeking 
 somelliin" 1 which was not to be found. 
 
 O 
 
 In the shop, nearer the road, stood the cold, deserted anvil, 
 by the black, frozen water-trough. There was no coal, nor 
 was there need of any, for iron or steel there was none, save 
 a few outworn ox-shoes and broken links of chain, and a 
 cracked kettle, sent last summer for a hoop, and a skillet 
 with a hole in the bottom, which some old lady, believing in 
 the omnipotence of iron, had sent to be mended ; and the 
 fragments of a glass bottle, which accident had dashed, with 
 its precious contents, upon the floor, when last the Vulcan of 
 this forge urged the wheezing bellows, and smote the ringing 
 anvil. All around was the desolation and destitution of 
 improvidence and vice. But yet there was something indi 
 cating a recent slight attempt at improvement ; for some new 
 panes of glass had recently taken the place of old hats and 
 bundles of rags, which generally stuffed the windows ; and 
 some strips of board had been nailed over cracks which the 
 fallen clapboards had long ago exposed, and which had for 
 successive seasons admitted the storms. At sight of those 
 slender signs of improvement, Isaac, who had stopped to give 
 Alek an opportunity to bring his oxen ahead, and take his 
 turn in front, remarked, with a knowing wink, that he 
 guessed Santa Glaus had been doing a good chore there 
 abouts ; to which Alek, with an intelligent.no:!, merely replied, 
 " I guess so." 
 
 Let us now hasten on ; for the snow is deep and the drifts 
 are high, and there is yet a long way before us. Little help 
 shall we get from the house of Bang, and it is not worth
 
 WOLFSDEN. 49 
 
 while to call for any. But look, the door opens, and out 
 comes young Ax. A big stocking-leg is drawn upon his 
 head for a cap. The remnants of some bigger body s frock 
 are comfortably enough secured around his lank yet strong 
 and active frame, and a pair of coarse new boots, drawn 
 ostentatiously above his trousers, encase his legs and feet. 
 Ike glanced at the new boots, and winked at Alek, who 
 nodded again, and then started his team in the direction of 
 the pathless road, and Ax joined the jolly group of snowy 
 boys behind. 
 
 5
 
 CHAPTEK IV 
 
 MUSE, who from the floating filaments of transient memory 
 spinnest the thread of faithful history, let thy description be 
 brief, lest thy lagging tale tire the courteous reader. 
 
 Away through the deep, obstructing snow, bursting the 
 barricades which the wild mob of warring winds raised, the 
 hardy company are ploughing their way. They now ascend 
 the hill whose summit is distinguished by the proud mansion 
 of Parson Boreman, in front of which four tall Lombardy 
 poplars, like so many posted sentinels, rear their stiff, martial 
 forms, and wave their tall plumes. 
 
 At Bragly s they did not stop ; for when did any help of 
 public good come from Bragly s ? Pitiful dribbler of drams, 
 and picker of small coppers and small coins ! Little-souled 
 barterer of execrable tea and poisonous tobacco, for eggs of 
 nobler hens and pelts of honest lambs ; sneaking measurer 
 of penny tapes and four-penny ribbons ; paltry retailer of 
 clay pipes and long-nine cigars ; scanty weigher of thin salt- 
 fish, and consumptive pickled mackerel ! Let me, while the 
 indignant winds howl around your dwelling, preach you a 
 sermon as we pass. To what purpose is your miserable life, 
 already verging upon three-score ? What spot of earth is 
 greener for your existence ? What noble ambition have you
 
 WOLFSDEN. 51 
 
 ever prompted in another s breast ? AVhat generous emotion 
 have you ever felt in your own ? Cowering in the encase 
 ment of your own selfishness, spinning around yourself, like 
 the nobler worm, the shroud of your ignoble end, what 
 inscription of infamy shall we scratch upon your grave, to 
 point the contempt of your race ? But we will not anticipate. 
 Your epitaph will be worthily written. 
 
 Away from Bragly s let us hasten. Our company have 
 reached the top of the hill by the stately mansion of Parson 
 Boreman, and here they pause. The minister has a noble 
 yoke of oxen, and a sprightly pair of steers, and a strong 
 hired man. They are summoned to aid the struggling band, 
 and soon come forth and are placed in the van. Onward 
 again they drive, not without strong invitations to renew 
 their strength by the cheer of the parson s kitchen. 
 
 While they drive onward, shall we pause at the parson s ? 
 It is with some misgivings that we invite the reader to a 
 nearer survey. What with the elegant mansion on the top 
 of the hill, and the tall poplar-trees in front, the fine oxen 
 and steers and their prompt and stalwart driver, and the gen 
 erously-proffered hospitalities of the kitchen, we must have 
 raised grand ideas of the parson and his dwelling, which 
 closer observation may abate. Not that decent competence 
 and respectability were not there, but that outside show 
 exceeded inward reality. 
 
 A vague idea of sham, and hollowness, and constraint, 
 lurks in the mind of the distant observer, and becomes 
 stronger as observation becomes closer. The grandeur of 
 the house is but the grandeur of needless dimensions, useless 
 clattering window-blinds, faded paint, a veranda with loose 
 and weedy pavement, precarious pillars, and decayed cornices.
 
 52 WOLF S DEN. 
 
 A lawn fenced with painted palings, swayed and propped 
 from falling by extempore braces ; gates of light material, 
 but ambitiously massive proportions, which, refusing to 
 swing upon their loosened hinges, either in or out, are kept 
 by rope or leathern strap in a position obstructing, yet not 
 totally preventing, entrance and exit. A front door so far 
 removed from the family that the huge brass knocker, 
 though it might be used as a battering-ram to force an 
 entrance, could by no means summon an answer from within. 
 An end door the usual entrance from which the granite 
 steps seem preparing to step forth on some excursion of 
 their own, having moved each a few inches from its original 
 position, and with different angles of departure. Let us 
 enter. 
 
 The good old parson comes forward to meet us. He is 
 good ; for he is a minister. He bids us welcome, and in 
 sists that we take oif our outward garments. The air of the 
 room feels not too warm. The fire seems to have been not 
 long burning ; but we comply. We wish \ve were boys, and 
 could go into the kitchen, where we suspect there is more 
 comfort, and less gentility. The impression of sham makes 
 us feel chilly. The parson sits in his study-chair, not far 
 removed from his study-table, on which big volumes are 
 piled. These are the tokens of study. Why should they 
 betoken sham ? 
 
 The parson commences conversation concerning the storm. 
 The topic is soon exhausted. Local news lasts a little 
 longer. He is trying your mind, and taking observations of 
 its drift. It is proper that a parson should presume a 
 religious bias in his visitors. He throws out a religious 
 remark. The current drifts another way. Politics, he
 
 53 
 
 has not hit it. Literature, uncertain; but the topic is a 
 safe one, and the parson fancies himself at home there. He 
 has been composing a dissertation on the " lost tribes," and 
 their relation to our aborigines. He favors you with his 
 views, fortified by some passages from his manuscript, -which 
 is always conveniently near on such occasions. He asks your 
 views on the subject. Of course you know nothing about it. 
 He has you there. He has taken the gauge of your mind, 
 while you are trying to think of something besides sham. 
 
 A rather spruce, good-looking matron comes in from the 
 kitchen. She is Mrs. Boreman, the wife. You try to get rid 
 of your impression of sham. A. good-looking old lady is 
 always antagonistic to that idea. Still you do not quite 
 succeed. Another door opens. A spruce, good-looking 
 young lady comes in. That is Miss Boreman, the daughter. 
 You make a desperate effort to throw off the impression of 
 sham. A good-looking young lady should be a perfect anti 
 dote. But sham torments you like the nightmare. Miss 
 B. has long since passed her bread-and-butter days; she 
 has passed the days of indiscretion and coquetry; she has 
 passed the days of timid apprehension and reservedness, and 
 she has arrived at that interesting, though uncertain age, 
 when damsels solicitous to please and to ensnare put forth 
 all their attractions. What generous, manly heart but beats 
 responsive to that sentiment, and smothers the thought of 
 sham I 
 
 Lucy was she christened ; but, from her early teens, 
 perhaps from her first sigh ovqr her first novel, her name 
 has been Lucinda. Her altitude is not great, nor is her cir 
 cumference large ; in fact, it seems painfully slender. 
 Nature was not wholly in fault, for whalebone and stays
 
 D4 W L F S D E N . 
 
 have contracted the limits which nature would have allowed. 
 A thought crosses your mind that the improvement should 
 have been the other way ; but you repress naughty thoughts 
 in a presence so divine. The freshness of long-cultivated 
 youthfulness charms you; the elaborate and shining ringlets, 
 dependent in regular order over either cheek, fascinate you ; 
 the slender neck and gentle bosom, bounded by delicate lace, 
 enchant you ; the graceful ankle and taper foot captivate 
 you. Why should the miserly thought of sham mar your 
 satisfied admiration? 
 
 A pretty table, with a nice work-basket filled with the 
 appropriate implements of female industry, is drawn nearer 
 the fire, and soon those fair fingers and bright eyes commence 
 their proper and practised task. She is apparently netting 
 a silken purse. Sham. The purse has been netting a long 
 time. Every stitch has been taken in the presence of admir 
 ing visitors, whose eyes have watched the dextrous move 
 ments of those fair fingers with an interest, perhaps, equal 
 with your own. A deeper purpose pervades that gentle heart, 
 and guides those delicate fingers, than that netted purse 
 explains. 
 
 A showy annual lies by her basket, and invites your atten 
 tion. By way of introducing conversation, you ask permis 
 sion, and examine it. It is the Religious Souvenir. You 
 commend its binding and engravings. It has pretty senti 
 mental sonnets, and scraps of semi-religious romance. Many 
 of them are pencil-marked in the margin ; and so you learn 
 that Miss Lucinda is poetic and sentimental, religious and 
 romantic. What less could you expect ? You already knew 
 her to be pretty, and engaging, and diligent. What more 
 could you desire ?
 
 WOLTSDEN. 55 
 
 She asks if you like botany, and brings her herbarium. 
 Of course you like botany ; but you blunder about corollas 
 and calyxes, and staminas and stigmas. Lucinda sets you 
 right, and you see that she knows botany. A pretty album 
 follows the herbarium. Miss Lucinda must have had a host 
 of devoted friends, some day, whose " hearts lie buried here." 
 "What lots of sublimated sentiments ! Friendship, first born 
 of heaven ! Platonic love ! llemembered regrets ! Swell 
 ing sighs and eternal farewells ! It is evident that Luciuda s 
 lights are fled, her garlands dead, and all but you departed. 
 
 Thank Heaven, you are here at home, and quite competent 
 to the occasion ; so you prepare your pencil, which she ob 
 serving, produces pen and ink, and, under a broken tomb 
 stone, you inscribe a complimentary sentiment, in impromptu 
 verse, which you have already written in a score of albums, 
 but too far off to be detected ; and so you subscribe your 
 initials, while conscience retorts upon you, " Sham ! " 
 
 We are invited to remain to dinner. Let us remain. We 
 feel that some little preparation has been made from the 
 beginning, in that anticipation. It shall not be disappointed. 
 It is worth while to study a little longer those features of 
 society which, though rather commonplace, are not wholly 
 uninstructive. It is fair, also, and perhaps not wholly un 
 pleasant, to be studied in turn by those who pay us the com 
 pliment of thinking it worth their while. 
 
 From albums and herbariums to politics the transition 
 seems rather abrupt ; but it becomes a necessity, for rural 
 affairs are out of season in mid-winter, and the legislature 
 and congress are in session, and men s minds tend to 
 public affairs. The parson is non-committal ; and, therefore, 
 however decided and strong our predilections, we also are
 
 56 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 non-commifcil ; and in this mock-neutral spirit we proceed to 
 discuss the merits of our governmental administration, the 
 qualities of our public men, the chances of prominent political 
 aspirants, the character and spirit of messages, speeches, 
 reports, and other national and state proceedings, till dinner 
 is announced. 
 
 However we may have relished the feast of reason and 
 the flow of soul, and all the elaborate elegances of the par 
 son s parlor, we are happy to change the scene and the sub 
 ject for the genial and welcome-looking kitchen, the ample 
 and well-spread table, and the good and substantial dinner. 
 It is all that it should be, and well worth the complacent 
 parson s devout and dignified thanks and blessing. Fat ribs 
 of beef and a dainty shoulder of pork smoke from the boiling 
 pot, and sweat big tears of shining fat, as if yet panting from 
 their fiery trial. Around them, ranged in due order, is a 
 bounteous vegetable store; potatoes bursting with internal 
 heat, white turnips, mimic spheres, flattened at the poles, 
 beets, parsnips, carrots, and cabbage, prove by their size 
 and flavor that the parson has not been unmindful of his own 
 garden while weeding the sins of his parish. Bread, 
 brown and white, butter and cheese, such as only a farmer s 
 wife, emulous of good works, can produce ; pudding, pies, 
 and doughnuts, which you hope the fair Lucinda helped 
 to flavor, all combine to convince you that, wherever else 
 hollowness and sham prevail, the country kitchen is the last 
 retreat and most impregnable castle of honest, generous 
 life. 
 
 We feel an instinctive reverence for the good parson, 
 whom Heaven blesses with so bountiful a board ; and the 
 gentle impression comes upon our minds that there might be
 
 \V L F S D E N . 57 - 
 
 a worse mistake than to take the fair Lucinda and settle down 
 somewhere in the midst of so much rural abundance and hap 
 piness. Blessed be the benign influences which lie latent in 
 well-packed barrels of pork and beef, and well-filled bins of 
 potatoes and turnips, waiting only the alchemy of the kitchen 
 to expand the frame and the heart of man with healthful 
 strength and generous emotion ! 
 
 We are invited to pass the evening, and should like to do 
 so ; but other affairs press, and now we must go. 
 
 " Please to come again." 
 
 " Certainly ; we shall not fail to do so." 
 
 It is no\v too late to visit the village. Our company have 
 returned an hour since. But they must break off at Bragly s, 
 to track the road to the school-house. We shall overtake 
 them before they get home. We do overtake them at Colo 
 nel Bowler s. Alek has stopped there a few moments. He 
 generally stops there when passing ; if he did not, some tears 
 would fall from a bright pair of young eyes. A little girl 
 there calls him uncle. He is not her uncle, nor of kin in 
 any other degree ; but there is no name of kindred too dear 
 for her to apply to him. She calls him her dear uncle. Ho 
 calls her his dear daughter. Well may she call him her dear 
 uncle ; she owes him her life. Well may he call her dear 
 daughter ; it was he who rescued her from a terrible death. 
 
 O 
 
 This is a tie of love as sacred as that of a father, or at least 
 as sweet. He feels all the luxury of loving the child whose 
 life he has saved; she feels all the gratitude and confiding 
 affection with which a loving child clings to a tender father. 
 The story is now an old one; it happened three years ago. 
 She was then but six years old. But we may as well repeat 
 it now. Alek and the boys have yet to take care of the
 
 58 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 oxen s dinner and their own. Alek embraces the dear 
 daughter, and promises, for the hundredth time, to take her 
 home to live with him, when he gets a house, and a wife, and 
 a pony ; and she the little Amy verily believes in that 
 good time coming, and dreams golden dreams.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SINCE we must stop at Colonel Bowler s to tell our story, 
 propriety requires us to introduce the family. You have seen 
 the old colonel before. He calls himself old, and we will not 
 refuse him the compliment. He is only sixty-seven ; but he 
 speaks of verging to seventy-six. This, however, is in refer 
 ence to that glorious era of the llevolution. 
 
 Three solid sciences the colonel knows : arithmetic, agri 
 culture and history. Arithmetic from Duboll, agriculture 
 from experience, and history from Weems Life of Washing 
 ton. Three lighter arts amuse his leisure : military tactics, 
 poetry, and music. Military from Steuben s Manual Exercise, 
 and poetry from the calendar pages of the Farmers Almanac. 
 The hymns of Watts come not in this department, but in 
 ihat of music, being made for singing ; but the ballad of the 
 Major s only Son and Barbara Allen s Cruelty complete the 
 poetical library. The music is psalmody, and came by 
 nature. A noble bass the colonel sings ; he has always led 
 the bass in Parson Boreman s choir. Once there was trouble 
 about the bass-viol, which Major Murray objected to ; he 
 would not hear the " big fiddle " in the house of the Lord. 
 It was played one or two Sundays before he found it out; for 
 the major had no ear for music, couldn t tell the filing of
 
 60 WOLFS DEN. 
 
 a saw from a jewsharp ; but he saw the colonel bringing 
 in the big fiddle, one day, and made up his mind what to do 
 about it. When the choir commenced the first hymn, he took 
 his hat and marched out of the meeting-house. It was plain 
 he had determined to bear no part in the profanation, and 
 meant everybody should know it. The colonel understood it, 
 and, choosing to remove the stumbling-block from the major s 
 path, brought out the viol ostentatiously when the morning 
 service was closed, and sent it home. The major was com 
 fortable that afternoon, and for a dozen Sundays following, 
 though the viol, which the colonel had secretly restored, was 
 regularly played. Some mischief-maker at last told the 
 major. lie was full of indignation, and said that if he heard it 
 again he should quit the meeting-house. The colonel heard 
 of the threat, and removed the viol. Next Sunday the major 
 came with ears and conscience wide awake to detect the sin 
 ful sound. The hymn was given out, and the colonel sounded 
 the key-note in his deepest tone, imitating the bass-viol as 
 nearly as possible. The major, proud of the quickness of his 
 ear and the promptitude of his principles, immediately 
 marched out of the meeting-house. lie stood reverently on 
 the steps in prayer-time, and, after the second singing, re 
 turned to hear the sermon. After service the colonel walked 
 up to the major, and asked why he left the house in singing 
 time. 
 
 "Because," he replied, "you made it a fiddling-time. 
 Did n t I hear your big fiddle ? You can t cheat me ! I can 
 tell it as fur off as I can hear my black bull ; and it sounds 
 just like him ! " 
 
 The colonel assured him that there had been no bass-viol, 
 nor any black bull, in the meeting-house that day, adding
 
 W L F S D E N . 61 
 
 that his own voice was a little hoarse, which probably caused 
 the mistake. The major was convinced that he could not 
 trust his own ears in that matter, and said no more upon the 
 subject, though the viol was restored to its place in the choir. 
 
 A hale, hearty, self-opinionated, and yet very manageable, 
 stern-spoken, and yet very tender-hearted, frugal, yet 
 generous old man, is the colonel. His wife, a cheery, blue- 
 eyed, round-featured, double-chinned, close-capped matron, is 
 a dozen years younger than the colonel, and looking younger 
 still. Always busy, but never tired ; always scolding, but 
 never cross ; always cooking up all sorts of good things for 
 everybody, but always choosing the plainest food for her 
 self; never sick, but with a whole garret-full of herbs and 
 chest-full of medicines for others sickness ; never going 
 abroad, but always ready to " fix up " and start off the family 
 on visiting excursions. In short, assuming and governing as 
 mistress of all, and yet making herself servant of all. 
 
 Samuel, the oldest boy, married Job Brown s daughter 
 Betsey, sister of Josiah. A good wife was she ; but Samuel 
 died within the year, soon after little Samuel, the colonel s 
 " adjutant," was born. Jacob married Samuel s widow, and 
 now resides in a part of his father s house till he can finish his 
 own. The colonel made the last match, the only one he ever 
 made, except his own, and both were good ones. The widow, 
 his daughter-in-law, was the favorite of Aunt Jane, and the 
 adjutant* was indispensable to his grandfather. Perhaps the 
 colonel and his wife had talked it over ; at any rate, it was the 
 colonel who, as he said, broke the ice. " Jacob," said he, one 
 day, when they were alone, " Jacob, it s time for you to be 
 doing something for yourself. Go over to Job Brown s, and 
 get Betsey. Your mother wants her nearer ; I want Sammy ; 
 6
 
 62 W L F S D E N . 
 
 and you want a good wife, and the Morgan farm, that your 
 poor brother bought, but did not live to enjoy. I have pretty 
 much paid for it, and you and she may have it. The old 
 house on it is good for nothing, but we 11 build a new one, 
 and you and Betsey may have our end parlor, and we 11 all 
 eat together till it s done." 
 
 Jacob blushed, but wisely said nothing. Upon such a mat 
 ter, a man should think twice before he speaks, even to his 
 father. He afterwards said that he never was " so struck up 
 in a heap " in his life. But he thought of it. The next day 
 his father asked if he had done the thing mentioned yester 
 day just as if it was a thing to be done in a hurry. Jacob 
 replied, " Hot quite yet, father." 
 
 " Well, you mean to, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Why, it don t look bad, father, if nobody objects." 
 
 " Why, nobody objects, of course, till they are asked ; so 
 you d better be about it before it s too late. Such a girl 
 as she needn t wait long for such a lubber as can t speak." 
 
 " Thank you, father, for the compliment ; but, I m think 
 ing that as you have begun the business so well, it will be 
 best for you to carry it through. Perhaps you 11 go over 
 and introduce the matter." 
 
 " Why, han t I introduced the matter ? Who but me put 
 it into your head ? I ve done my part. However, if you 
 han t the pluck, get your mother to go for you ; or rather go 
 and invite Betsey to bring Sammy and pay a visit, and we 11 
 talk it over here." 
 
 This last device suited Jacob well ; it turned out well, and 
 all were happy ever after. 
 
 Isaac was next to Jacob. Their names had got reversed 
 from Scripture order. He was about Alek s age.
 
 WOLFSDKN. 63 
 
 George, one of the twins, was younger. A good fellow, he, 
 and a droll one the wag of the family. They said he be 
 came so by sitting on the dye-pot when little. The dye-pot, in 
 which woollen yarn is colored, generally stands covered with a 
 board, in one corner of the capacious fireplace, and whoever 
 sits on the dye-pot grows witty. George was full of fun, odd 
 jokes, quick repartees, and raillery, ridiculous representa 
 tions of others acts, or of his own ; full of laughter and 
 merriment, yet serious at times more serious than anybody 
 else. 
 
 Music was his passion. He could draw music from a corn 
 stalk fiddle, or a pumpkin-vine trombone. At twelve years he 
 played the fife for the Wolfsden Light Infantry ; and lively 
 were the tunes he played. At thirteen, with an old fiddle, he 
 made many a husking and apple-paring merry. Nobody so 
 popular, and so much sought after, as George. The colonel 
 was gratified, but dissatisfied. He was pleased with his son s 
 genius, but predicted his ruin. " But," said he, " it s no use 
 to interfere. We ll give him good counsel, and trust Provi 
 dence." The result proved the resolution good. George 
 threw away his fiddle, and everything of the sort, before he 
 was eighteen. " Too boyish," he said. 
 
 James, his brother, was a more retiring, pensive boy. We 
 will not say much about James. Perhaps the reader may get 
 some notion of him as we proceed. 
 
 Of the girls, Ann is the oldest. Everybody allows that 
 she is a good and good-looking girl. Josiah Brown evidently 
 admires her. People joke her about it. She says Josiah 
 Brown is nothing to her ; " he comes over to see his sister, and 
 it s well enough to talk with him ; he is Betsey s brother, and 
 a civil, respectable person enough. She wishes to be civil to
 
 64 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 everybody." Very discreet and very considerate of you, Miss 
 Ann ! Have courage, Josiah ! To be civil and respectable, 
 and Betsey s brother, is a good beginning. 
 
 Hannah comes next younger than Ann. A good girl, 
 and good singer. Hers are the truest tones in the choir ; 
 and, being -willing to sing anywhere, at the foot as at the 
 head, she escapes the jealousy and trouble about precedence 
 which vex the others. 
 
 Amy is the youngest. She it is of whom we promised the 
 story, and for whose sake chiefly we have introduced the oth 
 ers. Amy is only nine years old, and small at that. Three 
 years ago she was only six, and smaller still. A little, fairy- 
 like pet, dark eyes, bright hair and complexion, generally 
 sprightly, yet often thoughtful, and almost sad. She is in 
 dulged in everything, yet not spoiled by indulgence. She 
 seems to have an intuitive perception of right, and never asks 
 anything wrong ; or, if she takes a whim for anything judged 
 inexpedient, she never insists. Some tempers are so ami 
 able that love seems their proper discipline, the atmosphere 
 where they thrive best. Perhaps that discipline and atmos 
 phere would suit more than have a chance to benefit by it. 
 Amy grew up in it ; everybody loved her, and she loved 
 everybody. 
 
 Three years ago last haying-time, Amy was six years old. 
 Haying was pretty much done, at home ; but, since Samuel s 
 death, the colonel had also to manage the " Morgan farm." 
 All the force of the farm, with an extra hand or two, was now 
 employed in getting the hay clown there. They went early, 
 and generally returned at sunset, taking home a load with 
 them. Blueberries were ripe, and very pjenty. The road 
 down to the Morgan farm was retired not a public road
 
 WOLFSDEN. 63 
 
 only a cross road, but very pleasant. Tall pines grew occa 
 sionally along the way. In some places a grove of young 
 trees offered a cool resting-place a smooth, soft surface, and 
 a grateful, fragrant shade. Here and there, also, a spreading 
 beech gave a dense shadow, where, when the frost comes and 
 opens the burrs, the clean, sweet beechnuts strew the ground, 
 and attract eager children. Now that the sweeter blueberries 
 bordered the road on both sides, Amy came every day and filled 
 her little basket. Nobody picked such sweet berries as Amy. 
 
 It was but half a mile to the Morgan place. Amy often 
 went there in company with her sisters, but not alone. She 
 only went a little way, perhaps a third of the distance, to fill 
 her basket ; but, as they were haying down there, she ventured 
 a little further so far that she could see them away down in 
 the field, there, mowing and tossing about the hay, and old 
 Turk and Brown yoked and lying down by the cart, ready to 
 draw it home at night. Next day she ventured further. 
 Isaac was loading the cart, and the colonel was on it, stow 
 ing the load. George and James were raking. They saw 
 Amy in the distance, and called her. She was glad to go and 
 see them rake the hay, and show them her berries. 
 
 When the load was finished, Isaac lifted her up to ride 
 home with her father. Old Turk and Brown did not mind 
 the additional load, but jogged lazily home, no way disposed 
 to give unnecessary jolts. Delightful ride was that upon the 
 hay to Amy ! No splendid coach in Broadway ever bore a 
 happier freight. 
 
 The next day she went again. She filled her basket sooner 
 
 than before, and was in the field before the time of loading up 
 
 for home. After talking and playing a few moments with 
 
 George and James, who were too busy to be detained long, 
 
 6*
 
 66 W L F S D E N . 
 
 she returned to heap her basket a little higher, and pick 
 some wild-flowers to put into her little vase. 
 
 She did not return to the field ; but that caused no alarm. 
 They supposed she had returned home. The road was plain, 
 and almost the whole way in sight, either of the field 
 where they were at work, or of her home. In one place 
 it diverged a little way into the woods, along the border of 
 which it ran, but soon returned. There was no getting out 
 of it, for no other roads led from it ;*and, besides, being so 
 recently travelled with heavy loads of hay, it was as plain as 
 the turnpike. 
 
 But Amy did not return home. As they were not expect 
 ing her till the men should return with the load, they could 
 not be alarmed, and the hours passed on. 
 
 But where was Amy ? 
 
 When she returned to the road, she heaped up her little 
 basket as long as the berries would lie, and then she sat 
 down her basket by a little tree, and looked for flowers for 
 her bouquet. The summer sun had dried up most of the 
 pretty flowers, but here and there might be found a tall yel 
 low lily, or a bunch of columbines, or an oxeye daisy, 
 gaudy, but scentless flowers. But she gathered the fairest 
 she could find, and in her. hands they looked fair enough ; and 
 still she wandered on, looking for more and prettier. She 
 was pursuing the direction opposite from home, as she knew 
 well enough, but meant to return to her basket in a few 
 minutes; and so she went on a little further, and a little 
 further still. 
 
 In the edge of the woods, a very little way, she saw a 
 bunch of beautiful flowers, crimson and gold. Country people 
 call the plant celandine, and children call the flowers lady s
 
 WOLFSDEN. 6^ 
 
 eardrops. Amy ran in and gathered them. There were a 
 good many. They grew around and among some stones which 
 were partly covered with white moss. She filled both hands, 
 and then ran to find where she had placed her basket. 
 She returned to the road, and ran along in it, not doubting 
 that she was returning. Her little brain was confused, 
 "turned round," as they say, she was going the wrong 
 way still away from home. Her little cape-bonnet covered 
 her face, as she ran along with her eyes upon the ground, but 
 once in a while looking up to see the tree where she had de 
 posited her basket. She ran a good way, then she walked a 
 good way ; still she could not see the tree not that tree ; 
 there were a good many trees, and they grew more and more 
 plenty. They grew on both sides of the road ; she had not 
 marked that before ; she wondered that she had come so far 
 without knowing it: and then she ran again; she ran a good 
 way ; the trees grew thicker ; the road became more obscure. 
 In one or two places other paths diverged to the right or left. 
 She was tired with running, and so she walked again ; but she 
 walked fast. The road became less distinct. Little bushes 
 grew up in the middle of it; then it turned out of its direc 
 tion, to pass round some great trees ; on the other side of the 
 great trees she could see hardly any road at all, and then she 
 began to fear that she was lost lost in the woods, like the 
 little babes. The terror of the thought thrilled her little 
 frame, and nerved her with new strength. She ran along in 
 the direction which looked most like the road. She ran hard, 
 and ran a good way; and, as the terror pursued her, she ran 
 still the harder, as if to escape from it. She panted for 
 breath ; she stumbled, and fell. It did not hurt her much ; 
 if it had hurt her more, she would not have minded it now.
 
 68 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 She regained her feet, and would have run again, but she 
 could see no road. There -was none. Then she knew she was 
 lost. She thought she would return and find the road where 
 it went round the great clump of trees. She looked for the 
 great clump of trees, and thought she saw them ; but they 
 appeared to be in the wrong direction. There was a clump 
 of trees in the other direction, but they looked differently. In 
 other directions were other great clumps of trees, and she 
 knew not which to go to. She thought she would go to them 
 all, till ^he found the road ; but when she got to the first, 
 there was no road, but other clumps of trees on every side; 
 and then she knew that she was lost lost like the babes in 
 the wood. 
 
 She thought she would pray to God ; and then she doubted 
 whether God could hear her in the dark woods, where the tall 
 trees shut out the heavens where he lives. She knew he 
 could hear her in her little bedroom at home ; for there her 
 mother had taught her to pray, and there her mother and her 
 sisters prayed, and God knew the place; but did he know 
 that she was lost in those lone woods ? Had he seen her come 
 there? Could he hear her there? May be he could. And 
 so she prayed that God would come and show her the way 
 back, and carry her back, for she was very tired, only 
 carry her back to her little basket, and then her father would 
 take her home on the hay ; and she prayed that he would not 
 let the bears and wolves get her. 
 
 And then she sat down, and waited for God to come. She 
 waited a good while, but she knew heaven was a good way 
 off, and she resolved to be patient. 
 
 The road to the Morgan place turned off from the main 
 road a little north of Colonel Bowler s. It was but a cross or
 
 WOLFSDEN. 65 
 
 private road, and not a public way. The entrance was gene 
 rally closed by a gate. It was a good smooth road down as 
 far as the Morgan place ; beyond that it was little used in 
 summer, and in the winter only to draw wood homeward, and 
 timber to the river. The river, in that direction, is two 
 miles off. In a more northerly direction it is nearer, but 
 southwardly it diverges further. The road is good in winter, 
 but, not being used in summer, is scarcely distinguishable, 
 except for perhaps half a mile beyond the Morgan place. 
 
 Amy was now more than two miles off; for she had 
 diverged towards the south, and was still far from the river. 
 In one short hour she had gone all that weary way, and now 
 she sat among the leaves at the foot of a tall old maple, 
 waiting for God to come and help her. A little ribbon which 
 bound her hair was found under the tree the next day, by 
 which it was known where she rested ; and she afterwards 
 told that when she prayed to God she heard it thunder a 
 good way off, and thought may be it was God speaking to 
 her. The thunder was heard in the haying-field about an 
 hour after little Amy had left. 
 
 "While Amy sat under the tall old maple fur away in the 
 boundless forest, waiting for God to come, her father and 
 brothers were diligently completing their day s work in the 
 haying-field, and her mother and sisters were busy at home, 
 little suspecting the peril of their beloved one. 
 
 The slight thread of mystery, which runs through so many 
 of the incidents of this story, as traced in my memory, here 
 again makes its appearance. It shall not be suppressed ; for 
 trifles often serve as indications of the sublimest truths. 
 
 That afternoon, a little before the thunder was heard, as 
 Aunt Deborah Arbor was about her household affairs, she
 
 70 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 became suddenly impressed with the idea of trouble and mis 
 fortune at Colonel Bowler s. She tried to turn it off, an\ 
 kept about her work ; but the impression grew too strong for 
 her quiet. The afternoon was warm, and the distant thunder 
 might forbode a shower ; but she resolved to obey the voice 
 within, and, telling Helen to send Alek after her, if she 
 should be detained, she put on her sun-bonnet, took an 
 umbrella, and departed. It was nearly half a mile, but she 
 walked fast, and was soon there. Her first words were an 
 inquiry after Amy. They told her that she was with her 
 father and brothers in the haying-field. After resting a few 
 moments, she said that she would go down to the place. It 
 seemed a strange proposition, that warm afternoon, after so 
 long a walk ; but Ann and Hannah immediately offered to 
 accompany he"r. Aunt Deborah accepted Ann s company, 
 but told Hannah to remain at home, and help her mother. 
 On the way she made-several inquiries of Ann about Amy, 
 when she went, &c., but without a word of explanation. 
 When they arrived in sight of the hay-field, the men and boys 
 were loading and raking; but Amy was not in sight. " Run 
 and find Amy ! " exclaimed Aunt Deborah, pale with excite 
 ment. Ann, alarmed at her manner, flew across the field, 
 calling, as she approached her brothers, for Amy. 
 
 " Why, she went home two hours ago," exclaimed they all. 
 
 The alarm was instantly communicated. Hasty and frantic 
 inquiries were made. The boys threw down their rakes, the 
 colonel leaped from the load, Isaac detached the pin which 
 fastened the oxen to the cart, and, in less than a minute, all 
 were in the road, running, calling, shouting, exploring the 
 woods in various directions, and making every effort which 
 the agony of terror or the suggestions of hope could inspire.
 
 WOLFS DEN. 71 
 
 They soon found the little basket, filled with berries, which 
 she hud left under the tree. Unfortunately this happened to 
 be by a little path, which went into the woods toward the 
 north, at a right angle with the road which she had pursued ; 
 and they inferred that she had taken that path, especially as 
 it led to a grove of sugar-maples, where was a little hut 
 used in the sugar season, and where the sap-troughs and other 
 conveniences were kept. She had been led there once to see 
 these wonders, and was much delighted with them; all 
 therefore turned to explore the woods in that direction, and 
 tired the echoes with their frantic calls, while Amy was wait 
 ing under the old maple, two miles away, for God to come 
 and take her. 
 
 Meanwhile Aunt Deborah hurried back to the house alone ; 
 for Ann could not be kept back from joining in the search. 
 Alek had come after his mother in the wagon, and all were 
 instantly informed of the terrible truth. Aunt Deborah 
 hastened home with the horse and wagon to summon the 
 family, and Alek flew to join in the search. 
 
 In an hour, all the men within two miles were in the 
 woods, and women in wagons hurrying for more help. The 
 search was kept up all that night. In the morning, before 
 sunrise, hundreds of men and boys, from every direction, 
 were collected at Colonel Bowler s, ready to follow any orders 
 from him. By the advice of Deacon Arbor, horns were 
 sounded as a signal for the men in the woods to return, and a 
 council of proceedings was held. It was pretty clear that the 
 "missing one was not in the direction where- they had been 
 searching, for the whole woods on that side had now been 
 explored for miles. 
 
 A systematic plan of thorough search was now speedily
 
 i iJ WOLfSDXH. 
 
 adopted. The whole company formed in a line, extending 
 more than two miles, tlie individuals being within hailing dis 
 tance. All were directed to march in silence, except that 
 every minute the word March was passed along the line. 
 The silence was required to listen for any sound ; and the 
 frequent shout of march, not only to attract the attention of 
 the lost one, if in hearing, but also to give such individuals 
 as could not see the others proper indications of course and 
 distance. 
 
 In this way they extended themselves, and took up their 
 march toward the river, from a little beyond where Amy left 
 her basket ; and if she had but remained where we left her, 
 under the old maple-tree, they would soon have found her. 
 Every rod of ground was explored, as they passed; and long 
 before noon the ribbon which bound her hair was found 
 under the old maple, and immediately sent to the house, to 
 communicate fhe encouraging presage of success, and also to 
 show that search in other directions was not needed ; for the 
 search was still being pursued, by women and others, in the 
 direction of the maple-grove, and elsewhere. 
 
 Refreshments of bread, cheese, beer, and water, were 
 brought, and passed along the line, without intermitting the 
 search ; but no further indications of their object were dis 
 covered that da} . Before night they had explored the whole 
 ground swept by their line of march to the river, being nine 
 or ten square miles, besides their previous search. When 
 they arrived at the river, another council was held. The 
 company divided, and two lines were formed, each extending 
 from the river as far towards their first point of starting as 
 their number would allow, and which was far enough to
 
 WOLFSDEN. 73 
 
 sweep all the ground that the fugitive could in any likelihood 
 have passed. 
 
 In the same order as before, one wing moved down the 
 river, and the other moved up.. The wing moving down the 
 river was longest, extending nearly two miles back ; on the 
 other side, the course of the river made a less extensive line 
 sufficient to cover the ground. The upper wing had also but 
 about two miles ahead, before corning to a county road, 
 which, of course, must terminate their search in that direc 
 tion. The route of the lower line was, in one sense, in 
 terminable, for the forest stretched south and west to an 
 indefinite distance ; but there were streams running into the 
 main river, some of which, within a few miles, were broad 
 and deep enough to prevent the child s crossing. 
 
 The upper wing swept the whole ground in their line of 
 march before dark ; they reached the main road, Avhich, if the 
 fugitive had found, she would have kept, and it soon led to 
 houses in either direction. They, therefore, turned to aid the 
 down-river wing, on the extremity of which they formed 
 themselves, so as to extend the line still further from the 
 river. This arrangement must have been infallibly success 
 ful, but for a most extraordinary cause of failure ; for they 
 were now sweeping all the ground remaining unexplored 
 which she could possibly pass. 
 
 While thus moving onward in regular order, and exploring 
 every foot of the way, and in perfect silence, except that the 
 word march was regularly passed along the line, the ap 
 proach of night delayed their progress. In those dark old 
 woods, shut in by thick branches overhead, and, for the most 
 part, obstructed by thick-tangled growth beneath, the light 
 faded fast with the declining sun ; but they had advanced 
 7
 
 74 W L F S D E N . 
 
 some throe or four miles from their last point of starting, and 
 had swept nearly all the ground where the child could have 
 strayed. For, but a mile or two further on, their progress 
 would be stopped by a broad, deep, "sluggish stream, known 
 as " The Dead Brook," which extended back from the main 
 river many miles. By this time, also, the conviction pre 
 vailed that their search would be fruitless, and that they 
 should see the child no more. She had probably made her 
 way to the river and fallen from its high banks, to be swept 
 away by its current; or, still more dreadful to be imagined, 
 had been carried off by some wild beast. Bears and wolves, 
 as well as more harmless animals, frequented these woods ; 
 and though the wolves, retreating to the mountains, were 
 seldom seen here except in winter, yet the bears were said to 
 be numerous. They were not considered fierce and danger 
 ous at this season of the year, when berries and other sweet 
 vegetables were plenty, but yet would, perhaps, destroy a 
 child. 
 
 However, though with little hope, the party still proceeded 
 to explore the remaining ground ; but, when they came to the 
 Dead Brook without finding any further trace of the object 
 of their search, all the company seemed to yield to the con 
 viction that their duty was done. Most of them, indeed, were 
 exhausted from fatigue and want of accustomed food and rest ; 
 for they had not ceased a moment in their effort since called 
 from their beds long before morning, and had taken no re 
 freshment except such as could be passed from hand to hand 
 along the line. It was now late and very dark, and there 
 were evident signs of rain. The whole company gradually 
 gathered toward the left extremity of the line, at the con 
 fluence of the Dead Brook with the main river. They had
 
 WOLFSDEN. 75 
 
 all, in passing down the Dead Brook, explored it thoroughly, 
 and all agreed that there was no point where the child could 
 possibly have crossed it. It was broad, deep, and impassable, 
 for many miles back. Much was said about a place called 
 Beaver Dam, about two miles up the stream ; but several men 
 of reliable judgment had examined this, the only supposed 
 place of crossing, and had found it, beyond all question, im 
 possible to be passed by a child. Hope had deserted every 
 heart, and the colonel, with pale and haggard features, worn 
 with fatigue and anxiety, and with a trembling voice, thanked 
 them for their kindness, and dismissed them to their homes. 
 
 It was now near midnight, very dark, and beginning to 
 rain. They had long before provided themselves with torches 
 to pursue their search ; and, as the large company departed 
 and separated themselves into different groups, extending for 
 miles in different directions, the woods seemed as if illumi 
 nated by a vast army. But all did not depart. The colonel 
 and his sons, Deacon Arbor and Alek, Job Brown and 
 Josiah, with about twenty others, remained on the ground, 
 some with a vague impression that something might yet be 
 done; besides, some were too much exhausted to return without 
 refreshment and rest. A large fire was kindled, and food, 
 which had been forwarded from the contributions of many 
 houses during the day, was brought ; boughs and leaves 
 were collected, old garments spread down, and the colonel 
 and deacon, with a few others, were persuaded to lie down and 
 rest. 
 
 But Alek, though he had been one of the most active dur 
 ing the day, and had been searching the woods the wholo 
 night before, showed no signs of fatigue. After brief refresh 
 ment, and seeing his father and the colonel as comfortably
 
 76 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 disposed of as circumstances would permit, he declared his 
 determination of examining the beaver-dam himself. This, as 
 has been mentioned, was two miles up the Dead Brook. Some 
 ten or twelve volunteered to accompany him, and, preparing 
 their torches, they departed. 
 
 It now began to rain fast, but their pitch-wood torches 
 flamed brightly, and they moved swiftly. In half an hour 
 they were at the beaver-dam. The first glance gave no en 
 couragement. The old dam consisted of a mass of decayed 
 wood sunk in the stream, and on the further side reaching to 
 the surface of the water, forming an eddy above, covered 
 with floating sticks and leaves ; the dam, which was evi 
 dently the work of beavers some years since, was decayed 
 and washed away on the hither side, leaving a space of 
 clear, deep water, of six or eight feet breadth, between 
 the dam and the shore, so that the stream was clearly im 
 passable. 
 
 But the searching eyes of Alek noticed that from the 
 hither end of the dam a loose and rotten log of wood swung 
 down stream, and vibrated in the slow current, its upper 
 end still attached to the end of the dam. It appeared, from 
 the lightness with which it floated, that it could not have 
 been in the water long. Measuring it with his eye, he 
 judged that it would .bout span the space between the shore 
 and the dam. The thought flashed in his mind that such 
 had been its position till very lately, and that some slight 
 cause had displaced it, and caused it to float to its present 
 position. That slight cause might be the foot of little Amy. 
 If so, she might have crossed, or, more likely, might be sleep 
 ing in the dark waters beneath them. 
 
 This last supposition seemed most likely, when Alek s dog
 
 WOLFSDEN. 77 
 
 Lion, who had been the active companion of his master in al 
 ine search, now, after rapidly snuffing the ground near where 
 the loose end of the log might have been attached, and put 
 ting his fore-paws into the stream, as if to search it, uttered 
 a long and melancholy howl. Alek was then convinced that 
 Amy had been there. She was probably there now, or had 
 been carried a little distance down the slow stream. But 
 she might possibly have gained the other side, and be still 
 living. He determined to seek the living child before search 
 ing the water for the dead. 
 
 The water was deep, but Alek could swim. His clothes 
 were already wet with rain, and therefore he did not take 
 them off. In a minute he was on the other side, and Lion, 
 who could swim as well as his master, was there too. After 
 a moment s snuffing, Lion sprang about, wild with excitement. 
 He had evidently made a discovery. He would run a fcw 
 steps into the bushes, dart back, take a circuit, and make off 
 again, and then return and look wistfully at his master, as if 
 anxious that he should accompany him. Alek shouted for 
 the others to come over ; a stick was found strong enough to 
 bridge the chasm, and in a few moments the whole party were 
 exploring the other shore with their torches. 
 
 Lion led his master, in a line diverging from the stream, 
 downward toward the main river. Some of the party fol 
 lowed ; others beat the ground in various directions. Lion 
 kept on in a circuitous course, but far ahead, occasionally 
 with a low bark, as if to give his master indication of his 
 course. Alek hurried on in the direction of the sound. 
 After some fifteen minutes, the loud, sharp bark of the dog 
 followed by a long-protracted howl, gave Alek notice that 
 7*
 
 78 w o L r s D E N . 
 
 Lion had found the object of his pursuit ; and that it was 
 probably the child dead ! 
 
 With palpitating heart and wild haste, he hurried on. A 
 thick growth of low bushes opposed his progress, but he 
 rushed resistlessly on, holding aloft his torch. In a few 
 minutes his excited apprehensions were ended. There was 
 Lion ; a slender, white object lay upon the ground before him, 
 which he was eagerly licking, all the time uttering a low. 
 whimpering cry. Alek threw down the torch, and, carefully 
 taking up the insensible child, pressed her to his breast. He 
 thought she was dead ; but she was not quite cold. He put 
 his ear to her side ; he could perceive the beating of her 
 heart. 
 
 " FOUND ! FOUND ! " he cried, at the top of his voice. 
 
 " FOUND ! FOUND ! " was shouted by the companions of his 
 search, scattered in various directions, and some of them not 
 far off. 
 
 " FOUND ! FOUND ! " reechoed the woods far and wide, to 
 the loudest of human voices. 
 
 They were nearer the party which they had left an hour 
 ago than when they crossed the stream ; but they must still 
 be more than a mile off. Yet soon from the far distance 
 they heard the combined shout of many voices, " Found ! 
 found ! " 
 
 " Found ! found . " was again replied by Alek s party, who 
 were now fast hurrying toward him. 
 
 " FOUND ! FOUND ! " reechoed the woods far and wide. 
 
 In a few moments, the deep sound from the distance was 
 again heard. It was the tone -of inquiry, " ALIVE? 
 ALIVE?" 
 
 " ALIVE ! ALIVE ! " shouted Alek.
 
 W L F S D E N . 79 
 
 " ALIVE ! ALIVE ! " shouted his approaching companion;;. 
 
 " ALIVE ! ALIVE ! " reechoed the woods far and wide. 
 
 " March ! march ! " was again heard from the deep dis 
 tance. It was a signal that the distant party were coming. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the excitement of the party left 
 behind, when roused by the shout, Found ! found ! To cross 
 the Dead Brook, and hasten in the direction of the sound, was 
 the irresistible impulse. Luckily there were plenty of light 
 logs, branches, and drift-wood, along the banks, from which a 
 rude raft was iu a few minutes constructed, and, three or four 
 at a time, they were quickly on the other side of the stream. 
 " MARCH ! MARCH ! " was again shouted, and answered, at 
 intervals, to direct their course. 
 
 In the mean time, Alek s companions had gathered brush 
 wood, and other combustibles, and kindled a great fire. Lit 
 tle Amy, closely embraced by Alek, felt its reviving warmth, 
 and her little limbs shivered. Alek chafed her ftody ; others 
 heated portions of their dripping garments, and successively 
 wrapped them around her feet ; others, making their hands 
 hot by the fire, pressed hers between them. Lion, eager to 
 assert his claims, pressed his nose to her wet garments ; and 
 soon all had the satisfaction of hearing the indistinct murmur 
 of her voice. 
 
 " Amy, dear Amy ! " said Alek, in her ear ; for Alek still 
 held her, as having the first right, although her brothers stood 
 around. 
 
 " Father . " whispered the unconscious child. She thought 
 it was her father s voice. 
 
 " Dear daughter ! " replied Alek, with tears in his eyes. 
 He has always called her " dear daughter," since. 
 
 Words cannot describe the agony of joy shown by the
 
 80 W L F S D E N . 
 
 father, when he again beheld his child. With streaming 
 eyes and lifted hands, he uttered thanksgivings to God. He 
 had never before been known to utter words of devotion in 
 presence of others, though believed to pray habitually in 
 secret. But now what to him though a thousand stood 
 around ? He saw only his child ; and he felt that a present 
 God had restored her. Never before or since has the inspira 
 tion of fervent piety struck me as on this occasion. From 
 this I could imagine how David looked, when he cried, " O, 
 Absalom ! my son, my son ! " But his was the inspiration 
 of grief. This was the inspiration of gratitude and joy. 
 
 We have purposely omitted to speak of the agony of terror 
 and suspense which agitated the anguished mother and dis 
 tracted sisters, during all this dreadful interval. We shall 
 not attempt to describe their joy in the restoration of the 
 lost one. With what deep feeling the mother thanked Alek, 
 when the whole story was told her ; and how the daughters 
 overwhelmed and embarrassed him with their gratitude. Is 
 it a wonder that Amy loves Alek, and calls him dear uncle, 
 and that he calls her his dear daughter? 
 
 The town was soon made aware of the good news. The 
 next Sunday, Parson Boreman improved the occasion with a 
 most eloquent sermon. Everybody thought it eloquent, and 
 a committee was appointed to solicit a copy for the press. 
 It was given, and an enormous edition of five hundred copies 
 printed, from which every family in town, and many else 
 where, were supplied. The colonel reads the sermon annu 
 ally, every Thanksgiving Day, with tears. I have looked it 
 over lately to make some extracts with which to close this 
 chapter ; but find nothing particularly appropriate, and rather 
 suspect that its chief merit at the time was, that it touched 
 a subject in which his congregation were interested.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE storm has passed. The bright sun looks from behind 
 his cloudy curtains to behold mother earth decked like a 
 bride in her drapery of flowery white, to welcome the new 
 approaching year. How virgin fair and pure she looks ! Her 
 
 
 
 ample robe spreads its undulations far as the eye can reach. 
 The woody hills are rounded and softened in their outlines 
 by the superincumbent snow, spread as a veil of white over 
 their bending tops. Yet less lovely now is the earth in her 
 splendor than she shall soon appear when night shall display 
 her softer charms, and the silver moon, and the sparkling 
 stars, and the deep-blue sky, shall spread their glorious can 
 opy over her head. 
 
 Let us now go back to Deacon Arbor s. Alek has returned, 
 and has brought good news ; not unexpected, and not unpre 
 pared for. Two sleigh-loads of company are coming ; Uncle 
 Jotham driving Aunt Nabby in one sleigh, and a young 
 dandy driving a -rustic schoolmaster in the other. Helen 
 turned her head a little the other way, at this last intelli 
 gence ; and Frances asked, archly, whom the young dandy 
 had come for, just as if she already knew the schoolmaster s 
 intentions. 
 
 " Not you, sister," said Alek.
 
 82 W L F S D E N . 
 
 " 0, no ; the schoolmaster s after me and Helen," replied 
 she, just as if that were to be a triple affair. 
 
 They had stopped a little while at the village, at Captain 
 Boynton s. Captain Boynton was the rich old revolutionary 
 soldier at the village, and the young dandy was his grand- 
 nephew. The young dandy s name was Harry Boyuton. 
 His father was a planter in North Carolina, and his uncle, a 
 merchant in New York, and his aunt was no other than Aunt 
 Nabby ; but she was a maternal aunt, not a Boynton. 
 
 Harry was a Harvard University student, and proficient in 
 the sciences and accomplishments often very successfully pur 
 sued there. He was not one of those few unexceptionable 
 and indefatigable young men, who, late and early, pore over 
 crabbed characters in dusty tomes, and from the commence 
 ment of a term to its close keep the college honors full in 
 view. His mathematical pursuits were more practical than 
 theoretical ; and he described his curves and angles upon a 
 billiard-table, with the white and red balls, aided by the dex 
 trous use of the cue, which he substituted for the more com 
 plex instruments of his shagreen case. Of all the great per 
 sonages of history, he most fancied the four popular kings 
 and queens whose portraits so often draw admiring connois 
 seurs about the card-table. Iti the diplomacy of shuffling he 
 was an adept, but his practice involved rather an unprofita 
 ble familiarity with the knaves. In astronomical studies, he 
 by no means neglected the theatrical " stars." The bowling- 
 alley balls demonstrated the movements of the spheres ; and 
 he explored through opera-glasses the constellations which 
 sparkled in the deep concave of the dress-circles. Botany 
 often solaced his leisure, with tobacco-leaves rolled in the 
 form of cigars. The wine-merchant s bills were regarded by
 
 W L F S I> E N . So 
 
 him as free translations of Anacreon, though not always hap 
 pily rendered. His opinion was always authoritative in 
 questions of port, madeira, and champagne. But these laud 
 able and brilliant attainments, indicating the fastest improve 
 ment of his time, so far from winning the approbation, only 
 excited the jealousy, of the grave and reverend professors of 
 dull, dry, collegiate study ; which was carried so far, that, at 
 an official meeting of the faculty, they voted him a polite 
 but somewhat peremptory permission to recruit his mental 
 health, and renovate his moral habits, by a temporary rusti 
 cation. 
 
 By this kind consideration of the college faculty, and at 
 the suggestion of his uncle in New York, he improved the 
 period of his rustication by making a visit to his aunt in 
 Saco. There he made himself generally agreeable, as indeed 
 he did everywhere ; for he had natural good qualities, which 
 dissipation had not wholly eradicated. When the visit to 
 Wolfsden was spoken of, he proposed to be one of the party ; 
 and his Aunt Nabby, who had received a confidential letter 
 from his uncle, commending his health and habits to her own 
 and Uncle Lemuel s especial watchfulness, approved the pro 
 position. 
 
 At Wolfsden village, Harry must needs pay his first re 
 spects to his grand-uncle. Aunt Nabby, who considered that 
 her duty of watchfulness could be best performed by keeping 
 him in sight, concluded to call and pay her respects, too ; 
 particularly as the horses really needed breath, for they had 
 travelled fast, notwithstanding the snow. Harry had driven, 
 though not so fast as he would have done but for Hezekiah s 
 mild remonstrance.
 
 84 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 " If I have a genius for anything, it is for driving," said 
 Harry. 
 
 Though Harry made no pretensions to superior talents in a 
 general way, he had a habit of claiming a peculiar " genius " 
 for whatever business happened to be in hand ; so that his 
 piecemeal pretensions, if added up, would have excelled those 
 of the Admirable Crichton himself. 
 
 Captain Boynton was a gentleman. He was the only gen 
 tleman by profession in Wolfsden. There were other gentle 
 manly men, but no others who made that business their 
 exclusive pursuit. 
 
 He was an old gentleman, and a gentleman of the old 
 school, and of the old habits of the old school. He gave 
 them all a warm welcome, and brought out his decanter of 
 old Jamaica, to give them warm toddy. Aunt Nabby de 
 clined the toddy, as did the others. Perhaps Harry might 
 not have declined, but for the others presence ; but he had 
 too much grace to violate their example while he was their 
 guest. " My genius lies in the cold-water line," said 
 Harry. 
 
 Captain Boynton chose to maintain the ceremonies of the 
 old school, notwithstanding the degeneracy of these cold-water 
 days ; and so he drank the toddy to their health, and ordered 
 cake and tea for their better refreshment, and proceeded to fight 
 the battle of Trenton for their edification. Captain Boynton, 
 it was evident, had done important service at Trenton, though 
 Weems, in his " Life of Washington," had neglected to record 
 it. He then proceeded to Princeton, and, after the fall of 
 General Mercer, rallied the retreating regiment, and won the 
 battle, a circumstance also forgotten by Weeins. The cap 
 tain was indefatigable, and, going backwards in the generally-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 85 
 
 received order of events, he proposed the storming of Ticon- 
 deroga and Crown Point; but his auditors were now tired 
 of battles, their horses were rested, and they took their 
 leave, Harry promising soon to rejoin his uncle for another 
 campaign. 
 
 Hezekiah permitted Harry to drive as fast as he chose, 
 the rest of the way. He had -become impatient of the cap 
 tain s achievements. He had no taste for war ; his incli 
 nations drew strongly in another direction. But Harry 
 drove provokingly slow. 
 
 " A merciful man is merciful to his beast," said Harry. 
 " Slow and sure, wins the race." 
 
 But the distance was short, and soon they arrived at Dea 
 con Arbor s, and met a hearty welcome. Harry, though a 
 stranger, was equally welcome for the other s sake, and he 
 soon made himself welcome for his own. 
 
 It had been arranged to invite a few additional friends, 
 in short, to have a " party," as much as might be allowable, 
 without scandal, on a Saturday evening. Margaret Murray 
 was already there, in pursuance of previous understanding. 
 She rode over on one of the ox-sleds, which came from that 
 direction, to break out the roads. The Bowler boys and girls, 
 including Amy and the adjutant, came after dark. Josiah 
 Brown was with them, and looked very well pleased. Helen, 
 glancing at him, whispered the fact to Ann ; and she replied 
 that they were all happy on her account, glancing at Hezekiah. 
 Very well turned off, Miss Ann ! 
 
 . We were all very happy, and Helen appeared as tranquil 
 and as easy as if it were the most natural thing to have a 
 lover. She, who had no experience in that way, and whom, 
 8
 
 86 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 for her dd-maidish ways, everybody had marked down as a 
 predestined old maid, though yet but twenty-five ! 
 
 Hezekiah, too, was evidently happy ; staid and quiet in 
 his happiness, yet luminously happy. I mean that the light 
 of his happiness shone through his eyes, and features. 
 
 We were all glad to be there, and glad to see each other 
 there. The great kitchen fireplace glowed with the lasting 
 heat of solid maple logs. The sitting-room and parlor were 
 illuminated with brighter fires. Their polished hearths and 
 painted floors reflected the ruddy blaze. How fresh, and 
 nice, and new, seemed the furniture, in its maturity of 
 forty years ! Years had ever fallen softly upon all that 
 house. 
 
 Besides the company enumerated, there is one more to be 
 mentioned; the new schoolmaster, not a very new man, 
 though, for he is forty-five, at least ; but he is new to us, for 
 this is his first winter in Wolfsden. A quiet, unobtrusive, 
 silent sort of a man- he seems ; but we will not overlook him, 
 for he is still a great man even here, and at the school-house 
 greater still, the monarch of all he surveys, but a very good, 
 just, and benignant monarch. 
 
 There is a saying, that there is a skeleton in every house ; 
 meaning that, however fair external signs may be, yet some 
 open or secret trouble lurks everywhere. But surely there 
 is no skeleton here. No ; there is none. But look ! 
 
 What spectre is that emerging from the corner bedroom ? 
 It is a skeleton ! The face grins with a leer of sepulchral 
 satisfaction, beneath a double row of crisp, short curls of 
 false hair, surmounted by a crisp, crimped, double-bordered 
 cap, surmounted higher still by bunches of gaudy ribbons, 
 overtopped in their turn by a short, waving feather. Is it
 
 W L F S D E N T . 87 
 
 the skeleton of some squaw, decked for her wedding, and seek 
 ing for her lost " brave " ? 
 
 Around her yellow neck is a crisp, crimped double-ruff, dis 
 posed so as to show a row of yellow gold beads just above it, 
 and a golden chain, attached to a yellow shining ring, attached 
 to some yellow shining trinkets, just below it. 
 
 Below her tight waist spread far and wide the rustling folds 
 of her silken dress. She moves forward with a bobbing curt 
 sey. It is ! 0, goodness ! it is ! 
 
 Let us turn around and walk into the sitting-room. There 
 is no skeleton there. There are bright, welcome faces, instead. 
 Margaret Murray, hazel-eyed, dark-haired, fair-browed, cherry- 
 lipped creature of self-conscious beauty, let me introduce the 
 impatient reader to a nearer view of your charms. Ah, how 
 prepared are those sparkling eyes for the compliment, and how 
 prompt that musical tongue in appropriate reply ! Will you 
 address her a few words, no matter how commonplace ? in 
 a few moments you will be delighted at your newly-discovered 
 powers of conversation. Though cold and dull as the black 
 steel of the tinder-box, if there be fire in you, she will strike 
 it out. But you must not engross her ; Alek is near, and 
 envies your happy chance. Another stands at little distance, 
 and looks on admiringly. Can it be that he envies, too ? 0, 
 no ! it is the light-hearted, thoughtless Harry Boynton. He 
 is evidently surprised to see so much beauty, grace, and vivac 
 ity, in a place so remote from city life. But he is too familiar 
 with the attractions of polished society to be very deeply im 
 pressed with the graces of a country maiden, even if capable 
 of deep impressions at all ; and yet he looks more earnest and 
 thoughtful than is his wont. Is it possible that he has a heart, 
 and is just finding it out ?
 
 88 VT L F S D K N . 
 
 And now let me introduce you to . But look ! the 
 
 skeleton of millinery is in the doorway, advancing with a bob 
 bing curtsey. Let us retreat into the kitchen. 
 
 Ah, genial sight ! With what ample and tempting cheer 
 that long-extended damask-covered table is spread food for 
 fifty, and we are but a score. The big turkey is there ; he 
 justly claims his honored place at the feast such was 
 his destiny. For this he lived, for this he was worthy to 
 die. The brown, savory spare-rib is there. For this the re 
 luctant sovereign of the sty yielded his life. In yon deep, 
 broad pasty lies a flock of imprisoned chickens, waiting, as 
 once in their parent egg they waited, to burst their brittle 
 covering. And on yonder dressers see what puddings and 
 pies, and wonderful works of pastry, stand ready. But we 
 will not tire the reader with details of what his appetite may 
 desire, but which, perchance, his fate may deny. But look ! 
 Ah, look the other way ! The skeleton approaches, glittering 
 in millinery, rustling in silks, and bobbing her curtseys. Let 
 us turn and face the spectre. Mrs. Simperkins ! Your old 
 acquaintance, Mrs. Simperkins. 
 
 How came she here ? How, indeed ! How came she 
 everywhere? How came the maggot in the cheese? How 
 came sin into the world ? How came it that each pleasure 
 has its poison too, and every sweet a sour ? Let us turn to 
 pleasanter themes to any other theme. 
 
 In yon obscure corner sits the schoolmaster. He is talking 
 with Ike. Ike is interested in his communication. We cannot 
 hear what he says, but Ike answers aloud, " He shall be en 
 couraged ! The rest have gone to destruction, but we 11 save 
 him if it can be done." They are speaking of Ax Barker. 
 
 The schoolmaster has been here only a week. He was sent
 
 TVOLFSDEN. 89 
 
 for from a distance, to keep our school this winter, for his 
 fame as a successful teacher had reached us. Well does he 
 seem likely to justify it. He has already engaged the interest 
 of every pupil ; all respect him, and try to do their best. 
 
 He " boards round." The school-money would last but two 
 months if the master s board were paid from it. To make it 
 three months, a dozen families of the district volunteer to 
 board the master each a week or more. This has been the 
 week at the deacon s house, and he has proved an agreeable 
 guest. They invite and persuade him to stay another week, 
 thinking that Hezekiah, also a schoolmaster, may be the bet 
 ter entertained, just as if Hezekiah cared about any enter 
 tainment but Helen ! 
 
 Supper is ready ; but let us skip the supper, since we can 
 not partake of it. Aunt Jane Bowler says it does her as 
 much good to see others eat as to eat herself. Others may 
 not have that " genius," as Harry says. 
 
 Supper ended, the plays begin. The old folks and grave 
 folks appropriate the parlor, leaving, the sitting-room and 
 kitchen for the young folks and gay folks. In the parlor are 
 the deacon and his wife, the schoolmaster and Hezekiah, and 
 also Helen. In sitting-room and kitchen are distributed the 
 others. Mrs. Simperkins wavers between parlor and sitting- 
 room, as if uncertain of her position ; till, urged by the 
 serious-looking but mischievous Margaret, she settles down in 
 the sitting-room with the young and gay. 
 
 Harry Boynton, seeing Margaret s attention to the old 
 charmer, took it for granted that she was her especial favor 
 ite ; and, as Margaret seemed coy of his perhaps too marked 
 attentions, he deemed it politic to patronize the millinery 
 establishment. 
 
 8*
 
 90 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 He thought her, perhaps, an elderly aunt or grandmother of 
 Margaret, and made his addresses accordingly. The Simper- 
 kiiis was flattered. She had already found out that he was son 
 to a Carolina planter, nephew to a New York merchant and 
 to Aunt Nabby, grand-nephew to Capt. Boynton, and student 
 at college. She sunoosed him to be studying for the ministry, 
 
 O i i J O / 
 
 and bent her conversation accordingly. lie inferred that she 
 was a particularly religious lady, and answered in the same 
 strain; for.it is his genius to conform to his company, to be 
 all things to all men, and women too ; besides, it was now his 
 policy. Their conversation was edifying. If it were the 
 major whom he wished to win, instead of his daughter, that 
 conversation, could he have overheard it, would have done the 
 business. 
 
 Not that any pious pretensions were made on Harry s part ; 
 he only gave general assent to the merits of favorite ministers 
 and doctrinal tenets praised by her, and declared his charity 
 for all sects (by which she understood evangelical sects), when 
 she deprecatingly informed him that she belonged to the 
 " church of Hingland " (supposing him a Congrcgationalist) ; 
 but his eloquent declamations about the wisdom and wonders 
 of Providence confirmed her in her estimate of the sacredness 
 of his calling. 
 
 When she changed the subject to college life, it was won 
 derful with what eloquence and fervor he expatiated upon the 
 snares set there, and thereabouts, for the unwary ; how ho 
 condemned the corruptions of society, and deplored the vices 
 to which the young are exposed. It was wonderful, too, that 
 so discreet a young man should be so well acquainted with all 
 the details of what he so earnestly condemned ; for, in his 
 zeal, his thoughts, snd his eyes being mostly elsewhere,
 
 WOLFSDKN. 91 
 
 his tongue ran at random, and he rattled off the slang of the 
 billiard-saloon, the bowling-alley, the gambling-table, &c., 
 told how they gulled the flats, green-horns, pigeons, and out 
 siders, till his language became unintelligible to the Simper- 
 kins understanding, though not the less gratifying for that. 
 It was all Latin and Greek to her ; but it was not surprising 
 that a divinity student should talk Latin and Greek, and she 
 was proud to be thought worthy to hear it. 
 
 Meantime, Harry s thoughts and eyes were wandering 
 among the gay and lively company. One bright particular star 
 attracted them. It was a star of strong attraction. His soul 
 newly magnetized, turned and trembled under its mysterious 
 power. Harry was in love ! He who had whirled so lightly 
 through the mazes of fashion, whom the bright eyes that so 
 often attracted had never been able to subdue, and who had 
 come heart-free to his twentieth year, now yielded at the first 
 summons of the bright-eyed country maiden. 
 
 Yet, though his freedom and the lightness of his heart were 
 gone, emotions far more animating thrilled his frame. They 
 gave a new impulse to the beating of his heart ; they gave 
 intensity to the glance of his eye, and new animation and 
 expression to his countenance. He lived now in a new element, 
 a new atmosphere. It might be as illusory as the atmosphere 
 of frivolity, where he had so long lived ; but it was new, and it 
 gave him new life. 
 
 As his eyes still furtively pursued their object, he felt 
 rather than saw that her eyes were once or twice turned upon 
 him. " It is my destiny," thought he ; and thoughts and vis 
 ions floated in his imagination, as thickly and confusedly ds 
 the storm, through which he had all day driven, filled the sky 
 
 To him Mrs. Simperkins was a lucky resource. He had
 
 92 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 poured oceans of information into her greedy ears, and it was 
 now his turn to get information. He inquired, firstly, about 
 distant matters the minister of the parish, especially. (Dis 
 creet Harry !) Then, cutting short the too long account about 
 Parson Boreman, he asked about the schoolmaster, "Was he 
 pious? Deacon Arbor, was he a friend to missions ? Mrs. 
 Arbor, did she enjoy good health? These young gentlemen, 
 were they all her sons?" (Cautious Harry!) "These 
 young ladies, were they all her daughters?" (Sly Harry !) 
 The young lady who just passed, and who urged her to remain 
 in the room, " Her niece, he presumed." (False Harry !) 
 
 Miss Simperkius informed him upon all the topics ; indeed, 
 she was entirely too prolix, and he hurried her on successively 
 till they came to the last, and then she told him too much, too 
 much for his comfort, for she told him, in a long history, in 
 cluding the major and his family, their relations to the church, 
 &c., that Margaret was engaged to Mr. Alek Arbor. She 
 said it as quietly as the engineer lights the match of the mine 
 beneath the castle of the beleaguered city. Its effects were as 
 fatal Harry s castle was blown into mid-air. 
 
 When the insane, unreasoning power of love takes possession 
 of the heart, other kindred, absurd fantasies come in to share 
 the dominion. Honor, that will not take advantage of op 
 portune circumstances to invade others rights. Self-respect, 
 that would scorn to accept advantages so won. Conscience, 
 which forbids the enjoyment of dishonorable success. Sym 
 pathy, which disturbs the pleasures of self with the pain s of 
 others. He who writes for the present world must class all 
 these, and kindred sentiments, as fantasies. People of primi 
 tive days counted them realities. To them these shadows 
 indicated substance. Our age has weighed them in the bank-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 93 
 
 er s scales, which give standard weight, and find they " won t 
 
 pay- ; 
 
 But these fantasies were now ruling sentiments with Harry. 
 Love had upset his understanding, and honor and self-respect 
 had entered the breach. He could not violate, with treacher 
 ous designs, the hospitality he was receiving> He would not 
 employ his superior position and advantages to entice away 
 the affections already bestowed, or promised, to another. He 
 would not even accept a heart which could be so enticed. 
 Some romantic notions of pure, disinterested, undivided love, 
 confused his calculations. 
 
 On the other hand, he was now under the control of a 
 power he could not throw off. He had never resisted his 
 inclinations, and therefore they were irresistible. 
 
 But what should he do about it? He asked this question 
 himself, and walked to a secluded window to meditate. The 
 moon rode among the fleecy clouds in her silvery brightness. 
 The stars sparkled like gems in the deep-blue firmament. The 
 distant forest stretched an obscure, interminable shadow. The 
 grandeur of nature s solitude soothed the tumult of his soul. 
 
 And so he meditated. But his meditations came to noth 
 ing, except a resolve to be quiet ; " For," said he, " I m cor 
 nered." Strange that he should be cornered where room is so 
 plenty ! He came back from the window, but not to Miss 
 Simperkins. 
 
 The plays were progressing. Blind-man s-buff had already 
 been performed in the kitchen, till all were panting with the 
 excitement. "Button, button, who s got the button?" passed 
 round in a new circle formed in the sitting-room. Harry was 
 in it. Mrs. Simperkins was a little astonished ; but, upon the 
 whole, concluded that a divinity student might go so far, since
 
 94 W L F S D E N . 
 
 he had preferred her conversation to blind-man s-buff. The 
 company would like for her to go further ; but she would not 
 go at all. There she sat like an owl damping the spirits of 
 sportive chickens, or, like the nightmare, spoiling their pulses 
 healthful play. 
 
 Forfeits are a part of the play of Button. Alek and Ike 
 were in it. When Alek and Ike were together, something 
 might be expected. Ike had to redeem a forfeit ; he ap 
 pointed Alek to judge him. " Kiss every lady in the room," 
 said Alek. 
 
 " Oldest first ! " shouted Ike, bounding from his chair 
 towards Mrs. Simperkins. She held up both hands, with 
 severe dignity, to repel the profanation. She had better sub 
 mitted in silence. Ike burst through all barriers of fists, 
 elbows, shoulders, plumes, ribbons, caps, and curls, hugged 
 her round the neck, and smacked, or pretended to smack, her 
 heartily. Her plume was draggled, her crimped ruffles were 
 crumpled, her false curls were displaced, and all her millinery 
 deranged ; crippled in all her rigging, like some over-matched 
 privateer, she moved off to refit, and the coast was clear for 
 the present. And all this before the divinity student ! Poor 
 Mrs. Simperkins ! 
 
 One more forfeit must be mentioned. It was lost by 
 Harry. He was adjudged by Ann. He must make a speech 
 to Margaret, take her hand, and give her a kiss. The words 
 " Spirit of Louis, ascend to heaven ! " when uttered by the abbe 
 to the King of France upon the scaffold, could not have thrilled 
 the monarch more. The prospect of heaven is pleasant ; but 
 timorous mortals stand and shrink, and fear to launch away. 
 
 Harry had resolved to be quiet. When people resolve to 
 be quiet, they should make an exceptional proviso for vql-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 95 
 
 canoes, earthquakes, tornadoes, avalanches, and such outside 
 influences. Harry did not feel quiet just now ; and yet this 
 thought was not new to him. To take Margaret s hand, 
 make a speech, and give her a kiss, was among the sublhnest 
 of the fancies that floated amid the commotions of his brain, 
 half an hour since. 
 
 But there was no retreat, nor time to think about it ; so 
 he marched across the circle, and took hor unresisting hand. 
 It was white and cold ; the blood had retreated to her flut 
 tering heart. Her other hand covered her face. That, too, 
 looked pale and cold ; and so did her face, so far as it could 
 be seen. " Forgive me," he whispered. This was an evasion 
 of his sentence ; an oration, and aloud, was meant. He 
 kissed her hand ; another evasion ; her cheek was meant ; 
 but it was permitted to pass. 
 
 Margaret removed her hand from her face ; there was red 
 ness enough then. She forced a cough, that she might use a 
 kerchief. It was a slight cough, as if something could 
 not be swallowed ; it compelled her to turn her head and 
 hide her face, while the kerchief was applied to her eyes ; 
 but she was soon composed. The cough did not return. 
 
 Why should so many words be written about so slight an 
 affair? But who can tell what affairs are slight ? Often the 
 most seemingly trivial become the turning-points of our fate, 
 perhaps even of the fate of nations. This slight matter, 
 for instance, though it made no impression upon the circle, 
 left an abiding one, an ineffaceable one, upon three persons 
 in it: Harry, Margaret, Alek. Harry saw or felt that his 
 deep passion was not unperceived, perhaps not unappreciated, 
 by its object. Margaret had found a new era in her exist 
 ence, marked by emotions which she had deemed but the idle
 
 96 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 dreams of romance ; and Alek saw the foundations of the 
 house which his long-cherished fancies had built, and where 
 he had stored his choicest hopes, sink in the faithless sand. 
 His eyes, sharpened by interest, had not failed to see and 
 interpret the omens so fatal to his hopes. 
 
 His heart throbbed with repressed agony. He rose and 
 walked to the secluded window, and looked forth. The sil 
 very moon still held her way among the fleecy clouds. The 
 far expanse of glittering landscape blended with the sky. The 
 distant forest stretched its obscure, interminable shadow. The 
 grandeur of nature s solitude soothed the tumult of his soul ; he 
 swallowed down the grief which rose to choke him ; he folded 
 his arms with mingled resignation and resolution, and then 
 unfolded and suffered them to fall by his side, while he medi 
 tated. He came to the conclusion that it was best to be 
 quiet, and so he resolved to be ; " For," said he, " I ve run 
 against a stump." Strange that he should run against 
 stumps, when they were so deeply covered with snow ! 
 In his resolution to be quiet, he made no exceptional 
 proviso for earthquakes, tornadoes, and avalanches. No 
 need. Either, or all, would now have been a relief. Sud 
 denly two little hands clasped one of his great ones. They 
 were Amy s. With childish instinct and childish sympathy 
 she saw that he was troubled, and wished to comfort him. 
 He took her in his arms ; she was slender and light, a 
 small burden in his arms, not enough to counterbalance the 
 burthen upon his heart ; yet she seemed to relieve it. She 
 put her little arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to 
 his cheek, then to each of his eyes, then to his cheek again. 
 His view overlooked the woods where she was lost, and where 
 he had rescued her ; and she thought he was thinking of that,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 97 
 
 and of her. The subject was so important, and so constant 
 in her mind, she thought it equally so in his. She failed to 
 read aright his troubled mind ; but her remedy was not the 
 less salutary. He pressed her to his breast, returned her 
 sweet kisses, and felt relieved. 
 
 Alek s discomposure had escaped every eye but Amy s. 
 He returned to the sitting-room with his usual aspect. Mar 
 garet was just retiring to the kitchen. Each appeared per 
 fectly composed, and smiled with accustomed greeting; each 
 sought only to evade the other s scrutiny. 
 
 Margaret went to the secluded window. The silvery moon, 
 the fleecy clouds, the sparkling stars, the snow-clad mountains 
 and far-reaching forest, still performed their silent part in 
 nature s grand mystery ; and she repressed the throbbings of 
 her heart. She recalled her maiden pride, and, resolving to 
 be quiet, returned to join the merry company. Strange that, 
 of all that merry company, the only unquiet ones were they 
 who were so strongly resolved to be quiet. 
 
 The various round of trivial plays successively diverted the 
 company, and then the "Match Stories" began. Some, who 
 are unacquainted with the amusements of Wolfsden, and the 
 region thereabout, may ask what " Match Stories" are. 
 
 Match Stories are invented and told by the company in 
 pairs, in this manner : One commences a story, and proceeds 
 to the midst of the narrative or plot, and then appoints 
 another to finish it. These stories are assumed to be extem 
 pore, and often are so ; though it is allowable to concert and 
 make previous preparation, which is generally done. On this 
 occasion, several stories were told in this manner, which we 
 will put in the next chapter, as specimens of the inventive 
 faculties of the untrained youth of Maine. 
 9
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LIFE has two grand divisions : the time when we seize 
 and enjoy our own enjoyments, and the time when we provide 
 and enjoy the enjoyments of others. The first is that of youth ; 
 the second is that of maturity. The dividing line is not sharp ; 
 the divisions blend into each other, yet these are their dis 
 tinguishing features. Happy are they who partake the bene 
 fits of the first ; happier they who fulfil the duties of the 
 last. 
 
 Happy, therefore, are Deacon Arbor and his wife, and all 
 whose destinies they influence ! 
 
 The whole company, of old and young, are now assembled 
 to hear the Match Stories. The younger take their first turn. 
 Perhaps they have been assisted in preparation by the older ; 
 but most of the invention, and all the credit, is their own. 
 
 Grave people, who think it undignified to laugh at childish 
 sports, may skip the whole of this chapter. 
 
 MATCH STORIES. 
 
 STORY FIRST (begun by Amy the pensive, and ended by 
 George the wag). 
 
 (Amy.) " There was once a very pretty and pleasant couple 
 lived in a pretty little house, in a pleasant field, a little way
 
 W L F S D E N . 99 
 
 from the road. The man and wife were both young ; and very 
 neat ; and they had six children, all very pretty. There were 
 five girls and one boy ; but the boy was as good and pretty as 
 his sisters. They were all about nine years old, except one, 
 and that was a baby, a very pretty baby, with curly 
 hair, and blue eyes, and a pink frock, and red shoes, and a 
 little wagon to draw him out in. And there was a nice 
 garden on one side of the house, with walks all through it, 
 and all kinds of flowers by the walks, and cherry-trees, and 
 plum-trees, and currant-bushes, and gooseberries that were 
 ripe every month in the year only in the winter. And 
 there was a row of maple-trees each side of the lane going 
 down to the road; and the children played, and drew the little 
 baby in the wagon, under the shade of the maple-trees ; and 
 their father tapped the trees, and they got plenty of sweet 
 sap when they were thirsty. And they had a gentle cow, 
 that would not kick, but gave plenty of new milk ; and a pig 
 to eat up the skim-milk ; and some chickens, and ducks, and 
 young turkeys ; but no geese. And their mother made pud 
 ding and milk, and sometimes porridge, for supper ; and she 
 made plenty of pies and pancakes, and they had plenty of 
 sweet apples baked to eat in their milk. And they went to 
 school every day but Saturday afternoons, and Sunday they 
 rode in a nice carriage to meeting. And the schoolmistress 
 was not cross, but very good ; -and they always carried her 
 flowers, and plums, and some nice cake, and that s all I know 
 about it. yes ! the girls were all very industrious and 
 studious, and so their mother bought them beautiful dolls 
 that would roll their eyes. And George may tell the rest of 
 the story, but must not spoil it." 
 
 (George.} " Well, this nice pretty young couple, after a
 
 1UU WOLFSDEN. 
 
 while, grew old and homely ; and the five little girls, all of 
 sister Amy s age, grew up, too, and went into a nunnery, and 
 became nuns ; and the little baby wore out his pink frock, and 
 lost his red shoes, and grew up barefooted to be a great boy; 
 and his name was Robinson Crusoe ; and he ran away and 
 went to sea, and was left on a desert island, and kept goats, 
 and caught a savage and named him Friday ; and I have his 
 picture and whole history in a nice book, which you may all 
 come over to our house and read. And, as for the old folks, 
 the longer they lived the older they grew ; and their house 
 grew old too, and they became poor, for many thieves infested 
 that pleasant country, and stole all their property, till 
 there was nothing left but the pig, that cat all the skim-milk. 
 And their cow was stolen ; and they had to kill all their 
 chickens and ducks and pigeons, and sit up nights to eat 
 them, to prevent their being stolen. And when these were 
 all gone, they wished they had some geese ; but sister Amy 
 would not let them have geese, because she is afraid of the 
 gander. 
 
 " And so they began to be hungry, and one day the old man 
 said to his wife, We 11 kill the pig and have him to eat ; for 
 he has nothing to eat, and has not eaten anything for six 
 weeks. And so they killed the pig, and pulled off his wool, 
 and took out his tallow, and hung him up in the wood-house to 
 dry. And after they had gone to bed, the old woman said to 
 the old man, We 11 get up and put the pig under the bed, 
 lest the thieves steal him ; and they did so. And after they 
 had gone to bed again, they talked about what they would do 
 with the pig to-morrow ; and they concluded to roast his spare- 
 ribs for Thanksgiving, and salt his shoulders for pork, and 
 bake his head for Fast-day, and smoke his hams for bacon,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 101 
 
 and save his lard to fry doughnuts, and send his tail to the 
 minister for a present. And there were two thieves came 
 along, and listened under the window, and found they had a 
 pig, and resolved to steal him. And they waited till the old 
 folks were gone to sleep ; and they tried the door, but it was 
 fastened ; and one said he would crawl down chimney. And 
 he got on the house and crawled down most to the fireplace, 
 and he could get no further, for the chimney was so narrow. 
 And the old man and woman waked up and heard him, and 
 got up, and saw his legs hanging down in the fireplace, and 
 each caught hold of a leg and held him fast. And then the 
 old man tied the great brass kettle, which was full of pota 
 toes, to one leg, and the old woman tied the great iron pot, 
 which was full of turnips, to the other leg, and left him 
 dangling till morning. 
 
 " Then the old man went to the door, and before he opened 
 it, the thief outside heard him, and thought it to be his 
 fellow-thief, and asked him if he was bringing the pig ; and 
 the old man said, No ; and that he must come in at the 
 window and help him, for it was so heavy. So the thief went 
 round back of the house to get in at the window ; and the old 
 man told him to put up his feet, and he would pull him in ; 
 and he put in his feet, and the old man seized one foot and 
 the old woman the other, and shut down the sash and held 
 him fast. And the old man tied the wash-tub, which was full 
 of suds, to one foot, and the old woman tied the churn, which 
 was full of butter-milk, to the other, and left him till morn 
 ing. And in the morning they got the sheriff to come and 
 take them all to jail ; and they kept their pig, and had plenty 
 of spare-ribs, and pork, and bacon, and doughnuts, which 
 Jasted just as long as they lived ; and they sent the tail to 
 0*
 
 102 WOIFSDEN. 
 
 the minister, and it was put in the contribution-box for the 
 heathen. And this is the history of all three, the old man, 
 and old woman, and thieves, and little piggy-wiggee." 
 
 All laughed as GeOrge rattled off and ended his rigmarole ; 
 but Amy said, "That s just the way George always spoils 
 my stories ! " 
 
 The next story was begun by James, and finished by Fanny. 
 James loved Fanny. He had loved her from childhood ; he 
 loved her while she lived. He still loves her ; time is tran 
 sitory, but love is eternal. Fanny loved him, it was the 
 love of a sweet sister for a kind brother. His affection was 
 more ardent. It was the idolatry of fond, heart-filling, yet 
 unspoken love. He was of a thoughtful, retiring turn. She 
 was mildness and goodness personified. 
 
 MATCH STORY. II. 
 
 (James.} " There is a broad, boundless ocean, which rolls 
 its waves upon a smooth and sandy shore, which borders the 
 eastern side of a lovely island. The island is lovely on that 
 side ; in other parts its features are more forbidding. The 
 waves generally roll softly there, over smooth, white sand ; 
 in other parts, they beat boisterously against rugged rocks. 
 
 "A Genie came out of the ocean at early dawn, and sat 
 upon the shore. He took some fine sand and clay, and rolled 
 them into figures of a curious form, and left them to warm in 
 the beams of the rising sun. And soon the sun warmed them, 
 and they began to move, for they received life from the sun. 
 So they rose up and walked side by side ; and they seemed 
 two pleasant children, a boy and a girl, and they loved each 
 other as brother and sister, for the Genie had formed them to 
 love each other. The little maiden was beautiful and good,
 
 WOLFSDEN. lUd 
 
 and the boy was loving and kind. And they walked along 
 the smooth shore, and the waves rippled over their tiny 
 feet, and they chased each other, and chased the rippling 
 waves. 
 
 " So they walked along, and gathered beautiful shells and 
 corals, and built gay houses and mimic gardens upon the 
 sandy shore ; but soon the waves came and washed them 
 away; but they were not sorry, for they saw a fair lawn, with 
 beautiful flowers upon the banks, beyond the shore, and they 
 ascended and played upon the soft turf, and gathered roses 
 and lilies, and sweet strawberries, and made little houses 
 from branches of the bushes which grew there. And they 
 sang sweet songs, and repeated pleasant stories, and some 
 times they sat in silence, and inquired in their thoughts how 
 they came to be there, and if they were to live so happily there 
 forever. 
 
 " Then the Genie came up out of the sea, and looked upon 
 them, and they wondered ; but they were not afraid, for he 
 looked kindly upon them, and they asked him many questions, 
 and he told them that his name was WISDOM, and he would 
 instruct them by and by. 
 
 " And soon the sun rose higher, and sent stronger rays of 
 heat, and seared the green turf where they played, and dried 
 the beautiful flowers, and withered the boughs of which they 
 had builded mimic houses. But yet they did not grieve; for 
 they saw upon the side of the ascending hill tall trees, which 
 cast a pleasant shade and bore delicious fruits, while lambs 
 and kids frisked among the fallen leaves, and birds flew about. 
 And they made friends of the kids, and lambs, and birds, and 
 aJl they saw, and were well pleased with all, and especially 
 with each other ; and if they wandered apart, they soon re-
 
 104 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 turned, for they were happier together than when separated, 
 and they inquired in their thoughts whether they should 
 always live together, and if they might still remain in this 
 pleasant spot, and call it their home. 
 
 " And the Genie came to instruct them as he had promised, 
 for now they were old enough to learn ; and Fanny may tell 
 the words he said, and what else came to pass." 
 
 Fanny proceeded, with a soft and even voice, slow, but 
 without hesitation, thus : 
 
 " The Genie told them all that they were capable of under 
 standing, concerning the mystery of their being ; that their 
 outward forms were not made to last forever, and were not 
 in reality an essential part of their being ; and that they 
 should look upon their hands, and heads, and bodies, as but 
 sand and clay, which they must soon lay aside for other and 
 better forms ; and that the spirit within was alone their true 
 and essential selves, which would live and learn forever. 
 
 " He told them, too, that they might not long remain in 
 this pleasant spot, for he had another and far more beautiful 
 home prepared for them, to which they must arrive through 
 various ways, some of which would be smooth, but some 
 would be rough ; and then he pointed out to them distant 
 mountains, whose tops reached above the clouds, beyond 
 which he paid was their permanent and happy home ; and 
 that there was a safe though sometimes toilsome path over 
 the mountains, through which all, who followed his directions, 
 safely found their way to the happy home beyond. 
 
 " He told them, too, that perhaps they must soon be sepa 
 rated for a while, till they should arrive at their journey s 
 end ; for that he had a shorter and easier passage upon the 
 ocean, on which he convoved those who were too weak to
 
 W L F S D E N T . 105 
 
 travel over the distant mountains ; and that if he should take 
 the maiden in that way, still he would not leave the boy to 
 pursue his path alone, but would send Faith and Hope, who 
 were two loving Genics, to show him the way, and help him. 
 
 " When the young companions heard the Genie speak of 
 separating them, they were sad ; but soon they reflected that 
 their separation would be transient, but their union eternal, 
 and they considered that the good Genie, who had already 
 given them so many pleasant things, and who had told them 
 so many true things, which they could not otherwise have 
 known, would still do what was best for their happiness, and 
 they were comforted. And they asked him to make them 
 acquainted with Faith and Hope ; and he summoned them, 
 and they came, soaring on bright wings ; and they looked so 
 pleasant, and uttered such sweet words, that the children felt 
 assured that in such society they could pass whatever period 
 of separation the Genie, whose name was WISDOM, should 
 appoint." 
 
 " And this," said Fanny, " is the best place where I can 
 end the story." 
 
 A sadness, like that which the Genie s children felt when 
 he spoke of their separation, passed upon the spirit of James, 
 for he associated himself and Fanny in those forms of his 
 imagination. 
 
 The schoolmaster was next requested to commence a story, 
 to which he assented, premising that, not being very imagina 
 tive, he should tell them a true story, which, however, they 
 might finish as fancifully as they chose ; and suid that, as 
 most of the company probably knew something of the facts, 
 he would suggest that one of the gentlemen from abroad 
 should finish the story. Hezekiah nominated Harry, who
 
 106 WOLFS DEN. 
 
 assented ; and the schoolmaster, whose story was from what 
 took place in his own school in the past week, proceeded. 
 
 MATCH STORY. III. 
 
 (Schoolmaster,} " One cold, snowy December morning, a 
 flock of country boys and girls assembled at a school-house, 
 which was just large enough for the district, and where they 
 had made a wood-pile just as large as the school-house. The 
 boys had made an early fire, and the girls had swept the 
 room, and everything was prepared in expectation of the 
 master, whom none of them yet had ever seen. Pretty soon 
 an oldish, homely-looking man was seen coming, whom, as he 
 was a stranger, they supposed to be the master. As he came 
 they saw the end of a ruler projecting from his great-coat 
 pocket, and then they knew it was the master. 
 
 " He walked in and took his place behind the desk, upon 
 which he gave three loud raps with his ruler, and the boys 
 and girls took their places. The back part of the room was 
 furnished with writing-seats. A porticji of the space in front 
 had forms, or benches, for pupils who did not write, and 
 which were mostly occupied by the smaller pupils. 
 
 " The pupils and their books generally presented as good 
 an appearance as might fairly be expected, except that upon 
 one of the forms not furnished with writing-benches sat a 
 boy whose appearance was an exception to the general tidi 
 ness of the school. He was larger than others who did not 
 sit at writing-benches ; was poorly clad, especially about the 
 feet; and had only a tattered Webster s spelling-book, which 
 he held open at the lesson beginning with baker. 
 
 " The master asked his name, and, without looking up, he 
 said Ax. The school tittered ; the master was puzzled, but
 
 WOLFSDEN. 107 
 
 asked his other name. The boy, confused, hesitated, as if 
 trying to think, and then lowly muttered, Jotham. The 
 younger scholars again tittered, and the master was still 
 more puzzled. Telling the school, in a stern voice, to mind 
 their lessons, he then told the boy to pronounce his whole 
 name aloud. After some consideration, he spoke hesitatingly, 
 as if not quite certain about it, Jotham Barker. What 
 did you say Ax for ? Cause the boys all call me Ax. 
 That must not be permitted. Xo boys of this school shall 
 give you, or any of the pupils, nicknames. 
 
 "Then, looking at his tattered book, the master asked him 
 where was his lesson. The boy pointed at baker. And 
 have you no other books ? He had none. The master 
 asked him how he came to be so backward. lie did n t 
 know. Have you not always come to school with the other 
 boys? Yes, he replied. Then you must have been an idle 
 boy, said the master ; and the boy, by his silence, assented. 
 Have you parents ? Yes, said the boy. And what do 
 they think of your backwardness ? The boy did n t know, 
 and therefore did n t say. Suppose, said the master, your 
 father should come in to see the school, and find his boy 
 the only idle and ignorant one, how do you think he would 
 feel ? The boy appeared more cast down. The thoughtless 
 children tittered, for the idea of that boy s father, a miserable 
 drunkard, called, in derision, Bang, coming to inspect the 
 * school, was altogether too amusing. The master looked 
 sternly upon them, and then at the boy more closely. He 
 saw that there was some mystery in the matter ; and, tell 
 ing the boy to prepare his lesson, proceeded to organize the 
 school. 
 
 " In the afternoon, the master having examined the case
 
 108 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 of the backward boy more thoroughly, and without finding 
 any natural deficiency or disability in him, told him to stop 
 after school, and he would talk with him. When the schol 
 ars had all gone, the master sat down by the boy, and soon 
 learned all his story. His father was a drunkard, all the 
 time drunk, he didn t have good clothes, like the other 
 boys ; and so they looked down upon him, and he had n t 
 anybody to give him books, and nobody cared about him to 
 teach him ; but he wanted to learn, like the rest of the boys, 
 and not be an idle boy, and wished his father was not a 
 drunkard. 
 
 "The master, therefore, spoke encouraging words to the 
 boy; told him that he was his friend, and that he meant to 
 make a good scholar of him. Do your duty, said he, and 
 before the school is done the scholars will not look down 
 upon you, perhaps some of them will look up to you. The 
 boy brightened up at this thought, and the master dismissed 
 him, telling him that they would turn over a new leaf to 
 morrow ; by which the boy thought he was to leave baker 
 behind, which would indeed be a bold step. 
 
 " The master provided a new spelling-book, writing-book, 
 and slate ; and when Ax came, next morning, bright with 
 expectation, he was advanced to a seat with a writing-bench, 
 and put upon a course of exercises adapted to his age. His 
 first attempts were awkward enough ; but the master was 
 patient, and was rewarded by seeing the encouraging progress 
 of his pupil. He also called the attention of one or two 
 neighbors to the case, and soon the boy appeared with a new 
 pair of boots, and several other external improvements. 
 Which is all I can tell of the story."
 
 W L F S D E X . 10 J 
 
 Harry, who had listened, meditating how to finish it, pro 
 ceeded in a light and punning strain : 
 
 (Harry.} " This little Ax, being thus handled, became 
 quite a different instrument ; and soon became as sharp as 
 he had before been dull. Being no longer cut by his com 
 panions, his temper improved, and people began to see that 
 he was made of the right stuff. Whoever attempted to 
 impose upon him, found him a hard customer ; and when 
 disputes arose, he could use knock-down arguments. After 
 leaving baker, he struck boldly at the tree of knowledge; 
 what he did n t know, he axed about, and soon got to know 
 everything. 
 
 " He was famous in mathematics, especially conic sections, 
 division, and fractions. He learned to chop logic, and could 
 split hairs in metaphysics. Those who had heretofore looked 
 down upon him, and abused him, found it best to be careful 
 how they handled edged tools ; and those whose trade it was 
 to grind the faces of the poor found it best not to grind him 
 too much. After quitting school, he became a merchant ; 
 and, by cutting down his prices, he cut out all competitors, 
 and soon was able to cut a great figure. He was no longer 
 the hatchet-faced baker boy of the school. He became a 
 politician, and struck a bold stroke for Congress. When 
 elected, he proved himself a patriot as inflexible as iron, and 
 true as steel. It was encouraging to hear what hard knocks 
 he gave to the hollow-hearted government, and what trim 
 mings to the underbrush of the political forest. After that, 
 he became judge, and decided causes with the wisdom of 
 Solomon, and after his manner, too, for he always split the 
 difference, and compelled quarrelsome litigants to bury the 
 hatchet. The longer he lived, the more edge he got ; and 
 10
 
 110 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 finally, after making a good deal of noise in the world, as 
 became the son of Bang, he left his mark upon his genera 
 tion, and then died, or, as might be expressed, cut stick. 
 His estate cut up rich, and a handsome portion of it he be 
 queathed to the schoolmaster, \vho had brightened up his fac 
 ulties, and sharpened his wits. And this is the end of the 
 last chapter of Ax." 
 
 Alek was appointed to commence the next story, and Mar 
 garet to finish it. The young people had associated -Margaret 
 with Alek, and the arrangement was natural. In the present 
 case, both would be glad io be excused, but each had too 
 much spirit to decline. 
 
 MATCH STORY. IV. 
 
 (Alek.) " There is a country of considerable, but indefinite 
 extent, inhabited by an incomprehensible people. The coun 
 try is called the Land of Change, not with reference to the 
 currency, but to the instability of its affairs. The people 
 are sometimes called the Fools of Chance, not wholly in 
 reference to their inaptitude to learn, but because their sagest 
 conclusions are often based upon some fatal error. The 
 country is pleasant enough, and the people, being accustomed 
 to its instabilities, seem not much concerned about them, 
 but proceed in all their calculations and business just as if 
 everything were firm and reliable. There prevails a pecu 
 liar delusion among the people, that each one seems to con 
 sider his own condition and calculations safe and reliable, 
 while each sees that his neighbor is at the mercy of demon 
 Chance. 
 
 "In this region dwelt a young man, who, having never been 
 anywhere else, thought it the finest country in the world. He
 
 WOLFSDEN. Ill 
 
 owned a considerable territory, embracing some beautiful 
 views to be seen from his dwelling. It is uncertain whether 
 he owned the property by inheritance, or discovery, or posses 
 sion. Everything is uncertain in that country ; and he did 
 not scrutinize his title very closely, perhaps from a vague 
 apprehension that he might find a flaw in it ; for he was so 
 charmed with his possessions that he could not bear to raise a 
 doubt about their permanence. So, taking the validity of his 
 title for granted, he proceeded to build a castle worthy of such 
 valuable possessions, and such fine prospects. 
 
 " He laid the foundations of his castle on the spot which 
 commanded the best and loveliest view upon his estate. He 
 did not dig very deep for his foundations, for he thought 
 chiefly about the superstructure, and he soon raised and com 
 pleted it to his fancy. The front was of white marble, with 
 spacious windows, from which he viewed with delight the 
 lovely scenery before him. The rear and end walls were of 
 hard granite, with massive buttresses, intended by their 
 strength to protect the slighter structure of the front. Every 
 thing within and around was arranged in the most perfect 
 order for convenience and taste ; for he had employed two 
 famous artists of exceeding skill, whose names were FAXCY 
 and HOPE ; and, under their superintendence, everything was 
 admirably planned. 
 
 " When all was finished to the satisfaction of the proprietor, 
 he took great delight in looking from his spacious windows 
 upoti the prospects beyond. His happiness would have been 
 perfect, but for occasional misgivings about his title, and 
 regrets that he had not dug deeper for his foundation. 
 
 " One day, a stranger came, with whom the proprietor was 
 much pleased, and who seemed very much to admire the beau-
 
 112 WOLFSDEX. 
 
 tiful prospect from the windows of the castle. The proprie 
 tor left him looking from the windows, while he himself slept 
 for a while. 
 
 "When he awoke, he saw, from his window, that the stranger 
 had taken a spade and dug a trench in front of his castle, so 
 that it was impossible to pass out to his beautiful prospect 
 beyond ; and, though he could still see and admire it from his 
 window, it gave him pain, instead of pleasure, because it was 
 inaccessible. 
 
 " He saw, also, that the trench was dug so near his castle, 
 that the front was already undermined, and was sinking to 
 its fall ; for, the foundation not being deep, it was easily over 
 thrown. And when he knew that the stranger had a better 
 title than his own to the land, and the beautiful prospects 
 before his castle, and saw the impending destruction of all his 
 possessions, he threw himself from his castle windows into the 
 trench which the stranger had dug, and the walls fell imme 
 diately, with a tremendous crash, and buried him beneath 
 their ruins. And this is the end, so far as I know anything 
 about it." 
 
 As Alek proceeded in his story, Margaret perceived its 
 hidden meaning, and that Alek had not failed to observe and 
 interpret her emotion. Her heart beat with troublesome 
 throbs. The surroundings of whalebone and steel, which, in 
 polished society, confine, contract, or obliterate that important 
 organ, were unknown in Wolfsden, and the hearts of women 
 as of men, beat freely where rustic nature placed them. 
 
 But, before Alek had ended, Margaret had composed her 
 thoughts, and she thus proceeded : 
 
 (Margaret.} "When the noise of the fall had subsided, the 
 proprietor opened his eyes, and, looking round, found that
 
 WOLFSDEX. 113 
 
 nothing had fallen but a slight vase of flowers, and that he 
 had been all the time dreaming ; for there still sat the stranger, 
 as sleepy as himself, and quite unaware of all the imaginary 
 trouble of which he had been made the instrument. But, though 
 the castle-builder was glad to awake and find himself whole 
 and safe, he was impressed with the warning of his dream. 
 He reflected upon the folly of building upon insecure founda 
 tions, and over-valuing prospects which he did not own. He 
 remembered that in that fickle country the liability to change 
 was an element which should be considered in every project ; 
 and that, as this could not be guarded against, it must impair 
 the value of every possession, and leave less cause to regret its 
 loss. He considered, also, that what was so insecure might 
 also, in other respects, be less desirable than he had supposed ; 
 for, as he had not travelled, he knew not what valuable pos 
 sessions might be unappropriated elsewhere, and to which he 
 might obtain a better title. In short, growing still more 
 doubtful and dissatisfied with his present position, he con 
 cluded to survey his castle anew. He found many things 
 about it which, now that the glare of novelty was worn off, 
 seemed misplaced, inconvenient, and even absurd. The castle 
 was constructed in violation of all just proportions and good 
 taste ; the foundation was even more insecure than he had 
 feared, so that he considered it unsafe even to return to waken 
 the stranger whom he had left sleeping in the window. He 
 then resolved to abandon his fancied possession without 
 regret. I am young, said he, the world is wide, I will 
 explore it further, and will only fix my habitation when I 
 have skill to choose wisely, and can be well assured of my 
 title. And so he departed, wiser and far more happy than 
 before ; for fortune had in store for him choicer things than 
 10*
 
 114 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 he had imagined, but of which I am not informed, and there 
 fore end the story here." 
 
 All applauded the story and its obvious moral, though Alek 
 and Margaret were the only ones who felt its particular appli 
 cation. 
 
 Isaac was next called upon for his story. Ike was humor 
 ous, loved burlesque, and paid little attention to the probabil 
 ities or the moral of his stories, and therefore generally ran 
 into wild extravagance. In the present case the appointment 
 fell upon -Ann to finish the story. 
 
 MATCH STORY. V. 
 
 (Isaac.) "An old man and old woman, and their daughter, 
 lived together in a castle. A castle is as cheap to put in a 
 story as a cottage ; so we 11 give them a castle, for they had 
 not much else. The old man was a shoemaker, and his wife 
 was a witch, and the daughter employed her time in making 
 nets for cabbage-heads, and fishing for gudgeons in a pond 
 hard by. 
 
 " The country about the castle was pleasant enough, though 
 rather wild, and there were many very reputable and good 
 people scattered about ; but many of the inhabitants were 
 ignorant, and some were bad and cunning, for the ignorant 
 and bad often become cunning, just as the good and well- 
 instructed often become wise. Of these the worst and most 
 ignorant were witches and fortune-tellers, like the old woman 
 in the castle. The old man was ignorant and bad, and also 
 cunning ; and, thinking it easier to get his living by his cun 
 ning than by industry, he went about to his neighbors and 
 promised to bring them shoes, by and by, if they would give 
 him food, and clothes, and money, now. So they gave him
 
 WOLFSDEX. 11C. 
 
 what he asked for, and he and his wife and his daughter ate 
 heartily, and dressed finely, while the good things lasted. 
 
 " But the old man did not make the shoes which he prom 
 ised ; and when they had eaten up and worn out all they liad, 
 they were very poor ; for the neighbors, who had been cheated 
 once, would not trust them again ; but still they could not be 
 made to understand that honesty is better than cunning. 
 
 " So they concluded to* practise the black art, which the 
 daughter had already partly learned from the old witch, her 
 mother, and by which they hoped to gain much money ; and 
 they went about in unfrequented places, and caught foxes, 
 cats, snakes, and lizards, and gathered thistle-tops, and but 
 tercups ; and the old woman boiled them and made a kettle 
 full of broth, and they spread the cats skins for a table-cloth, 
 and sipped the broth for many days, until they had -acquired 
 the nature of its ingredients, and were smooth, deceitful, un 
 grateful, and poisonous. 
 
 " When they had acquired all these fine accomplishments, 
 they supposed that they should do very well, as they could 
 now transform themselves into the shapes of all those odious 
 creatures, and could return to their own forms when they 
 chose, by which tricks they hoped to make their fortunes. 
 
 " Then the old woman told her daughter, whose name was 
 Mewy, to curl her hair in little snaky tresses, and put some 
 bright buttercup ribbons round her neck, and put on a pair 
 of grcfn lizard-skin shoes, and sit in the door, and purr like 
 a cat, and look sly like a fox ; and when a nice young man 
 should pass by, he would stop and ask her to marry him. 
 
 " So she dressed herself as directed, and sat in the door, 
 and purred like a cat, and looked sly like a fox. And a good 
 many nice young men came by, and some of them stopped and
 
 116 AVO LI S DEN. 
 
 heard her purr, and admired her sly looks ; but none of them 
 asked her to marry. 
 
 "At last, a nice young man came by when she was purring 
 her prettiest, and looking her slyest, and he asked her to marry 
 him. And she said yes, and gave her hand to the young man ; 
 and it felt soft and smooth as velvet ; the sharp claws were 
 drawn in. 
 
 " Pretty soon the old man camo in, and, finding that his 
 daughter had entrapped a nice young man, he spoke very civ 
 illy to him, and asked to borrow his watch, which the young 
 man willingly lent, and went home very happy without it ; 
 for he was in love with the daughter, and he dreamed that 
 night that he was lucky as Whittington, who became Lord 
 Mayor by means of a cat. 
 
 " The next day being rainy, he took his umbrella and came 
 and sat by Mewy, and listened to her purring, and took her 
 soft, velvety hand, and admired her sly looks, and snaky 
 curls, and lizard shoes. And the old man came in and borrowed 
 his umbrella ; and the nice young man went homo and dreamed 
 that he had been a voyage with Sinbad the Sailor, and had 
 found a great many diamonds in the valley of snakes. 
 
 " The next day was muddy, and he put on his overshoes 
 and went, and was entertained as before. And the old man 
 came in and borrowed his overshoes, and ho went home in his 
 slippers ; and that night he dreamed of King Midas, who wore 
 asses ears ; and he was much puzzled and a little alarmed 
 about its meaning, for the dream had been sent by his good 
 genius to give him warning. 
 
 " So he went the next day to get back his watch, and um 
 brella, and overshoes. But Mewy had hidden them ; and when 
 he went to search for them she flew at him and squalled like
 
 W L V S D E X . ill 
 
 a rnad cat, and thrust out her sharp claws, so that he was 
 glad to escape without watch, umbrella, or overshoes. And he 
 dreamed that night about Christian and Hopeful, who escaped 
 from the den of the Giant Despair ; and he came no more to 
 see Mewy. 
 
 " But there lived back in the mountains a countryman 
 named Bruin. He lived there so long alone that he became 
 very rustic and clownish, and, as he kitted and ate many 
 bears, he became much like a bear in manners and disposi 
 tion ; and, when he was tired of living alone, he came down out 
 of the mountains, and asked Mewy to marry him. And she said 
 yes, and looked sly, and purred softly ; and he gave her a 
 hug, like a bear ; for he liked her very much, and knew noth 
 ing of her sharp claws ; or, if he knew, he did not care, for 
 his skin was tough. 
 
 " After a while the old man came in, and, seeing that Bruin 
 was in love, and was also very fat, he begged to borrow some 
 fat. But Bruin answered, roughly, that he had no fat to lend ; 
 and after a while Bruin went home, and dreamed that he had 
 found a bee-hive, which, on trial, yielded no honey, but proved 
 to be a wasps nest. This dream was sent by his good genius, 
 but Bruin paid no attention to it. 
 
 " When Bruin came again he gave Mewy another hug, and 
 heard her purr, and was more delighted than ever. And the 
 old man came in and begged to borrow his bear-skin coat ; but 
 Bruin answered, with a growl, that he chose to keep his coat 
 for his own use. 
 
 " ^Yhen he was gone the family had a consultation 
 whether Mewy should marry Bruin. The old man thought 
 it would not pay; for Bruin was too wise, and meant to keep 
 his good things to himself. But the old woman was in favor
 
 118 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 of the match ; for Mewy was getting old, and might not have 
 another offer ; and she thought that when Mewy was married 
 to Bruin they might be able to. borrow, or beg, or steal fat, 
 and fur, and other good things, from him. 
 
 " But Mewy said she would not make up her mind just 
 then, but would keep Bruin along, as she could marry him at 
 any time ; but, if she should have any better offer, she would 
 dismiss him. So Bruin came frequently, and would hug 
 Mewy, and she would purr and look sly, but would not name 
 a day to marry him ; for she still hoped for a better offer. 
 And this is all I can say about it." 
 
 (Anne). " In another part of the country was a place 
 called Happy Home. It was a pleasant cottage by the 
 bank of a beautiful stream, with green meadows, and fruitful 
 fields, and shady trees, and cows, and sheep, and everything 
 delightful. 
 
 " In the cottage lived a brother and sister, whose names 
 were Manalone and Maralone ; and the sister had two beauti 
 ful children, and they all four lived very happily in the cot 
 tage, and took care of their grounds, and had plenty of milk, 
 and butter, and wool, and a fine garden, where grew all vari 
 eties of fruit. And the sister was a wise woman, and taught 
 her children properly, so that love and contentment prevailed 
 in Happy Home. 
 
 " But the brother one day had occasion to travel ; and he 
 saddled his pony and rode all day, and towards night he 
 passed by a castle, and saw a woman with curls, and ribbons, 
 and green lizard-skin shoes, and asked of her the way. And 
 she looked very demure and amiable, and invited him to stop 
 and rest* And the old man came out and urged him to tarry ; 
 and. being tired, he consented to remain all night. And the
 
 WOLFSDEN. 119 
 
 
 
 woman, whose name was Mewy, looked sly, and purred, and 
 tried to appear amiable ; but Manalone said he was tired, 
 and went to bed. 
 
 " While he slept (he family held a consultation. And the 
 old woman said that she had heard much about Manalone ; 
 that he was generous, and gave away a great many thing?, 
 and if Mewy should marry him they would all get a good 
 living from him. And the old man said the same, and Mewy 
 said she would try to get him. 
 
 " In the morning, when Manalone got up, they all pre 
 tended to like him very much, and gave him breakfast, and 
 invited him to come and see them again. And he thought they 
 were very nice people, and asked them to come and see him 
 and Maralone at Happy Home. Mewy said she would cer 
 tainly come, and then Manalone returned home. 
 
 " After a time, Mewy dressed herself in her best, and curled 
 her hair, and put on her ribbons and her lizard-skin shoes, 
 and commenced her journey. She walked fast all day, and 
 at night arrived at Happy Home. Manalone and his sister 
 were glad to see her, for they thought she was as good as she 
 appeared. 
 
 " And she remained many days, and helped Maralonc take 
 care of the children, and pretended to love them. And Mana 
 lone thought she would be a pleasant companion to him and 
 his sister ; and he asked her to marry him, and .she said yes. 
 And he went and told his sister that Mewy had promised to 
 marry him, and live with them. 
 
 " But his sister felt sad when she heard it ; for she loved 
 her brother and their happy home, and she feared that any 
 alteration might lessen their happiness. And, besides, she had 
 begun to fear that Mewy was not quite so good as she seemed ;
 
 120 
 
 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 for Maralonc was wiser than her brother, and had learned to 
 look more deeply into character. But when she knew that 
 he had promised to marry Mewy, she did not oppose it, but 
 hoped for the best. 
 
 " That night Manalone dreamed that he went a voyage 
 with Sinbad the Sailor, and came to a desert island, and the 
 Old Man of the Sea came and got on his shoulders, and he 
 could not get him off. This dream was sent by his good 
 genius to give him warning ; but Manalone was too much 
 infatuated to understand it, and pretty soon he married 
 Mewy. 
 
 " When Mewy was established in Happy Home, she soon 
 showed her real character ; for, though put in possession of 
 all the pleasant things she had coveted, she was not content 
 to enjoy them in peaceful partnership, but was like the fox, 
 of whose nature she partook, which, though fed bounteously, 
 instinctively carries away his food and hides it, to eat in soli 
 tude. So Mewy sought by stealth, or violence, to obtain ex 
 clusive possession of the benefits provided for all. To this 
 end, her first efforts were to drive Maralone from Happy 
 Home ; and she soon succeeded in making her position so un 
 pleasant that she was compelled to go, with her two children, 
 to another house. 
 
 " Manalone was unhappy when he found that he had 
 brought trouble to Happy Home. He visited his sister often, 
 and tried to comfort her. And Maralone talked with him, and 
 told him it was best to bear their trials patiently ; for there 
 was another house building for them on the other side of the 
 river, which they would soon be permitted to dwell in, and 
 where no wicked person could come to trouble them. 
 
 " And Maralone appeared very bright and cheerful when
 
 YTOLFSDEN . 121 
 
 she spoke of this, although she soon grew pale and feeble ; 
 and after a while she told her brother that her house was 
 ready on the other side of the river, and that she had great 
 riches stored there, and also some dear friends were there 
 expecting her, who had provided everything to make her 
 happy. 
 
 " She also told her brother to get ready to follow soon ; 
 and then, being quite prepared, she went down to the river, 
 and her brother went with her to the shore, and she stepped 
 cheerfully in, and was soon out of sight ; for there was a 
 mist hung over the river, so that her brother could not see 
 across it ; but he knew that she had gone to another happy 
 home, of which she could not be deprived; and, though he felt 
 lonely, he rejoiced that she had passed away from her sor 
 rows. 
 
 " And after that Manalone walked often by the river, and 
 tried to look across it, but the thick mist prevented. Yet, as 
 he grew old, and his face grew thin, and his hair grew white, 
 his sight became clearer ; and sometimes, as he walked by 
 the river, he thought he could see sweet fields and beautiful 
 dwellings, and many very happy people ; and among others 
 his sister Maralone, and others dear to them both, and one 
 loved dearer than all, and that they were beckoning him to 
 come ; and he resolved that he would prepare to go as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 Hezekiah was next invited to take his turn, to which he 
 assented, premising that whatever interest they might find 
 in his story must not be credited to his imagination, as he 
 should only repeat the beginning of a manuscript story, long 
 preserved in his family, and which Helen, having heard 
 11
 
 1 22 W L I" S D E N . 
 
 their grandmother repeat, was qualified to finish. With this 
 preface, he began. 
 
 MATCH STORY. VI. 
 
 (Hezckiah.} " The mysteries of the Salem witchcraft are 
 such that time cannot solve them, till we know more of the 
 spiritual world, and of our relation," to it. Much of it was 
 doubtless imposture, and this fact gave currency to the belief 
 that it was wholly so ; but there are circumstances which 
 cannot be so interpreted without disregarding the strongest 
 evidence to the contrary. The story which I am about to 
 give could be supported by such proof as would be difficult, 
 at least, to explain away, if any benefit could be anticipated 
 from the verification of such wonders. But it seems useless 
 to pursue investigation into the truth of facts, which, when 
 established, cannot be understood, or employed for any useful 
 purpose. 
 
 "There lived in Salem village now Danvers during 
 the Andros administration of the colonial government of 
 Massachusetts, a gentleman of the name of Levering, of high 
 social position, and supposed to be very wealthy. He held 
 some office, which required occasional attendance at the seat 
 of government ; at other times, and, indeed, most of the time, 
 he resided at home. 
 
 " His house was an aristocratic mansion, situated upon 
 a rising ground, and surrounded by a walled park, through 
 which were various avenues, smoothly gravelled and bordered 
 by box and other evergreens. The ample grounds, so well 
 arranged, and neatly kept, the elegant carriage and horses, 
 the costly style and furniture of the mansion, all bespoke the 
 owner s affluence and taste.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 12 
 
 " The appearance of the proprietor was in keeping with his 
 estate. His air and manners indicated habitual superiority, 
 though there was nothing arrogant or offensive in his deport 
 ment to those about him, who were generally willing enough 
 to yield the deference which wealth and power claim from the 
 humble. 
 
 " His wife, though seldom seen, was well known to be a lady 
 of remarkable gentleness and sweetness of disposition, and pos 
 sessed of that peculiar kind of piety which tends to humility 
 and good works. She was regarded, therefore, with as much 
 real reverence and love as her lord was with apparent defer 
 ence and submission. Both, however, were known to belong 
 to the Episcopal party, and were supposed to be church com 
 municants ; which, in that Puritan community, much impaired 
 the influence they might have possessed. 
 
 "Apart, and at some distance from the elegant estate, 
 dwelt Goodman Hobart, a plain farmer, of simple habits, but 
 strong character, and highly valued by Mr. Levering as neigh 
 bor and friend. 
 
 " Goody Hobart, the good man s wife, was a quiet-looking, 
 motherly sort of a woman, of a remarkable knack at keep 
 ing her house in good order. She had lost her two elder chil 
 dren, but her youngest, a fine boy of about six years, was 
 enough to employ a mother s care and solicitude ; and well he 
 repaid it, for even at that age he could read the New Eng 
 land Primer, answer the easy questions (by which is meant 
 those with brief answers) in the catechism, and repeat the 
 Dialogue of Christ, Youth, and the Devil. 
 
 " Goody Hobart was more familiar at the mansion than 
 her husband, for the lady not only frequently sent for her 
 under pretence of asking advice about domestic affairs, which
 
 124 W O L F S D E N . 
 
 was always followed by a cup of tea, a rare treat in those 
 days, but would often come over to the farmhouse and 
 spend an hour, taking great interest in the dairy, chickens, 
 &c., which Goody was only too well pleased to show to so 
 pleasant a lady. She also frequently invited young Azariah, 
 and made him more familiar with the mansion than anybody 
 else. 
 
 "After a time these visits ceased on the lady s part, but 
 Goody s became more frequent ; and, after a little longer time, 
 Goody had the good news to tell that the lady had a fine lit 
 tle daughter ; but soon after the good news was saddened 
 with the addition that the lady was very low, that it was 
 feared she was declining ; and, after a few weeks, the fears 
 were confirmed, the lady was dead. Great was her hus 
 band s grief, for great was his loss. Goody Hobart was en 
 treated to take the superintendence of his daughter into her 
 own hands, which she willingly assented to. 
 
 "During the following three years, the infant Jane for so 
 she was named grew and improved in every childish , grace. 
 At the end of three years Mr. Levering announced to Goody 
 Hobart his approaching second marriage, and in less than 
 a month brought his new. bride to his old mansion. 
 
 " When Goody Hobart saw the bride he had brought to 
 take the place of the favorite lady, and to be the mother to 
 the child whom she had cherished so long, she felt an instinct 
 ive dread and aversion towards her, without knowing why. 
 The new lady was tall and elegant in her person and manners, 
 with a smile sufficiently condescending, and a self-possession 
 and promptitude of action which indicated sufficient capability. 
 Little Jane shrunk from her at first ; but, being told by her 
 father that it was her new mamma, came confidingly to her,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 125 
 
 for she had been taught sweet associations with that word. The 
 mansion was again inhabited, Jane was installed by her fath 
 er s desire in her mother s favorite chamber, and things were 
 returned to their old order. But in their old order they did 
 not long remain. The new lady chose to signalize her acces 
 sion by innovations of no slight character. Painting, gilding, 
 costly hangings, and rich and showy furniture, changed its 
 former elegant but unostentatious aspect. Soon the old house 
 keeper and gardener were discharged, the number of servants 
 largely increased, some of them put in livery, and all the 
 modes of vulgar-minded display were adopted by which wealth 
 may be made to excite envy, hatred, or contempt. 
 
 " By the lady s persuasion, her husband was induced to take 
 a great share in some moonshine speculation then rife, in 
 which great gains were promised to adventurers ; and this, 
 with the lavish expenditures of his lady, so embarrassed Lev- 
 ering s affairs, that he was driven into bankruptcy. 
 
 " He bore his misfortune with magnanimity, but its effects 
 upon the lady were marked and violent. She was no way 
 subdued or disheartened by the misfortune, but provoked to 
 stronger and worse manifestations of energy. Her first efforts 
 were to abstract and conceal as large a portion of the property 
 as possible ; and then to dispute, inch by inch, the creditors 
 claim to what remained. 
 
 " When the available effects were sold, and the establish 
 ment reduced to reasonable limits, enough still remained, 
 with the income of his office, for decent support ; but not 
 enough to satisfy, or even mollify, the lady, who had not been 
 content when in possession of the whole. She constantly 
 beset her husband with complaints, reproaches, predictions of 
 utter destitution, and assurances of the present contempt of 
 11*
 
 126 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 all his acquaintances ; for she could have no idea of rdspccta- 
 bility apart from riches, and since her husband had lost his 
 wealth she had lost even the semblance of respect for him._ 
 In her harangues she urgently advised him to bestir himself 
 and retrieve their fortune, giving numerous instances of others 
 success, and suggesting various schemes of her own, some of 
 them absurd, and others of still worse character. Mr. Lever 
 ing, lacking energy to repel these assaults, and tired of their 
 perpetual din, took refuge in the bottle, to which, since his 
 last marriage, he had become accustomed. 
 
 " His former intimacy with his neighbor Hobart had nearly 
 come to an end. Neither the good man nor his wife were seen 
 at the mansion ; but Azariah, a tall, smart lad, of ten or 
 eleven years,- was a favorite with Mr. Levering, and especially 
 with little Jane, who visited Goody Hobart s house with unre 
 strained liberty, where she was always gladly welcomed. 
 
 " Mr. Jeremiah Haven, a young clergyman, of solemn 
 deportment andinuch zeal, recently ordained, and particularly 
 recommended by the Rev. Increase Mather, President of 
 Harvard College, as a young man of godly spirit and great 
 promise, was at that time resident with Mr. Parris, then min 
 ister of Salem village. Mr. Haven frequently visited Good 
 man Ilobart, and took a great liking to little Jane, which he 
 manifested by much serious instruction and counsel, and by 
 heaping frequently her recitations in the catechism. Azariah 
 also shared the admonitions and instructions of the earnest 
 young minister. 
 
 "About that time was frequently seen in that vicinity a 
 stranger, whose appearance excited much attention and re 
 mark, because no one knew or could obtain any account of 
 him. He was first met by some children in a retired lane, at
 
 WOLFSDEX. 127 
 
 a little distance from the village. He was a tall, well-formed 
 person, of quick motion, though uneven gait. He wore a 
 large-brimmed hat, not looped up in the fashion of the time, 
 but napping. His outer garment resembled the cassock worn 
 by priests, and was of such length as to touch the ground. One 
 of the children got a glimpse of his face, and described it as 
 pale and thin, with a hooked nose, and a terrible sharp eye. 
 
 "After this he was often seen in various places, always 
 alone, and walking quickly, but never far from the village ; and 
 never by more than one or two at a time, except when he was 
 first met by the children. Sometimes his sudden appearance was 
 extraordinary ; for persons affirmed that when travelling the 
 road, with no one in sight, suddenly the stranger would appear 
 within a few yards, and pass without greeting, and, after pass 
 ing, would disappear as quickly. It was also remarked that 
 he was never seen, except at a distance, by either of the min 
 isters, or other men of reliable standing in the church ; but fre 
 quently by women, children, and the lighter sort of young men. 
 
 "Soon after, it was found that the mysterious stranger was an 
 acquaintance, or had formed an acquaintance, with the lady at 
 the mansion. It was not known whether he visited there; but he 
 was seen walking and conversing with the lady in the dusk of 
 the evening, at some distance from the house, and sometimes 
 in the twilight, in places so retired as would have excited 
 scandal, but for their extremely serious deportment ; and it 
 was observed that the lady became more gloomy and discon 
 tented than ever. It was also noticed that her formerly rather 
 handsome countenance had become prematurely changed to an 
 ugly and peculiarly unpleasant aspect : and her complexion 
 became of a blighted yellow color, with innumerable small 
 wrinkles, like those upon leaves exposed to a scorching heat,
 
 128 W L F S D E N . 
 
 while her eyes, never remarkable for frankness of expression, 
 Avere now always turned aside, with a suspicious glance. This 
 was talked of more freely afterward, but noticed by several 
 at that time. 
 
 " Mr. Levering, when at home, sat sometimes in the parlor 
 with his bottle, sometimes in the library with his books, and 
 sometimes with his daughter in her chamber, or in the garden. 
 Since his loss of fortune the old housekeeper had been restored 
 by Mr. Levering s influence, and she was now specially com 
 missioned with the care of Jane. 
 
 " Little Jane s chamber was, as has been observed, that 
 which was formerly her mothers, and in which the daughter 
 was born. In the late renovation of the house, this room, by 
 Mr. Levering s express command, had been left undisturbed. 
 Everything remained as when her mother lived and died. Her 
 favorite books lay upon her dressing-case ; her work-basket, 
 with its light implements, stood upon the toilet-table ; the mir 
 ror which had reflected her fair form, and the portrait painted 
 in her bridal bloom, still hung against the wall. Here Jane 
 slept ; here she said her morning and evening prayers ; and 
 here her father spent many pleasant hours with her, notwith 
 standing the untoward circumstances around, and notwith 
 standing his degenerating habits. Into this room the step 
 mother never came. Mrs. Jenkins room was on another floor, 
 a few steps lower, but nearly adjoining. 
 
 " A few days after the stranger spoken of was seen convers 
 ing with the lady, it happened that two young men of the 
 village, Dick Furlong and Harry Wilder, being near the 
 mansion, one evening, a little after dusk, saw a heavy wagon, s 
 drawn by four small black horses, stop suddenly in front of 
 the avenue leading up to the house ; several men, small of
 
 WOLFSDEN. 12t> 
 
 stature, but of wonderful activity and strength, commenced 
 unloading heavy bales and boxes, throwing them with reck 
 less violence over the way, and against the iron gate. The 
 articles were of various sizes, but all evidently of great 
 weight ; yet the men handled and tossed them, one over an 
 other, as if they were bags of feathers. This they did with 
 the most extravagant feats of activity, vaulting, throwing 
 somersets, leaping over one another s heads, all the time 
 shouting and screaming in the most uproarious manner. One 
 little fellow, with red hair and enormous whiskers, seized an 
 iron-bound chest of twice his size, and threw it from the 
 wagon sheer over the gate upon the gravelled walk beyond, 
 where it imbedded itself deeply in the solid earth. There 
 were many boxes and bales ; some square, some like enor 
 mous iron kettles, some like coffins, and some bound about as 
 if with the hides of animals ; but all were believed to be filled 
 with silver coin, and other valuables. The men were but a 
 few moments unloading, though the load was large ; and all 
 this time their extravagance of behavior increased. One 
 outlandish fellow, with large silver earrings, and with his 
 hair braided behind in an enormous pigtail, seized a coffin- 
 shaped box, and, placing it perpendicularly upon his head, 
 marched up to the gate, and leaping over it with an unearth 
 ly shout, ran up the avenue to the house, where, with a toss 
 of the head, he deposited it upon the door-stone, still in an 
 upright position. Another, following his example, crowned 
 himself with a huge kettle, and danced up the avenue in tho 
 same style, followed in like manner by the others. In return 
 ing for the remaining bales, they threw somersets over each 
 other s heads, ran rapidly upon all fours, or upon their hands 
 with their heels elevated in the air, and all the time laughing
 
 130 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 and shouting and uttering uncouth sounds, like words of some 
 unknown language. The door was seen to be opened by the 
 lady herself, and the strange porters, with their strange 
 loads, disappeared within the house in the same manner. 
 Meantime, the horses were impatiently pawing and neighing 
 in the street, while a cloud of smoke ascended from their 
 nostrils, and their eyes gleamed with strange brightness. 
 
 " After a few moments, during which, tremendous blows 
 and crashing sounds, mixed with shouts and laughter, were 
 heard in the house, the men returned, rushing down the ave 
 nue like bedlam broke loose, leaping and screaming as before, 
 till, reaching their wagon, they sprang into it, and drove off 
 with reckless speed, scattering a shower of fire from the clat 
 tering hoofs of their steeds, till they disappeared in the 
 darkness. 
 
 " The main circumstances of this story were afterward ver 
 ified by examination of the ground, where the deep indenta 
 tions made by the wagon-wheels, the horses hoofs, and the 
 heavy boxes, long remained visible. Nor was the probability 
 of the story at all lessened by the fact that the extraordinary 
 shouts and noises described by the young men were not heard 
 by others who might be supposed within ear-shot ; neither at 
 Goodman Ilobart s, nor even by the housekeepers, or others 
 in the mansion itself; for this only proved the diabolical na 
 ture of the whole transaction, as it was well known, and 
 afterwards frequently proved, that the arch enemy can con 
 trol the laws of sound when it suits his purposes. Further 
 insight, amounting in many minds to a perfect explanation 
 of the matter, was derived from the lady s immediately 
 launching out into all her former extravagance, scattering 
 money with ostentatious profusion. But it was notorious
 
 W L F S D E X . 131 
 
 that those who received her money were not able to retain 
 it long; it having the same tendency to fly lightly away as 
 was shown when tossed through the air by the demon 
 porters. 
 
 " At this time, Mr. Raven, having become acquainted with 
 Mr. Levering through the medium of his child, occasionally 
 called at the mansion. Walking in, one day, unannounced, 
 he overheard the lady, in loud tones, urging her husband to 
 sign some writing, against which he, though with apparent 
 irresolution, objected. As Mr. Raven came in sight, the 
 lady suddenly retreated ; but he could see, notwithstanding 
 her efforts to conceal it, that she carried away a large red 
 book, with brass clasps. Mr. Levering welcomed him with 
 evident gladness, as if suddenly relieved from something dis 
 agreeable, but gave no intimation of the temptation with 
 which, in Mr. Haven s opinion, he had been assailed. Once 
 or twice, indeed, he seemed as if about to speak on some 
 weighty topic, and then suddenly changed his mind. Mr. 
 Raven was deeply impressed with forebodings of some im 
 pending calamity to the house; but, as he could obtain no clue 
 to the subject, he discharged his duty by earnest conversation 
 with Mr. Levering concerning the value of the soul, winding 
 up with the text, Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. 
 Mr. Levering heard with attention, but with no sign of that 
 deep impression which Mr. Raven hoped to make. 
 
 "This was in the autumn, and soon afterward Mr. Raven 
 retuVned to Cambridge for the winter, where he enjoyed the 
 instructions of the reverend president, and also much of 
 the companionship of his son, the Rev. Cotton Mather, then 
 colleague with his father in the ministry of the North Church, 
 in Boston. The encouragement and guidance of these learned
 
 182 WOLFSBEN. 
 
 and godly ministers was of the utmost benefit to him in pre 
 paring him for the trials and conflicts with the devil, which 
 he was shortly to encounter. The Remarkable Providences 
 of the elder Mather, giving full accounts and proofs of many 
 cases of witchcraft, was then a work of standard authority ; 
 to which the son had recently added his book of Memorable 
 Providences, relating to the same subject ; both of which Mr. 
 Raven studied faithfully. 
 
 " No events of note occurred at Salem village during that 
 winter, except that the mysterious stranger was several times 
 seen near the mansion. But in the following spring, when 
 Mr. Raven jreturned and renewed his visits to Mr. Levering, 
 he was struck with the great change in his manner, being 
 much more reserved and gloomy than formerly ; from which 
 Mr. Raven inferred that the lady had prevailed upon him to 
 sign the Red Book with Brazen Clasps, the diabolical char 
 acter of which he no longer doubted. Mr. Levering s unea 
 siness and impatience, when the subject was approached, was 
 ample confirmation of those fears. 
 
 " One day, when Mr. Raven was passing into the library 
 of Mr. Levering, he heard loud talking in an adjoining room; 
 and, the door being slightly ajar, he saw the mysterious 
 stranger, whom he had never before seen but at a distance, 
 now in earnest conversation with the lady ; the earnestness, 
 however, being mostly on her part, he seeming to be quite 
 cool, especially when we consider his probable character. It 
 was only a part of the conversation he heard, yet sufficient 
 to give a clue to the whole. I tell you, said the lady, 
 twas for twenty years for twenty years, that I signed the 
 contract. And I tell you," said the diabolical gentleman, 
 that it is twenty months only ; of which ten are already
 
 WOLFSDEN. 133 
 
 past. You may look for yourself, said he, producing the 
 identical Red Book. The lady glanced at a page, and im 
 mediately assumed an attitude of horror and despair. The 
 diabolical gentleman calmly reminded her that it was no use 
 to fret about what could n t be helped. Besides, said he, 
 we can compromise the matter ; only get me a couple 
 more good signatures, and I will extend the bond to twenty 
 years. 
 
 " But the lady sat fixed in stony rigidity, as though she 
 heard him not. Then, springing from the sofa with a pierc 
 ing shriek, she exclaimed, O, wretched woman ! 0, vile 
 cheat ! intermingling her lamentations with the fiercest de 
 nunciations, and all the time springing about the room with 
 hysterical and superhuman energy, so that her head nearly 
 struck against the ceiling at every bound. 
 
 " While thus employed, the diabolical gentleman looked 
 calmly on, with malignant satisfaction, until, the lady s energy 
 being exhausted, she sat upon the floor sobbing convulsively, 
 when he again renewed the conversation, telling her there 
 was no need of so much fuss ; the case was not so bad, after 
 all; he was willing to be reasonable; concluding by telling 
 her to get two more signatures, and the writing should be 
 made to read her own way. The lady reminded him that 
 she had already got one signature ; to which he assented, but 
 said he wanted two more. The conversation then subsided, 
 so that the reverend listener could only hear disconnected 
 words ; from which he inferred that the contract, whatever it 
 was, was being remodelled ; and, hearing the word children, 
 among others, he easily divined the nature of the new condi 
 tions, which he piously resolved to prevent, knowing that his 
 12
 
 134 \V L F S D E N . 
 
 warfare with the Prince of Darkness was now approaching 
 a crisis. 
 
 " On passing into the library, he found Mr. Levering qui 
 etly engaged in reading ; and, on inquiry, found that he had 
 been no way alarmed, having not even heard the din and 
 uproar in the room so nearly adjoining ; of which being in 
 formed, he went quickly into the lady s chamber, but found 
 no one there, save the lady herself, quietly sewing. The 
 supernatural character of the event was thus proved, as also 
 the fact that Satan can prevent the transmission of sounds, to 
 suit his purposes, except to clerical ears, which are privileged 
 to hear, in spite of Satan ; for which, also, Mr. Haven found 
 warrant in the text, He that hath ears to hear, let him 
 hear ; which he interpreted to mean, purged or ordained 
 ears. 
 
 " It was well that Mr. Raven was thus put upon guard 
 against the plots for entrapping the souls of the two children ; 
 for he was enabled, that very evening, to rescue young Aza- 
 riah from a terrible danger. His father having sent him on 
 an errand to a remote part of the farm, Mr. Haven, who was 
 sitting in an open window, soon heard screams and cries pro 
 ceeding from that quarter ; upon which, taking a Bible under 
 one arm, and a staff in his hand, he proceeded with haste in 
 that direction. He found Azariah quite alone. Upon being 
 questioned about the sounds, he had not heard them, nor seen 
 any one ; but Mr. Haven had seen a shadowy female form 
 gliding through some bushes near a fence, which quickly ap 
 peared to change into a black animal, with a very long body, 
 but extremely short legs, keeping in the shadows till it dis 
 appeared. Mr. Raven was fully convinced that his timely 
 appearance had saved the boy from a dangerous, if not fatal
 
 WOLFSDEN. 135 
 
 temptation. The matter was laid before Mr. Parris, who 
 agreed that it required active care and watchfulness, until 
 some decisive measures could be adopted. Mr. Levering was 
 also warned of all the circumstances ; and, though affecting 
 to disbelieve their diabolical character, and solemnly averring 
 his own innocence of any engagement with the devil, in con 
 firmation of which he repeated perfectly the Lord s prayer, 
 which no one who has signed the devil s book can do, yet he 
 engaged to watch carefully all proceedings in his own house, 
 and especially to keep little Jane always in his sight, except 
 when in the charge of the trusty Mrs. Jenkins, or when sleep 
 ing in her sainted mother s chamber, from which the lady 
 always kept away. 
 
 " The lady and her associates, in league with the powers 
 of darkness, are supposed at this time to have arranged their 
 plan of proceedings on a larger scale ; her first effort being 
 doubtless to obtain the two signatures, which were partly 
 overheard by Mr. Raven to be the condition of prolonging 
 her own term to twenty years. ^ 
 
 " It was on a gloomy evening, in the latter part of March, 
 about a week after the last-mentioned affair, that Mr. Haven, 
 who had been all day pondering upon these events, while sit 
 ting in the house of Mr. Parris, had occasion to go to the 
 outer door. It was very dark ; it had been snowing or rain 
 ing most of the day, and a thick fog had settled down with 
 nightfall into an Egyptian gloom. Suddenly, while standing 
 in the door, he heard piercing screams and cries of distress 
 proceeding from a northerly direction, and seemingly at no 
 great distance. Returning immediately to the house, he 
 armed himself with his Bible and staff, as before, and, with 
 out waiting for a lantern, hurried in the direction whence the
 
 13G WOLFSDEN. 
 
 sounds proceeded. Immediately he felt himself partly raised 
 from the ground by an invisible power, and borne in the 
 direction of the sound at a rapid rate. Although it had been 
 perfectly calm when he started, the wind now blew in his face 
 with great force, but not at all impeding his progress. His 
 feet, as he successively raised them in his eager haste, ap 
 peared to span many rods of ground at each step, and always 
 came down, though in perfect darkness, upon smooth and 
 solid ground, though he knew he was passing where no road 
 led, and though the ground was everywhere, at that season^ 
 rough with dissolving ice and snow, or soft and miry ; and he 
 afterwards observed that, while thus impetuously borne along, 
 the text revolved in his mind as applicable to his case, And 
 in^heir hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou 
 dash thy foot against a stone. 
 
 " After being thus rapidly borne, or rather impelled along, 
 for the space of an hour, the invisible power left him stand 
 ing in a wild and solitary place, where a wonderful and ter 
 rific sight was spread before him. A large space, covering 
 an acre or more, was lighted up by what seemed to be the 
 mouths of innumerable ovens, from which murky and sul 
 phurous flames, with clouds of smoke, were belched forth. 
 Around, in a wide circle, irregularly enclosing the whole 
 ground, stood giant forms, waving their arms, and brandishing 
 strange weapons. These appeared to be the sentinels of the 
 infernal camp. Enclosed within their magic circle were in 
 numerable lesser demons, many of grotesque deformity and 
 low stature, and of a dark color, but evidently of amazing 
 strength, all still and silent, and waiting as if for some word 
 of command. In scattered groups were others, all of like 
 infernal aspect, engaged, some in feeding the sulphurous
 
 WOLFSDEN. 137 
 
 ovens, or pouring -fluids into huge seething caldrons, and 
 others employed in strange and obscene rites. Near the 
 centre was elevated an altar, on which were spread instru 
 ments of incantation, intermixed with various vessels, filled, 
 no doubt, with the deadly compounds of sorcery ; and among 
 all was seen the lied Book with Brazen Clasps. Yet no sounds 
 proceeded from this strange assemblage, except now and then 
 low mutterings, which doubtless were the secret forms and 
 ceremonies of sorcery. Near the altar the most prominent 
 in this scene of horrors, a monstrous figure was seen. Its 
 form could not be clearly discerned. It seemed in a recum 
 bent or prostrate position, like a huge dragon, of which the 
 head and shoulders were uplifted, while the body lay ex 
 tended for a great distance in the obscure darkness. Snaky 
 heads arose on twisted and spiral necks from its huge shoul 
 ders, with arms and claws diverging on every side. It seemed 
 that the Prince of Darkness had taken this horrible form 
 for some more than common infernal purpose ; or, perhaps, 
 this was the very gate of hell, and this the Evil One in his ac 
 customed form, and this his altar where his worshippers serve 
 him with impious rites. But who can describe the terror 
 that curdled the blood of the man of God, as he saw, dimly 
 indeed, yet so plainly that, by spiritual aid, he could clearly 
 make them out, a group, composed of the diabolical gentle 
 man already so well known, with the wretched lady of the 
 mansion, and the two children, Azariah and Jane, whom their 
 devilish arts had inveigled, or their supernatural power 
 (permitted for a time for wise purposes) had brought hither. 
 
 " Mr. Raven now understood the purpose for which, in this 
 wonderful manner, he was brought hither. Single-handed 
 and alone, he was appointed to confront and overthrow the 
 12*
 
 138 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 camp of hell, intrenched upon their chosen ground, and in the 
 moment of their triumph. The peril of the children admitted 
 of no delay. Should such a man as I flee? thought he. 
 Looking upwards, he uttered a short and fervent prayer, 
 liaising his Bible aloft in one hand, and his staff in the other, 
 he rushed forward, exclaiming aloud, in the solemn form of 
 adjuration, which, when thus authoritatively spoken, the 
 powers of hell can never resist, IN NOMINE PATRIS, FILII ET 
 SPIRITUS SANCTI, ADJURO vos, SATANAS, ET OMNES DIABOLI, 
 
 ABSCEDITE. 
 
 " At the sound, the infernal assembly were struck with a 
 divine terror ; and, as the hosts of the Midianitcs fled when 
 the son of Joash and the three companies of valiant men 
 shouted The sword of the Lord and of Gideon (Judges 7 : 
 20), this demoniac host shrank back in terror, and started 
 in the very act of flight ; when, either through his own fault, 
 in not taking heed to his way, or, more likely, from the 
 machinations of the Enemy, his feet stumbled, and he fell. 
 
 " He was sorely wounded and stunned by his fall, his Bible 
 and staff fell from his hands, and the Enemy, taking advantage 
 of his unarmed condition, seized him, to work all manner of 
 afflictions upon him, even as they were permitted to use 
 power over the holy Job, not touching his life. 
 
 " Four strong demons seized him, and bound him with 
 thongs to a sort of bier, in a position of intolerable pain, so 
 that he could not move, while hundreds, nay, thousands, of 
 infernal creatures danced around, with exulting outcries and 
 horrible grimaces. Overcome with pain and terror, he fell 
 into insensibility ; and, when again restored to consciousness, 
 he found himself elevated upon a throne, and covered, in 
 blasphemous mockery, with the impious vestments of the Pope,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 139 
 
 that whore of Babylon, while infernal devotees stood around; 
 some offering a mock worship, and others holding aloft censers 
 of burning incense, and idolatrously bowing toward a pyx, 
 which they called the host, and pretended to adore ; while 
 others, at the head of a confused procession, bore on their 
 shoulders images of a woman and child, which they called the 
 Blessed Virgin, while they chanted songs of praise and worship 
 to the senseless idols. 
 
 " He attempted to shout in rebuke of this blasphemous 
 idolatry, but his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. De 
 termined to bear no part, however forced and involuntary, in 
 these diabolical rites, he heard a voice speaking in his ear, 
 Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her 
 sins, and that ye receive not her plagues (Rev. 18 : 4). 
 Thus warned, he sprang from his throne, and dashed through 
 the surrounding legions toward a mountain which he saw 
 afar off, and which he knew to be the mountain of the Lord. 
 As he ran, the whole infernal company, determined not to suffer 
 him to escape, pursued aim with terrific yells; and, though 
 they were not permitted to prevent his flight, yet they had 
 power to distract, terrify, and mislead him. His course lay 
 through a tangled wilderness, filled with thorns and poisonous 
 plants, and infested by venomous reptiles and winged ser 
 pents, which filled the air and covered the ground. Doleful 
 groans and shrieks resounded on every side, and the soil 
 seemed like sulphurous, scorching lava beneath his feet. 
 Creatures of human form, but of strange, distorted counte 
 nances, were driven hither and thither, crossing his path at 
 every step, and pursued by malignant fiends, with whips 
 of scorpions. An intolerable thirst was raging within him, 
 and in all that dreary region no cooling water might be found ;
 
 140 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 but ever and anon a malignant demon at his side tempted 
 him to drink of a cup which was filled with the wine of 
 abominations and the blood of martyrs (Rev. IT : 6). Long 
 and tedious was the flight, and fierce and unrelenting the 
 pursuit. At length, from the opening ground fierce blasts 
 of mingled fire and smoke belched forth, blinding his eyes 
 and suffocating his breath ; and he felt himself lifted and 
 borne aloft amid rolling and sulphurous clouds, from which 
 dim lightnings flashed forth, to show the interminable horrors 
 of the scene. He felt that this was the hour of the Prince 
 of the Power of the Air, and that he himself was now roaming 
 through the regions of despair, from which he saw no way of 
 escape. Soon he felt himself cast into a deep labyrinth of 
 perplexed and devious paths, where, at great distances, in each 
 he could see a dazzling light, while around him was utter 
 darkness. Yet, as he attempted to follow the light, it fled 
 before him, and other lights in other paths tempted him to 
 new pursuits, each flying and deluding him with fruitless 
 toil. 
 
 " Suddenly he felt himself immerged in a lake of slimy 
 water, offensive and revolting. He could feel no bottom with 
 his feet; yet he was borne up in it. He attempted to 
 struggle through it, but monsters beneath held his limbs with 
 firm grasp. A brooding darkness overspread him, and he 
 felt that the power of death was upon him. Long was the 
 time, yet not measured by days or weeks ; for in that dreary 
 region there is no sun, that there should be days, and no 
 blessed Sabbath, that there should be weeks. 
 
 " At length, ere he was aware, he found himself upon a 
 strange and desolate shore. Ripe clusters of golden fruits 
 hung pendent from over-spreading scathed and scraggy
 
 WOLFSDEN. 141 
 
 branches, and lay scattered upon the flinty sand. Yet when 
 he gathered and tasted, he found only ashes in his mouth ; 
 they ivere the fruits of the land of Sodom and Gomorrah. 
 Beyond these were steep and flinty mountains, where were the 
 ruins of the dwellings of the Edomites, whose bones still lay 
 bleaching in the sun ; yet no living beast, or bird, or creeping 
 thing, passed over it all was utter desolation. Long and 
 dreary was his journeying among these barren mountains, 
 and amid these valleys of dry bones. He felt that he himself 
 was but a walking skeleton, and that the dry bones, the flesh- 
 less jaws and eyeless skulls, were his companions ; yet, when 
 he would converse with them, they answered him but with 
 uncouth sounds and unmeaning words, for they were peo 
 ple of a strange language. 
 
 " Then he fell into a deep sleep ; and when he awaked the 
 power of evil enchantments had passed away, and he found 
 himself, how conveyed he knew not, lying upon the bed in his 
 chamber, in the house of his hospitable friend, the Rev. Mr. 
 Parris, weak and emaciated, but surrounded by the familiar 
 faces of anxious friends. 
 
 " It shows the wonderful and inconceivable power which 
 evil spirits are sometimes permitted to exercise, that these 
 guardian friends, including the Rev. Mr. Parris himself, were 
 all unaware of the perils, and wanderings, and fiery trials, to 
 which their poor friend had been exposed, and from which ho 
 had come off victorious, though sorely wounded and weak 
 ened ; but believed him to have been for many weeks under 
 their care, in the delirium of a fever. His form was doubt 
 less simulated by the Father of Lies, while he himself was 
 thus subjected to the infernal power. 
 
 " The end of this series of horrible events was now approach-
 
 142 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 l 
 
 ing. Mr. Raven had been for several weeks convalescent, and 
 the summer was far advanced, with the approaching end of 
 the twenty months which was the limit of the wretched lady s 
 bond, which she could only have extended by betraying new 
 /victims to Satan s power, and which she had been prevented 
 from doing by the providential interference of Mr. Haven. It 
 might therefore be expected that the diabolical gentleman 
 would soon claim his own ; and so it fell out. 
 
 i It was a sultry day in August, when the lady, who had 
 all the summer been gloomy and reserved, ordered the coach 
 for a distant ride. She was doubtless aware of the impossi 
 bility of escaping her impending fate, and her pride dictated 
 that the scene of her humiliation and woe should be remote 
 from the scenes of former triumph and enjoyment. As the 
 carriage was descending a hill in the north part of the town, 
 a thick mass of clouds rolled over the sky, darkening the sun, 
 and involving all nature in awful gloom. The howling winds 
 were let loose, and the forests rocked beneath their terrible 
 rage. Sheeted lightnings filled the murky vault of heaven 
 with awful brightness, subsiding anon into ten-fold gloom. The 
 thunder was heard, now remote and now nearer, like chariot- 
 wheels of divine wrath. A fierce torrent of driving rain 
 poured from the windows of heaven ; the beasts of the field 
 and the birds of the air fled for covert from the tempest. 
 
 " In the midst of this awful scene, when all nature seemed 
 about to dissolve in ruin, there was a crash, as if all the ar 
 tillery of heaven and hell had burst in simultaneous outroar. 
 Looking towards the north, the villagers beheld, coming with 
 frightful speed, the terrified horses, dragging the pole and a 
 portion of the carriage in which the ill-fated lady had rode 
 forth. Hastening in the direction of the hill, for now the
 
 WOLFSDEX. 143 
 
 storm had passed away, they beheld an awful sight. The 
 coachman was thrown beside the way, sorely bruised, and 
 bewailing his condition. A little beyond, the blackened corse 
 of the lady was seen. The fires of heaven or of hell had 
 blasted her form, and in one hour her great riches were come 
 to naught (Rev. 18 : 17). And they arose and took up her 
 body, and carried it forth to her own house ; and great fear 
 fell upon the church, and upon as many as heard these things 
 (Acts 5 : 11). And the matter was improved to great edifica 
 tion by the preaching of the Rev. Mr. Parris, aided by tho 
 llev. Mr. Raven, whose experience in the affair had been so 
 wonderful. But many Sadducees mocked and reviled thereat, 
 for which they afterward suffered grievous punishments ; and 
 some, being convicted of witchcraft, were justly condemned. 
 And to CJod be all the praise. Amen." 
 
 " This being the end of the story, according to the manu 
 script, Cousin Helen will have to supply her part from other 
 sources." 
 
 (Helen.) " The closing part of the story, as given by 
 Cousin Hezekiah, speaks of the Sadducees who derided the 
 account. Those who disbelieved in witchcraft at that time 
 were called Sadducees, by the Mathers and other believers, in 
 reference to the Sadducees spoken of in the New Testament, 
 who believed neither in the resurrection, nor angels, nor 
 spirits. 
 
 " The manuscript from which the story is taken is accom 
 panied with a written envelope of a somewhat later date, from 
 which it is ascertained that the llev. Mr. Raven was consid 
 ered to have partly deranged his mind by too close attention 
 to the mysterious subjects of which he treats ; and, though 
 an ordained minister, and considered a fine writer and ear-
 
 144 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 nest speaker, he was never intrusted with the care of a parish, 
 but finally fell into obscurity. 
 
 " Those who attempted to account for his discoveries and 
 statements in a common way, suppose that the conversation 
 between the lady of the mansion and the diabolical gentleman 
 referred only to worldly business ; and that the diabolical 
 gentleman was not really an infernal being, but only an attor 
 ney intrusted with the management of some bonds, or other 
 legal papers. 
 
 " The lady s extraordinary calisthenic exercises were prob 
 ably exaggerated by Mr. Raven s excited imagination, aided 
 by his imperfect vision through the crack of a door, or possi 
 bly a keyhole ; and the extraordinary noises and screams, heard 
 on that and other occasions by himself only, were probably 
 disturbances in his own brain. The story of Dick Furlong 
 and Harry Wilder, concerning the demon porters and their 
 load, was received with some grains of allowance, even at the 
 time, on account of their known propensity to a certain license 
 in narrative called drawing the long bow. 
 
 " Concerning the extraordinary meeting of witches and 
 devils, it is stated that a few people were quietly engaged in the 
 process of making maple-sugar in a grove, when Mr. Haven 
 suddenly burst among them in the manner described. The giant 
 sentinels might have been trees seen imperfectly in the darkness. 
 The shapeless and silent demons were stumps and bushes ; the 
 sulphurous ovens and seething caldrons were the sap-kettles 
 and fires beneath them ; the altar, with its infernal furniture, 
 was a rude table with a few dishes ; the extended dragon, 
 with upraised snaky heads and claws, was the upturned roots 
 and body of an overblown tree ; and the book, with brazen 
 clasps, but an addition of the imagination.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 145 
 
 " When Mr. Raven stumbled and fell, as he described, he 
 was recognized, and borne senseless to the house of his pro 
 tector, nearly two miles, where he lay lor many weeks in a 
 delirious fever, the consequence of his exposure and fall, act 
 ing upon a frame already weakened and deranged by strong 
 nervous excitement. 
 
 " The lady s fate was much as he described it, for she was 
 either struck by the lightning, or thrown from the carriage 
 and killed from the fright of the horses by the flash ; but the 
 coincidence of the twenty months is subject to the suspicion 
 of all prophecy which is recorded only after its fulfilment. 
 At any rate, the grounds for supposing the lady a witch are 
 much narrowed by a close review of all the circumstances ; 
 and the most reliable fact of the whole story is that Azariah 
 and Jane grew up, loved each other, were married, and inher 
 ited the old mansion many years, and in the lapse of time 
 became the great-grandparents of Cousin Hezekiah and many 
 other Hobarts." 
 
 Mrs. Simperkins, being almost the only juvenile who had 
 not contributed to the round of stories, was next called upon ; 
 and, being suitably urged, and her diffidence suitably overcome, 
 and especially being prompted by an encouraging word from 
 the divinity student, commenced her relation. She proceeded 
 to "vex our ears with her old story of how, when a resident of 
 London, in her youthful days (about ten years ago), she be 
 came the victim of misplaced confidence in a certain some 
 what unscrupulous though exceeding high-bred COUNT FLIP- 
 PERTON, who adroitly obtained possession of property belonging 
 to her employer, and left in her care, and also of a very valu 
 able bracelet belonging to herself. We have scruples about 
 appropriating the story, which is still her chief capital in the 
 13
 
 146 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 line of anecdote, lest we also should share the odium which 
 Count Flipperton s conduct so justly merits ; but, if her con 
 sent can be obtained, the story will be given in the appendix. 
 
 Meantime it may promote the ends of justice to give her 
 description of the stolen bracelet. Hit was ha werry walu- 
 able hunique," being made of gold and diamonds, with a cen 
 tral brilliant, or star, of a single diamond, with rays of dif 
 ferent costly gems, pointed with diamonds.* 
 
 While Mrs. Simperkins was going on with her story, the 
 girls, who had heard it half a dozen times before, were pre 
 paring for departure ; and Ann having whispered to Ike and 
 Alek, they and Josiah Brown had silently withdrawn to pre 
 pare the sleighs, and soon all were jingling merrily at the 
 door. The company were soon cloaked and hooded, all but 
 Amy and the adjutant, both of whom had been asleep an 
 hour, and were now snugly stowed away ; the adjutant to 
 occupy the space between Billy and Tommy in their bed, and 
 Amy to nestle by the side of Fanny. Josiah Brown evi 
 dently did not think the departure a very sad one, perhaps 
 because he had secured the privilege of taking Ann to her 
 home in his sleigh. In fact, nobody seemed sad; it was a 
 merry night, though the last of the year. Merrily pranced the 
 horses through the snow. Merrily jingled the bells. Merrily 
 laughed the light-hearted group. Merrily twinkled the stars, 
 looking out, from their bright heaven above, upon the bright 
 earth below. 
 
 * Any reader who may obtain information of a jewel of this descrip 
 tion, or of Count Flipperton, may communicate with the author through 
 the publishers, or by a line directed to J. B., care of Alexander Arbor, 
 Esq., Wolfsden. And if this should meet the eyes of Count Flipperton, 
 he is requested to return the property, as above, and no questions will 
 bo asked.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SLEEP rests upon the peaceful dwelling of the deacon s 
 family, and all the house is still, save the measured and 
 stately ticking of the ancient clock, which counts off in solemn 
 numberings the last steps of the departing year. The cricket, 
 too, trills forth its clainvto a place in the list of living things. 
 The deserted kitchen still glows with hospitable warmth and 
 soft light, shed from the solid mass of living coals, into which 
 the huge logs have subsided. Beneath the table lies the 
 shaggy Lion, dreaming of sports and battles past, and often 
 moving his feet in imaginary chase. Near his side, in long- 
 tried companionship, purrs the confiding cat. Peace and 
 sleep rest upon all the house. 
 
 In their snug bed, with their fair foreheads just discernible 
 above the folded blankets, little Amy nestles in the arms of 
 Fanny, as tho bud nestles by the side of the opening rose. 
 Lovely incarnations of beauty and goodness, thus ever in tho 
 protecting embrace of love and happiness may ye grow and 
 ripen to your destined immortality ! Tommy, and Billy, and 
 the adjutant, are sleeping recklessly and determinedly, as if 
 each were resolved to outdo the other. Each has a half-defi 
 ant brow, and a fist half closed ; and each, by his earnest 
 breathing, seems half provoked to burst into a snore.
 
 148 Vf L F S D E N . 
 
 Alek had invited the schoolmaster to share his bed. So 
 many visitors require some doubling, and the cold night also 
 favors it. The schoolmaster composed himself tranquilly, 
 but Alek s pillow was not so easy. Thoughts which serve no 
 purpose of thinking, broken, confused, tumultuous, undefined 
 yet intense, swift yet coming to no conclusion, excited and 
 harassed his brain. In vdin he invoked his firm will, and 
 commanded his distracting thoughts to peace. His very 
 efforts at self-command awakened to more activity the busy 
 machinery of the brain. The excited current of his blood 
 rushed through all the channels of thought, and drove in 
 rapid evolutions the wheels of the mind. He commanded his 
 eyelids to close, and they obeyed ; yet he was cheated of his 
 will, for the eyeballs swelled and threw off their accustomed 
 covering. 
 
 If he were alone, he would arise and escape from his con 
 finement. If he could now, in the bright moonlight, plunge 
 through the snow into the forest, with Lion for his company, 
 how welcome would be the effort to his excited mood ! If he 
 could change the conflict within to a war with the elements, 
 or with the bears and wolves without, there would be relief 
 in that. 13ut he could not escape, for he would not disturb 
 his bedfellow, or allow his inquietude to be suspected. And 
 so he lay in resolute silence. 
 
 He fixed his eyes upon the window, where the curdling 
 frost had marked its fantastic tracery, now glittering in the 
 silver light of the moon. In fancy he saw there the allegor 
 ical panorama of his life. He gave fancy the rein, and fol 
 lowed her visionary flight. She guided him through dense 
 forests, bright with dazzling but uncertain light. His path 
 ed along a precipitous and dangerous way, into unknown
 
 WOLFSDEN. 149 
 
 scenes. A city rose around him. Magnificent and busy 
 streets crossed each other in endless confusion. Rivers, 
 parks, villages, and splendid mansions, filled the back-ground. 
 An ocean, speckled with islands and adorned Hith tall-masted 
 ships, stretched beyond. On the hither side, near his primi 
 tive forest, was a falling castle. It recalled to his mind his 
 own story, and Margaret s veiled advice in its conclusion, and 
 he mentally repeated it. " I will explore, and only fix my 
 habitation when I have skill to choose wisely, and can be well 
 assured of my title." 
 
 How still and cold shines the moon upon the glittering 
 tracery of the frosty windows ! How slow and solemn the 
 distant ticking clock measures off the steps of the departing 
 year ! Peace and sleep rest not on all, even in the deacon s 
 quiet dwelling. 
 
 In the parlor chamber, devoted through successive genera 
 tions to ostentatious neatness and elegance, where a carpet 
 woven of variegated list and yarn covers all the centre of 
 the floor, and approaches to the walls, where the painted 
 chairs, and shining chest of drawers, and gilded looking-glass, 
 reflect the brightness, but show not the rust, of their fifty 
 years, there, in the high-post bed, surrounded by snow- 
 white curtains, rest Hezekiah and Harry. To them, who 
 unite the claims of scholarship and strangerhood, is this dainty 
 chamber appropriated ; and very well do they seem to enjoy 
 it. Hezekiah has already subsided into a calm and happy 
 slumber. The course of his true love runs smooth. It needs 
 not watching, well and peacefully may he sleep. 
 
 But Harry seems not to care for sleep. He can dream 
 without the aid of sleep, and dreaming is now his delight. 
 He dreams that he is in the house where angels dwell. The 
 13*
 
 150 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 brightness of one is reflected upon the others, and all are 
 angels. He feels it reflected upon himself, and he partakes 
 of the angelhood. How easy in such society to become an 
 gelic ! He win henceforth discard the grossness and folly of 
 earthly life, and commence now, in the brightness of his 
 youth, a life of transcendental aspirations and enjoyments. 
 
 His eyes are fixed on the window where the bright moon 
 silvers the frosty tracery. How fantastic, and yet how regu 
 lar and beautiful, are the outlines sculptured there ! Castles 
 and cathedrals with pointed turrets, churches with tall spires, 
 landscapes stretching in interminable perspective, oceans with 
 opposing navies, islands with enchanting groves, groves 
 where love and innocence might wander hand in hand, where 
 a bower might be built in which an angel might reside, where 
 domestic bliss might grve new interest to the loveliness of the 
 scenery. 
 
 Only with restrained and guarded thoughts let us approach 
 the chamber where sleep the beloved of those whom we now 
 leave and commend to rest. Side by side, in quiet innocence, 
 Helen and Margaret repose. Helen lies in profound sleep. 
 Gently and scarce perceptibly rises and falls the drapery of 
 her pure and peaceful breast. Gently, with even and tran 
 quil beat, her pulse measures off the moments of her well- 
 employed and happy life. The course of her true life and 
 true love runs smooth. Peaceful and sweet be her sleep ! 
 
 But why does that other heart beat less tranquilly ? And 
 why, as if compelling sleep to her eyes, does she compress 
 their fringed lids till tears distil upon her pillow ? She lies 
 in seeming quiet ; yet her mind rests not. Conflicting emo 
 tions disturb her peace. She is fighting the battle of life. 
 She calls up every worthy resolve, and determines to conquer
 
 WOLFSDEN. 151 
 
 herself. Could she arise and go forth, that her body might 
 share the struggle of her thoughts, it would be a relief; but 
 she is constrained to stillness and silence, for her emotion 
 must not be suspected. She opens her eyes and gazes upon 
 the frosty window. Its figured outlines seem to represent 
 the path of life. Here mountains rise in forbidding grand 
 eur, and oppose insurmountable barriers ; there yawning 
 precipices wait for unwary feet ; a cold, stern, and rough 
 acclivity stretches between into the interminable and un 
 known distance, interminable and unknown, perhaps soli 
 tary and sad. Yet it is the path where pride and duty and 
 prudence point ; and it is the path she will pursue. Sleep 
 and peace rest not upon all, even in this tranquil home. 
 
 Yet the night wanes on ; the stately clock measures off, in 
 solemn numberings, the last steps of the departing year. Soon 
 the hammer strikes its measured strokes upon the clear, ring 
 ing bell. 
 
 Departed year, adieu ! the last, 
 Last sand that measured thy career 
 
 Is gone ; the records of the past 
 Alone aro thine, departed year !
 
 CHAPTER IX . 
 
 SLOWLY moves the mighty panorama across the silent sky. 
 The constellations which gem the brow of night decline in 
 the west, for a dawning glory glimmers in the east, and the 
 morning star heralds the day. From his high perch Chanti 
 cleer sends forth his morning summons. Soon from the chim 
 ney-top ascends a wreathed column to the sky, and from the 
 kitchen windows the red light of the blazing fire within 
 throws its glare over the snowy landscape. The long row of 
 patient cattle, lying in their stalls, lazily uprise and stretch 
 their strong limbs, as they hear the approaching feet, and the 
 opening of doors by the hand that feeds them. The horses 
 whinny their welcome, and expect their reward. Down from 
 their perches fly the feathered flock. All claim their share 
 from the abundant granary, and have their claim allowed. 
 Around the cheerful fires come, from their deserted beds, by 
 ones, by twos, and by threes, the sleepers of the preceding 
 night ; the rising sun finds no sluggard there. It was the 
 mother s maxim that the Sabbath s true rest is not a self- 
 indulgent sluggishness, but a permitted refreshment to the 
 body, that the mind may arise to its higher exercises of 
 thought and devotion, to favor which domestic cares and
 
 WOLFSDEN. 153 
 
 duties must be promptly and seasonably discharged, that all 
 may share in Sabbath benefits to their full extent. 
 
 Bright and cheerful were the morning faces of the family 
 circle, and kind and true the greetings of the happy new year. 
 If there were troubled and anxious hearts beneath any of 
 those smiling and cordial countenances, their secret burthens 
 were unknown to others, for every face seemed radiant with 
 happy content. Noble and generous hearts diifuse their own 
 cheerfulness, but suppress and conceal their sorrows and 
 fears. 
 
 Harry had determined upon a line of conduct at once gen 
 erous, sentimental, and discreet. He will not betray, even in 
 thought, the kind hospitality he enjoys ; but will substitute 
 friendship, warm and earnest, but unaspiring, for love. His 
 heart, enlarged and filled with tender enthusiasm, reflects its 
 light on every object, and sees beauty, goodness, and worth, 
 in every face. Even in Mrs. Simperkins self-complacent 
 smirks and affectations he sees only an amiable desire to 
 please, where the motive should excuse the mistakes. Tow 
 ards Alek his friendship particularly expands, partly because 
 he sees and feels his worth, partly in atonement for the invol 
 untary injury which he feels half conscious of having inflicted, 
 and partly because in loving Margaret, as he now represented 
 to himself, with a pure platonic love, he must needs love those 
 most nearly allied to her. Thus, though agitated by a deep 
 emotion, which might otherwise have manifested itself to ob 
 servant eyes, he managed to preserve the balance of his mind 
 and the propriety of his conduct, and confirm the good impres 
 sions he had already made. Alek was the first and the most 
 earnest to praise the noble endowments of the young visitor, 
 whom he had so little reason to thank for coming ; but Alek
 
 154 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 had already determined to yield to his adverse fate with the 
 good grace which his manly pride demanded. His heart was 
 sore, but that was good reason why he should compel it to 
 rest. His self-appreciating thought suggested the desire to 
 gain for himself the cultivation which gave- Harry such 
 advantages. His former good opinion of his own merits was 
 very much unsettled ; but his confidence in what he might 
 become was strong. Appreciating and admiring his successful 
 rival, he was very ready to receive and reciprocate his friend 
 ship ; so that, actuated by different motives, and neither under 
 standing the other, they became fast friends. 
 
 Poor Margaret seemed the chief probable sufferer by this 
 new interchange of affinities. The capricious power, which 
 binds and loosens the fetters of the soul at his will, had sev 
 ered the early and long-accustomed ties which bound one 
 manly heart to do her homage, while the one who could have 
 repaid the desertion with far more welcome devotion was 
 withheld, by honorable respect for the other s superior claims, 
 from making advances. But she had schooled her mind to 
 the strict discipline of maidenly reserve, and if she threw a 
 veil over her deeper emotions, we have no right to remove it. 
 
 The schoolmaster held conversation with Harry, and was 
 pleased with his diversity of knowledge, propriety of senti 
 ment, and elegance of expression ; for Harry knew how to 
 acquit himself creditably when in contact with well-informed 
 minds, as he knew how to shine among the volatile and frivo 
 lous. To the latter society he had been too much addicted ; 
 but now his feelings, and the current of his mind, ran in more 
 serious and reflective mood, and added a thoughtful dignity to 
 his manner and conversation. 
 
 Mrs. Simperkins was all respect, reverence, and obsequious?
 
 WOLFSDEN. 155 
 
 ness, towards the " divinity student," whose good looks and 
 polite behavior, in preferring her conversation, and talking 
 Latin and Greek to her, rather than to others, had so per 
 fectly proved his piety and discrimination. Uncle Lemuel 
 and Aunt Nabby were well pleased with his popularity, and 
 glad that they had brought so acceptable an addition to their 
 society, though they hardly knew how to reply to Mrs. Sim- 
 perkins earnest assurances of his wonderful piety and spiritual 
 gifts. The younger fry, with whom, and Alek, he had already 
 visited the barn, and there delighted them with some practical 
 jokes and gymnastic feats, had voted him a jolly fellow, and 
 earnestly invited him to stay all winter, with glowing prom 
 ises of infinite fun in sliding down hill and skating upon the 
 ice ; so that Harry was now, as usual, on the high tide of 
 popular favor. 
 
 Breakfast ended, family worship was performed, as usual. 
 The members of the family, including visitors, read the Scrip 
 tures, which the deacon occasionally explained. In prayer, 
 the deacon knelt with such members of his family, and such 
 visitors, as professed religion ; while others were expected to 
 stand in reverent silence. Such is the custom in Wolfsden, 
 and all that region ; so that to kneel in prayer-time is equiv 
 alent to a profession of religion. Harry, whose religious 
 training had been Episcopalian, with whom all, whether saints 
 or sinners, kneel and respond, was quite unaware of this dis 
 tinction, and therefore knelt with the deacon ; and, at the close 
 of his prayer, innocently responded amen. He intended only 
 good manners, but was at once set down by all the family as a 
 professor of religion, and therefore entitled to be treated with 
 more gravity than a mere worldling. Billy and Tommy, re 
 membering his funny feats in the barn, and that, too, of a
 
 156 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Sabbath morning, thought it a new sort of religion ; and as 
 it came enforced by so good authority, and was much more in 
 conformity with their sentiments than the Sabbath strictness 
 which they had been compelled to keep, they concluded to 
 recommend the change to their father, as a manifest improve 
 ment. 
 
 The hymn for the occasion was a new one, written by the 
 schoolmaster at Fanny s request. All united in singing ; but 
 Harry s well-cultivated voice, naturally melodious and strong, 
 though beautifully blending with the others, elevated its music 
 beyond its usual character. Fanny was delighted with the 
 success of her hymn ; and Alek, who took some small interest 
 in the " Philharmonic band," engaged Harry s assistance in 
 the choir for the day. ^ 
 
 There was quite a turn-out of teams from the deacon s, that 
 day ; but Alek was not careful, as at other times when Mar 
 garet had been one of the company, to have all in readiness 
 so early as to anticipate the major s arrival. The major s 
 family sleigh came along while Alek .was still busy in harness 
 ing the colts, so that Margaret went with her father and 
 mother. Mrs. Simperkins, who had a motive to secure a 
 proper reception of the divinity student at church, and there 
 by magnify her own importance, proposed to go in the ma 
 jor s sleigh ; to which none objected. Once on the way, she 
 expatiated to the major on the arrival of the divinity student, 
 whose piety, and learning, and Orthodox standing, she vouched 
 for, and expressed a decided opinion that Mr. Borcman should 
 be prepared for so unusual a hearer. Major Murray inclined 
 to the opinion that the parson should be prepared for so 
 distinguished an arrival, and therefore urged his horse to 
 unwonted speed. Dobbin demurred, but the major insisted,
 
 W L F S D E N . 157 
 
 and they arrived fully five minutes before Alek s party came 
 in sight. 
 
 Events were auspicious. They met the parson in the 
 porch, and explained the affair. The group waited in the 
 porch till the deacon s family arrived. Harry was then form 
 ally introduced, by Mrs. Simperkins, to Major Murray, and 
 by him to the minister, and by the minister to Mrs. Boreman, 
 the minister s wife, and by her to the fair and slender-waisted 
 Lucinda, the minister s daughter. The minister invited the 
 " divinity student " to sit with him, and assist in the exercises. 
 He was astonished, and concluded at once that the essence of 
 all the politeness in the world, as well as every other excel 
 lence, was concentrated in Wolfsden. But he declined the 
 parson s invitation, on the ground that he had already engaged 
 to sing with the choir. The parson s wife hoped he would 
 make them an early visit, and the fair Lucinda looked a kind 
 welcome ; and Harry, always complying, promised to come. 
 Uncle Lemuel and Aunt Nabby were a little surprised at this 
 scene; but they were acquainted with Mrs. Simperkins offi- 
 ciousness, and her presence explained it. 
 
 The parson had woven his dissertation upon the lost tribes 
 into a long forenoon and afternoon sermon, for the new year. 
 All the divine attributes were illustrated in a signal manner 
 by his theory of their dispersion from their ancient inherit 
 ance on account of their transgressions; their banishment 
 to the wild and benighted region of the western world ; their 
 long seclusion of three thousand years from the benefits of 
 civilization ; their judicial blindness and heathenism in conse 
 quence of their apostasy ; their subjugation and extirpation; 
 all which prove the justice and fearful vengeance of God 
 14
 
 158 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 descending on original offenders, and, through them, to their 
 latest posterity. 
 
 In illustration and proof of the principle chiefly vindicated 
 in this view, he cited the case of the children of Canaan, 
 doomed to everlasting servitude for the transgression of Ham ; 
 assuming the Africans to be the Canaanites, and the slavery 
 of the present age their appointed punishment. To this lat 
 ter point he gave particular distinction and emphasis, consid 
 ering it providential that he had put it into his sermon ; for 
 Mrs. Simperkins, in her hurried account of the divinity stu 
 dent, had mentioned his being the son of a southern planter, 
 and he was willing that it should be understood in such high 
 quarters that here in Wolfsden the scriptural supports and 
 warrants of slavery were properly taught. Whatever may be 
 thought of the philosophy and philanthropy of his sermon, its 
 patriotism and conservatism were unquestionable. 
 
 There was but a short recess between sermons. The wind 
 without was keen ; but fuel, like everything else, was plenty 
 in Wolfsden, and the meeting-house was warm within ; and 
 therefore many of the congregation, who came from a dis 
 tance, remained and digested the sermon within the sacred 
 walls. Not alone with spiritual food did they improve the 
 hour. From many a capacious pocket came forth, in various 
 packages, such samples of substantial fare as serious people 
 may in good conscience enjoy. The more refined and fastid 
 ious were more reserved and private in their repast. The 
 young women, and girls especially, munched their cake and 
 cheese behind veils and kerchiefs, or with their faces turned 
 devoutly to the wall, as though mindful of the proverb, 
 " Bread eaten in secret is pleasant." Not so the children, 
 who, each with a rosy-cheeked apple in one fist, and a
 
 WOLFSDEN. 159 
 
 huge doughnut, or turnover, in the other, ran about to the 
 neighboring pews, as determined to investigate every other 
 bill of fare before deciding upon the sufficiency of their own. 
 
 Meantime, Harry went to pay his dutiful respects to his 
 grand-uncle, the captain. Alek accompanied him, and so did 
 Uncle Lemuel and Aunt Nabby. The captain brought in 
 the schoolmaster, in whom he found a former acquaintance. 
 He also recognized and invited Hezekiah and Helen, so that 
 a large circle assembled in his pleasant parlor. The old 
 captain is genial a genial old gentleman of the old school. 
 To maintain this position is now his sole business, and he does 
 it very well. In his well-provided and comfortable parlor the 
 severe frosts of winter are tempered by the blaze and bright 
 coals of the glowing hearth, and the frosts of age he tempers 
 with timely supplies of toast and toddy ; " And thus," says he, 
 " I keep my outer and inner man in trim." By his outer man 
 he means his skin, and by his inner man his stomach ; and 
 these, as he evidently conceives, make up his whole being. He 
 is a regular attendant at Parson Boreman s meeting, and sub 
 scribes ten dollars a year to support the minister, and one dol 
 lar to convert the heathen. The old gentleman understands 
 very well that a due regard for religion is essential to the per 
 fection of gentlemanly character, and therefore he gives it his 
 patronage. 
 
 The captain seldom discusses the doctrines taught from the 
 pulpit ; indeed, he generally nods in his pew, as one who is 
 willing to trust his minister that he will go right without 
 watching. But to-day he had gathered up some of the par 
 son s remarks about the lost tribes, and rather dissented from 
 that part of the sermon which identified them with the In 
 dians. He had seen Jews and Indians enough in his day, and
 
 160 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 they were no more alike than a grenadier and a powder-mon 
 key. The Jews wear long beards, and the Indians have no 
 beards at all. The Jews deal in old clothes, and let money 
 on pawn (here Harry winced a little) ; but the Indians have 
 neither clothes to sell nor money to let. The Jews eat no 
 pork ; but the Indians eat hog, dog, and whatever else they can 
 catch or steal. He, however, agreed with the parson that it was 
 a good thing in God and our forefathers to kill them off, and 
 put the country to a Christian use ; and, if they were in reality 
 the lost tribes, he thought it a pity the other two had not been 
 lost with them. 
 
 Harry, who generally fell in with the prevailing tone of con 
 versation, followed his uncle s lead in dissenting from the par 
 son s expositions. He said that the offence which Ham gave to 
 his drunken father, and the curse which the old toper gave to 
 his grandchild in consequence, was rather a vague and unsat 
 isfactory foundation for so extensive a superstructure of the"- 
 ory. If the curse had any effect on succeeding generations, 
 it seems to have included the posterity of Shem and Japhet, as 
 well as the dark descendants of Ham ; for there certainly have 
 been many more white slaves since that time than black ones; 
 black slavery being of recent institution, while white slavery 
 has prevailed extensively through all the nations of antiquity, 
 and even at the present day, said he, there is a pretty free 
 infusion of white blood among our slaves, often to such extent 
 that it would puzzle Ham to pick out his posterity on some 
 plantations. 
 
 The old captain presented a theory in explanation, by sup 
 posing that Canaan, when he heard his grandfather s curse, 
 cursed the old man and all his boys back again ; which would 
 account, not only for the confusion of servile consequences
 
 WOLFSDEN. lol 
 
 following in after ages, but also for the habits of cursing which 
 old men and boys are apt to fall into, where people are in the 
 habit of getting drunk. Not, said he, that he would .cast 
 any disparaging reflections upon the venerable patriarch, 
 whom he felt under particular obligation to reverence ; and 
 who, being a gentleman of the old school, might without cen 
 sure be sometimes a little over-indulgent in wine, for which he 
 had also an excuse of peculiar force, for he had certainly been 
 over-dosed with water beyond any other mortal. 
 
 Hezekiah expressed his dissent from any defence of the extir 
 pation of the Indians which might be derived from Scripture, 
 as a perversion of the principles of the Good Book, of which 
 the preceptive parts enjoin justice and mercy, and forbid cruelty 
 and bloodshed, although the historical parts abound with ex 
 amples of the latter, by no means recorded for imitation. He 
 thought that our Pilgrim Fathers, though endowed with noble 
 and manly virtues, were also fallible, like men of the present 
 day ; swayed by simitar motives, and subject to similar self- 
 delusions; often pursuing selfish ends, regardless of right, and 
 afterward soothing their consciences by supposed warrant 
 from Scripture. 
 
 The schoolmaster observed that the fate of the aboriginal 
 inhabitants of this country must always present a gloomy 
 page of history to the philanthropist; and, though the political 
 economist might find ample equivalent in the vast increase of 
 population and happiness resulting from their displacement, the 
 Christian would still wish, with the apostolic Eliot, that tho 
 pilgrims " had converted some, before they killed so many." 
 The character of the Indians has been drawn in too dark col 
 ors, in order to palliate the wrongs done them. The vices of 
 ignorance and poverty must always be expected among the 
 14*
 
 162 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 uncivilized ; but, in making our estimate, we should take into 
 account their capabilities, which, in such cases, should be 
 judged of by favorable specimens. The history of Logan, of 
 Pocahontas, of Tecumseh, of lied Jacket, and Osceola, prove 
 the capability of the Indian race for whatever virtues have 
 found praise among men ; and in looking at their fate, and that 
 of many like them, we must confess that the present good 
 which we enjoy has grown out of much evil done to others. 
 It will not do to shield ourselves from the reproach of wrong 
 by pleading that the plans of Providence are thereby wrought 
 out. The Indian race would undoubtedly have been extin 
 guished or absorbed in the march of civilization, even if jus 
 tice and kindness had kept pace with it. Perhaps they did 
 not suffer more in the process of extirpation Mian other nations 
 who have died by -pestilence, famine, or inundations. The 
 chief thing to be regretted, in all human suffering proceeding 
 from human violence, is that right has been violated, and the 
 moral sense of mankind corrupted, especially where the sanc 
 tion of religion is sought and pressed into the defence of the 
 act.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WE will do the parson a good turn by exciting public in 
 terest in his researches concerning the lost tribes, without so 
 far satisfying curiosity as to spoil the sale of his dissertation. 
 Therefore we omit the afternoon continuation of the subject ; 
 but must not omit to notify the reader of a meeting, this 
 evening, of the Philharmonic Band, in Squire Noseby s hall. 
 With what eager delight is the hour anticipated by the 
 happy-hearted youths and maidens of Wolfsden, who, from 
 far and near, gather in these weekly Sunday evening musical 
 meetings, to do their part, either as zealous performers or 
 admiring listeners. How full of music are their souls ! With 
 what alacrity they come from miles around, in sleighs so lib 
 erally loaded, through roads so recently broken, and still 
 piled with many a half-subdued drift, the eeat of many a 
 funny disaster ! 
 
 From far and near, from many a sequestered dwelling, in 
 valley or on hill-side, from the wide circumference of happy 
 homes, to the common centre of Noseby s hall, come the rus 
 tic youth, overflowing with energy and good-nature ; prompt 
 with politeness, uncultivated, yet true, because heart-inspired ; 
 officious with gallantry, awkward, yet welcome and well- 
 appreciated. They come convoying many a fair freight of
 
 164 W L F S D E N . 
 
 country maidens, whose shining cheeks glow in the healthy 
 exercise with universal red, while their bright eyes sparkle 
 with various hues. 
 
 To all these, however remote from fashion their abode, 
 nature, ever the accomplished patron of the sex, has im 
 parted the charms, the wiles, the graces, the all-prevailing 
 power, which subdues generous and stout hearts, and vindi 
 cates the universal empire of love. 
 
 No neglected maiden pines at home for lack of a brother, 
 or cousin, or lover, to escort her thither. A circuit of a 
 dozen miles is a slight feat for the ambitious youth, whose 
 partial pride exults in the flectness of his steed, and the 
 charms of his sweetheart. The heart-flowing sounds of 
 merry voices, and glad, laughing shouts, mingle with the joy- 
 jingling bells, and fling upon the echoing air a melody more 
 cheering than the liveliest strains of even the Philharmonic 
 Band. 
 
 Brief be our record of the brilliant company assembled. 
 The fair Lucinda, of the many curls and slender waist, was 
 there ; by long prescription, the undisputed and unenvied 
 belle of Wolfsden. Great was the sum of her attainments. 
 She had explored the paths of philosophy, scanned the secrets 
 of science, revelled in the regions of romance, and plumed the 
 pinions of poetry. She had often kept the village school, and 
 has been talked of as preceptress of an academy. Her pres 
 ence was an honor and ornament to every assembly, and her 
 fame belongs to Wolfsden. 
 
 Yet impartial fate scatters her favors with equal hand, 
 and those to whom their own sex willingly award the palm 
 of superior attractions seldom find their charms so effectually 
 appreciated in the market of matrimony, as others, whom
 
 W L F S I) K N . 165 
 
 their fair sisters often spitefully disparage. So the fair Lu- 
 cinda, sweet as the last rose of summer, still fluttered on the 
 ancestral bush, while a hundred newer and humbler flowers 
 flaunted in bridal bouquets. 
 
 Helen Arbor came. So seldom was her appearance where 
 amusement is tho chief attraction, that her presence was 
 always noticed. It was noticed now more than ever; fora 
 stranger accompanied her, one who evidently stood in some 
 intimate relation to her. He was a dignified and remarkably 
 good-looking gentleman. Curiosity was excited, for Helen 
 had never before been seen so squired. What could it mean ? 
 Fortunately the Bowlers were present. Whispers were circu 
 lated, and the cat, so long confined in the traditionary bag, 
 escaped once more, and roamed at will in the wonder-loving 
 world. It was Helen s choice that the secret should come 
 out all at once, rather than by the usual process of leakage ; 
 for, when everything is once known, gossip dies of a surfeit, 
 and the world ceases to wonder. 
 
 Harry was there, of course. He was specially invited by 
 the leader and chief singers of the choir ; and, therefore, he 
 came to please his new friends, otherwise he would have 
 come to please himself, for it is Harry s " genius " always to 
 please somebody. 
 
 Margaret was there. If she were not, everybody would 
 have regretted her absence. Margaret makes no pretensions 
 on the score of music, indeed, she never makes pretensions 
 of any sort ; there is no need ; the diamond will sparkle, 
 however unostentatiously it is placed. She commonly sits 
 near the foot of the choir, with Hannah Bowler; but the 
 Chorister knows where the music comes from, and upon whom 
 he may rely.
 
 166 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Margaret moved among the animated circle with a mild 
 and retiring dignity, gentle and unassuming, but yet not self- 
 forgetful. She felt her soul s superiority, and was not una 
 ware of her personal attractions ; but her sense was equal to 
 the task of concealing her vanity, though she might not re 
 press it. Hitherto she had thought little of her superior 
 advantages, for she had no occasion to employ them, no aim 
 to win admiration or mortify rivalry, so that her self-con 
 scious worth rested as quietly in her thought as the con 
 science of a good man, giving solid but unseen enjoyment. 
 But now that the calm current of her life had met a new and 
 disturbing influence, her mind was excited to a closer self* 
 examination, and it may reasonably be supposed that, in her 
 close scrutiny of self, the fair exterior was not wholly forgot 
 ten. Yet who can explore, or, having explored, can describe, 
 much less account for, the complicated emotions, motives, and 
 methods, of the female heart ? 
 
 Individuals blend in society, like tones in music, or colors 
 in dress, sometimes with pleasing harmony and sometimes 
 with disagreeable discord. Good taste will arrange each so 
 as to produce the most pleasing effect. Margaret had the 
 intuitive perception of good taste, and therefore she usually 
 accompanied Hannah Bowler. Hannah was a little younger 
 than Margaret, and only a little ; not quite so elegantly 
 formed, or so beautiful, but nearly so ; a little less matu 
 rity of mind and sprightliness of wit, yet well gifted in both ; 
 a little less richness and fulness and compass of voice, in 
 music, but equally true and clear in tone ; and in all respects 
 adding a welcome charm to the society of her companion, and 
 giving strength to her dominion, without dividing her empire. 
 The alliance, though not concerted with that view, was mutu-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 167 
 
 ally advantageous in its magnifying effect, as when a bril 
 liant barrister forms a partnership with one less eminent, 
 preserving, and perhaps increasing, his own importance, 
 while he reflects the lustre of his fame upon his humbler 
 brother. 
 
 The chorister knew well what voices would blend with 
 best effect. A composition for two voices was included in 
 tb.3 order of exercises. He requested Harry and Margaret 
 to perform it. To refuse was impossible ; yet how, with pal 
 pitating hearts and perhaps tremulous voices, could they 
 sing ? Each was unconscious of the emotion of the other, 
 yet both were equally embarrassed. Harry had never before 
 met an emergency to which he did not feel himself equal. 
 Yet he had often declaimed before censorious judges, and 
 wrangled with invidious rivals, and had sometimes been 
 called to render account before grave and reverend profess 
 ors ; or, worse still, to meet a monstrous bill of irregular 
 and disreputable expenses, with an exchequer already ex 
 hausted. With strong effort he concealed his emotion ; or, 
 if some few observed it, they readily imputed it to the nat 
 ural diffidence of a young man among strangers. A fine 
 notion, truly ! Harry Boynton embarrassed by a Wolfsden 
 audience ! It was the audience alone which sustained him ; 
 otherwise, how could he proceed with the thrilling emotions 
 which the unexpected proposition excited ? Yet he did pro 
 ceed in his best style ; and, though Margaret s voice was 
 thought to be a little less full and clear than usual, yet the 
 marked and silent admiration of the audience, and the grati 
 fied expression of the chorister, showed that their performance 
 was not a failure. At the request of Colonel Bowler, they 
 again performed the duet ; and this time Margaret s voice
 
 168 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 was full and firm, so that even Harry, who expected nothing 
 less than perfection from such a source, felt his high estimate 
 fully realized. 
 
 "That s what I call singing," whispered Ike to Alek. 
 Alek assented, with a delighted ear, but a heavy heart. It 
 was to him sadly beautiful, like the requiem of departed joys 
 and hopes. 
 
 The divinity student rode the topmost wave of popularity. 
 A frank address and good voice were always a passport to the 
 confidence and esteem of the villagers of Wolfsden. Cordial 
 civilities and earnest invitations overwhelmed him. Squire 
 Chinby, from the " North Neighborhood," was introduced, 
 and earnestly invited him to visit that part of the town. The 
 " North Meeting-house " was a sort of rival religious institu 
 tion, built up by the union of several scattered fragments of 
 different sects. It was four or five miles from the centre of 
 the town, and was only casually supplied with a minister, 
 being commonly a meeting of exhortation and miscellaneous 
 exercises. Sometimes an itinerant preacher startles the ech 
 oing walls with a new voice, and perhaps new notions of 
 divinity. The walls receive and echo back, with impartial 
 assent, each varying form of doctrine. The more discrimi 
 nating audience receive and respond with less unanimity. 
 Yet each new preacher finds some to support and " bear tes 
 timony " to the truth of his teachings, while on every occa 
 sion dissent may be seen plainly marked on many faces ; for 
 none come to be convinced or to be swerved from their long- 
 cherished faith, or from the doctrines to which they are com 
 mitted, but all to hear their own opinions repeated, and their 
 neighbors refuted. When a Calvinist comes, though he should
 
 WOLFSDEN. 169 
 
 say nothing of election and reprobation, Mr. Clack and his 
 wife detect him, and look querulous and dissentient, but Mr. 
 Click and his wife look pert and " edified." If a Freewill 
 Baptist hold forth, Mr. Clack and wife listen with pleased 
 eyes and ears, and nod assent to each other and their neigh 
 bors at each well-put period; while Mr. Click and wife, 
 though listening earnestly to detect contradictions and un- 
 scripturalities, put on all the mask of indifference. When 
 the Methodist, in turn, finds his way there, neither Clack and 
 wife nor Click and wife find spiritual food in sermon or 
 prayer; but Mr. Clock and wife are ecstatic with illumin 
 ation. They mutter audible amens in sermon, and give 
 groans of gratification in prayer. Mr. Cluck, the Univer- 
 salist, helped build the meeting-house, and sometimes vindi 
 cates his right to be taught what he already pretends to know, 
 and invites a stray Universalist preacher ; and then all the 
 other vowels look glum at what he calls the " glad news; " 
 that is, the old vowels look glum ; but there are grace 
 less young Clacks, Clicks, and Clocks, as well as Clucks, who 
 approve of Universalism out of spite, and, though they have no 
 peculiar predilection for the tedious heaven, " where congre 
 gations ne er break up, and Sabbaths never end," yet they 
 choose to have the gates thereof kept open, as an alternative 
 retreat from the fiery and unsavory opposite. Thus each is 
 fed in turn with the food his sectarian palate affects ; the 
 sectarian spirit is kept sharp, and the " union meeting 
 house " is well filled. 
 
 Squire Chinby is recognized as the great man of the 
 
 region, which is often called the " Chinby neighborhood." 
 
 He is an independent farmer, one of the selectmen, keeps 
 
 the Chinby school in winter, and leads the singing in the 
 
 15
 
 170 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 union meeting-house. He pretends to no preference of sects, 
 and sings dolorous reprobation or exulting universal salva 
 tion, in their appropriate tunes, with impartial execution. All 
 the vowels say that he is a Gallio, " caring for none of these 
 things;" yet his influence is decisive with them all. Such 
 is the advantage of a non-committalism. They each hope yet 
 to get him on their side, and therefore speak him fair. 
 
 Chinby has a large family, all good-looking ; but his two 
 blue-eyed daughters look best of all. They are the prettiest 
 and best-dressed girls in the region. All Chinby s things 
 look well ; he takes pride in having everything, including 
 himself, look well. 
 
 Chinby pressed the invitation to the " divinity student " to 
 come to their meeting next Sunday. There was to be a cele 
 brated minister there, a heathen missionary ; for so he, with 
 malicious humor, designates the missionary to the heathen. 
 The " divinity student," however, was not much attracted by 
 the promised treat, and rather evaded the invitation, till 
 Chinby introduced his blue-eyed daughters. Then he some 
 what relented; observing that he was in his friend Alek s hands, 
 but should come if possible. Alek, thus appealed to, readily 
 promised to bring his friend ; and thus Parson Borernan, who 
 elaborated his sermon for the next Sunday with peculiar 
 care, that the divinity student might know what it is to be a 
 minister, lost his labor, so far as Harry was concerned. 
 
 Alek still held his resolve to be quiet. He determined 
 that none should suspect his trouble. His unrequited love 
 and wounded pride, already sore enough, shrunk from the 
 blistering salve of sympathy, so generally applied in such 
 cases. So he kept secret the disorder of his heart, and wore 
 a brave face.
 
 VTOLFSDEN. 17x 
 
 Wounded pride, though often the bitterest ingredient in 
 the cup of disappointed love, added little, however, to Alek s 
 grief. His self-estimate was based on such strong convic 
 tions of his capabilities, that he was not much humbled. He 
 cast his mind forward to overlook the intervening space which 
 separates present gloom from the possible brightness of the 
 future; for his inquietude was that which inspires resolve 
 and prompts effort, even in desperation. In the smooth cur 
 rent of reciprocated love his manly virtues would have been 
 gently and surely developed, but his deeper and dormant 
 energies might not have been awakened. The deep strife of 
 his passion roused his soul to a new self-estimate, and new 
 resolve. The day was to him an epoch. It finished the soft 
 and pleasing dream of the past, and filled him with a sense 
 of the faculties by which he must work out the untried duties 
 and unknown destinies of the future. The hopes and remem 
 brances so dear to him he would not regret nor cast away ; 
 but he determined to remain no longer in their view. He 
 repeated his resolve of quiet the quiet of firm resolve. 
 
 Harry was happy enough. It was his genius to be happy. 
 The bright side of everything reflects its brightness upon 
 him. When the resources of enjoyment are abundant, he 
 revels in them ; when they fail, he is none the less happy. 
 Whatever is pleasant in his possession he enjoys. The pleas 
 ant possessions of others give him equal pleasure. As once 
 a learned Bonze followed a rich and ostentatious Mandarin, 
 repeatedly thanking him for his jewels, " Friend," said the 
 Mandarin, " why thank me ? I give thee none of my jewels." 
 " True," replied the Bonze ; " but you permit me the 
 pleasure of looking on them, which is all that even yourself
 
 172 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 can enjoy." So Harry enjoys every pleasant thing, regardless 
 of possession. 
 
 The deep fountains of his feeling were opened, and the 
 repose of his soul s quiet disturbed ; yet the element of 
 self-satisfaction still prevailed, and will still prevail, whatever 
 results may follow. 
 
 He appeared more thoughtful, more earnest, more manly, 
 than before, but not the less bright and joyous. He thought 
 of Margaret as the knights thought of their lady-loves, 
 invested with unapproachable grace, whom the privilege of 
 sometimes seeing and always adoring was its own ample 
 reward ; and with whatever pangs strong emotion and un 
 certain hope pierced his heart, they still more endeared to 
 him their object, as Tony s fair cousins loved best the books 
 \vhich made them cry the most. 
 
 Alek and Harry were fast friends. Though so different 
 in their experiences, habits, and elements of character, their 
 differences were such as combine in mutually agreeable and 
 profitable companionship. Harry had looked abroad, and 
 learned the knowledge and the ways of the world. Alek had 
 looked within, and drawn knowledge from the heart. Each 
 surprised and pleased the other with novel ideas. Each im 
 parted, received, and shared with the other, in social feeling 
 and generous confidence. Yet upon one subject both were in 
 stinctively silent ; and that very silence suggested mutual 
 inferences vague and erroneous in both. Each generously 
 awarded the chief interest in Margaret to the other, and each 
 with equal pangs of regret. 
 
 Next Sunday promised a nice day for enterprise. A 
 week s fair weather had made the sleighing smooth, and Alek 
 arranged a party to patronize the " heathen missionary.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 173 
 
 Margaret was invited, but declined. The Simperkins was 
 not invited, but strongly inclined to go. Heathen mission 
 aries are her delight. But remembrance of disasters past, 
 and fear of like catastrophes to come, deterred her. She was 
 also piqued at the neglect of the " divinity student," who had 
 learned to whom he owed the reverence for clerical dignity 
 which had so much annoyed him. It was not from delicacy 
 of sentiment, but fear of some mad freak, by way of punish 
 ment, that she did not, in some of her irresistible ways, press 
 her claims to make one of the devotional party to the North 
 Meeting-house. 
 
 But the pung was well filled, nevertheless, and fleetly the 
 spirited colts skimmed the road. But, swift as they went, 
 Harry s fame had preceded him ; and he was received by 
 young and old with the reverence, and scanned with the crit 
 icism, due to a scion of divinity. He was half amused and 
 half vexed, and meditated how he should shake off his un 
 merited and unwelcome honors. Fortunately the missionary 
 soon arrived, and absorbed most of the reverence and criti 
 cism kept on hand for such occasions. Fortunately, also, the 
 worshippers at the union meeting-house are careful not to com 
 mit themselves by too much cordiality, or too much criticism, 
 till the sectarian character of the claimant shall be known. 
 It was uncertain what wind of doctrine the young man might 
 have brought with him ; and Clack, Click, Clock, and Cluck, 
 each devised their plans to sound him. 
 
 Meantime the missionary took his position. Harry recog 
 nized him, at once. It was liev. Titus Twangson, one of the 
 devoted and self-sacrificing band who sailed, some two years 
 before, in his uncle s ship, the " Main Chance," from New 
 York, bound for the Sandwich Islands. Harry was at that 
 15* -
 
 174 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 time a visitor at his uncle s ; and, as the missionary ship was 
 then a chief object of interest with the family, he frequently 
 went on board, and became quite well acquainted with its 
 arrangements, from the splendid cabin and saloon devoted to 
 the missionaries and their wives, to the less inviting fore 
 castle devoted to the sailors. The cargo of the Main Chance 
 was made up partly of barrels of New England rum, with 
 muskets, powder and ball, and boxes of hardware, some of 
 which, marked " Hints for Brawlers," " Peace Persuaders," 
 " Kentucky Codes," &c., excited his curiosity, till told they 
 were daggers, bowie-knives, and other trinkets of commerce. 
 Harry had previously, like many other thoughtless boys, felt 
 a strong inclination for the excitement and adventure of a 
 sailor s life ; but the conversation at his uncle s concerning 
 the great work of the missionaries, and the great rewards to 
 follow, and especially a comparison of the cabin and saloon 
 with the forecastle, gradually changed his views in favor of a 
 missionary life ; in preparation for which, he cultivated a 
 sentimental acquaintance with Miss Xeverspin, a young lady 
 about his own age, and one of the missionary s daughters, 
 who, with her parents, sojourned a few days at his uncle s 
 while the ship was in preparation for departure. He also 
 formed a particular acquaintance with Mr. Ramble, second 
 mate on board the Main Chance, a young man of superior 
 education and congenial disposition, who promised to- commu 
 nicate to him whatever of interest he might find in the voy 
 age. Harry witnessed the celebration of the departure of the 
 missionaries, and helped sing the parting hymn. 
 
 " I must leave you, I must leave you, 
 Far in heathen lands to dwell,"
 
 WOLFSDEN. 175 
 
 But Mr. Twangson did not dwell long in heathen lands ; 
 for he had returned, some few months since, to recruit his 
 health, and awaken missionary zeal at home, by telling hia 
 experiences among the heathen. Harry had already been in 
 formed, through Mr. Ramble, of a portion of his experiences, 
 especially that he had entered into a matrimonial engagement 
 with Miss Xeverspin, which was to be fulfilled on his return. 
 Harry, of course, hated the missionary who had thus sup 
 planted him. Not that his heart was wounded by Miss 
 Neverspin s inconstancy ; for his own tender remembrance, as 
 well as his missionary zeal, had faded away long ago. But 
 it was provoking to have the tender reminiscences recalled by 
 the presence of his successor. Therefore, though having no 
 real cause of provocation, he felt a kind of good-natured 
 malice against the missionary, as though he should like to see 
 him " cornered," or upset in a snowdrift, or something of the 
 sort, which might ruffle but not hurt him. 
 
 The missionary performed the services of the day with 
 the grace and readiness which habit gives. He depicted in 
 gloomy colors the degradation of savage life before the 
 advent of the missionaries, and summed up the countless loss 
 of souls through idolatry and want of Christian instruction. 
 He spoke in general terms of the sacrifices and privations of 
 the missionaries life, separated from native land and cultivated 
 society ; but represented them as willing to do and suffer all, 
 for the souls of the heathen, of whose worth he made a high 
 estimate, and by a plain arithmetical process proved the 
 profits of their redemption. He earnestly recommended the 
 formation of a union missionary society, auxiliary to the 
 American Board, to be aided by a sewing-circle of the ladies; 
 and also the children should be permitted and encouraged tc
 
 176 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 help by the cent-a-week plan, upon which " infant offerings " 
 he laid much stress; and, by his economical calculations and 
 pathetic appeals, he persuaded many a tender mind to forego 
 the customary stick of candy, the cost of which might prove, 
 in some future age of eternity, to have been the price of a soul, 
 and to put the money into the mission-box, and thus lay 
 up treasures in heaven. By way of exciting emulation, he 
 gave accounts of the zeal and liberality of other places, some 
 of which had guaranteed a certain sum annually, and some 
 
 had assumed the responsibility of educating and supporting a 
 
 
 
 missionary in the field. He suggested several ingenious ex 
 pedients for increasing the interest and swelling the contribu 
 tions for the cause ; and praised the memory of several pious 
 benefactors, who had left liberal bequests in their wills, thus 
 leaving a record which would not be forgotten at the judg 
 ment-day. 
 
 When he concluded, Mr. Click, wearing the well-pleased 
 countenance of one whose doctrinal star is in the ascendant, 
 partly to signalize his triumph, and partly to show his sound 
 ness of doctrine, made a speech in support of the views of the 
 minister. The other vowels, partly to cover their retreat from 
 the vanquished field, and partly to prove their independence, 
 made commonplace, non-committal speeches. Mr. Click, 
 wishing to pursue his victory, looked significantly towards 
 Harry, and presuming, from the circumstance of his being a 
 divinity student, and a visitor at Deacon Arbor s, that he 
 would be a good ally, arose, and " hoped that the young 
 brother from abroad, who had doubtless given the missionary 
 subject his prayerful consideration, would favor them with 
 his views." 
 
 Harry felt himself in " a tight place." Without fault of
 
 WOLFSDEN. 177 
 
 his own he was in a wrong position. Half vexed and half 
 amused at the absurdity of the blunder, he resolved to right 
 himself in such a way as to throw the embarrassment of the 
 mistake upon those who had made it. The meeting had 
 already assumed something of a debating character, and there 
 fore the way was open for him. He felt stimulated by various 
 motives, principally mischievous, to take the negative, in 
 opposition to the minister, who, he perceived, had not the 
 general and zealous support of the majority. 
 
 He rose and expressed himself willing to give his opinion 
 upon the subject, for he always felt liberal in the way of ad 
 vice, however parsimonious he might be in other matters. The 
 question, like all others of a moral or economical nature, had 
 two sides, both of which should be fairly considered in mak 
 ing up judgment. Religion is an excellent thing, especially 
 when it makes people better ; it is good for something when 
 it only makes them appear better, for decent hypocrisy is 
 not so bad as open profligacy. It is better that the outside 
 of the cup and platter be clean than to be dirty on all sides ; 
 though it should be considered that this convenience may cost 
 too dearly, as is often the case when things pass for what 
 they are not, thereby shutting out the demand for the true 
 article. "As," said he, "should the people generally become 
 satisfied with a religion which dispenses with truth and hon 
 esty, and other essential items of morality, perhaps the world 
 may be the loser upon the whole, however some parties might 
 profit by the traffic." He presumed, however, it was the gen 
 eral intention to send the true article tp the heathen, whatever 
 might be kopt for home use. Still he thought the expediency 
 of the enterprise was an open question. The data roliod upon 
 to prove the economy of saving the heathen should bo closely
 
 178 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 examined. Admitting their inestimable worth, two points 
 remained to be proved : First, that their loss is certain with 
 out missionary aid, and second, that missionary aid could save 
 them. Upon the first point he would not argue, as it involved 
 theological v questions, which he said emphatically never had 
 been his study. He would only observe that a very numerous 
 and respectable Christian sect believed that God would finally 
 save all mankind, and supported their belief by Scripture 
 (here Mr. Cluck, the Universalist, brightened up) ; perhaps 
 he would, save all who are worth saving, and it would be poor 
 economy to go further than that. As God is to be the final 
 judge, it is right to assume that he will be a good judge, and, 
 if he had decreed the utter reprobation of some, they might 
 depend that it was for good reasons (here Mr. Click, the Calvin- 
 ist, looked approvingly) ; but he was of opinion that everybody 
 would have a fair chance for a free choice, and would not be 
 damned but by their own free will (here Mr. Clack, the Free 
 will Baptist, nodded assent), and there might be good hope of 
 a good time coming, when all the world, and the isles of the 
 sea, would land on Canaan s happy shore, and shout glory to 
 God together. (Here Mr. Clock, the Methodist, fervently 
 shouted, Amen.) 
 
 As to the other point, concerning the competency of the 
 missionaries to save the heathen, something might be said. 
 He had received some direct and reliable accounts from the 
 Sandwich Islands, the most famous missionary ground, which 
 showed that rather a low morality prevailed there, even among 
 the most cherished converts. He proceeded to detail facts con 
 cerning the prevalence of polygamy, concubinage, drunken 
 ness, theft, serfdom, compelled ignorance, degradation, and 
 subjection of the masses to the irresponsible and abusive
 
 WOLFSDEN. 179 
 
 power of the chiefs, and the absence generally of all the 
 principles which Christianity pretends to, and argued that 
 the religion which did not show better fruits in this world 
 afforded a poor promise for the next, and might be dear even 
 at a cent a week. His sarcasms became so severe, that Mr. 
 Twangson, who had for some time been uneasy, rose and ob 
 served that the friend s remarks did not appear wholly appro 
 priate to the occasion, and that the time had arrived for con 
 cluding the meeting ; but Mr. Cluck, the Universalist, inter 
 rupted him, saying that the brother had been invited to speak, 
 and must be permitted to proceed, adding, with emphasis, that 
 this was a free house for all sides. Mr. Twangson, seeing no 
 remedy, yielded, and Harry proceeded. 
 
 He said that, even conceding the points just argued, the 
 question remained whether a shorter and cheaper way of do 
 ing Jhe work might not be adopted. Why spend so many 
 years and so much money to teach -missionaries Greek and 
 Hebrew, to convert the heathen? Would not carpenters, and 
 fishermen, and tent-makers, and farmers of the right sort, do as 
 well now as in olden time? He considered it a poor preparation 
 for missionary hardships, if such there were (though he had heard 
 of some luxuries on missionary ground, and had seen something 
 of missionary cabins and saloons, which gave him the suspi 
 cion that the missionary lot was as good as the average lot of 
 life). Yet, allowing tho hardships, he thought a college life 
 a poor preparation for them, not only physically, but morally. 
 He had seen enough to know that. If he had a genius for 
 anything, it was for withstanding temptation; but he suspected 
 that even himself was less qualified to teach things essential 
 to make the right sort of men and Christians than his friend 
 here (patting Alek on the shoulder), who had been brought up
 
 180 f WOLPSDEN. 
 
 in the bush, innocent of a college, or than either of the breth 
 ren who had addressed them, from the pews, with so much 
 sound doctrine. 
 
 The timely and graceful compliment to all the vowels with 
 which Harry concluded his speech served to soften any dis 
 satisfaction which he might have excited iu some; and Harry, 
 though the partisan of none, had succeeded in generally pleas 
 ing or conciliating an audience made up of adverse elements. 
 
 Mr. Twangson, after giving notice that he should preach 
 upon the subject next Sunday in Rev. Mr. Boreman s meet 
 ing-house, and should remain in town during the week to coop 
 erate with the friends of the cause, dismissed the meeting. 
 Mr. Chinby urged Alek, with all his company, to go to his 
 house for dinner, and remain to an evening concert. Alek 
 declined, but suggested that his friend Harry might remain, 
 and he would come for him, and be present at the concert. 
 Harry consented to the arrangement, and presently was snugly 
 stowed in Chinby s family sleigh, with half a dozen happy- 
 looking Chinbys, including the blue-eyed daughters, as pretty 
 and well-dressed as ever. Chinby s horse moved off with his 
 load as though he liked it. The snow from his hoofs rattled 
 against the fender, and flew over the sleigh. The keen air, as 
 they glided rapidly along, congealed their breath in white 
 frost upon hair and eyelashes, and gave a glowing red to 
 cheeks and noses. None the less bright and happy-looking 
 are the half-dozen Chinbys ; not the less pretty, the blue-eyed 
 daughters. It is but a mile in distance ; and in a few minutes 
 they were at Chinby s door. The very door-yard speaks 
 the character of the man, prompt, provident, neat, hospi 
 table, and happy. The ample wood.pile rears itself a high bar 
 rier against the biting north. On the south, elevated on
 
 WOLFSPEN. 181 
 
 ambitious legs, the corn-house exhibits, through latticed crev 
 ices, ks golden stores of shining ears. Upon the east a row 
 of barns and sheds form a high enclosure open to the south, 
 where, in the gathered sunshine, stately oxen, and quiet cows, 
 and meek-looking sheep, and querulous geese, and cackling 
 hens, make a miscellaneous assemblage, among which the self- 
 inflated turkey-cock struts and ruffles his feathers with the 
 well-grounded pride of some "Ancient and Honorable Artil 
 lery " officer. 
 
 The kitchen receives us with a cheerful welcome. It is the 
 kitchen, yet, for pleasant and inviting aspect, it might vie 
 with the proudest saloon of fashion, so clean, so light, so 
 bright, so pure and fresh its atmosphere. From its wide fire 
 place the glowing heat radiates through the ample room, and 
 is reflected from the white floor, and its long-worn but still 
 substantial furniture. In his round old arm-chair, near the 
 chimney-corner, sits the superannuated father and grandfather 
 of the family ; for Squire Chinby, though sixty years old, 
 is but a younger son, and Grandfather Chinby verges upon 
 his hundredth year. Grandfather is quiet, cheerful, and 
 happy. He needs but little help, though everybody wants to 
 help him-; for everybody honors him. He moves about the. 
 house, and in pleasant weather visits the barn and the nearer 
 fields. His son the squire, though, in fact, needing no advice, 
 always asks his father about the more important farming 
 operations ; and the old man is as clear-headed as ever, and 
 often gives really valuable hints. He says it is pretty late in 
 the evening of life for him to be up ; but soon it will be 
 morning, and then he expects to be as bright and early as the 
 best of them. 
 
 Mrs. Chinby, wife of the squire, and mother of the rest of the 
 16
 
 182 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 family, is of delicate appearance, and infirm health. She has 
 long been unable to superintend her household affairs; but her 
 blue-eyed daughters, scarcely sixteen, have for years kept 
 things right. Look about you, and see if anything is wrong. 
 Every room is as neat as this, and always so. And the 
 daughters, do they not look equally agreeable? One would 
 like to have such daughters of his own ; or, at least, to live 
 always with such as these. 
 
 A pleasant, mild-looking man, of intellectual countenance, 
 and more delicate appearance than is common in the country, 
 is introduced. He reaches out his hand, and welcomes you 
 without rising. It is Charles, the squire s oldest son, de 
 formed and unable to walk from infancy. His chair is so 
 contrived that he can move about the room upon it ; and he 
 has another for locomotion out of doors. He is the school 
 master, shoemaker, basket-maker, tailor, and universal genius 
 of the family ; and often repairs watches, clocks, and musical 
 instruments, for others. He is always busy, and, as they say, 
 always just so; meaning always pleasant and agreeable. He 
 has the reputation of great learning ; but his learning, like 
 all his other attainments, is self-acquired. Converse with 
 him, and your pity for his infirmity will be forgotten in 
 respect for his knowledge and understanding. Of all the 
 squire s family, none are more highly prized than Charles. 
 
 We give this exact description from real life, to show the 
 position of an independent Maine farmer, of thrifty habits 
 and respectable understanding, self-cultivated a little beyond 
 the general average of his neighbors, but not more so than the 
 best of them. Without further detail, we request the reader 
 to imagine whatever of comfort, convenience, and luxury, may 
 be enjoyed in that condition, under the best circumstances,
 
 183 
 
 and he will have a fair picture of constant every-day life at 
 Ghinby s. Wealth could reasonably desire nothing more. 
 Wealth iu cities could not buy so much ; for its glow and 
 freshness cannot be transferred thither, any more than the 
 wild warblings of the birds, or first dewy fragrance of the 
 flowers, or the racy flavor of its summer fruits. 
 
 Why should not a true history, like this, include an idea of 
 the economy of country life. At the risk of tediousness, we 
 give this plain account, believing it will be of interest, and 
 perhaps of value, to some. Let us briefly finish it by sum 
 ming up the cost. 
 
 Squire Chinby s farm, the only essential source of all his 
 abundance, the ample and independent home of his family, 
 yielding support, for successive generations, in sickness and 
 health, is valued at no more than two thousand dollars. 
 Surely it requires but little wealth, when well employed, to 
 enable man to sustain the dignity, fulfil the duties, and enjoy 
 the benefits of life. Let the anxiously-toiling and harassed 
 sous of trade, and slaves of city life, think of this. Yet, 
 should some city wight feel disposed to break his chain, and 
 flee to the freedom of a farm, let him not deem himself at 
 once endowed with the faculties of a Chinby. As the coun 
 try boy makes many blunders and provokes much derision 
 before he can learn to prosper in the ways of the city, so the 
 cit upon a farm, though blessed with more self-conceit, is 
 generally as unsuccessful in his early essays, and is some 
 times the subject of similar though more courteously re 
 strained ridicule.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WINTER wanes from Wolfsden. The bland gales of the 
 south dissolve his snowy mantle. The swollen streams burst 
 his icy chains. The mayflower peeps from its leafy bed by 
 the sunny margin of the forest, or on mossy banks, diffusing 
 sweet odors. The frogs trill their evening concert, and the 
 robin wakes the morning with a song. The forest unfolds 
 and spreads abroad upon the fragrant air its dress of leafy 
 green, while orchards and meadows bring out their vernal 
 ornaments of bright blossoms. Nature calls her children 
 forth to new pleasures and new duties. She spreads before 
 the farmer his pleasing and well-rewarding work. 
 
 But the mind of youth is often thrown from its even and 
 well-ordered balance. A single disappointment, like a stone 
 thrown into the placid lake, breaks and distorts the fair vision 
 on every side. Youth waits not its returning repose, but 
 turns impatiently from the no longer lovely view ; for experi 
 ence has not yet taught the sad but salutary lesson of control, 
 or given the habit of endurance. 
 
 Alek was no longer satisfied with the pleasures and duties, 
 the realities and anticipations, of his rural life. He must 
 see the world, must try its fortunes, and test his own powers. 
 His best reasonings, drawn into the channel of his feelings,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 185 
 
 urged upon him a new line of action. He will not, like the 
 unreasoning brute, suffer his course of life to be controlled by 
 circumstance; for, even should it chance to be the best, the 
 merit of choice will not be his. He will examine the ways 
 of the world, and choose as his informed and ripened judgment 
 shall decide ; and then, should he find his present lot the 
 best, it will be doubly so, for he will know how to value it. 
 
 He talked with his father, and his father, though wise in 
 experience and observation, considered the immaturity of 
 youth, and deemed content not too dearly purchased at the 
 expense of hard experience. He had confidence in the dis 
 cretion and principles of his son, and feared not to trust him 
 abroad. He preferred, since some opportune advantages now 
 offered, that he should go soon, trusting that, whether success 
 ful or not, he would the sooner return. 
 
 From his mother he feared the greatest objections to his 
 enterprise; for, without her free consent, he would not go, 
 and he knew the strength of her attachment. He told her 
 his thoughts, his wishes, and plans, and she approved and 
 encouraged them. He understood her; he knew the power 
 of her self-sacrificing love, and he again resolved that her 
 affection should ever find in him a worthy object and reward. 
 
 It was of a Sabbath evening, a few days before the ar 
 rangements of his departure were completed, that she talked 
 with him at length, and alone. Let the holy words of a 
 mother s counsel be recorded. They who are already wise 
 enough may pass them by ; to others, as to Alek, they may 
 be words of salvation. 
 
 " My son," said the mother, " you are now going, without 
 experience, into a world where the ways are dangerous, where 
 nearly all suffer great losses, and many are wholly lost. I 
 16*
 
 180 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 have no experience of the dangers you will meet ; but I know 
 that they arc great, and that those most to be feared are 
 those of which you little think. I have learned the means by 
 which so many young men, who started in life with every 
 hopeful promise, have been driven or deluded into ruin. My 
 love for you, my oldest son, the joy of my early motherhood, 
 and the hope of my declining years, has sharpened my reflec 
 tions, and prepared me to say some things to you, which 
 something higher than my own reason prompts, and tells me 
 will be useful to you. I know that you, who have always 
 shown your unbounded love for me, and respect for my senti 
 ments, will give due weight to all I shall say; and that what 
 you know^to be right you will receive and cherish with still 
 more care and fidelity because your mother enjoins it. But 
 I do not wish for my influence to go beyond its proper limits. 
 I only ask, as the extent of a mother s privilege, that what I 
 say to you in accordance with what you feel to be right and 
 proper in itself for you to observe, that you will esteem it 
 still more sacred and binding because of your mother ; so 
 that, if your own good principles should ever be in danger of 
 yielding in the hour of strong temptation, your mother s 
 memory and love may come to their aid, and save you. Will 
 you promise me this, my son? " 
 
 " My dearest mother," said Alek, much affected, " my 
 whole soul tells you YES. I think I have better principles 
 and more wisdom to direct me than most young men who go 
 out into the world ; and it is because I was so fortunate as 
 to be born of you, and be educated by you ; but I should lose 
 all my self-respect, and all my pride of parentage, if I should 
 find in myself a disposition to undervalue your instructions, 
 now that my reflection enables me more than ever to see
 
 WOLFS DEN. 187 
 
 their pure worth, and now that I shall need them more than 
 ever, when I am away from under your eye ; though," con 
 tinued he, playfully, " I can hardly think that can be the 
 case at all ; for I know by experience that your eye follows 
 me wherever I go. And if I should be tempted to do a 
 wrong thing a thousand miles off, I should feel as if you 
 knew it." 
 
 "And be assured," said the mother, "I should know it, 
 at least, I should fed it. It would be like a sigh breathed 
 into my spirit, or a drop of sadness falling into my heart. 
 And by this I know that the consequences of any sinful act 
 are eternal. The act may be repented of, and the wound of 
 sin cured, but it can never be as if it had never been. The 
 remembrance will always remain. How great is the cost of 
 every sin for which sorrowful remembrances and regrets must 
 be paid forever ! 0, how desirable to pass through this life 
 so as to have no cause for regret in the life to come ! Before 
 your birth, how anxious I was that you should come into the 
 world a fair and unblemished child ; but how much more do 
 I hope and pray that, when this mortal life is done, you may 
 be born into the immortal world a pure and unblemished 
 spirit ! You have, thus far, fulfilled my hopes, and filled 
 my heart with joy and pride; and I trust that in all the eternity, 
 of which this life is to us the beginning, I shall forever rejoice 
 in you." 
 
 " Dearest mother," said Alek, " if I should ever forget to 
 value my eternal welfare for my own sake, I shall, at least, 
 remember it, and strive for it, for yours. It would make even 
 heaven uncomfortable to remember that I had slighted your 
 admonitions, or failed to fulfil all you expect of me." 
 
 " 1 have," said the mother, " thought for a long while of
 
 188 1VOLFSDEN. 
 
 what I shall now say to you ; for I have anticipated this hour 
 of separation long before you thought of it. There is noth 
 ing marvellous in this. The mother s instinct, deepened by 
 reflection, and elevated by prayer, is sufficient to account for 
 what might seem prophetic foresight. I have long known, in 
 my heart, that your path of life would lead you away from 
 your mother s side, into scenes and circumstances different 
 from anything we know of. The thought has lain, heavily 
 upon my heart when your heart was light ; but I have felt 
 sustained by an abiding confidence that the God of your 
 father and mother, and of your blessed grandparents, will 
 also be your God, and that you will not forsake him." 
 
 " Beloved mother," replied Alek, " if every other bond 
 which binds me to God and my duty shall fail, my mother s 
 memory, her prayers, and her love, shall still hold me from 
 falling away. I hope that I may have grace to love and 
 obey God from still higher principles ; and till then I will 
 love and obey him from love and obedience to you." 
 
 " My precepts," continued the mother, " will now be few, 
 and chiefly on one point, of which mothers seldom speak to 
 their sons, and too seldom even to their daughters. On other 
 topics I have so carefully instructed you, that you know my 
 whole mind, and have profited by it in forming yours. You 
 have come to the age, and the maturity of thought and 
 reflection, when boyish follies and indiscretions are no longer 
 likely to degrade you. You have too much self-respect and 
 nobleness of nature to allow anger, or envy, or mean ambi 
 tions, or jealousies, or fear of the censure or ridicule of 
 others, to make you do a wrong act, nourish an unworthy 
 feeling, or neglect a known duty. You know and I think 
 coincide with my religious views, which partake largely
 
 W L F S D E X . 189 
 
 of the sentiments of our Quaker ancestors. The Scriptures 
 you will continue to study ; for they teach of wonderful deal 
 ings of God with men, which cannot elsewhere be learned. 
 You will ever reverence the teachings of Him who spake as 
 never man spake, and fix them on your memory and heart, as 
 the sure guide of life. But the -most noble result of this 
 study will be the nourishing in your heart of the inward 
 light, superior to all other guides, and without which even 
 the Scriptures are vain. That is the SPIRIT, which shall lead 
 you into all truth. It is the voice of the Shepherd. If you 
 watch, you will know his voice. Fear not to follow it. It is 
 more certain even than the written word ; for this may be 
 misinterpreted, but the voice of God, speaking through a 
 pure and cultivated conscience, kept awake by constant 
 watchfulness and obedience to its teachings, will never per 
 mit you to be led astray. It is only by turning away from 
 this light that you can fall. 
 
 " The danger which I fear for you is one into which many 
 noble and gifted men have fallen ; and their nobleness and 
 their gifts have become degraded and lost. Even the best 
 and most generous feelings of your nature, which would keep 
 you from falling into other dangers, may, in some circum 
 stances, be a snare to lead you into this. 
 
 " My son, be pure. Keep your soul free from the pollu 
 tion of an unchaste emotion. Blessed are the pure in heart, 
 for they shall see God. The pure in heart always see him. 
 His light shines within and about them, and they walk with 
 him. 0, how noble and blessed they become who always 
 Walk with him ! But, alas ! how many and how alluring 
 are the temptations which lead astray ! They often seem 
 innocent when most to be feared. The way seemeth right
 
 190 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 when the end thereof is death. Venture not near that dan 
 gerous boundary where virtue relaxes into the fashions of vice, 
 and vice puts on the pretences of virtue. Enter into a holy 
 covenant with your mother, and your own soul, and with God, 
 that you will shun every path which leads into this tempta 
 tion ; that, as soon as you see the first approaches of that 
 sin, you will turn from it. To your own soul, and your 
 mother, and God, will you promise this ? " 
 
 " I will," said Alek. His voice was deep ; so was his 
 resolve. 
 
 " And may God give you discernment and strength to 
 truly keep this covenant ! 
 
 " Your enlightened judgment and conscientious reflection 
 will guide you to a right application of these principles. To 
 the society of pure and elevated women, even the beautiful 
 and accomplished, I would gladly commit, not only the form 
 ing of your manners, but also the cultivation of those quali 
 ties of mind which make men amiable, as well as good. The 
 purest and most refining human influence comes from refined 
 and virtuous women. The best men are far inferior in their 
 goodness to the best women, and have far less power to in 
 fluence others to goodness. I have sometimes thought that our 
 Saviour took the form of a man, rather than woman, that he 
 might show how grace can elevate that form of humanity 
 which has the least of native goodness. 
 
 " Men naturally expect women to be more virtuous than 
 themselves, and it therefore is that an indiscreet or wanton 
 woman is so dangerous ; for even men, who by themselves 
 and others are accounted virtuous, seem to think woman 
 alone the guardian of that purity for which both men and 
 women are justly and equally responsible, and will therefore
 
 Vf L F S D E N . 191 
 
 approach as near the boundary of vice as she will peruit 
 Let this base weakness never influence your conduct ; and let 
 this be your rule, the best that my inexperience in this matter 
 can suggest : that you will never approach to a conduct, 
 utter an expression, or even indulge a thought, which you 
 would be unwilling to have your mother and sisters know ; 
 and that, if you shall find yourself in any society, however 
 attractive, where you shall be in danger of violating this 
 rule, you will give it up at once, and avoid it henceforth. 
 In so doing," said the mother, " God will reward you. 
 In due time you will be crowned with all the happiness he 
 designs for our mortal estate. You will know what woman 
 is worth when God shall lead you in the way of one whom 
 you shall first understand, and then honor, and then esteem, 
 and then love, and who will understand, and honor, and 
 esteem, and love you. Love which is built on these found 
 ations is durable and happy. Domestic life, which is 
 bound up in such a love, is the highest of earthly happiness, 
 and the most advantageous state of preparation for eternal 
 happiness. I trust that you will so wisely and truly live as 
 to secure both." 
 
 They sat in silence many minutes. At length the mother 
 rose, and, placing her hands on Alek s hea d, and parting his 
 hair, said : " My son, we have still some days to be together, 
 but remember this as our parting interview, and let all that we 
 have now said be treasured in your heart. Farewell, my 
 son ; may the blessing of the God of thy fathers be with thee, 
 and bring thee again in peace ! " 
 
 And, with a parting kiss, she went cheerfully from the room. 
 
 Harry had now left Wolfsden. His enforced indulgence 
 of absence terminated several weeks since, and he returned
 
 192 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 to college life, but not to the college of frivolities and dissipa 
 tion which he so unwillingly left. The professors and tutors 
 were surprised at his thoughtful and earnest manner and 
 manly bearing, and reflected with self-complacency upon the 
 salutary effects of their admonition, and the benefit of their 
 discipline. Could they know the source of his reform, they 
 would say that a wilder folly, like a stronger evil spirit, had 
 driven out the lesser demons, and taken sole possession. 
 
 Harry s elevated reputation, wherewith he was so gratui 
 tously honored on his arrival in Wolfsden, was quite as un 
 ceremoniously shorn from him before his departure. The 
 good name, which is better than precious ointment, is often 
 a precarious possession among those good folks who have 
 naught to do but mark and tell their neighbors faults and 
 folly. The voyager, who finds the sea always smooth and 
 the winds always favorable, either sails in a very large ship, 
 or steers a very crooked course. It was not Harry s 
 genius to mind the winds and courses much. He took no 
 pains to preserve his unexpected honors, and no wonder he 
 lost them. His exposition of doctrines at Chinby s Meeting 
 house, though original and able, was not thought to be " to 
 edification ; " in short, it was unlucky. To expose the folly 
 of the eminently good, is often to excite their animosity. 
 
 Mr. Twangson had good reasons, or, at least, strong 
 motives, to rebuke the presumption of the young man who 
 had so audaciously disputed the prerogative of infallibility 
 which pertains to a missionary as surely as to the Pope. 
 He soon learned Harry s history as understood in Wolfsden ; 
 and, by direct inquiry of Uncle Timothy, at Deacon Arbor s, 
 he found out the cause of his absence from his class in col 
 lege. He then expatiated with severity upon the depravity
 
 V, O L F 5 D E N . 193 
 
 manifested, when a person in his position, under censure for 
 bad conduct, assumes a religious character for a cloak under 
 which to attack the most sacred institutions. 
 
 Deacon Arbor and his family, who had now become well 
 acquainted with Harry s frank and open disposition, and who 
 knew all the circumstances of the debate at the North Meet 
 ing-house, could not iail to perceive that personal feelings 
 entered somewhat into the missionary s maledictions, and 
 therefore kept their own opinion ; but with Parson Boremau, 
 Deacon Murray, Mrs. Simperkins, and other elders, the mis 
 sionary had it all his own way, and Harry was denounced 
 and anathematized where he hud been most zealously lauded 
 and magnified. The parson, who remembered with angry mor 
 tification that he had taken special pains to propitiate him, 
 besides having invited him to his pulpit, felt the holy horror 
 and indignation of one who has taken a viper to his bosom 
 unawares. Mrs. Simperkins said it was the weriest piece of 
 himposition that hever come hunder er hobservation. Poor 
 Mrs. Simperkins had many mortifying remembrances with 
 which to nurse her wrath and keep it warm ; and not even the 
 remembrance of being honored with Harry s Latin and Greek 
 could mollify her. She could not assert that he had claimed 
 to be a divinity student, yet she insisted that he had assumed 
 the character and conversation of one, on purpose to deceive 
 her and others; and to this view the parson and major both 
 assented, for why else had he not declared himself when 
 invited to the pulpit? Deacon Arbor s good opinion of his 
 guest was set down to his own faulty good-nature, which was 
 always seeking excuses for everybody ; and it was feared that 
 the deacon, though sound, was not too well grounded in the 
 doctrine of total depravity. The deacon was compelled to own 
 17
 
 194 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 that Harry had knelt on occasion of family prayer, which 
 they considered tantamount in him to a hypocritical profes 
 sion of religion, or a contemptuous mockery of it. Deacon 
 Murray s deep and settled principles of doctrine and preju 
 dice were as grappling-irons and cables, to hold Harry s soul 
 in the predestined pit of perpetual perdition. 
 
 The busy world made its comments upon this repudiation 
 by the church, according to the previous feelings of individ 
 uals. Some, who had envied Harry s honors, felt gratified 
 at seeing his reputation so suddenly rent to rags, and the 
 divinity student proved to be no better than themselves. 
 Others, who really liked him, but supposed that he had in 
 tentionally put on the pretence of piety for the sake of mis 
 chief, laughed at the joke by which " the elect " had been 
 "quizzed ; while others, of a higher character, who had an 
 esteem for him, and knew not the facts, regretted the deceit 
 ful part they supposed him to have acted. Margaret, espe 
 cially, was astonished at the development of the wolf from 
 the garb of the lamb, as the missionary expressed it ; and felt 
 all the sincere regret of a delicate mind, on finding duplicity 
 in one whom she had believed worthy of all confidence and 
 honor. 
 
 But Harry did not remain long enough to observe the 
 regretful or averted looks of former friends. In Deacon 
 Arbor s family he was as well regarded as ever ; and in a 
 few days his pleasant visit at Wolfsden terminated. During 
 this time, he had learned of Alek his determination to travel 
 and seek his fortune ; and had given him much wise advice, 
 drawn from his own experience, and such as might formerly 
 have been profitably adopted by himself, however little 
 adapted to.Alek s probable contingencies, in addition to
 
 W L J? S D K N . 195 
 
 which, he gave him the more promising benefit of an earnest 
 introduction to his uncle in New York, with whom, notwith 
 standing his irregularities, he still had some influence. 
 
 Dressed in a new and substantial suit of clothes, in which 
 a city tailor might perhaps see something to remind him of 
 the description of Yankee Doodle s dress, bating the striped 
 trousers, with a bundle under his arm, and a stout staff in 
 his hand, and a leathern pocket-book weighty with silver 
 coin, tokens of love and resources in exigency, Alek departed 
 from his home on foot and alone. He could have commanded 
 an escort of friends and horses, but he determined to begin 
 as he expected to go on. Adopting Harry s phrase, he said 
 it was his genius to go away on foot ; and if his genius 
 should find horses and coaches for him, he would come back 
 in different style ; otherwise, his return, however humble, 
 should not shame his departure. His friends were satisfied 
 with his reasons and his resolution. He departed laden with 
 blessings, prayers, and prophecies of good. 
 
 The freshness of early morning strengthened the elasticity 
 of his vigorous frame and youthful spirits. His firm resolve 
 fortified his heart against the weakness of regret. The many- 
 linked chain of home affections and habitudes he might not 
 break, but he was strong to drag its increasing length. The 
 conscious heaviness upon his heart he would not throw off, if 
 he could ; for he felt that, like the dollars in his pocket, it was 
 a salutary weight. His countenance was not the less bright 
 nor his step less light. 
 
 Of the younger ones left behind, he foresaw the most trou 
 blesome parting with little Amy, for she would cling to hia 
 neck, and insist that he should not go ; therefore he started 
 the earlier, and passed Colonel Bowler s before the family
 
 196 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 had risen, and Amy only knew he was gone when Fanny 
 came over, after breakfast, to give the present and the kiss he 
 had left for her. Alek was already many miles away, for 
 he walked like the man in Bunyan s Dream, who believed the 
 avenger of blood to be pursuing him, or rather as one whose 
 resolution is wound up so tightly that his body must go, per 
 force. His path first lay across the pasture and woods, by 
 which he saved a long distance ; after which, he pursued the 
 crooked and irregular yet generally smooth and pleasant 
 road, which follows the Saco s winding stream, along green 
 banks or through dark woods, or often among abrupt and 
 precipitous rocks, where a traveller is seldom seen. The 
 robin welcomed him with her brisk and cheerful morning 
 melody. The squirrel, perched on a projecting bough, chat 
 tered an angry remonstrance at his approach. The distant 
 quail still at intervals recalled in mournful monotony the 
 remembrance of Poor-Bob-White. Yet on moved Alek, un 
 mindful of the morning melody, the angry clamor, or the 
 mournful monotony. His soul was absorbed in contempla 
 tions too deep to be disturbed by external sights or sounds. 
 
 The sun rose high, and exhaled the dew. The road 
 wound along a high embankment, which rose upon the right 
 towards a precipitous hill of rifted granite, where the broken 
 and cavernous sides sometimes gave root to a tall, waving 
 pine, or a spreading beech, but where mostly the sharp rocks 
 elevated their points above the scanty shrubs of dwarf oak 
 and white birch. On the left, the river stretched its silvery 
 line far away toward the south, often losing itself, and still 
 returning to view, now with gentle embrace surrounding 
 little isfands, and lingering lovingly among green meadows, 
 and anon sweeping rapidly by the base of overshadowing
 
 WOLFSDEX. 197 
 
 hills, and leaping with foaming fury along its narrow and 
 shelvy channel. 
 
 A rocky rivulet, dashing from among the cliffs upon the 
 right, glided with a gentler but still rapid flow along its 
 rough bed, and gave its slight but constant tribute to the 
 sovereign stream. A shady nook upon its margin invited 
 repose. Exercise had sharpened appetite ; and Alek sat 
 down by the rivulet, beneath an overhanging beech, and 
 spread out the plentiful and inviting repast provided by lov 
 ing hands. He ate with a good will, and drank from the 
 cool waters. He reclined upon the mossy margin, and in 
 dulged reveries of the home from which he was now a wan 
 derer, and of joys and hopes now departed. He thought of 
 the vicissitudes, the efforts, the possibilities and uncertainties, 
 to come. 
 
 The soft murmur of the stream, the drowsy hum of busy 
 insects, the hollow drum of the partridge far in the woods, 
 the stillness of the air, the sultry heat of the sun, and the 
 refreshing coolness of the shade, combined to prolong his rest. 
 Sleep, of late defrauded of its due, now stole upon him una 
 wares. The unguided current of his busy thought still moved 
 on, and in fancy he still pursued his uncertain way. Diffi 
 culties and dangers obstructed him, but were magically sur 
 mounted and overborne. Bright visions of prosperity sur 
 rounded him. He found himself the favorite of fortune, and 
 the companion of fortune s favorites. The latent feeling of 
 doubt that there might be fallacy in what seemed so fair, 
 gradually gave way to assurance and security. He congrat 
 ulated himself upon the self-discerning merit which at length 
 had raised him to his proper sphere. 
 
 Still there were incongruities in his position which per 
 17*
 
 198 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 plexed him. He wished to justify to himself and others his 
 self-estimate and his fame by great deeds, but found not the 
 opportunity. It was in the dim past that his claims of merit 
 lay, or in some great thing which he was about to accom 
 plish ; yet he could not remember what it was that he had 
 achieved, or was yet to achieve. He received praises and 
 honors with pain, fearing that, after all, they might belong to 
 another ; and he dreaded the moment when the mistake 
 should be discovered, but found no friend to aid him with 
 explanation or advice. Like a monarch doubtful of the 
 allegiance of his subjects, and distrusting most of all his 
 obsequious servants and flatterers, he secretly regretted his 
 miserable splendor. 
 
 A lovely female form, blending the fair proportions and 
 dignified grace of Margaret with a softer beauty, and a 
 strange and incomprehensible kindness and condescension, as 
 if to atone for past coldness, hovered about him, ever dis 
 playing new fascinations. His mother s hallowed counsel 
 girded him about with a panoply which no seductions could 
 penetrate. Yet he felt ashamed of his reserve, lest it might 
 be mistaken for clownishness, and timidly relaxed his rigor. 
 He gave smile for smile, endearment for endearment, and 
 caress for caress. Suddenly a strange sense of danger star 
 tled him. He turned and saw in the shadow of his fair com 
 panion the grim and fearful form of death, with upraised 
 dart, in attitude to strike. He started with horror, and his 
 dream was gone. His head reclined against the smooth rind 
 of the overshadowing beech, but still the sense of danger 
 thrilled his nerves. He turned his head and moved his 
 hands, to assure himself of his position, for he was yet 
 scarcely awake. Instantly a sharp and prolonged rattling
 
 WOLFSDEN. 19D 
 
 noise, near his side, startled him. With instinctive horror, 
 he threw himself, by a sudden impulse of his body, to a dis 
 tance of several feet in the opposite direction, and was in 
 stantly erect and facing the deadly peril. It was the fatal 
 rattlesnake. With head raised above its coiled body, and 
 with flashing eyes, he was in the instant preparation for the 
 deadly spring. But Alek was now at a safe distance. By 
 a hairbreadth of space, and a point of time, he had escaped 
 a horrible death. His nerves were strung to the tension that 
 comes only when men are surest of what they attempt. He 
 seized a stone, and threw it with the force and precision of a 
 rifle, and the reptile s head was dashed from its writhing body. 
 He then looked cautiously about, but no mate of the hideous 
 reptile was in sight. With fervent devotion, he knelt and 
 thanked his Maker for his preservation, and prayed that the 
 lesson of his dream and his danger, whatever it might be 
 designed to teach, might not be lost upon him. He then 
 hung up the lifeless reptile by the road-side, as a warning to 
 other travellers not to rest in the dangerous place, and pur 
 sued his way.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE reader, if a " friend of humanity," remembers the poor 
 hut of Bang, and his deserted forge, and sorry cow, and dis 
 contented pig, upon whose forlorn lot we cast a passing 
 glance, while buffeting the storm and breaking the road on 
 the day before the new year. The only pleasant thing we 
 saw about the cheerless dwelling was the brave face of the 
 boy Ax, the youngest son of Bang, who, with stocking upon 
 his head and new boots on his feet, reinforced our party. 
 We have since met with Ax in the schoolmaster s story, but 
 have hitherto necessarily delayed the history of the family, 
 which, as an essential part of this impartial record, can no 
 longer be neglected. 
 
 Twenty-five years ago, Mr. Benjamin Barker married Miss 
 Susan Twist. So were the names spelt in the town-clerk s 
 publishment ; and so were they pronounced by the Rev. Mr. 
 Boreman, who solemnized the bans; that is, who pronounced 
 them man and wife, and, over a glass of toddy, wished them 
 good luck. That was a jolly evening. The ceremony was 
 performed at Colonel Bowler s, and young folks and old 
 folks, parson and all, had a good time. To the principal 
 parties the good time lasted some half a dozen years, with 
 occasional interruptions, growing more frequent and serious,
 
 W L F S B E X . 201 
 
 till at any time within twenty years the good time was 
 all gone, and all times were bad at Bang s. For now 
 everybody called kiin Bang, and he had come to call himself 
 Bang. 
 
 In the first bright beginning of his career, he had pro 
 cured a new sign, on which a rampant red horse was painted, 
 with himself in the act of shoeing him ; and underneath, in 
 letters as large as the sign would hold, and bright as red 
 ochre and oil could make, was painted, B. BARKER, 
 BLACKSMITH. The sign did not overstate the owner s 
 merits. He was a blacksmith, every inch, and his inches 
 were many. From a jewsharp to a ploughshare, from a peg 
 ging-awl to a bear-trap, nothing was beyond his skill ; but 
 he prided himself most in his superior success in shoeing 
 horses and oxen, and tempering axes. Custom came in 
 plenty. His hammer s ring might ever be heard from dewy 
 morn till dusky eve ; and none made money faster than " B. 
 Barker, Blacksmith." Mrs. Susan Barker, to use teamster s 
 phrase, kept up her end of the yoke. She had been for sev 
 eral years the principal tailoress in town. Deacon Arbor has 
 still a great-coat with two great capes, made by Susan, a lit 
 tle before she had taken upon herself the dignities of married 
 life, unknowing what indignities were to follow. If activity 
 in all domestic duties could make a good housewife, Susan 
 was a pattern to housewives. Everybody said she was as 
 " smart as a steel-trap," and was born to make her way in 
 the world. The description of her qualities was true, but 
 the prophecy of her success was a failure. Whether the 
 milder and more endearing qualities of womanhood, if she 
 had possessed them, would have improved her condition, may 
 not be provable ; but certainly there was an abundant lack
 
 202 WOLPSDEN. 
 
 in her dwelling of those gentle influences which make home 
 the nursery of good habits. And yet there was no lack of 
 religion among her elements. She had experienced religion 
 when young, and joined Parson Boremari s church ; and for 
 many years before her marriage, and several years afterward, 
 was prominent and zealous in all church matters, pushing 
 forward all sorts of movements favored or tacitly allowed by 
 the minister, such as begging subscriptions for a bell ; start 
 ing the Sunday-school, where little boys and girls recited 
 whole chapters of the Bible, in competition for the picture- 
 books which should reward the most successful, and excite 
 the angry discontent of the unsuccessful competitors ; set 
 tling the disturbances of the musical choir, self-styled the 
 " Philharmonic Band," whose inharmonic bickerings were 
 frequently felt, in dissonant undulations, from the centre to 
 the furthest verge of the society. 
 
 Some movements in which her influence was not allowed 
 its accustomed weight had long ago offended her, and she 
 had withdrawn in dudgeon from active interference in church 
 and parish affairs ; not, however, till a little before the birth 
 of her fourth son. To the preceding three she had given 
 the evangelical names of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and her 
 fourth was in due time christened John. The joke then 
 passed round, that the next one was predestined to the name 
 of Acts. 
 
 In the interval between the birth of John and Ax an 
 affair of great and tragic interest had occurred, which over 
 threw the already waning respectability of the Barker fam 
 ily, and fixed their position in the pariah caste, who still will 
 have a place in every community. A brief account of this 
 affair may properly be given here.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 203 
 
 Susan Twist had an only brother, one year younger than 
 herself. They were left orphans at an early age by a -worth 
 less pair, who died, or disappeared in some forgotten way. 
 The boy and girl, whose education and whose inherited tend 
 encies were of the most unfavorable kind, were then separ 
 ated, and bound, or adopted, into respectable families. The 
 girl was taken into Colonel Bowler s family, where she was 
 properly employed and provided for till she came of age, 
 when she chose a situation where she could learn the tailor s 
 trade, in which she was very successful till her marriage, as 
 already recorded. The brother Jotham proved less manage 
 able, and, after a few years, in which he was at first the 
 plague and afterwards the terror of his benefactors, he ran 
 away. He was then but about a dozen years old, but of 
 strength and activity extraordinary for his years, and with a 
 temper and disposition which promised anything but good 
 from his physical qualities. A daring act of insubordination 
 in school, at the beginning of the winter term, had compelled 
 the master to inflict chastisement. A violent conflict ensued, 
 in which Jotham fought desperately, but was soundly beaten, 
 and compelled to yield. Stung with mortification and rage, 
 he determined on revenge ; and at the recess he watched the 
 opportunity, and while the master stood at the window with 
 in, he hurled a billet of wood from without with such force 
 that it shivered the sash, prostrated the master, and scattered 
 the glass throughout the school-house. This done, he took 
 to his heels ; and, though pursued by the whole school, with 
 the master, who had quickly recovered himself, at their head, 
 he made good his escape, and immediately absconded from 
 Wolfsden, and nothing reliable was heard from him for twenty 
 years. It was rumored that he had gone to sea, had become
 
 204 W L F S D E N . 
 
 a pirate, had been caught and hung, had become a prize 
 fighter in New York, had beaten a dozen champions, and at 
 length had met with more than his match, and after a des 
 perate conflict had finally been killed outright ; that he had 
 entered the burglary and counterfeit money business, had 
 been sentenced to state-prison for ninety-nine years ; that 
 he had gone to Texas and Mexico, had joined the Indians and 
 been made a chief, and distinguished himself with the scalp- 
 ing-knife and tomahawk. 
 
 His real adventures were probably as various and desperate 
 as the rumors, though, not exactly coinciding with them ; for 
 it is certain that in little more than twenty years afterwards, 
 when he had become pretty much forgotten, he reappeared, 
 looking much like any ordinary mortal, who had not been an 
 executed pirate nor an Indian chief, though there were scars 
 about his face which seemed to favor thg prize-fighting report, 
 to which also his swaggering air gave further confirmation. 
 Indeed, his whole appearance, indicating strength, pugnacity, 
 and recklessness, was such that none, even among the stout 
 and hardy yeomen of Wolfsden, would willingly have dis 
 puted with him ; and it was conceded that the wisest way 
 was to give him few words and a wide berth, although a few 
 resolute fellows had made the observation that he must keep 
 his insolence within reasonable limits, unless he felt himself 
 able to flog the whole town at once. 
 
 Circumstances soon led to a conflict, which, though less 
 general and more equal than that which had been talked of 
 as possible, was sufficiently tragical in its results. Jotham 
 had naturally taken up his abode with his sister and brother- 
 in-law, where he was received and entertained with the hos 
 pitality to which his relationship was a sufficient claim. For
 
 Vf L F S D E N . 205 
 
 some time previous, the condition and respectability of the 
 blacksmith had been declining. His wife, from being a 
 thrifty manager, a busy neighbor, and a restless parish med 
 dler, had gradually degenerated to a noisy, quarrelsome shrew. 
 Her boys, like the tiger s whelps, so pretty before their claws 
 are grown, had, notwithstanding their evangelical names, 
 matured into very unevangelical characters, whom careful 
 neighbors cautioned their children to avoid. His horse, and 
 cow, and pigs, which generally ran in the road, showed their 
 disposition and education to be no better than those of the 
 children ; for they broke into other people s enclosures, where, 
 not content with satisfying their appetites, they wrought 
 much wanton mischief and waste. Bang himself had also 
 degenerated from a good blacksmith, a decent citizen, and a 
 fair neighbor, into the opposite of all those characteristics. 
 Home influences had doubtless done much of this; for it is 
 to a great degree the wife who moulds the husband s charac 
 ter. No man is more than half developed till after marriage ; 
 and it generally depends upon the wife whether his possible 
 good qualities shall grow and give color to his character as 
 husband and head of the family, or whether these shall be 
 repressed and choked by the harsher and less noble disposi 
 tions which have their elements in every human heart. 
 
 Here we might introduce a valuable dissertation upon 
 family economics ; the relative and reciprocal influences of 
 husband and wife ; the comparative importance of different 
 domestic qualities in each ; what are the incompatibilities and 
 what the indispensable conditions of a congenial home ; and 
 how far outward circumstances, as wealth, poverty, refine 
 ment, simplicity, and other accidentals, enter into those con 
 ditions ; and how qualities which, carried to a proper extent, 
 18
 
 206 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 are virtues, may, by their excess, produce the worst results 
 of vice unhappiness, discord, degradation. But, in the 
 mean time, who shall_help along our story, which, not lag 
 ging for the sake of philosophy, must carry its moral with 
 it, or leave it to the reader s reflection ? Besides, it is well 
 known that those who most need maxims of wisdom for the 
 guidance of domestic life are those whose unteachable tem 
 pers, perverse dispositions, and headstrong habits, disqualify 
 them for profiting by counsel, whether preached from the 
 pulpit or inculcated in history. 
 
 But there were bad things abroad with which the things at 
 home were only subordinate helps to hasten the ruin of Bang 
 and his family. Bragly s Corner was a little beyond Bang s 
 shop. Bragly s store was on Bragly s Corner ; Bragly kept 
 groceries and other small notions, and especially rum, in all 
 its vile varieties. Here the thriftless coopers and shingle- 
 makers from Herring Cove brought their manufactures and 
 exchanged them for rum, tobacco, and other domestic deli 
 cacies. Herring Cove is a poor neighborhood, behind Saddle 
 back Hill, and is so called in derision from the quantities of 
 smoked and pickled herrings bought at Bragly s and consumed 
 there. Here Chadbourn, the shiftless mason, spent for like 
 luxuries the avails of occasional jobs ; and here also his lean 
 old crone brought skeins, of flaxen thread, small baskets of 
 eggs, an occasional pair of woollen socks, and such small 
 ware, to exchange for tea and snuff. Here also congregated 
 the idle and dissipated from various quarters, to spend rainy 
 afternoons and winter evenings in maudlin mirth, drunken 
 dispute, angry altercations, and sometimes bloody-nosed bat 
 tles. While business was good, Bang seldom visited Brag 
 ly s ; but either his visits became more frequent because
 
 WOLFSDEN. 207 
 
 his business became more dull, or his business became mor 
 dull because his visits became more frequent, or these two 
 facts cooperated, till, after a time, it came to be understood 
 generally that if Bang was not at his shop he might be found 
 at Bragly s ; and, after a still further time, that the first 
 place to look for Bang was at Bragly s. Even when in his 
 own shop, he was commonly saturated with Bragly s fluid, 
 and surrounded with Bragly s atmosphere. Iron and coal 
 were not more indispensable to his operations than his bottle. 
 The consequences are already recorded. The profits of his 
 industry were absorbed in the profits of Bragly s trade. 
 Poverty, waste, discord, recklessness, and all the demons of 
 ruin, printed their cloven hoofs and grinned with their ugly 
 visages about the premises of Bang. Sullen discontent, rude 
 taunts, and finally downright quarrels, made a part of the 
 daily family life. Neighbors at first interfered, advised, 
 took sides, and, as usual, made matters worse, and then dis 
 continued the common civilities of reputable acquaintance 
 ship, and left them to their inevitable infamy. 
 
 It was at about this stage of downward progress that 
 Jotham returned to Wolfsden, and took up his residence at 
 the house of his brother-in-law Bang. At first it seemed 
 that his advent was salutary. For some time there was no 
 noisy quarrel in the house, and there happening to be a good 
 demand for work at that season, the shop presented a scene 
 of unusual activity. Jotham gave good aid with the sledge 
 hammer, and Bang did a good business. 
 
 But the malign influences had too long established their 
 sway to allow their permanent power to be doubted. House 
 hold quarrels became more violent than ever. Jotham natu 
 rally took his sister s side, and, thus backed, she became more
 
 208 W L F S D E N . 
 
 violent in her temper and speech than ever, until, one day, 
 Bang being half drunk and quite abusive, she proceeded, foi 
 the first time, to personal violence, and struck him over the 
 head with a broom. Bang gave her a kick in return, which 
 sent her prostrate across the room, and was in turn knocked 
 down by Jotham. A regular light commenced, in which, 
 notwithstanding the great strength of Bang, he was severely 
 beaten, without being able to inflict any serious injury upon 
 Jotham, who, either from the advantage of what pugilists 
 term " science," or by his greater activity, was able to parry 
 the blows of Bang, and to "plant" his own with frightful 
 effect. 
 
 Bang seemed to digest his beating well enough ; for, though 
 horribly disfigured about the face, and lamed in both arms, 
 he kept at work, and associated with his brother-in-law as 
 usual. Mrs. Barker, who was the beginner of the fray, was 
 perhaps the greatest sufferer by it ; for, besides being hurt by 
 the kick, and frightened by the fury and blood of the combat, 
 the like of which never had been witnessed in Wolfsden, she 
 suffered still more in her property, the furniture and crockery 
 of the room being generally smashed in the conflict, and little 
 could she expect that her beaten husband or victorious 
 brother would repair it. 
 
 Things went along without further disturbance for a week 
 or two. Bang recovered from his bruises, and was less de 
 voted to the bottle. Some said that since he got his " gruel " 
 he had less appetite for his whiskey. Others thought he 
 kept guarded, that, in case of another quarrel, he might not 
 be taken at advantage ; as he had intimated that his recent 
 defeat was owing to his being drunk. It is not known how 
 the second conflict occurred. One afternoon, the loungers at
 
 WOLFSDEN. 209 
 
 Bragly s were suddenly summoned by the screams of a 
 woman, soon recognized as Mrs. Barker, at the blacksmith- 
 shop. Hastening hither, they found Jotham prostrate on the 
 floor, with a frightful wound in his temple, through which 
 blood and brains were oozing. An old axe lay on the other 
 side of the shop, which had evidently been thrown with great 
 violence, as it had made a deep indentation in a block by 
 which it was lying. It was free from any stain of blood, and 
 was supposed to have been hurled with such fury as to have 
 accomplished its murderous mission in its passage without 
 receiving a stain. The shape of the wound, which indicated 
 that the instrument had glanced from it, together with the 
 position of the body, favored this idea. Bang was not present, 
 but soon came in with a pail of water, a part of which he 
 threw in the face of the dying man, with the purpose of 
 recovering him. No other remedy was attempted ; and in a 
 short time the broad chest of the victim ceased to heave, 
 and he breathed his last. 
 
 Bang made no attempt at escape, and gave no explanation 
 of the circumstances above described. There had evidently 
 been a severe fight. Bang was bruised in his face and vari 
 ous parts of his body, though his brother-in-law seemed to 
 have suffered no wound but that which terminated his life. 
 It was supposed that Bang, being foiled in " planting " his 
 blows by the superior " science " of Jotham, and being 
 severely " punished," as his various bruises showed, had, in 
 his exasperation, seized the axe, which he hurled with such 
 fatal aim at his adversary s head. Bang s persevering silence 
 on the subject, which was probably from sullen doggedness, 
 or perhaps from confusion and inability to recall the incidents 
 of the struggle, was, in his situation, the course which policy 
 18*
 
 210 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 would have dictated, as thereby he avoided committing him 
 self by contradictions or confessions. In the judicial investi 
 gation, which took place afterward, the whole affair was in 
 volved in so much doubt and obscurity, that the jury, after a 
 long consultation, acquitted Bang, who went back to his 
 family. Mrs. Bang s testimony, if it had been admissible, 
 would probably have changed the verdict to manslaughter, or 
 perhaps murder; yet, though it could not be doubted that 
 Bang killed Jotham, few affected to view him as a murderer, 
 and none regretted the fate of his victim. 
 
 From this time till about two years afterward, Bang con 
 tinued his downward course of drunkenness, degradation, and 
 ruin, with even accelerated speed, working only enough to get 
 the means of filling his bottle at Bragly s, and bearing in 
 sullen, sottish silence the eloquent exhortations and angry 
 reproaches of his unhappy vixen partner. Meanwhile his 
 boys of evangelical names and anti-evangelical dispositions 
 had grown, up to precocious manhood and precocious deprav 
 ity. Home lessons had not been lost upon them. Kindred 
 accomplishments, gained from other sources, or adopted from 
 instinct, had supplied the deficiencies of home education, as 
 their frequent depredations upon neighbors gardens, orchards, 
 hen-roosts, and other exposed property, plainly showed. 
 Finally, they had successively run away, each one after hav 
 ing perpetrated some more than usually daring outrage, as if 
 to prove the maturity of his attainments, and his fitness for a 
 wider space of action. Another son had also been born some 
 six months after the tragic event before recorded, whom the 
 mother, in memory of her murdered brother, named Jotham, 
 but, through the potency of persevering jest, he was now only 
 known as Ax.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 211 
 
 Some months after the last event, a better day dawned 
 upon Bang. It dawned, but, alas ! it did not brighten into 
 perfect light. The temperance movement had already in 
 cluded Wolfsden in its sphere, and there was a numerous 
 and popular society (composed chiefly of young ladies), 
 pledged to total abstinence, which had its annual celebra 
 tions its occasional lectures, its Fourth of July picnic?, 
 and other social attractions. The chief object of this society 
 was to preserve the virtue of temperance where it already 
 existed, and it made no effort to reclaim those who had 
 become drunkards, such being generally considered irreclaim 
 able. Some philanthropists abroad, however, adopted a dif 
 ferent view, and, under the able leadership of Mr. Hawkins, 
 a man gifted with rare powers of persuasive eloquence, and 
 himself a reformed drunkard, instituted most active and suc 
 cessful proceedings for the reformation of drunkards, even of 
 the most abandoned class. This was called the " Washing- 
 
 O 
 
 tonian Movement," and the history of its labors and tri 
 umphs is well known. It is one of the brightest and most 
 cheering pages of the book of humanity. The world owes a 
 debt of gratitude to the devoted, laborious, and eloquent 
 apostles of this mission of mercy, which it can never repay, 
 and never will even appreciate, till truth and worth shall tri 
 umph over the falsehood and folly which have so long ruled 
 mankind. 
 
 One of the earnest advocates of this reformation came to 
 Wolfsden, and succeeded, by means of that peculiar art of 
 persuasion, which only a good cause and sincere devotion to 
 it can inspire, in making several converts among the worst 
 inebriates. Several signal trophies of this remarkable reform 
 ation remain in Herring Cove and other parts of Wolfsden tc
 
 212 W L F S D E N . 
 
 vindicate the divinity of the mission, and the claims of 
 humanity, even in its lowest estate, to the respect, the pity, 
 and the help, of the brotherhood of man. 
 
 It somehow happened that the church in W-olfsdcn did not 
 favor this innovation. Deacon Murray replied to the zealous 
 Washingtonian that his doctrine appeared unsound, in not 
 sufficiently recognizing -the total depravity of man and the 
 sovereignty of God. Parson Boreman said the matter was 
 not in his line. His duty was to preach the Gospel, which 
 invites sinners to come, letting them hear or forbear, as they 
 might choose. Deacon Arbor showed a disposition to help 
 the Washingtonians, and made the agent welcome at his 
 house while he remained ; and Aunt Deborah, when she 
 heard of the parson s answer, said that the MASTER came to 
 seek and to save those who were lost, and did not wait for 
 them to come to him. 
 
 Although many, perhaps most of the "VVashingtonian con 
 verts in Wolfsden, held fast their integrity, yet several, after 
 running well for a time, fell away, and became sots as before. 
 Among these was Bang. The wonder was not that he 
 relapsed, but that he stood so long ; for it was about a year 
 before he returned to his old habits, and it may fairly be pre 
 sumed that, but for the near vicinity of Bragly s and the 
 many temptations to which his employment subjected him, 
 and perhaps the want of that constant supervision of encour 
 aging friends which was one of the chief reliances of the 
 Washingtonian reform, but which, in sparsely-settled towns, is 
 not always available, his reformation might have been per 
 manent. Its good effects, while it lasted, were remarkable. 
 
 Though far from possessing the energy of his youth, he was 
 perseveringly industrious. His shop was frequented by good
 
 WOLFSDEN. 213 
 
 employers. His doors and windows were mended ; his garden 
 and wood-pile and other surroundings showed signs of thrift 
 and, what should have been taken as an omen and pledge of 
 continued blessing, a daughter was added to the household, 
 one which the better guidance of the mother, under these more 
 favorable auspices, might have brought up to redeem the 
 reputation of the blighted and doomed family. That the 
 promise of better days might lack nothing of its fulfilment, 
 Mrs. Bang seemed to have met with as favorable a change as 
 her husband. Whether the tragical death of her brother, the 
 trial and almost conviction of Bang, the profligacy and flight 
 of her boys, and the continued and hopeless misery of her 
 domestic life, had broken down her violent spirit, or whether 
 the hopeful reformation of her husband, with the earnest ex 
 hortation and entreaty of the Washingtonian missionary that 
 she would encourage his reformation by making his home 
 congenial, added to the mollifying influence which maternity 
 and infant dependence exercises in the female heart, or from 
 whatever cause, Mrs. Bang became comparatively a mild and 
 patient woman, fulfilling with fidelity the duties of mother and 
 wife. There can be no doubt also that the frequent visits and 
 encouraging words of Aunt Deborah and Helen, and other 
 members both of Deacon Arbor s and Colonel Bowler s family, 
 helped to prolong the improvement. Little Ax s disposition 
 formed under the improved domestic examples which this 
 reformation introduced ; and especially the lovable and win 
 ning ways of the little daughter, as she grew, proved the 
 reality and tho value of the change. And though Bang 
 afterwards fell into his old habits, yet Mrs. B. remained, in 
 a great degree, improved. She could not become quite a lamb 
 in her temper ; nature and long habit could not be so entirely
 
 214 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 subdued, Yet she exercised a mother s powerful influence 
 for the well-being arid right guiding of her children. And 
 though poverty and evil example hindered her, yet she managed 
 to shield her little ones from their worst effects. Ax was 
 equal in natural intelligence and principles to other boys; and 
 little Susan for she was named for her mother was, not 
 withstanding her parentage, the favorite of the neighborhood. 
 
 I think it unfortunate that any occasion was given to the 
 enemies of religion of accusing the church of being the cause 
 of Bang s relapse. I think it would perhaps have been better, 
 considering the results, that, since it had done nothing to pre 
 vent Bang s ruin, and nothing afterward to redeem him, if it 
 had continued its forbearance till the experiment of his re 
 demption by other hands had been fully carried out. It is 
 proper, however, that the facts, as they actually were, should 
 be recorded, for the light they may cast on future cases of the 
 kind. 
 
 It was about a year after Bang s reformation, and when it 
 came to be understood that he was a man to be depended 
 upon, and was getting up in the world, that it was suggested 
 in a church-meeting that some watch and care should be 
 extended over Sister Barker and her family (for she still 
 belonged to the church, though so long neglected and for 
 gotten) ; and, since there appeared to be a prospect of their 
 being respectable members of society, it would be as well to 
 look after them, and bring them within the means of grace. 
 This was assented to, and Deacon Arbor was named to man 
 age the matter. The deacon declined the service, saying 
 that he feared such.efforts would be unavailing, as the course 
 of the church had created some prejudice among the Wash- 
 ingtonians, which would be hard to overcome ; and that, in hia
 
 VFOLFSDEN. 215 
 
 opinion, the time was past for attempting to bring them into 
 the church. 
 
 Parson Boreman replied that " it was never too late to do 
 good ; that we must be instant in season and out of season ; 
 and while the lamp holds out to burn the vilest sinner may 
 return," and much more of the same sort ; and nominated 
 Major Murray to the duty declined by the deacon. A worse 
 choice could scarcely have been made. Major Murray was 
 as upright and irreproachable in his life as a man made of 
 cast-iron, but was also as stiff and unconciliating. A rigid 
 Calvinist, and firm believer in the sanctity of the church and 
 its ordinances, through which alone salvation could be ob 
 tained, his rule of Christian duty ran exactly in the groove 
 of the Westminster Catechism, doing what might be done in 
 that track, and running over or knocking aside whatever came 
 not in that scope of action. 
 
 Major Murray called upon Mrs. Barker, the next day, and 
 opened his embassy in a style worthy of Cotton Mather him 
 self. He told her that the church had regarded with great 
 grief her absence from its ordinances, and felt it their duty 
 to admonish her, and that he trusted she would feel the im 
 portance of the stated means of grace, &c. ; that the awful 
 inflictions and warnings which she had experienced in her 
 own family ought to humble her under a sense of divine dis 
 pleasure. And then he compared her case with that of 
 Abigail, who, though the wife of a churl, and a man of 
 Belial, nevertheless found favor; and also that of Eli, whose 
 two sons, Hophni and Phineas, were reprobates, and were 
 destroyed, though he was saved ; and also Jacob, who was 
 chosen, though his brother Esau was rejected ; and, with these 
 precedents for her exclusive salvation, and the reprobation of
 
 216 WOLFS DEN. 
 
 her kindred, he told her that she should look only to God s 
 glory, and put away the carnal affections. " For," said he, 
 " in heaven we shall be so changed by grace that we shall 
 rejoice in the vindication of his divine justice, through the 
 torments of the lost, though they be our nearest kindred." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Barker, though generally so prompt in reply, 
 was silent and submissive under this authoritative admonition. 
 Having no doubt of the truth of those doctrines, she could 
 not resist their application, and she shrunk back with instinct 
 ive terror from that fiery gulf of everlasting torment and 
 despair to which all her kindred were so evidently predestined, 
 but from which she had still a hope of escape through the 
 calling, election, and predestination, fore-ordained and de 
 creed before the world began, and which, though absolute and 
 unchangeable, still involved a necessity of church ordinances, 
 without which she could not be saved.* 
 
 In this terrified and unhappy mood, and thinking little of 
 mere temporal matters, she neglected the household duties 
 which she generally performed so well. Bang, who had seen 
 the arrival and departure of the major, towards whom he felt 
 strong dislike, was little disposed to overlook the uncomfort 
 able results of his visit. He said that, as the church had 
 never done them any good in their best days, and had kept 
 out of the way in their worst days, he would thank them to 
 
 * Parson Eorcman and his predostinarian teachings represent a class 
 of ministers and ideas more common in past generations, and in remoter 
 towns, than among us. Whether those doctrines were true or false, this, at 
 least, may be said in their favor, that under their prevalence the nohlest 
 traits of human character were developed and cultivated. The boasted 
 triumph of what arc termed more liberal views should not be too much 
 magnified until their efficacy to produce equal or better results be proved.
 
 \VOLFSDEN. 217 
 
 . 
 
 keep away altogether ; and -when they came again he should 
 have a word to say. 
 
 Accordingly, soon after, when the major had reported his 
 proceedings to Parson Boreman, and the parson, feeling com 
 pelled to do something in the business which he had advocated, 
 called upon Mrs. Barker, Bang bolted in, all begrimed 
 and sweating from the forge, and, with a familiar swagger, 
 welcomed the parson, shook hands, told him he was glad to 
 see him looking so hearty, after so long a time, asked " how 
 he left the old woman and Lucy, that is, Lucinda, a 
 fine daughter that of yourn, Parson Boreman not married 
 yet, I s pose think she might have offers enough a fine 
 girl like her and why don t she come round this way, and 
 pay us a visit ? Always liked Lucy ; that is, Lucinda." And 
 so he went on, with a pretended good-natured familiarity, 
 more annoying and insulting than any other treatment, be 
 cause so difficult to repel. At last he asked the minister if 
 he would take something to " wet his whistle," adding, " We 
 don t keep nothing on hand, now-a-days ; but Bragly is as 
 accommodating as ever." Parson Boreman, with offended 
 dignity, replied that he did not choose to take anything, 
 adding, in a censorious manner, that he should suppose he 
 (Bang) had seen enough, and done enough, and suffered 
 enough, by rum, to quit it altogether. 
 
 " So I have," says Bang, still more provoked by the minis 
 ter s manner and allusions; "only when I see an old friend 
 like you, been away so long, I like to treat him, for the sake 
 of old lang syne. Here, Ax, take this pint bottle to 
 Bragly s, and tell him to fill it. You and I have drank 
 together, parson, and it s about time we should again. You 
 have n t signed the pledge, I understand ; and, as for me, an 
 19
 
 218 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 old reprobate, bound to the devil s kingdom come, any way, 
 it s no matter what I do." 
 
 If Mr. Boreman had had the good sense to depart imme 
 diately, or the magnanimity and tact to conciliate Bang by 
 acknowledging his fault in not supporting the temperance 
 cause, as he should have done, and declared himself ready to 
 sign the pledge, all would probably have been well, and he 
 would have had the merit of having saved a soul from death. 
 Instead of this, he angrily replied that he disapproved of 
 strong drink ; that he seldom took any, and only when he re 
 quired it; and that he trusted he was man enough to guard 
 himself from excess in eating or drinking, without any pledge. 
 
 By this time, Ax, who little knew how fatal was the errand 
 upon which he was sent, had returned, and Bang, pouring out 
 drams in a couple of glasses, set one before the minister, 
 saying : " Come, parson, drink to our good luck, as you did 
 the evening you married us. Here s to you and your old 
 woman, and Lucj r , that is, Lucinda. May she soon get a 
 good husband, and have as good luck as we ve had ! " Bang 
 probably did not mean to drink when he sent for the rum ; 
 but he was now excited by passion and swelling with bravado, 
 and as he took in the fumes of the tempting glass, forgetting 
 his pledge, he raised it to his lips, and drained it to the bot 
 tom. The minister, seeing no chance of introducing the 
 business upon which he came, took his leave, well aware that 
 he had done no good, and perhaps half aware that he had 
 done harm. 
 
 Dreadful and fatal was the harm of which his visit had 
 been the occasion, if not the cause. The pledge was violated. 
 The charm was broken. Bang had once more tasted the 
 soul-poisoning cup, and all his furious appetites, so long
 
 WOLFSDKX. 219 
 
 nourished and so long enchained, rose to complete mastery 
 over his better resolutions. He emptied the glass which the 
 minister had refused to touch. He emptied the bottle. It 
 was again filled, and Bang was again a drunkard. " Behold 
 the end of unsanctified reform," said Parson Boreman to Ma 
 jor Murray; " the dog has returned," &c. "Behold the end of 
 sanctified meddlesomeness," said Aunt Deborah, when she 
 heard of the parson s remark. 
 
 Since Bang s relapse he had become rather the passive and 
 resigned slave of rum, than the brawling and turbulent drunk 
 ard. None of the active energies of either the human or 
 brutal kind prevailed ; and nothing but the low, grovelling 
 appetite of selfish gratification remained. He would perform 
 any service for rum, but make no exertion for any solid ad 
 vantages. He would bear the grossest insult, and make up 
 the bitterest quarrel, for rum. He would lie, steal, or fight, for 
 rum ; and would swallow the most nauseous compound, of 
 which rum was an ingredient. Without any- actual vice, 
 except the absence of every virtue or redeeming quality, he 
 was a most revolting example of entire subjection to base 
 appetite. No doubt the soul within him had struggled severely 
 before it yielded to this degradation ; and even now it writhed 
 iu its place of torment, and gave utterance, through the drunk 
 ard s lips, to self-execrations and blasphemies, superstitious 
 fear, and heaven-defying despair. 
 
 It will be remembered that on our first glance at Bang s 
 dwelling we noticed some small signs of improvement, in refer 
 ence to which some significant gestures passed between Alek 
 and Isaac, upon which we will here throw light. 
 
 The universal custom of distributing gifts and good wishes 
 on Christmas and New Year s Day is by no means neglected
 
 220 \VOLFSDEN. 
 
 in Wolfsden; and among the young hearts made glad by pretty 
 presents the families of the deserving poor are not forgotten. 
 Some savory cheer in the shape of mince-pies and other cu 
 linary compounds, with a fat chicken, a spare-rib of pork, some 
 comfortable articles of dress, &c., had already found their 
 way to Mrs. Barker s chest, when, on Christmas eve, a knock 
 was heard at the door, and a figure of strange attire and 
 unwieldly dimensions, enveloped in a shaggy bear-skin, a high 
 raccoon cap, and what seemed a beard of monstrous growth, 
 entered the kitchen. The action of the intruder was as strange 
 as his figure. Thrusting one hand into a bag hanging to his 
 side, he drew forth a substantial pair of boys boots, which he 
 tossed upon the floor, and growled, in a gruff voice, "Ax." 
 Thrusting the other hand into the opposite side, he drew out 
 a pair of girls boots, and, throwing them with the others, he 
 growled " Sue." Detaching two bundles which hung round 
 his neck, he tossed one towards Mrs. B., with the uncompli 
 mentary grunt" of " Old Woman," and threw the other with 
 some force towards Bang, and then, turning round, took his 
 departure. An immediate examination of the presents so 
 strangely brought was quite satisfactory. The boots for Ax 
 and Sue were found to be crammed with woolen yarn, and two 
 or three sets of knitting-pins ; and the other bundles contained, 
 one, a pair of second-hand trousers for Bang, the condition 
 of whose unmentionables had evidently prompted the charity, 
 and the other, sundry tokens of good-will to Mrs. -B. 
 
 The children were delighted, and, believing it a veritable 
 visit from Santa Glaus, insisted upon taking their presents to 
 bed with them. Bang received his in sullen apathy. There 
 were in him no emotions of gratitude, surprise, or shame 
 which any event could excite. His. ever-craving appetite for
 
 WOLFSDEN. 22J 
 
 rum, which had been for several days ungratified, was now rag 
 ing within him. Waiting till the children were asleep, he groped 
 to their bed, and, securing the boots of Susan, and providing 
 himself with a jug, he went to Bragly s store. It was grow 
 ing late, Bragly s customers had retired, and he was about to 
 shut up. Throwing the boots on the counter, and exhibiting 
 the jug, Bang called for a gallon of rum. Boots were current 
 barter with Bragly, and the rum was furnished, and a paper 
 of tobacco to make up the balance, with which Bang pro 
 ceeded home. Mrs. B. had not attempted to prevent the act, 
 knowing that it would be of no use. Bang proceeded, as 
 usual, to get drunk. His wife went to bed, as usual, with a 
 sad heart ; and Bragly probably retired with a comfortable 
 consciousness of having finished up a good day s business with 
 a good additional profit. 
 
 Poor little Susan s disappointment, the next morning, may 
 be imagined ; but retribution, though often slow, is sometimes 
 sudden. A neighbor, calling at Bang s that day, found out 
 the facts, and in the evening a big figure, in a bear-skin, en 
 tered Bragly s store, and, seizing a pair of girl s boots which 
 hung upon a string for sale, thrust them into his pocket, 
 growling " Sue s boots," and departed, Bragly not deeming it 
 prudent to intercept his progress. Entering Bang s house as 
 unceremoniously as before, he threw down "the boots, and, pro 
 ceeding to a corner where Bang sat half drunk, he seized the 
 jug by the handle, and Bang by the nose, and with a back 
 ward step retreated toward the door. Bang roared with pain. 
 His nose was swollen and tender with carbuncles, and his out 
 cry showed plainly that ho had still one susceptible spot. 
 The strange figure maintained his grip till he had dragged 
 Bang across the floor, and then, with a parting wring, gruffly 
 19*
 
 222 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 muttered, " Beware of Santa Glaus!" and departed, taking the 
 jug, which was found next morning, emptied of its contents, 
 and standing on a log near the door. A neighbor, who called 
 the next day, found little Susan rejoicing in her restored boots, 
 and Bang with a bandage about his face, busy in mending the 
 chinks of his dwelling. Nobody knows who personated Santa 
 Claus ; but it was remarked by Ike to Alek, with a wink, 
 which was answered by a nod, that Bragly would probably 
 decline any future dealings with Bang in the boot line.
 
 C PI AFTER XIII. 
 
 He said, " This will I do. I will pull down my barns, and build greater, 
 and will say to my soul, Eat, drink, and be merry." But God said, " THOU 
 FOOL." 
 
 SULTRY summer pours down intolerable day in Wolfsden. 
 It is the hottest season of many years. Corn-leaves curl and 
 shrink ; unmown grass turns to premature hay ; idle, dainty 
 cows, and luxurious swine, seek cool shelter in shady pools. 
 Sheep stretch themselves upon the sod behind stone walls, and 
 beneath wind-fallen trees. Restless children escape from the 
 hot school-room with pretence of replenishing the water-pail 
 from the distant spring, and loiter long in the grassy meadow. 
 Their fingers arc stained with ripe strawberries, betraying 
 their truancy. The schoolmistress winks sleepily at the trans 
 gression. There, in the green meadow, gay grasshoppers sing 
 away their sunny life, forgetful of the fabled counsel of the 
 frugal ant, who still toils on, laying up stores for future want. 
 In vain the tantalizing almanac predicts "sharp lightning 
 and heavy showers about this time." The prediction is 
 spread, like a long net, through the calendar page, but catches 
 not a clap of thunder, nor a drop of rain, to save its credit. 
 All signs fail. 
 
 Parson Borcman moves in the matter. He cites Scripture
 
 224 TT 0*L F S D E N . 
 
 proofs of like cases, and preaches a sermon upon the drouth 
 of Elijah the Tishbite, in the days of Ahab, showing there 
 were dry times in old times as in modern times, and from the 
 same cause, namely, want of rain. And when Elijah proph 
 esied rain, the drouth ended ; but not till Ahab had sent seven 
 times did a cloud like a man s hand appear, and then there 
 was an abundance of rain. Therefore Parson Boreman pre 
 dicts rain when the drouth shall be ended, and fortifies his 
 position by the words of Ahab. To hasten this consummation, 
 he mentions the subject in his forenoon and afternoon prayer. 
 Yet the heavens relent not. Prediction and prayer must wait 
 this fulfilment.* 
 
 Business is dull at Bragly s. Loafers lag at home. Empty 
 bottles remain unfilled. The gill-cup intermits its retail 
 measure of cumulative misery. The grinders cease, or slowly 
 move, and tobacco remains unchewed. Trade is flat, and 
 Bragly is uneasy. One gets tired in a long time of doing 
 nothing, and thinking nothing, and being nothing. 
 
 Bragly is prosperous in his vocation, yet his ambition is not 
 fully satisfied. Tedious leisure nourishes his discontent. His 
 position is not prominent enough. His merits are not duly 
 appreciated in Wolfsden. Sixty years of shrewd and saving 
 thrift have gained him wealth, and why not honor and office ? 
 
 *It was on this occasion that George Bowler wrote with his pencil, on 
 the partition of the gingers scats, the following epigram, which, I aic 
 eorry to confess, was remembered in Wolfaden longer than the sermoa 
 which occasioned it : 
 
 "Our parson makes his doctrine plain 
 Dry seasons come from lack of rain. 
 
 Proceed, good parson, let us know 
 The source whence drouthy sermons flow."
 
 >T L F 8 D E X . 225 
 
 He has often contrived to be nominated ; but, though shrewdly 
 arranging to have all his partisans at the polls whom liberal 
 drains and vague promises would purchase, he has always 
 been defeated. In his younger days he was elected ensign of 
 the Wolfsden Light Infantry, but, being twice superseded, he 
 resigned without getting a title. Once, in a thin town-meet 
 ing, by rallying his force unexpectedly, he was nearly chosen 
 representative. Since that time, he has waited in vain. He 
 now meditates the policy of a more ostentatious style of 
 living. A fine house, with corresponding surroundings, will 
 show that self-appreciation which challenges and commands 
 the consideration of others. Great men dwell in large houses, 
 and this is not only the sign, but often the source, of their 
 greatness. Bragly will have a great house. Such things 
 are quickly done in Wolfsden, as elsewhere in Maine, by 
 those who have the ambition. A pine frame of two stories, 
 covered with boards and shingles and white paint, with plenty 
 of windows and green blinds, makes an imposing outside, which 
 is for the public. The inside belongs to the owner, and may 
 be as unfinished and unfurnished as his head. 
 
 He reviewed the selected site, and drove stakes at the 
 corners. Their regular appearance confirmed his choice. 
 lie proceeded to count the cost, and chuckled in the prospect 
 of cheap magnificence. Poor men, of whose farms he has 
 mortgages, must sell him timber at a low price. Thriftless 
 but strong men will dig and lay the foundations for little 
 besides rum and tobacco, and that little he will pay in refuse 
 good*. Meanwhile, he must board them ; but for this he has 
 a stock of poor salt beef and pickled fish. Drunken laborers 
 are not difficult to feed nor to pay, and will be quick cus 
 tomers for his garbage. Bragly understands business ; his
 
 226 TVOLFSDEN. 
 
 talents lie in that line. Sometimes he philosophizes, but 
 always in a vein corresponding to his vocation. Mankind, 
 says he, are divided into two classes. The upper class, who 
 cheat ; and the lower, who are cheated. He plumes himself 
 upon belonging to the upper class. Bragly is aristocratic. 
 
 In his mind s eye he sees his shingle palace already built. 
 He sees himself its proud proprietor. He looks upon him 
 self with new respect. He will make himself better known. 
 He possesses wealth, and wealth will secure dignity. At 
 least, he can be justice of the peace Solomon Bragly, ESQ. 
 It shall go hard, but he will yet be representative. Bragly 
 is ambitious. 
 
 But business must be minded ; even genius must have 
 tools. Bragly proceeds to count up and catalogue the tools 
 he can command. 
 
 Bang was the nearest and first on the list. He had grown 
 very seedy and shaky. He was evidently on his last legs ; 
 but, with proper nursing, might last through this service. 
 Bragly s nursing always answers the purpose ; that is, his 
 own purpose. He knows, by long experience, how to deal 
 out his drams so as to get the greatest possible amount of 
 work. He calculated that this job would just about use up 
 Bang, and the contemplated result was not an unpleasant 
 item. Besides the natural antipathy which the rum-seller, 
 like the cat, feels towards his victim, Bragly had an old 
 grudge against Bang. Many years ago, he had refused to 
 vote for him, and had uttered some contemptuous remark ; 
 and also, at the time of his brief reformation, he had indulged 
 in some severe reflections upon him. Bragly never forgot 
 nor forgave things of that sort. He has long been revenging
 
 WOLFSDEN. 227 
 
 himself. He will now finish up his revenge, and finish off 
 Bang. 
 
 Herring Cove would furnish its quota of material to be 
 used up in the enterprise. There was a numerous shoal of 
 the Herring tribe, whom Bragly had for many years fed with 
 vile bait, and dried and smoked with poisonous tobacco, and 
 pickled with fiery N. E. rum. These, by long possession, 
 belonged to Bragly. He had caught them in his net, and 
 brought them up in his school. Scaly fish, at best, but 
 Bragly could use them with profit. 
 
 Chadbourn, the shiftless mason, he safely reckoned upon ; 
 also some others, yet hesitating in the road to ruin, but who 
 he shrewdly guessed would come along with the crowd. 
 King Solomon, with all his wealth and wisdom, had no 
 surer resources for his temple than Bragly for his shingle 
 palace. 
 
 Bragly proceeded with fervor in .his enterprise. Besides 
 the cellar, a well was necessary; for the old well always failed 
 in a dry time, just when water was most needed. Bang once 
 said that Bragly had exhausted it in watering his rum. Now 
 he should pay for the sarcasm by digging a new one. A dry 
 time is a good time to dig a well, for water then obtained 
 will hold out. 
 
 And so he summoned Bang and Chadbourn to dig his well. 
 Chadbourn was sometimes called the sexton s clerk, for the 
 sexton usually employed him to assist in digging graves. 
 Being the most reliable of the two, he was appointed master- 
 workman ; and, beginning on one side of the well, placed 
 Bang on the other, and they proceeded to dig. Cliadbourn s 
 excavation, from his habit of grave-digging, took the form 
 of a parallelogram. Under the influence of his morning
 
 228 WOLFSDKN. 
 
 dram, he worked fast and dug deep. Bang copied the ex 
 ample of his leader, and dug a hole of like dimensions. and 
 depth ; and when Bragly, after an hour or two, came out 
 with some visitors to see the progress of the work, they were 
 struck at seeing two deep graves in near proximity. Bragly 
 shuddered, but the feeling soon passed away. Thoughts of 
 the grave seldom disturbed Bragly, though he had led so 
 many miserable victims thither. 
 
 The well progressed. The two parallelograms were merged 
 in the wider circle, which sunk deeper and deeper. Plat 
 forms were placed within the sides, and the earth was tedi 
 ously thrown out by progressive steps. Yet the work went 
 on ; the well still deepened, and the diggers descended. 
 
 Bragly s ambition sought for yet other developments. He 
 meditated the chance of elevating his position by a matrimo 
 nial alliance. His "old woman went off," for so he- spoke 
 of his wife s death, a dozen years since, and left no incum- 
 brance but a boy, begotten in the likeness of Bragly, whom 
 he had educated in his petty arts, and sent into the world. 
 So the old man was free to begin the world .again. His mat 
 rimonial experiences were not such as to stimulate him to a 
 new venture, for the sake of domestic bliss ; but policy 
 prompted a thought of other advantages to be gained in 
 that way. 
 
 Lucinda Boreman, the minister s daughter, she of the 
 slender waist and long curls, the long-established belle of 
 Wolfsden, was still in the market, a precious commodity, 
 but with no customer. The thought was aspiring, but Brag 
 ly, who saw himself the proud proprietor of his imaginary 
 palace, and the justice of peace, and representative yet to be, 
 encouraged aspiring thoughts. It would be a fine specula-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 229 
 
 tion, if a possible one. Lucinda would be an heiress when 
 the parson and wife should die, for Lucinda, who had lived 
 so long without growing old, would outlive everybody ; and 
 this, also, was Bragly s own plan of life. He was not sixty, 
 and when put in trim by the tailor was young again, so he 
 judged, and with some reason. His still, sly, spider life had 
 not worn him much. Such folks live long. 
 . By soft approaches Bragly resolved to win his way. In 
 such affairs nature and love teach the young, policy and 
 craft, the old. Nature and love are the best teachers, but 
 policy and craft are often unexpectedly successful. Bragly s 
 expectations were preposterous ; but expectations equally pre 
 posterous have been realized. 
 
 Religion would serve as a stepping-stone to his ambition. 
 He thought it was often so employed. Bragly reflected upon 
 the different sorts, that he might select that most easily put 
 on, and best adapted to his purposes. A genteel, aristocratic 
 religion would suit him best. Bragly had hitherto been non 
 committal on religion, but might easily step on that side of 
 the fence. A life of utter depravity and vileness is thought 
 to be fair preparation for conversion ; whereas the practice 
 of morality and virtue generally hardens the impenitent in 
 unbelief. 
 
 Bragly became serious. He attended church regularly, in 
 white cravat and kid gloves. His little cunning eye, and 
 puckered contriving mouth, practised solemn grimaces. He 
 laid in a stock of Bibles, and " Calls to the Unconverted," 
 and urged them upon his customers. He mentioned to the 
 tract distributor his willingness to take charge of a few, and 
 circulate them. His devotional deportment attracted atten 
 tion. Deacon Murray called, and bought a pound of tea ; 
 20
 
 230 -WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Bragly (by mistake, of course) handed back too much 
 change, and, when called to -rectify it, remarked upon his 
 habit of this sort of blunder. All this was set down to con 
 cern of mind, which Bragly was striving to conceal and 
 quench. The deacon watched the progress of Bragly s case 
 closely, and mentioned it to the parson. Bragly s tactics thus 
 far succeed. 
 
 The work of the well goes on. Deep in the earth the dig 
 gers delve. Three, four, five successive platforms descend 
 the subterranean profound, and are manned by gaunt and 
 grim wretches, whose muscles, stimulated by infernal potions, 
 labor incessantly, tossing the mud and stones from the cold, 
 wet bottom, to the hot, dry surface. At length another con 
 trivance is adopted. The platforms arc removed, and a huge 
 windlass, with long projecting arms, is erected across the 
 yawning depth, by which empty buckets descend, to return 
 laden with heavy freight. Far down in the dark abyss, the 
 bulky bodies of Bang and Chadbourn seem like pigmies, com 
 pared with the gaunt laborers who sweat at the windlass above. 
 
 It is a fearful thing to look down from the dizzy brink 
 into the profound depth. What if the solid wall of earth 
 should suddenly bury the diggers alive, perhaps in a living 
 grave ! Such things have been. Or, if the brink should fall 
 from beneath the beholders feet, precipitating their bodies, a 
 mangled mass, upon the devoted wretches beneath ! Let long 
 timbers and strong planks be laid around, to prevent the 
 catastrophe ; and let the diggers hasten their^work, that the 
 danger may be sooner past. Alas ! their danger, and ruin, 
 and death, may not be so escaped ; for, though the earth re 
 main innocent of their blood, yet their souls life is buried
 
 W L F S D K N . 231 
 
 and suffocated in a lingering death in the living tomb of their 
 besotted and beastly bodies. Bragly s tools perish, but his 
 tactics succeed. 
 
 He made an incidental call on Parson Boreman, and sug 
 gested the idea of a tract depository at his store, and offered 
 to take upon himself the trouble of distribution. He was 
 happy to hear that the missionary had been so successful, in 
 spite of the evil-minded opposition he had met (referring to 
 Harry), and regretted that he had neglected handing in his 
 mite, which he would thank the parson to receive ; and, tak 
 ing out a well-filled pocket-book, he presented a live-dollar 
 bill. He would also be pleased to subscribe for a missionary 
 paper. The parson, though partly prepared for the miracle 
 by Deacon Murray s communication, was astonished at such 
 liberality from such a source. He had evidently overlooked 
 and under-estimated one of the treasures of his parish. He 
 atoned by unaccustomed affability for past neglect. He 
 invited Bragly to remain for tea. The ever-charming Lucin- 
 da was present, and bestowed her ever-ready and practised 
 smiles. The parson was plainly pleased with the convert. 
 Perhaps Lucinda might not disdain the conquest. Bragly s 
 tactics are wonderful. 
 
 His well, like his profound calculations, grows deeper and 
 deeper. Forty feet have the diggers descended, and yet 
 deeper must they delve ; for Bragly says, with authority, 
 that he will have no half-way work. Let him hasten, for 
 his tools begin to fail. Bang digs, and totters ; yet still he 
 digs, for Bragly s potions still stimulate nature s expiring 
 energies to extremest efforts. Chadbourn is pale. His eyes
 
 232 W L F S D E N . 
 
 are red, his lips are blue, his visage is haggard, yet he and 
 the other wretches labor on. Bragly will have no half-way 
 work, his work and his tools will soon be finished. 
 
 Materials were wanted, as well as tools, and Bragly had 
 a fine lot of timber in his eye. It was on Dick Freeport s 
 farm. Dick s farm was just beyond the school-house, before 
 referred to. His father gave it to him several years before, 
 and he settled with a good wife and good prospects, for his 
 farm was an excellent tract of good soil, besides the valuable 
 lot of timber ; and, his father dying shortly after, he received 
 a portion of the remaining property, with the charge of his 
 mother, whose discreet and careful aid was a valuable acqui 
 sition, for, besides other treasures, Dick s children multiplied 
 amazingly. But his chance of prosperity and happiness was 
 soon clouded, for he gradually fell into Bragly s hands. Brag- 
 ly s store was nearer than any other, and Dick could not with 
 stand the temptation of unlimited credit. Drunkenness was 
 not his vice, at least, not at first ; but he would drink a 
 sociable glass, and then he would buy whatever Bragly rec 
 ommended, for Bragly was ostentatious of his accommo 
 dating disposition and liberal credit. Dick bought largely, 
 scarcely asking prices ; and gave notes on interest for large 
 balances, at each quarterly settlement. 
 
 Accumulated notes, with interest, had long ago placed him 
 in Bragly s power, and now was his time to take advantage 
 of it. He knew the value of the timber-lot, it would of 
 itself be a moderate independence to a judicious manager, 
 but Bragly resolved to have it at his own price. He under 
 stood business, and had his victim in his power. With this 
 acquisition he could build a very large house. 
 
 He proposed the matter to Freeport, who, in spite of his
 
 WOLFSDEN. 1233 
 
 thriftlessness, was much disconcerted. He had long been 
 troubled with a consciousness of accumulating debts, but 
 soothed himself with the promise of paying off with a portion 
 of his timber. Bragly now proposed to take the whole at a 
 price which would but half satisfy his claim, leaving him still 
 hopelessly in debt ; and the ruinous proposition could not be 
 refused, for Bragly spoke peremptorily, as Freeport had not 
 heard him speak before. He saw that Bragly had a rough 
 side, as well as a smooth one. He stammered some plea of 
 temporary delay, and wisely, or luckily, went home and laid 
 the whole case before his mother. She was astonished at his 
 large indebtedness to Bragly, and distressed at the sacrifice pro 
 posed. She sent him immediately to consult Squire Chinby, 
 the old friend of the family, who had advised settling Richard 
 on this farm, and had himself drawn the writings. Richard 
 repaired at once to Squire Chinby, and stated the whole case, 
 his manner of dealing with Bragly, his large indebtedness, 
 and Bragly s imperative and ruinous proposition. Chinby s 
 deep black eyes were filled with calm indignation. He saw 
 through the matter in a moment ; and showed Richard his 
 folly, and Bragly s knavery, by producing his own domestic 
 accounts, which fell far short of Richard s, though his family 
 was larger, and more abundantly supplied. Richard asked, 
 despondingly, what he should do about it. 
 
 " Do ! " said Chinby ; " why, let Bragly eat you up, since 
 he has got you in his jaws ! It is such as you that he lives 
 upon, and the sooner he disposes of his fodder the better ; for 
 it may diminish the breed of fools." 
 
 Chinby sometimes spoke roughly ; but Richard was toe 
 much depressed to be angry, and, besides, he had a strong im 
 20*
 
 234 WOLfSDEN. 
 
 pression, from old experience, that his help, if anywhere, was 
 in Chinby. 
 
 Chinby proceeded with his reproaches and assurances of 
 irremediable ruin, and pictured the coming misery of his fam 
 ily, till poor llichard was in despair. " But," said he, " it 
 may as well be so now as at another time. If you were free 
 from his clutches to-day, he, or some one like him, would 
 grasp you to-morrow." Richard caught at the implied sug 
 gestion of freedom to-day, and solemnly protested that, if he 
 could be put in a way of relief, he would pay for his folly by 
 future self-denial and hard work, till the debt should be can 
 celled, and would never be such a fool again. Chinby heard 
 him through, and told him that he would go with him to 
 Bragly, and see what could be done about it. 
 
 It was not easy for a rogue to maintain his position when 
 brought to account \)j Chinby. Duplicity shrunk before his 
 unquestionable truth and uprightness, and conscious villany 
 saw itself thoroughly exposed in view of his keen eye and 
 clear understanding. 
 
 Besides, Chinby had the reputation of legal knowledge, 
 which had been, in several cases, of signal service to justice. 
 Bragly knew, and was as well prepared for all this, as a mean, 
 prevaricating knave can ever be prepared for the ordeal of 
 stern, scrutinizing justice. He had managed his affairs with 
 sufficient skill to defy, or at least evade, legal inquiry ; and, 
 divining Chinby s purpose, he resolved to vindicate his own 
 position in the upper class of mankind, by opposing bold 
 effrontery to Chinby s interference. 
 
 In this he was moderately successful. His brassy resolu 
 tion was not quite sufficient, but he took refuge in stolid dog- 
 gedness, as impenetrable as the hide of the rhinoceros. He
 
 WOLFSDEN. 235 
 
 refused to exhibit his accounts, saying they were settled, and 
 that his only claim on Freeport consisted of promissory notes. 
 Chinby was compelled to admit Bragly s boast that he under 
 stood business. The utmost he could do was to induce him to 
 give twice what he had proposed for the timber ; which sum, 
 being still less than half its value, but just covered Richard s 
 notes. Having obtained this concession, Chinby proposed that 
 the business should be finished immediately, llichard would 
 have delayed, in hopes of better terms ; but Chinby now took 
 Bragly s side, and insisted upon a prompt settlement. He 
 would not be a party to any trifling. Richard reluctantly 
 consented. The papers were soon drawn and duly authenti 
 cated, by which, " for value received and acknowledged, said 
 Freeport conveyed to said Bragly, his heirs and assigns for 
 ever, all his right, title, and interest, in the timber on said lot, 
 situated as aforesaid," &c. &c. 
 
 The document was drawn with lawyer-like circumlocution, 
 verbosity, and tautology, and exchanged for Richard s notes, and 
 a receipt in full of all demands, with impressive ceremony. 
 Chinby was grave and decisive as a judge, Freeport as spirit 
 less and passive as a convict, and Bragly as business-like and 
 blandly ferocious as an executioner. Chinby bade Bragly 
 good-evening, and retired with Freeport. " Xow," said he, 
 " we will go and see your mother, and while on the way please 
 to lay up my counsel. You are now clear of Bragly, keep 
 clear of him, and keep clear of debt. It is the only safe and 
 pleasant way of life. Debt is the destroyer of more happi 
 ness than all other causes combined. It rides like a night 
 mare on the necks of thousands, who all their life long arc 
 struggling to hold their heads up, in spite of the depressing
 
 230 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 weight. If you break every other commandment, keep this, 
 Owe ?io man anything? 
 
 " Say nothing about this transaction, and you will save 
 your timber. When Bragly proceeds to meddle with it, your 
 mother will send him a note which I will prepare for her, and 
 which will stop his proceedings. You may pay the amount 
 of whatever real value you have received to other families 
 whom he has defrauded and ruined, for otherwise your hands 
 cannot be clean. It is bad to be in Bragly s debt, but worse 
 to adopt his principles." 
 
 Richard s mother was gratified with the arrival of her old 
 friend and adviser. She was for the first time made ac 
 quainted with the fact that she, as residuary legatee, was the 
 real proprietor of the timber, Richard s " right, title, and in 
 terest," being nothing at all ; for Chinby, who drew the deed 
 of gift, and knew Richard s simplicity, which might make him 
 the prey of sharpers, had, with the father s approbation, in 
 serted a clause reserving the timber. Richard knew nothing 
 of it, and never could have been injured by it; for his right 
 as heir would be good on the death of his mother, and she, 
 even if she knew her right, would not interfere in any fair 
 transaction of her son. Bragly s tactics were defeated ; but 
 as yet he knew it not. Why should he be told till it should 
 become necessary ? Troublesome tidings are best delayed. 
 W r ho can say, amid the casualties of life and death, that they 
 need ever be known ? 
 
 Bragly s well is sunk to a fearful depth. So are his tools, 
 the diggers. But the work is not yet done. The well must 
 be walled with stone. It is necessary to keep the power of 
 work in his human machines till their work is done. 
 
 The drouth is ended. Parson Boreman s prediction is ac-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 237 
 
 complished. A chill wind comes from the east ; leaves flutter 
 and rustle ; swallows fly low ; swine gather up sticks and 
 straws and carry them to their beds ; geese and ducks smooth 
 and oil their plumage ; sheep and horses ranging in distant 
 pastures draw nearer home ; signs multiply ; the night is 
 dark, and there is a sound of abundance of rain. 
 
 In Bang s dwelling a severer storm rages. Sounds of vio 
 lence, of raving fury, of supplicating terror, of fierce execra 
 tion, howlings as of madness, wailings as of anguish, fran 
 tic yells and sobbings of despair. Such scenes have often 
 been there, but now the dire furies rage more fiercely than 
 ever. The livelong night the terrible tumult prevails. 
 
 Delirium tremens, the most horrible precursor of the hor 
 rible death of the drunkard, is upon Bang. His maniac eyes 
 glare upon imaginary monsters. Huge, crawling serpents sur 
 round and encircle him. Demons guard every door, and grin 
 with ghastly malignity at every window. A fearful shape, 
 meditating some dire purpose, sits in the chimney-corner. It 
 has the burly body and sits in the sullen posture of the long- 
 murdered and long-remembered Jotham. The head is swollen 
 with horrid deformity, and ever and anon shakes as with some 
 settled purpose of revenge. Bung shakes with terror and 
 raves with alternate defiance. His eyes turn restlessly in 
 every direction upon horrible enemies. He seeks to shun the 
 monsters, and rushes violently in various directions for escape. 
 He foams with fury, he yells with terror, he groans with an 
 guish. The rain pours down in torrents without, but not 
 enough to drown the terrible storm within. 
 
 In vain the terrified wife seeks to soothe him with entreat 
 ies and cries. The fearful children hide in remote closets, and
 
 238 W L 1" S D E N . 
 
 tremble and moan piteously. The live-long night doles out 
 its successive hours of misery. 
 
 When the morning conies, the fit has somewhat subsided, 
 and Bang lies in the sleep of exhaustion ; yet his convulsed 
 and starting nerves show the agony that racks his frame. 
 The fires of hell, self-kindled, as ever, torture and consume 
 him. 
 
 Bragly has not passed a pleasant night. Something has 
 murdered sleep. His thoughts have taken an uncomfortable 
 turn. Conscience troubles him, or rather that feeling which 
 is the poor substitute for conscience in base minds, the con 
 science which never suggests moral dissuasives from evil, but 
 often darkly hints terrors of retribution. He revolves the un 
 welcome thought that he is near sixty. How short seems the 
 last ten years ! He will soon be seventy, soon eighty, soon be 
 dead ! 
 
 A strange impression that this inevitable destiny may come, 
 without even this reprieve, haunted him. It had unaccount 
 ably done so at other times of late. Remembered omens and 
 superstitious forerunners thickly forced themselves upon him. 
 The two deep graves with which his well was begun, 
 strange circumstance ! He had heard it remarked that when 
 old men build houses, and lay new plans of life, they soon die. 
 His thoughts came unbidden, and obstinately remained. He 
 could not rest. He rose and lighted a candle, and proceeded 
 to inspect his accounts. His eye fell upon Freeport s convey 
 ance. Even the thought of this gainful transaction failed to 
 cheer him. He opened and examined the paper more atten 
 tively. It had many useless words, but lacked some which 
 would make it more satisfactory. It did not even claim or 
 represent the timber, of which it conveyed Freeport s " right,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 239 
 
 title, and interest," to be his property, nor did it guarantee 
 against other claims. Why did he not notice this at the 
 time ? A self-abasing acknowledgment of his awe of Chinby 
 was his only excuse. He could not satisfy himself, and laid 
 aside the document, and vainly tried to dismiss the discontent. 
 But even this discontent relieved him, by taking place of the 
 worse bugbears of his grovelling conscience. 
 
 The rain poured down upon the roof. The winds whistled 
 dismally about his dwelling. Sharp sounds, like yells and 
 shrieks, mingled with the storm. He looked from the win 
 dow in the direction of Bang s house, and divined the cause. 
 Some obscure gleams of light shone through the broken panes 
 and chinks, showing unrest within. The distinct clamor 
 showed the usual cause. Bragly muttered about the annoy 
 ance of such neighbors so near. His new mansion should 
 not be disgraced by such surroundings. Bang and his family 
 should go to Herring Cove, and his unsightly hovels be demol 
 ished. He resolved with the undebating decision of a Rus 
 sian despot, for he relied upon his power. He returned to his 
 bed and slept, but disquietly, and rose in the early morning 
 in morose mood. 
 
 He heard knockings, and, on opening his door, three 
 drenched and shivering wretches appeared. A woman, hag 
 gard and bruised, the revolting image of wretchedness, lead 
 ing in each hand a younger heir of misery. It was Susari, 
 the wife of Bang. Such was her extremity that now she 
 came even to Bragly, the instrument of all her desolation, 
 for present help, a little help, shelter, warmth, and 
 food, till Bang would let them go home, and seek other 
 help. 
 
 The Russian despot, in his angry pride, might have been
 
 240 
 
 W L F S D E N . 
 
 as auspiciously approached by the meanest and most despised 
 of his serfs. The application brought no relief to Susan, but 
 it relieved Bragly, for it gave opportunity of exploding his 
 pent-up discontent. 
 
 " What are you here for? You re a pretty object to come 
 draggling in the mud with your brats ! D ye think I 11 have 
 such critters in my premises ? Freezing, do you say ? A 
 likely story, ia dog-days ! Wet and cold? Well, go home 
 and dry yourselves ! Afraid of Bang ? You look more like 
 frightening him! No wood nor vittels ? The more shame 
 for you ! Go to the town, I owe you nothing ! " 
 
 " 0, Mr. Bragly ! " implored Susan, " do not drive us off 
 so, or a terrible judgment will come on you ! I know it ! 
 The Lord tells me so. You have worked Bang for weeks, 
 and given his family nothing. It is your rum that has done 
 it all ! Now, if you will help me and the children a little, 
 to keep us from dying, I will forgive you. If you don t, we 
 shall die, and God will punish you ! " 
 
 Susan had a little, though but a little, of her old spirit 
 left. Bragly quailed a little, only a little, under it. He 
 belonged to the upper class ; it is the prerogative of aristoc 
 racy to be unmoved by the complaints and appeals of the 
 poor. 
 
 But Bragly saw, in the hazy distance, some one approach 
 ing, lie wished to be rid of the dismal group before him, 
 and told Susan to be off, to go home, and he would send some 
 wood and some victuals ; and with this promise, which, if he 
 meant to redeem it at all, would tax him but with the smallest 
 and meanest portion, he shut the door in Susan s face, and 
 peeped from the window to see that she departed. Susan 
 evidently was not encouraged by his surly promise. She
 
 WOLFSDES. 241 
 
 lingered a moment, but her shivering and moaning children 
 urged the mother s instincts to her extrernest efforts. If she 
 could only hold out to get to Colonel Bowler s, she could get 
 relief. It was more than a mile through the muddy road of 
 the woods, and the wind and rain beat pitilessly upon her 
 exhausted frame, and upon her cold and hungry children. 
 But there was no other resource ; and Bragly sa\v her trail 
 ing slowly off-home, as he supposed, and he felt a pleasure 
 in the success of his tactics. 
 
 The approaching figure was Chadbourn s ; not a much 
 more creditable visitor than those just departed. But Brag 
 ly could dispose of him more conveniently ; and, besides, he 
 had still a use for him. So he supplied him with the soul- 
 expelling liquid, and seated him in his shop. 
 
 Suddenly the storm lulled ; the wind abated ; the clouds 
 parted. It looked light, almost sunshine. Bragly threw 
 open his shop door, and walked out into his front yard, debat 
 ing of the weather, and the expediency of sending for his 
 workmen to draw the stone and wall, up his well. Bang just 
 then made his appearance out of doors, looking about as 
 usual, and Bragly resolved to send nothing to Susan, who 
 had evidently told too big a story. As Bang approached, he 
 appeared to step more briskly, and his countenance was more 
 animated than usual. His blood-shot eyes did not hang 
 heavily, but gleamed with sharp brightness. Bragly sup 
 posed him just stimulated with a strong morning dram, and 
 rejoiced that there was still so much material in him to be 
 used up ; for his plans were expanding, and he needed more 
 tools. 
 
 Bang approaches, and beckons as though he has something 
 to tell. Bragly has heard Susan s story, and would like to 
 21
 
 1242 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 hcar Bang s, and therefore meets him half way. Bang famil 
 iarly lays his hand on Bragly s shoulder, and begins to talk 
 incoherently of Jotham. 
 
 " T was I killed him, ten years ago ! I killed him dead, 
 dead, dead ! But he came again last night ! He brought ten 
 thousand devils with him ! He sat in the corner all night, 
 and the devils kept round the doors and windows ; but I 
 have just killed him again, and drove them all off! They 
 have carried off the old woman and children with em ; but 
 will be glad to let em go again, ha! ha! ha! hurrah 
 for Bang ! " 
 
 Insanity is in his eye. His familiar grasp tightens upon 
 Bragly s shoulder, who tries to shake him off. But the effort 
 only excites Bang, who grasps like his own iron vice. The 
 returning fit comes more violently upon him. He glances 
 wildly about ; and Bragly, alarmed, in vain endeavors to free 
 himself. 
 
 " There they come ! " exclaims the frenzied Bang. " Jo 
 tham and his devils ! Ho ! keep em off, off, off! " and he 
 whirled Bragly about, so as to interpose his body between 
 himself and the visionary objects of his terror. His maniac 
 strength is that of a giant. Bragly s struggles are impotent 
 in his grasp, as he whirls him about to keep off the demon 
 crew. They are not far from the well, and in their struggles 
 upon the slippery ground are approaching nearer to it; but 
 the demons are in the other direction, and Bang sees not the 
 danger of the well. 
 
 With increasing terror, Bragly tries to draw Bang another 
 way ; but his struggling efforts and loud appeals are lost in 
 the stronger power and louder howls and shouts of Bang, 
 while each moment brings them nearer to the dreadful abyss.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 243 
 
 Bragly screams to Chadbourn for help ; and he comes to the 
 door, in maudlin drunkenness, incapable of giving aid, or even 
 understanding the danger. 
 
 " I say-er," he drawls, " wot you-er doin , wrastlin there 
 for? Goit, oldBang! Goit, busters ! Wot makes yer holler- 
 so ? Come, takeadrink ! Goit, hie ! " 
 
 The struggle ceases not. The sweat of deadly terror drips 
 from Bragly s pallid face and quivering limbs. They are 
 upon the slippery margin of the well. The agonizing screams 
 of Bragly mingle with the maniac howls of Bang, and are 
 answered from the echoing woods. 
 
 Susan hears, and hurries on, for she fears the pursuit of 
 Bang. But the dreadful screams and yells have suddenly 
 ceased. Only the driving rain and moaning winds disturb 
 nature s silence. 
 
 Pale, drenched, shivering, exhausted, staggering, Susan 
 reached Colonel Bowler s, with her wretched children, and 
 briefly told her story. Pitying eyes and ready hands re 
 ceived the sufferers. Susan was quickly placed in bed, and 
 her trembling limbs chafed and warmed ; and she was re 
 freshed with nourishment, as fast as safety allowed. The 
 children required less cautious treatment, and in an hour 
 were bright and active as ever. 
 
 Ike started off to see about Bang, chiefly that Susan 
 might be satisfied. Arriving at the miserable dwelling, a 
 scene of wild disorder was shown. All doors were open, all 
 windows broken. Crockery, clothing, furniture, and rubbish, 
 were mingled and hurled in every direction. The chimney- 
 corner, where Bang saw the spectral Jotham, was filled and 
 battered with various heavy missiles. But no living being 
 remained in the house. Looking in the direction of Bragly s,
 
 244 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Ike saw Chadbouru near the well, in loud consultation with 
 the deaf old housekeeper in the door, each shouting question 
 and reply, but neither understanding the other, while Chad- 
 bourn pointed to the well with earnest gesticulations. With 
 some misgivings of what may have happened, Ike ap 
 proached Chadbourn, who, still drunk, pointed to the well, 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 " Theretheybe, goners, gone-downers ! Tumbledin, all of- 
 m, wrastlin ! Bangandallof em, wrastlin ! Old Bragly- 
 andallof em, wrastlin ! " 
 
 Ike placed a plank and looked over the edge. Down fifty 
 feet in the murky depth, the straining eye indistinctly saw 
 two bodies lying across, and partly covered with mud and 
 water. The dreadful truth of Chadbourn s incoherent expla 
 nation was apparent. People were summoned, and the life 
 less bodies of Bang and Bragly, the mutual destroyers and 
 avengers, the aristocrat and plebeian, the tactician and the 
 man of muscle, each bereft of their power and levelled now, 
 were drawn up and laid side by side. 
 
 There was a great concourse of people at the funeral ; 
 curiosity attracts more strongly than sympathy. Parson 
 Boreman preached with his usual eloquence, from the text, 
 " Man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about 
 the streets." He proved at length, from Scripture and na 
 ture, that all men must die, sooner or later ; that no man 
 knoweth the time or manner of his death, or who among us 
 shall follow next, &c. &c. The widowed Susan being not yet 
 enough recovered to attend the funeral, Bang s present condi 
 tion was pretty plainly assumed as anything but enviable, 
 and his eternal ruin plainly shown to be from his habitual 
 neglect of Sabbath ordinances ; and not, as some may have
 
 WOLFSDEN. 245 
 
 supposed, from neglect of week-day duties, and indulgence 
 of every-day drunkenness. 
 
 Bragly s state of mind not being fully known to the minis 
 ter, his fate was left somewhat dubious ; though the fact of 
 his recently awakened interest in missionary and tract opera 
 tions gave consoling grounds of hope. From which it may 
 be inferred that the aristocrat yet maintains his ascendency, 
 in spite of the leveller Death ! Bragly s five dollars to the 
 missionary fund was a lucky investment. His tactics are an 
 example. 
 
 Not having room for a synopsis of the sermon, we can only 
 hope that the parson may be persuaded to gratify the public, 
 and console perambulating mourners, by publishing it, either 
 separately, or as an appendix to the treatise of the lost 
 tribes. 
 
 21*
 
 CHAPTEll XIV. 
 
 WE left Alek on the road by the banks of the Saco. If 
 the reader expects to find him there still, then we have failed 
 properly to represent his onward energy. Alek is in New 
 York. He has been there three months. He knows things 
 not understood in "Wolfsden. His eyes are wider awake, his 
 step brisker, his attitude bolder and more self-confident. 
 
 He does not slouch along the sidewalks jostling the pas 
 sengers, nor stand in the gutters to give them room. He 
 does not pause to read the Valentines, or gaze at the carica 
 tures in the shop-windows. He does not follow the strutting 
 military feathered bipeds, whom Plato excluded from his defi 
 nition of man ; nor loiter near the organ-grinder, nor mingle 
 with the simpletons about the mock-auction stands. The 
 Jews of Chatham-street do not pull him in at their doors to 
 buy second-hand finery and gilded jewelry ; nor the Bowery 
 boys familiarly address him with schemes of raffling and lot 
 tery speculations ; nor the frail women accost him with their 
 enticements. When he moves, it is with the manner of one 
 who has business to do ; and when he stops, it is because he 
 has arrived at the place to do it. 
 
 Alek found business. Prompt men can always find some 
 thing to do in New York. Those of small ambition may
 
 WOLFSDEN. 247 
 
 enter menial employments. Those who have a knack at 
 shrewd tricks can live by their wits. Men of higher capac 
 ities, and better energies, can quickly find or make a way to 
 respectable employments. Alek was not avaricious nor sen 
 sual ; his motive was not to hoard money, nor to spend it in 
 vulgar gratifications. To^ learn men, manners, business, and 
 the philosophy of life, he counted the best present use of the 
 new school to which he came. A moderate salary satisfied 
 him, and with it he gained a character, for energy and reliabil 
 ity which would be a sufficient stepping-stone to another posi 
 tion when he should choose. 
 
 Alek s access to employment was, however, made more 
 easy and speedy by Harry s introductory letter to his uncle, 
 the merchant. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Boynton was a merchant of the old-fashioned 
 sort, high-minded, methodical, somewhat formal and self- 
 opinionated, and having faith in the old institutions and doc 
 trines in which he was moulded. He believed in Fast-day 
 sermons and Fourth-of-July orations, in the piety of his 
 church and the patriotism of his party. He was nobly edu 
 cated for times long since gone by, and he still nourished and 
 brooded old" notions, us the careful hen broods her eggs, after 
 they are long addled. But his practices, prompted by 
 the instincts of a benevolent heart, were often at variance 
 with the policy and feeling of the society and party to which 
 he was allied, and in whose support he was compelled to sup 
 press many misgivings. He was life-member of the A. B. C. 
 F. 31., and yet contributed to the Union Missionary Society, 
 which condemns the A. B. C. F. M. At his table sound doc 
 tors of divinity sometimes met radical reformers, and would 
 find the Boston Liberator side by side with the New York
 
 248 TfOLFSDKN. 
 
 Observer. His toleration satisfied neither party. Conserva 
 tives saw that his influence encouraged disorganizing prin 
 ciples, and radicals complained that conservatives were able 
 to claim so liberal a man as one of their party. Yet neither 
 ventured to remonstrate ; for Mr. B. was not a man to bear 
 dictation. 
 
 Alek chanced to arrive in New York during the " anniver 
 sary week," celebrated by religious and other associations ; 
 and, accepting Mr. Boynton s cordial invitation, found himself, 
 at the dinner-hour, seated at a more sumptuous table, with a 
 finer and better-dressed company, than he had before seen ; 
 for those who attend the anniversaries are generally the most 
 respectable of their respective societies, and of those some 
 of the most distinguished were always allotted to Mr. Boyn- 
 ton s hospitality ; such matters being mostly arranged by 
 private understanding of the leaders, though the entertainer 
 is also entitled to invite whom he chooses. This privilege Mr. 
 Boynton had exercised by inviting not only Alek, but also 
 another person, more prominent, though much less congenial 
 to the general taste and feelings of the guests. This was no 
 other than the noted Mr. Paradox, the incendiary leader and 
 agitating apostle of one of the most radical, subversive, and 
 formidable associations of the time. 
 
 No other person had so early in life engaged so large a 
 share of public attention, or been the object of so earnest and 
 opposite feelings. Scarcely a paper in the United Slates was 
 issued without an article or paragraph relating to him, of 
 which a large proportion expressed the severest condemnation 
 and abhorrence ; the soundest and most patriotic of the polit 
 ical and religious papers being most frequent and earnest in
 
 TV L S D E N . 249 
 
 their anathemas, which, indeed, was the surest proof of their 
 soundness and patriotism. 
 
 Mr. Paradox well deserved all the abuse he received ; for 
 he had done more to overthrow and destroy the deference and 
 veneration attached to the time-hallowed institutions which 
 divines and patriots support, and by which they profit, than 
 any man or demon since the days of Dr. Faustus ; having, 
 besides his individual influence, opened sluices of public 
 thought and feeling, through which an increasing current of 
 opinion still rushes, endangering the sacred foundations of 
 church and state. 
 
 By the side of Mr. Paradox sat no less a personage than 
 the Rev. Dr. Paragon, so celebrated for his learning, his 
 piety, and his position, being the acknowledged head of the 
 only true and infallible religious sect in the land, all the 
 other ninety-nine being clearly gone astray, and corrupted 
 with the most palpable and damning errors. 
 
 Thus, by chance or contrivance, were these champions of 
 their respective fields placed in proximity, and compelled to 
 the interchange of courteous salutations. Dr. Paragon being 
 much the oldest man, and also an official dignitary, the option 
 of debate properly belonged to him ; and therefore Mr. Para 
 dox, who is always the most civil when he meditates most 
 mischief, abstained from provocation, and joined blandly in 
 general remarks. But, under the circumstances, collision was 
 unavoidable ; for the reverend doctor was surrounded by friends, 
 who expected the onset, which his position would not allow 
 him to decline, and, therefore, gathering up his learning, dig 
 nity, and eloquence, he proceeded to an overpowering on 
 slaught upon his adversary. 
 
 He began by showing the disorganizing character of all
 
 250 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 radical movements, which, originating outside of the church 
 are unauthorized by Scripture, and necessarily hostile to 
 divine authority. He instanced the dangerous character of 
 abolitionism, which he pronounced false in its principles and 
 fatal in its tendencies, lie proved from Moses and St. Paul 
 the scriptural sanction of slavery, as an institution appointed 
 by God and approved by his apostles ; and testified to the 
 general piety of the slaveholders, which he favorably con 
 trasted with the want ef reverence for the Scripture, the 
 Sabbath, and the church, shown by leading abolitionists, some 
 of whose attacks he specified and repelled ; and also showed 
 that his own sect were faithful to their duty in preaching the 
 Gospel, in whose light slavery, and all other evils, would 
 finally be overcome. He also claimed for himself and breth 
 ren, north and south, that they were the only true abolition 
 ists, inasmuch as they sincerely mourned and prayed over the 
 evil, and patiently waited God s time for its removal : which 
 might, perhaps, have already been accomplished, but for the 
 mischievous agitation of professed abolitionists. 
 
 The dignified company were pleased with the ability and 
 approved the severity of their champion s discourse ; and even 
 Mr. Paradox, by the respectful attention he gave, showed 
 that he appreciated the honor of being demolished by so dis 
 tinguished a divine. Yet, true to his name and nature, he 
 must needs reply, and that, too, in a manner both perplexing 
 and provoking. 
 
 He said that he would not dispute with so learned a critic 
 upon interpretations of Scripture, but thought that, if its 
 mission in the world was to establish slavery, mankind might 
 have managed to get along without its light, since many 
 heathen nations, unaided by revelation, had adopted th
 
 WOLFSDEN. 251 
 
 institution. He apprehended that, with such interpretations, 
 the Bible would lose its authority, in reflecting minds. u As," 
 said he, " it seems already to be disregarded by yourself and 
 brethren, since you mourn and pray for the removal of an 
 institution which it sanctions, as appointed by God himself, 
 and approved by his apostles. " Upon the doctor s claim 
 for himself and friends to be the only true abolitionists, he 
 expressed pleasure in hearing of the progress of truth in such 
 quarters; and, as to the imputation of having put back God s 
 time for doing the work, he replied by a modest doubt of his 
 ability to control the purposes of Omnipotence, even if he had 
 the wish to do so. 
 
 Notwithstanding the conciliatory manner of the reply, the 
 reverend doctor was not mollified, and answered, quickly, " Sir, 
 you misrepresent my views. I was discussing the abstract 
 question concerning the fundamental principles of the relation, 
 whether it be necessarily such a malum in se as may not exist 
 salvafide et salva ecclesia." 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr. Paradox, " as to misrepresenting your 
 views, I cannot do that knowingly, for they are to me incom 
 prehensible ; but, as it seems they relate only to abstractions, 
 they do not concern me, for my business is with realities." 
 
 Such was the irreverence with which Mr. Paradox some 
 times replied to the most revered dignitaries. Alek, who 
 had been but a few hours in New York, and whose rustic 
 reason was as yet unused to the refined light in which mat 
 ters are judged in the city, supposed the reverend doctor van 
 quished in the debate ; but the evident disapprobation with 
 which the remarks of Mr. Paradox were received by the 
 clerical company, and the deference and admiration with 
 which the doctor was listened to, showed that an opposite
 
 252 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 opinion prevailed. The matter was soon set right before the 
 public. by the following paragraph in a popular daily paper : 
 
 " The Rev. Doctor Paragon, while dining with a company 
 of distinguished divines, was bitterly assailed and denounced 
 by the notorious Mr. Paradox, who had, by some means, 
 obtained admission. The venerable divine, in the most 
 gentlemanly and Christian manner, rebuked the incendiary 
 fanatic, and, with the ready eloquence which marks his pri 
 vate conversation, no less than his public performances, vin 
 dicated Christianity and the church from his imputations, and 
 exposed the reckless folly and impiety of the fanatic crew 
 who are endeavoring to excite the public mind, and disturb 
 the peace of society. If these proceedings are persisted in, 
 it may become a duty to arrest them by summary process. 
 Let the outraged public see that order and decency are pre 
 served in their meeting at the Tabernacle this evening." 
 
 Alek, to whom such views of life were new, resolved to 
 attend the meeting at the Tabernacle, where, notwithstanding 
 the suggested summary process, a very large audience assem 
 bled. As the addresses proceeded, it soon became evident, 
 by the increasing uproar, which, commencing with hisses and 
 stamping, soon grew to shouts and yells, that many had come, 
 according to the suggestion of the papers, to preserve order 
 and decency. But, notwithstanding their efforts, the most 
 violent disorder soon manifested itself, until, at length, a gal 
 lant and distinguished captain (whose, patriotism has since 
 been politically rewarded) sprang upon the platform occupied 
 by the speakers, and, brandishing a formidable weapon, 
 solemnly swore, by the powers celestial and infernal, that the 
 speeches should be stopped ; and, being backed by a band of 
 choice spirits, soon caused the dispersion of the assembly.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 25d 
 
 Among the speakers was a lady, who, in the mildest man 
 ner and most impressive language, insisted that manly honor, 
 equally with Christian duty, required of men to protect the 
 humble and proscribed ; and that to uphold the oppression of 
 the poor for thus she designated slavery was unmanly 
 as well as unchristian, and, when done by those who them 
 selves belonged to the industrious class, and were therefore 
 bound by policy to preserve the rights and dignity of labor, 
 was inexpressibly mean, and was sure to incur the contempt 
 of honorable men, even among slaveholders themselves, as 
 well as to provoke the vengeance of God. These and the like 
 obnoxious sentiments were promptly hissed, and stamped with 
 the disapprobation of the orderly and decent portion of the 
 audience. 
 
 Alek, who occupied a remote part of the gallery, was not 
 an indifferent spectator; and we are compelled to confess 
 that his rustic sympathies were not on the side of the pre 
 servers of order and decency, but rather with the fanatics on 
 the platform ; so that, when several brave fellows about him 
 proposed to second the laudable exploits of the valiant cap 
 tain, by mobbing the ladies as they emerged from the door, 
 he grasped his cudgel tightly, with an impulse to remonstrate. 
 He, however, said nothing, but kept with those about him, who 
 supposed him to be of the same mind ; and they, observing 
 his stalwart and vigorous frame, proposed putting him for 
 ward as leader, which honor he declined, as being a stranger. 
 This position was voluntarily assumed by an able-bodied 
 patriot, named Bludgeon. 
 
 Although Alek declined leadership, he kept in front of the 
 enterprising squad ; and, as they neared the female group, 
 and Mr. B., supported by those behind him, rushed forward 
 22
 
 254 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 to execute the " summary process " by seizing the female 
 orator, Alek, with a powerful and dextrous blow upon the 
 head, doubled him up, there not being room to fall prostrate, 
 and then, thrusting the end of his cudgel furiously into the 
 faces of his supporters, to the irreparable damage of eyes, 
 noses, and teeth, so discouraged them that they desisted from 
 their purpose, and the fanatics passed unharmed, while Alek 
 mingled with the crowd, and left the ground. Full details 
 of this affair may be found in the secular and religious 
 papers of the time, under the head of "Abolition Riots" 
 recorded with that admirable regard for candor and truth 
 which has always characterized their representations of such 
 affairs.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN recording Alek s adventures, exploits, mistakes, and 
 mischances, we do not pretend to portray a perfect charac 
 ter, such as a mere novelist might invent, but only to tell 
 things as they took place, without embellishment or conceal 
 ment. But, in our comments, modes of expression, and 
 moral reflections, now that we have introduced our hero to 
 the arena of city life, we shall carefully conform to the 
 fashionable tone. Far be it from us to violate the proprie 
 ties of the press, by giving utterance to unpopular sentiments, 
 or disturbing the placid stream of public opinion, upon whose 
 unruffled surface we hope to sail. The polite reader may, 
 therefore, confidently expect to be gratified with refinement 
 of expression and sentiment, and perfect conformity of taste 
 and principle with prevailing modes ; and, if any unfashion 
 able sentiment should unawares appear, the reader is begged 
 to consider it a mistake, and to cancel it accordingly. With 
 this definition of our position and plan, which the last few 
 pages illustrate, we proceed in the same spirit to this new 
 chapter. Vive la bagatelle ! 
 
 We have already announced that Alek had obtained em 
 ployment. It was with Messrs. Greening and Russet, and 
 through the introduction of Mr. Boyntoii. Mr. Greening was
 
 256 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 partner and chief business agent of a manufactory where 
 many strange and uncouth instruments are made of wood and 
 iron, for the convenience of a rustic and semi-civilized people, 
 who occupy remote regions of considerable extent, and find 
 in rude occupations some solace for the deprivations of their 
 condition. Adapted to their simple tastes is a beam of 
 strong wood, to the centre of which projecting portions of 
 iron, crooked and clumsy in form, are attached, while one 
 end of the beam is ornamented with handles, bent like the 
 ivory end of a parasol, but much larger, and very strong. 
 This preposterous and absurd instrument they call a " plough," 
 and count it of more use and advantage than piano or harpsi 
 chord, which they even affect to disdain. Huge iron spikes, 
 driven through a strong wooden frame, with the points left 
 projecting on one side, make what they call a harrow, with 
 which they are much pleased. A flat plate of iron or steel 
 attached to a wooden handle is also in request among them, 
 and is called, according to its size and form, " spade," 
 " shovel," or "hoe " (the term " spade " is most absurdly ap 
 plied, as the instrument has no use analogous to the suit of 
 cards of that name). It should be observed that when the 
 plate of iron which forms the termination of this toy is 
 divided into separate prongs, as the web-foot of a duck may 
 be divided by removing the filmy skin which unites the toes, 
 the mutilated instrument is then called a pitchfork, the use, 
 however, differing from the pitchfork of musicians. Long, 
 curved knives are also fastened to handles, sometimes long and 
 sometimes short, and called sickles, or scythes ; and these are 
 used to cut down the vegetation, which, growing up to two or 
 three feet in a season, would otherwise, by the accumulated
 
 W L F S D E N . 257 
 
 growth of a few years, render the region impassable, pave 
 ments and sidewalks being there unknown. 
 
 The reader would perhaps be pleased with a personal de 
 scription of Mr. Greening, the manager of this manufactory. 
 Mr. Greening is a pleasant elderly gentleman, elderly in 
 years, but juvenile in appearance, being fat, round, ruddy, and 
 agile. Good nature, good living, and good luck, have kept 
 him fat, round, and ruddy, and much business has kept him 
 agile. He does not look like a man of much calculation ; yet 
 his face is mathematical, or, at least, geometrical, for it is 
 formed of circles wheels within wheels. Its outline is a 
 circle, bounding the front disk of a spherical head. The tip 
 of the nose is its exact centre. Between this and the upper 
 segment two circular blue eyes expand their orbits, and on 
 either side the ruddy cheeks repeat the orbic order. In the 
 lower segment the smooth-shaven lips enclose a circular 
 puckered mouth puckered, but yet smooth. A hemispheric 
 chin, like half an orange, with a central dimple, completes 
 the physiognomy. The whole is not badly represented by the 
 moon on the old-fashioned clock-face. People, at first look, 
 might not think him profound ; but in his business he is 
 prompt, shrewd, and successful. 
 
 No man is more than half known till you know his wife, 
 and therefore Mrs. Greening must be introduced. 
 
 Mr. Greening must have been led to his wife by that mys 
 terious affinity which disposes so many to choose, as the com 
 plement of their sphere, partners as opposite as possible, 
 not only in sex, but also in all physical and mental char 
 acteristics. Thus men short and fat look for ladies long 
 and lean. Black eyes look lovingly upon blue. Pretty faces 
 wed with plain ; the philosopher fancies a fool ; and the 
 22*
 
 258. WOLFSDEN. 
 
 strong-minded woman is willingly wooed and won by a sim 
 pleton. The man of stalwart stature is entangled and cap 
 tured in the net of some tiny sylph ; while an ample and 
 robust virago seizes a dapper dandy in her Amazonian em 
 brace, and bears him in triumph to the matrimonial altar. 
 
 In one respect Mr. and Mrs. Greening come under the 
 same description ; for she is also formed geometrically, not 
 of circles, but of angles. Her body is almost linear, for it 
 has extension without much breadth or thickness. Her head 
 is a polyhedron ; her face, a trapezium ; her chin, a truncated 
 pyramid. Though not a projector, she is full of projections; 
 she is not a speculator, but is always cornered. 
 
 Not that Mrs. Greening is ugly ; her sharp black eyes, and 
 delicate complexion, and lady-like expression, and judicious 
 arrangement of curls and ribbons and muslin, rounding the 
 corners and filling up the crannies about the boundaries of 
 her countenance, redeem her from that imputation. The 
 remainder of her frame the dress-maker covers and finishes 
 to a charm ; in fact, to many charms, demonstrating the tri 
 umphs of padding, buckram, whalebon-3, cord, and all the 
 materiel of female architecture. 
 
 Mrs. Greening is a pensive lady, serious, devout, and 
 valetudinarian. She never visits the theatre, and she dis 
 approves of dancing ; yet she has resources of enjoyment ex 
 quisite and unfailing. They come in packages, in powders, 
 in boxes, and bottles. Brandreth, Moffat, Old Dr. Jacob 
 Townsend and young Dr. Townsend (rivals, whose mutual 
 vilifications she discredits, but whose self-boastings she has 
 full faith in), Swaim, Jayne, and the immortal inventor of 
 Russia Salve, and a hundred other empirics these be her 
 gods. Their oracles she studies, and their nectar she sips.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 259 
 
 Her medical researches, if not profound, are extensive, ex 
 perimental, and persevering. She has been steamed by 
 Thomson, and soused by Noggs ; braced by Consumption 
 Fitch, and manipulated by Dislocation Ilewett, and every 
 bone, spine, corn, and other deformity doctor. 
 
 Blessed be the man who first invented patent medicines, 
 and thus opened regions of delight unknown before ! A lux 
 urious Ca>sar, in degenerate days, offered rewards to him who 
 would invent a new pleasure ; but Xature had not yet per 
 fected the brains that could devise luxuries like these for the 
 delectation of half mankind. 
 
 Why sing of the " good time coming " ? 0, that the poet 
 of quackery would arise, and sing the advent of these aus 
 picious days of the good time already come ! Why do not 
 a grateful people bestow ^rewards, and decree triumphs, and 
 build monuments, to these joy-producing benefactors ? 
 
 Shall it be replied that the injury they do exceeds their 
 benefit ? that they poison constitutions, weaken and destroy 
 the sanative functions of nature, shorten lives, rob the foolish 
 and ignorant of money on false pretences of cure, and fill the 
 papers with lying advertisements,, supported by forged and 
 fraudulent certificates ? Of what account is all this? Perish 
 the paltry objections ! What isjife without luxury? What 
 is the use of money but to purchase pleasure ? Of what use 
 is the press but to circulate mingled falsehood and truth, 
 that people may select as fancy wills? Shall we forego the 
 subtle virtues of essences, elixirs, anodynes, panaceas, bal 
 sams, and balms distilled from a thousand flowers ; got from 
 mountain tops and valleys deep, and subterranean caves; from 
 islands of antipodal oceans, and barbarous lands beyond 
 Japan ; handed down from seventh son to seventh son,
 
 260 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 through countless generations ; obtained from Indians of un 
 discovered shores ; revealed by miraculous accident ; set forth 
 in luminous literature ; attested by victims reprieved from 
 predestined death, whose souls still linger on this stormy side 
 of Styx, to give supernatural testimony to supernatural cures ? 
 If it be shown that wedlock and motherhood impair health 
 and shorten life, who for that would forego the dearest delights 
 of life, to extend the joyless days and nights of cold celi 
 bacy ? 
 
 Uncork your bottles, unseal your boxes, mingle your 
 powders, sip your drops, swallow your pills, and spread your 
 salves, ye daughters of delicate complaints ; so shall you 
 sweetly live and softly die !
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ALEK soon stood high with his employer. His business 
 related to the selection and adaptation of the materials for 
 the fanciful trinkets manufactured at Greening & Russet s 
 establishment, as already described, the uses and proper 
 qualities of which Alek understood long ago. He possessed 
 rare judgment and faithfulness, as his employers speedily as- 
 "certained. Mr. Greening shrewdly foresaw prosperity in 
 Alek s path. His inquiries confirmed his good opinion of 
 Alek and of hie family, and he cogitated secret thoughts. 
 
 Mr. Greening had a daughter whom he doted upon, and 
 with good reason ; at least, such good reason as fond parents 
 usually have for their partiality. Sophia was blue-eyed, like 
 her father, and moulded after the same order, but much 
 beautified. His circularity was in her abated to a graceful 
 roundness and lovableness, such as the eyes willingly linger 
 upon. Sophia was her father s favorite, as her brother 
 Augustus was the mother s. Augustus resembled his mother 
 in her style of structure, but was built with more sym 
 metry. It is perhaps for this mutual softening of opposite 
 qualities in the race that nature contrives, by instinctive 
 choice, to bring together parents so dissimilar.
 
 262 W L F S D F< N . 
 
 Son and daughter were educated as those who have much 
 wealth, much fondness, and not too much severe philosophy, 
 educate offspring whose natural perfections need little train 
 ing. The best-endowed mind cannot arrive at a right educa 
 tion but by a tedious road through an uninviting region. 
 Augustus never travelled much, except in pleasant paths ; yet 
 he became very accomplished. In his mother s eyes he pos 
 sessed but one fault he hated medicine. 
 
 Sophia was all perfection. So her iather had always de 
 cided, and freely expressed. So also "Edward Clevis, who 
 had long been in her father s employ, and had attained to a 
 distant and tremulous acquaintance with the daughter, 
 thought. But Edward sighed in secret, and said nothing. 
 She was a bright, unapproachable star, moving in regions 
 of wealth and fashion which he could not hope to attain. 
 Such are the distinctions which wealth makes among mortals, 
 and which Edward, spite of his romance, was compelled to 
 feel. He therefore sighed in secret, and said nothing ; but 
 Edward found or fancied some little ground of hope, upon 
 which to build airy castles. When did ever romantic love 
 fail to find ground for hope? 
 
 Troublesome fears and anxieties pervaded Mr. Greening s 
 mind. Parents, who desire peace of mind and tranquillity in 
 age, should not pray for the gift of beautiful daughters. A 
 vision of a fashionable, dashing, daring, dangerous young man 
 came unpleasantly across his parental views and hopes. He 
 had met the original a few times ; at first Avith an unpleasant 
 impression, which soon deepened into dislike and dread. Mr. 
 Mercutio Fitz-Faun was the heir of a family old, rich, and 
 renowned. He was introduced to Mr. Greening s house by 
 Augustus, who had a predilection for dashing acquaintances,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 263 
 
 which the father had not. Mrs. Greening and Sophia saw 
 nothing objectionable in the young man. The devil, for his 
 own purposes, often gives his worst imps a pleasant aspect in 
 ladies eyes ; and ladies in such cases always persist in judg 
 ing with their own eyes, in spite of judicious husband or 
 father. By the father s eyes the devil-look of Fitz-Faun was 
 plainly seen. He expressed disapprobation of the acquaint 
 ance to his wife and daughter. Fitz-Faun already instinct 
 ively understood it, and avoided the old gentleman s sight. 
 He had experience of vigilant fathers. He cultivated the 
 friendship of Augustus, and made brief calls at safe hours, 
 offering delicate attentions, such as could hardly be refused 
 without rudeness ; but, if they were declined, Mr. Fitz-Faun 
 never was offended. To Mrs. Greening he was all defer 
 ence and gentleness. He showed regard for religion and for 
 medicine ; recommending Pollok s Course of Time for her 
 reading, and , Darby s Carminative for her complaints. To 
 Sophia his admiration was half expressed, by looks and 
 words that venture not too far, but yet prepare the way for 
 further venture. 
 
 Sophia thought sometimes of his words and looks, and how 
 odd it would be if he should fall in love with her, and make 
 her the subject of a romance ; and then she thought of Fitz- 
 James and the Lady of the Lake. How odd the coincidence 
 of names Fitz-James, Fitz-Faun ! Tlien she reflected upon 
 the sorrows of Werter and the fair Charlotte, and looked in 
 the glass to see if her own fair features resembled those of 
 Charlotte. She judged, and very justly, that they were as 
 beautiful ; only she had never seen Charlotte, nor even her 
 picture. Then she reflected upon Conrad the Corsair, and 
 Medora, and Don Juan, with the fair Haidee. She had seen
 
 264 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 a print of Haidee, with which her own features compared 
 favorably. Then she meditated upon Moore s Melodies, and 
 Willis Sonnets, and various heroes and heroines of the Lady s 
 Magazine, and other classic creations of lady-like literature, 
 till the music-master came to dispel idle thoughts by labori 
 ous lessons. 
 
 Mr. Mercutio Fitz-Faun assiduously cultivated the society 
 of Augustus Greening. In company with him, and sometimes 
 without him, he frequently met the ladies in their walks and 
 resorts, in public places and at social parties ; for he had 
 boldness, skill, and facilities to obtain introduction in most 
 places, when he had a motive to come. Augustus was uncon 
 sciously his instrument, and he had other instruments. His 
 advances to Sophia were cautious, without the appearance of 
 caution ; covert, but. with seeming frankness ; artfully con 
 trived, yet- apparently accidental ; designing, but innocent- 
 looking. He sometimes seemed absent-minded, but never 
 forgot his purpose. He often spoke of personal matters, in 
 which he incidentally betrayed some romantically-generous 
 act of his own ; then suddenly recalled to himself the im 
 propriety of egotism, and made interesting confessions, 
 lamenting his impulsive disposition, and the difficulty of see 
 ing suffering or wrong without interfering to relieve it ; but 
 she is a friend, and will excuse his unguardedness. He could 
 not avoid confession to one so good and beautiful. And then 
 he quoted some pretty sentiment. Thus he gained a step in 
 her confidence, and made himself the subject of her thoughts. 
 Transparent artifices are these ; yet they serve to beguile 
 confiding maidens. 
 
 Mr. Greening had no distinct and obvious cause for anx 
 iety, and yet he was anxious. He knew nothing sufficient to
 
 WOLFSDEN. 265 
 
 justify his forbidding the acquaintance, which, considering 
 the circle in which the young man moved, would cause some 
 inconvenience. He explained his anxiety to his wife, and 
 she gave him assurances which did not assure him. 
 
 His confidence in Alek s personal worth and future pros 
 perity was fully established. He looked upon him as en 
 dowed with the very virtues which he gave himself credit for 
 possessing, and by which he had arrived at his present pros 
 perity, integrity, firmness, good judgment, quick discernment 
 of the character of others, energy, perseverance and due cau 
 tion in business, and the manly bearing which inspires general 
 respect. 
 
 He felt himself like a vigorous tree, firmly rooted and 
 flourishing ; but reflected that years must bring decay, and he 
 considered the advantage of having a thrifty sapling growing 
 beside him, upon whose firm trunk his own might lean, when 
 age should bend it down with the heavy weight of years and 
 cares. His natural partiality for his own son did not blind 
 his eyes, and he never thought of leaning upon Augustus. 
 
 He conversed freely with Alek upon every topic of busi 
 ness, and even upon personal matters, and gave particular 
 proofs of confidence and respect. He invited him to his 
 house frequently, and requested him to come familiarly, as 
 among intimate friends. Mrs. Greening was gracious and 
 conversational ; Augustus, spirited and social ; and Sophia, 
 lovely and condescending. Alek found it very pleasant to 
 come, and was made to feel himself always welcome. Mr. 
 Greening s family never failed to manifest full welcome to all 
 whom he inclined to favor ; besides which, Alek proved him 
 self no unpleasant guest. He had not remitted in his en 
 deavors to learn men, manners, and the philosophy of life ; 
 23
 
 266 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 and he rapidly added to his attainment of what is solid and 
 important the propriety and polish which most adorns the 
 sound understanding. 
 
 He appreciated elevation and refinement of sentiment 
 as readily in the diffident and unpretending as elsewhere. 
 Among those whom business led in his way, he was attracted 
 to Edward Clevis, before mentioned, in whom he found qual 
 ities worthy of regard ; and he often conversed with him. 
 Edward quickly considered him in the light of a judicious 
 friend, and, being himself of a frank and confiding nature, it 
 was impossible that the chief burthen of his thoughts should 
 escape Alek s penetration. But Alek was delicate, and said 
 nothing ; and, though unlucky himself, generously wished good 
 luck to Edward, whom he believed to merit it. It did not 
 even occur to him that the beautiful Sophia might be made 
 to fill the place in his own heart, so long occupied, and so 
 recently vacated, by one who had left it desolate and aching ; 
 and, therefore, no feeling of. rivalry interfered with his sym 
 pathy. 
 
 Alek found his new privileges pleasant enough, and still 
 the more agreeable to him for the opportunities of improve 
 ment afforded by introduction to cultivated society ; and, 
 therefore, he was careful to be always accessible, and ready 
 to accept such invitations and intimations of welcome as 
 might be given, so that he became the most frequent com 
 panion and protector of the beautiful Sophia. He considered 
 this a trust from his employer, and kept the same vigilant 
 eye upon his duty as in other trusts, and with no more 
 thought of turning it to his own advantage. He had received 
 an intimation from Mr. Greening of his distrust of Mr. Fitz- 
 Eaun, and therefore honored that gentleman with a little
 
 WOLFSDEN. 267 
 
 closer observation than he gave to others. It was not 
 marked, yet Fitz-Fuun suspected it, and also observed close 
 ly. He concluded that Alek, encouraged by the family, as 
 pired to the beautiful Sophia, and fiercely determined to frus 
 trate him and revenge himself. He was aware that the 
 enterprise might be difficult; but the more difficult the more 
 glorious its achievement, for of such achievements he was 
 emulous, not only for private benefit, but for glorious boasts 
 among his compeers, and to sustain the ancient renown of the 
 Fitz-Fauns. 
 
 Mr. Mercutio Fitz-Faun had a somewhat narrow range of 
 ideas and aspirations, but within that range his enterprise, 
 perseverance, and success, were wonderful. Of the profound 
 maxims and established rules of life and conduct, founded on 
 morals or policy, he had small store ; yet there was one which 
 he constantly quoted and applied. " All stratagems are 
 lawful in love," was his axiom. By " love " he meant what 
 ever the low, base, and sensual, imply in that term ; and by 
 stratagem, whatever fraud, falsehood, treachery, violence, and 
 villany, might be effectual to his purposes. 
 
 He fancied that he ran a brilliant career. He plumed 
 himself upon his genius and his good fortune. He affected 
 to be styled the Napoleon of gallantry, and named his victo 
 ries Au.sterlitz, Lutzen, Marengo, Borodino, and the like. 
 He trusted not alone to chance and the inspiration of the 
 hour, but proceeded by system, with appropriate aids, re 
 sources, and instruments, in all emergencies. 
 
 He prided himself especially upon what he called his diplo 
 macy. By diplomacy he had often made persons of honorable 
 intentions the unconscious instruments of his plots for the 
 ruin of their nearest and dearest connections. By diplomacy
 
 ZOO WOLFSDBN. 
 
 he managed Augustus, evaded the father, blinded the mother 
 and hoped to baffle and circumvent Alelc, and add another 
 victory to his list of Lodis, Lutzens, and Jenas. 
 
 Of the allies and aids of this Napoleon of gallantry, Count 
 Flummery was the chief, and was supported by a regular 
 gradation of Talleyrands, Metternichs, Grouchys, Soults, and 
 subalterns, in the character of procurers, bullies, bribed coach 
 men, and courtesans. 
 
 By the arts of diplomacy Fitz-Faun decided to commence 
 the campaign against Alek, holding other resources in reserve. 
 Augustus served to introduce him, and he opened his battery 
 of smooth pretences and artifices. He professed particular 
 pleasure in gaining the acquaintance of a friend of Harry 
 Boynton, for whom he avowed much respect, though he had 
 seen him but a few times. He made many remarks meant 
 to be agreeable, and offered his services and good offices on 
 all occasions ; particularly proposing to introduce Alek to 
 some of his own friends, who he judged might be agreeable, 
 and perhaps serviceable. 
 
 Alek did not decline the civilities. He thought that per 
 haps they might be sincere, or, if otherwise, he considered 
 himself competent to detect and baffle treachery, when already 
 put upon his guard. He desired, also, to ascertain how far 
 Mr. Greening s ill opinion was well grounded ; and, perhaps, 
 liked the chance of testing his own diplomacy. Alek s self- 
 estimate had not declined. In that respect he was not much 
 behind Mr. Mercutio Fitz-Faun. 
 
 Two days afterward, Mr. Fitz-Faun called upon Alek with 
 a card of invitation from Count Flummery, whom he described 
 as an English nobleman, of generous spirit, who had lately set 
 up his establishment in New York, temporarily, and in a
 
 WOLFSDEN. 269 
 
 private way, for the sake of familiar acquaintance with the 
 social and political institutions of the American people. 
 
 "By great good fortune," said he, "I was introduced to 
 him when abroad ; and he honors me with his friendship, and 
 gives carte blanche for my friends. My introductions have 
 been few and select ; and I am particularly glad that I men 
 tioned you, for I think you will be pleased with each other. 
 The count can read men as other men read books ; and he does 
 justice to merit, of whatever kind. The countess is a fine 
 woman, and the young ladies, her daughter^, have taken a 
 fancy for, and formed an intimate friendship with my cousins, 
 the Miss Dryades, Erycina, and her elder sister, Messalina, 
 who will also be there, with others of the best society. The 
 Miss Dryades are superb, spite of their cousinship." 
 
 Alek expressed a proper sense of the honor, and engaged 
 himself for the occasion ; and Fitz-Faun kindly offered to call 
 for him at the proper hour. 
 23*
 
 CHAPTEIl XVII. 
 
 Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles ; 
 
 Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles. L ALLEORO. 
 
 IT was an epoch of great interest in Alek s history. He 
 was about to appear a guest in the very central circle of 
 fashion, where modes and ceremonies to him unknown have 
 the force of inexorable laws ; before the brilliant and polite, 
 where dulness is disgrace, and awkwardness is crime ; before 
 a count and countess, who read men as men read books, and 
 decide their worth as a money-changer tells the value of 
 coin ; among the most select of the crowd of wealth and 
 fashion, the most educated and elegant among men, and 
 the most beautiful and accomplished among women ; where, 
 perhaps, his principles may prevent the graceful compliance 
 which fashion requires, or where his ignorance of ceremony 
 may expose him to juster ridicule ; and where, perhaps (for 
 his distrust of Fitz-Faun was not diminished), the purpose 
 of his introduction may be unfriendly and dangerous. 
 
 Alek, however, accepted the invitation, not capriciously, 
 but in accordance with views of his own, and determined 
 to abide the result as bravely and warily as his abilities 
 might permit. He was not altogether unprepared. He
 
 WOLFSDEN. 27l 
 
 had now been in the school of general society for several 
 months, and had been an attentive student. At Mr. Green 
 ing s suggestion, he had provided a proper dress, and had the 
 tailor s authority, as well as his own opinion, for his outside 
 appearance. He had also received some instruction in cere 
 mony and deportment from Mons. Legerite (maitre de danse), 
 who pronounced him "accompli," " un honime d esprit, qui 
 fait des choses galamment," " un homme bien fait pour le 
 monde." These compliments Alek, spite of his self-com 
 placency, thought too unqualified; yet he allowed himself to 
 be not altogether a clown ; he knew where to put his hands 
 and feet, and that it is better to say nothing than to stam 
 mer. To these attainments he added his stock of mother- 
 vat, brought from Wolfsden, and improved by use, and 
 trusted that he should find himself competent to the crisis. 
 
 Having dressed, and perfected his outward appearance, he 
 thus apostrophized himself in the glass: 
 
 " Now, Alek Arbor, son of Deacon Arbor, of Wolfsden, 
 you are about to step into a new position. Keep your wits 
 awake. Be not betrayed by negligence, or forgetful ness, or 
 irresolution. If possible, secure the good-will and respect of 
 others, by due observance of what belongs to them ; but, at 
 all events, preserve your self-respect, by firmness of principle. 
 Be not suspicious, but have perfect presence of mind to de 
 tect, if cause for suspicion shall arise. Conduct yourself so 
 that on your return you shall not be ashamed to look your 
 self in the face. 1 
 
 At the appointed hour, a coach containing a gentleman 
 and two ladies called for Alek. x The gentleman was Fitz- 
 Faun, and the ladies were his Cousins Dryades, Miss Erycina 
 and Miss Messalina. Alek was introduced by his friend
 
 272 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Fitz-Faun, and graciously received. Their dazzling and over 
 powering beauty was such as he had never before encountered. 
 Well did they deserve Fitz-Faun s eulogium, they were 
 " superb, spite of their cousinship." 
 
 A place was reserved for Alek beside the splendid Erycina. 
 Fitz-Faun sat by his superb cousin Messalina, and the coach 
 drove to the count s. The ride was a long one, but the ladies 
 were full of spirits, and their lively chat and familiar gayety 
 made the way seem short. 
 
 Arrived at the elegant house of the count, Fitz-Faun and 
 Messalina preceded Alek and Erycina up the magnificent 
 marble entrance. Lackeys in white kid gloves obsequiously 
 received them ; and soon Alek was introduced to a scene of 
 splendor and luxury before inconceivable. 
 
 Spacious parlors, their sliding doors thrown back, were 
 magnified and multiplied by the reflection of large mirrors, 
 advantageously arranged, so that their extent seemed inter 
 minable. The lofty ceiling was adorned with the most elab 
 orate ornament in stucco and gilding. The walls were bor 
 dered and festooned with fanciful tracery in blue and gold, 
 and hung with paintings and engravings of the rarest kind. 
 Carpets of the softest texture and most brilliant colors cov 
 ered the floors. Sofas and lounges invited luxurious re 
 pose. Sideboards glittering with vessels of crystal and silver, 
 filled with the choicest fruits, confections, and sparkling 
 liquors, tempted the palate. A grand piano, of splendid 
 workmanship, occupied one end of a room, and a harp of still 
 more imposing appearance occupied a corner at the other 
 end of the double parlors. The gpace between and around 
 was variously supplied with marble tables, velvet chairs,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 273 
 
 glittering screens, tasselled ottomans, costly vases, many curi 
 ous and rare productions of oriental taste. 
 
 The company was as various and splendid as the furniture. 
 There were many beautiful ladies, and all appeared in the 
 youth or the prime of their charms. Of the men, some were 
 evidently past their middle age, yet full of the spirit and 
 versatility of youth. Some were remarkably young, yet with 
 the assurance and forwardness of premature ripeness. All 
 appeared on equal terms ; and there was somewhat less of 
 the polite deference of youth to maturer dignity, of manhood 
 to beauty, and of all toward each other, than Alek expected 
 in society so refined and elevated. 
 
 Count Flummery, to whom Alek was immediately presented 
 by his friend Fitz-Faun, seemed, however, to fulfil Alek s idea 
 of the exterior, at least, of a perfect gentleman. He was 
 about forty years of age, of good person and elegant dress. 
 His hands were taper and slender, as though his fingers 
 might be nimble in any dextrous art (piano-playing, for 
 instance) ; his eyes were deep and penetrating, so much 
 so, that Alek at first thought they indicated apprehension or 
 suspicion, but, upon reflection, concluded that there must 
 necessarily be something peculiar in the glance of one who 
 could read men as men read books. 
 
 The countess appeared young, and as gay as her daughters ; 
 for Alek, without any further information than Fitz-Faun s 
 first description, counted several of the youngest of the ladies 
 present as the daughters of the countess, who, in their sweet 
 superabundance of sentiment, had attached themselves to the 
 superb Dryades, spite of their cousinship to Fitz-Faun. 
 
 The company was dispersed in various conversational 
 groups. Here and there a congenial pair sat tete-a-tete.
 
 274 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Some solitary amateurs studied the paintings and engravings 
 on the walls, or turned over the collections of a gold embossed 
 and clasped portfolio. A few sauntered about, as if unde 
 cided, among the various attractions ; and others still, as 
 caring little for any of thorn. Some, both in male and female 
 attire, might appear to the attentive observer as practising 
 attitudes, and choosing positions for effect ; and others, as 
 trying to conceal weariness and discontent. And Alek could 
 not help reflecting, that, though he had never seen so many 
 aids and means to enjoyment, he had never been in a social 
 company of so few happy faces. 
 
 Alek was introduced to a few of the groups about him, but 
 their conversation was confined to local and personal matters, 
 which he knew nothing of, and regarded as unimportant. He 
 therefore returned to the splendid Erycina, who, besides the 
 personal charms which render even dulness tolerable, had much 
 vivacity, and an infinite fund of personal gossip. Through her 
 he was able to learn something of the company around him, 
 including herself. 
 
 " See," said she, " that tall fellow, with a hanging under- 
 jaw, and lank gray earlocks. His clothes hang about him 
 like drapery about a skeleton. It is not the tailor s fault, 
 his clothes are well cut, but he is not well made. Take 
 his clothes off, and he d look worse than now. Nothing 
 could be made to fit him, except by the rope-maker, who 
 might adjust a very suitable cravat to his scraggy neck. He 
 saunters about and attitudinizes, as if to bring draperied 
 skeletons into fashion. Strutting and attitudinizing, some 
 times sober, and oftener drunk, has been the only respectable 
 business of his life. He has been trying to learn the trade 
 of a swindler, but can t get the hang of it, the sheriff
 
 WOLFSDEN. 275 
 
 should give him the hang of it. He belongs to one of our 
 first families, but they have turned him off with a monthly 
 pension, which he spends in debauchery, or something less 
 respectable, and sponges his board out of credulous landla 
 dies. But you need no further description. He is edging 
 this way ; he always edges, he can t do otherwise, go which 
 way he will, for every side is an edge. He means to make 
 your acquaintance to-night, that he may borrow a V of 
 you to-morrow. 
 
 " See that red-faced, snub-nosed, over-dressed, and over 
 fed gentleman. He began life a butcher, and got to be a 
 pork merchant. He aspires still higher, and sets up for a 
 debauchee. lie has a wife and family at home, who are 
 probably learning the same lessons. He spends fifty dollars 
 a night, and makes a poor speculation of it. He does n t 
 understand the business. He had better stick to his pork. 
 
 " See that heavy-browed, dark-whiskered Hercules of a 
 fellow, with so many gold chains and jewels, who sits shuf 
 fling a pack of cards, to attract a party at whist or loo. He 
 means to pluck a pigeon or two to-night ; there are several 
 here, and he will do it. He nevej- fails. The count, but 
 I must n t blab ; it s a secret ; and, besides, nobody can prove 
 it; so promise to say nothing about it, pon honor." 
 
 Alek gave her the required assurance as gravely as if he 
 understood the whole matter, and she went on : 
 
 " He is always here, and is thick with the count. He is 
 no doubt a great gentleman in his way. He understands all 
 the tricks of the cards, and all other games. He is a great 
 character, and knows how to have things his own way. He 
 has been in the ring, and they say tapped Yankee Sullivan s 
 claret. How queer they talk. His name is Sir Mark liar-
 
 27O WOLFSDEN. 
 
 sheer, so they call him. I will get you his card from the 
 case. You see how it is spelt, Sir Marc Barchier, K. B. 
 I don t know," continued Erycina, " why they call him Sir. 
 I am sure nobody would take him for a madam. But he is 
 an Englishman, and the Sir is some sort of a title ; and 
 then the K. 13., what does that mean? If it were S. B., 
 I should suppose he meant to announce his claim to be Some- 
 Body ; but K. B. comes nearer to Know-Body, and I dare 
 say he is ignorant enough to spell nobody with a K." 
 
 Alek examined the card. He had been for some time 
 scrutinizing this same Sir Marc. A dim impression of some 
 thing familiar in his features fixed his attention ; but he 
 could not trace it to a distinct recollection. Neither Eryci- 
 na s account, nor the name and title, furnished any clue at 
 the moment; and he noted the features and expression, for 
 after study. 
 
 The promiscuous assembly, moved by the impulse of vari 
 ous motives, affinities, and tastes, formed various circles of 
 amusement. Sir Marc gathered at a table a company mixed 
 according to his views, the calculating and the reckless, the 
 designing and the delude^. A group of the more vivacious 
 and conversational amused themselves with small-talk, lively 
 repartee, sallies of wit, and laughter. Others sentimentalized, 
 and talked poetry, literature, and scandal. The count told a 
 story of himself, the Prince of Wales, and Charles Fox ; and 
 the countess related her parting interview with Queen Char 
 lotte and the Duchess of Kent, and exhibited a bracelet given 
 her by the queen for a keepsake. It was of unique work 
 manship, and studded with the richest gems. Its central 
 lustre is a star, of which the disc is a diamond of great value ;
 
 WOLFSDEN. 277 
 
 and the five points are composed each of a different gem, and 
 pointed with diamonds. 
 
 Alek, \vho, with the splendid Erycina hanging upon his 
 arm, had drawn near to hear the count s story, listened with 
 peculiar interest to that of the countess, especially to the 
 account and description of the jewel, and he endeavored to 
 get as near a view of it as possible, without attracting atten 
 tion. The recollection of Mrs. Simperkins story, and her 
 description of her lost " hunique," struck him as a strange 
 coincidence. He impressed upon his memory the features of 
 the counfc, the countess, and the jewel, and reserved this sub 
 ject also for after study. 
 
 Music was proposed. A lady took her place at the grand 
 piano, and commenced a lively waltz. Quickly a dozen cou 
 ples were whirling, in rapid yet harmonious motion, through 
 the spacious rooms. The splendid Erycina passed her lovely 
 arm, as if unconsciously, about the waist of Alek, and tapped 
 . the time with her taper foot. Alek, already excited by the 
 soul-stirring music, could not resist the mute invitation. He 
 joined hands, and clasped the lovely form, and whirled with 
 his beautiful partner in the rounds of the glittering group. 
 His pulse beat time with the enchanting music. He breathed 
 an atmosphere of luxury and sweet abandonment. His eyes 
 were dazzled ; his soul was filled with the spendor of soft, 
 inviting beauty. His arm was about a form moulded in 
 graceful loveliness, the perfection of nature and art. His 
 hand clasped a hand through whose delicate fingers the elec 
 tric fire thrilled along his nerves. Emotions uncontrollable 
 fired his soul. He pressed closer the lovely and yielding form 
 at his side, and bounded in maddening ecstasy through the 
 voluptuous dance. 
 
 24
 
 278 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Soon the lively group exhausted their superabundant spirit, 
 and sunk on the soft sofas, or retired for refreshment. The 
 splendid Erycina led her partner to a corner retired and un- 
 observable, and seated herself by his side. A gorgeous Indian 
 screen hid them from view. It seemed a place for whisper 
 ing lovers made. Love s mighty influence ruled the hour. 
 Yet Alek resisted the mighty impulse, though with wavering 
 resolution. His firm self-control faltered with each new onset. 
 
 Though hidden from view, an officious waiter found them 
 out, and proffered cake and wine in silver baskets and crystal 
 cups ; but Alek refused all refreshment, except iced water. 
 His wisdom had not wholly deserted him. His blood needed 
 the ice, not the wine. 
 
 The dance ceased, and songs were solicited. The voluptu 
 ous melodies of Moore weue breathed from enchanting lips, 
 accompanied by piano and harp. Sweet sensations of mingled 
 sentiment and passion overwhelmed the soul. Love s mighty 
 influence ruled the hour. 
 
 At length the magnificent Messalina was urged, and took 
 her place at the harp. Her skill surpassed others ; and her 
 song was such as the occasion and the ruling spirit of the hour 
 demanded. With attentive ear all drank the melody, and ap 
 plauded the sentiment. 
 
 MESSALINA S SONG. 
 
 T is the hour of gentle feeling, 
 
 Tender thoughts and speaking sighs ; 
 All the soul of love revealing, 
 
 Panting hearts and sparkling eyes. 
 Not the gairish day s effulgence 
 
 Suits the reign of soft delight ; 
 Warmest wishes wait indulgence 
 
 Till the genial shades of night.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 279 
 
 Let the hero and the miser 
 
 Toil by day for gold or fame ; 
 We, all happier and wiser, 
 
 AVait the night s propitious reign. 
 Ilail the hour with joy o erflowing, 
 
 Social mirth and soft delight ; 
 Love-enkindling, bliss-bestowing, 
 
 Secret-keeping, favoring night ! 
 
 Alek sits softly on the luxurious sofa, and the splendid 
 Erycina sits closely by his side. An hour s acquaintance has 
 brought them intimately near. Mutual attractions draw them 
 closer, with resistless force. Tender sympathies unite them 
 in sweet embrace. She reclines her lovely form upon his 
 beating breast. Her bright blue eyes look tenderly in his, 
 and then turn timidly away. He sighs in a transport of 
 overpowering emotion. She lays her delicate hand in his 
 open palm. His closing hand clasps hers with expressive 
 tenderness. She turns upwards her blushing face with fond 
 consenting look. He presses her yielding form to his breast, 
 and devours her lips with burning kisses. Love s mighty 
 influence rules the hour. 
 
 Is it love ? 0, power of supernal source ! celestial bond 
 of virtuous union ! everlasting chain, let down from the 
 throne of heaven, and embracing in its links the children and 
 heirs of holy life ! Eternal power ! forgive the profanation 
 of thy sacred name. Teach us, that we may not disguise 
 the cup of hell with the perfume of heaven. 
 
 Away, Alek, away ! The soul-debasing fire of sensualism 
 rages in your veins. The siren charmer drags you beneath 
 the waves of perdition. The angel fellow-voyagers are leav 
 ing your heart, and bearing away contentment, peace, and 
 hope, llemorse, degrading self-contempt, and base reniem-
 
 280 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 brances, hasten to take their place, and be your future com 
 panions. 
 
 0, self-degrading soul ! being of promised immortality, 
 turning downward in thy course ! 0, mortal with heavenly 
 gifts, betraying thy trust ! heir of blessed life, forfeiting thy 
 crown ! Awake ! resist ! flee ! 
 
 Thus shouted the angel of rescue to the yet unpolluted 
 heart, yielding blindly, madly, but not wilfully yielding to 
 overpowering temptation. The warning voice thrilled in the 
 inmost sanctuary of the troubled soul. The startled victim 
 awoke in the moment of his extremest danger. He glanced 
 at an opposite mirror, and saw himself bound in an ignoble 
 snare. He remembered the vision, the danger, and the es 
 cape, when he slept by the rivulet, beneath the overhanging 
 beech, on the day of his departure. In strong imagination, 
 he almost saw his mother again, with terrified look, pointing 
 at the fearful form of death, standing with upraised dart in 
 act to strike. The strong reilction of his mother s remem 
 brance, of the blessed teachings of his youth, of the moral 
 training of his life, of the pure affections of home, of high 
 resolves and holy aspirations, drove back the demon of sen 
 sual temptation. Not daring to trust himself with further 
 delay, he hastened to the presence of the count, and explained 
 that imperative necessity required his immediate departure. 
 The count looked inquiringly, and, as Alek thought, hesitat 
 ingly and suspiciously ; but Alek paused not for further 
 ceremony. He passed to the outer door. The servant in 
 attendance was slow in opening it; but he thrust him aside, 
 turned the bolts, and in a moment was in the street. 
 
 He hastened along the deserted and silent pavement, and 
 did not pause till he had reached his solitary room. From
 
 W L F S D JE N . 281 
 
 his open window he looked forth upon the gloomy expanse. 
 How gloomy, contrasted with the bright scenes so lately left, 
 whose splendor still filled and dazzled his brain ! Obscuring 
 clouds covered the sky, but they were driven by a viewless 
 force, and soon broke and fled into the depths of night. The 
 fair moon and silvery stars shone forth with accustomed 
 brightness. The cool air fanned his flushed and fevered 
 brow. The sublime majesty of the universe, whose silence is 
 eloquent beyond speech, inspired and elevated his soul. He 
 felt that he was not alone. HE who has filled the material 
 world with life has not left the brighter and purer regions 
 of space a void. Intelligences, far higher and nobler than 
 those which grovel on earth, people all the ethereal regions 
 with myriad angel forms. They surround us. They under 
 stand us. They see our inferiority, and yet they do not des 
 pise us ; they know our baseness, yet they do not scorn us, 
 for these emotions dwell not in angelic minds, who have 
 cast off their lower nature, and expanded into perfect being. 
 They see us on a lower step of the ladder of progression, 
 where they once stood, and whence we, like them, shall rise 
 to better life. 
 
 Thus mused Alek, and sought to soothe his self-accusing 
 spirit. He was troubled, abashed, humbled. His self-confi 
 dence was abated ; he had not stood firmly. His self-boast 
 ing was not justified ; though he had not fallen, he had stum 
 bled ; for, though a timely flight from temptation is victory, 
 yet his flight had been delayed too long almost fatally. 
 His victory was but an escape. He had partially yielded, 
 and thus had forfeited the honors of triumph. 
 
 Upon further reflection, he doubted if he had not been the 
 dupe of conspiracy. The questionable character of Fitz- 
 24*
 
 282 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Faun, the worse than questionable character of others of the 
 gay company, as described by the splendid Erycina, and even 
 her own too facile charms, though in keeping with the senti 
 ment and spirit of the assembly, all indicated the possibility 
 that the society to which he had been so ostentatiously intro 
 duced belonged to a lower order than its pretensions claimed. 
 His suspicions, once started, ranged through all the labyrinths 
 of possibility, wherever circumstances threw light. He even 
 conceived that the count and his friends might all be impos 
 tors, perhaps a gang of swindlers, prostitutes, and dupes. 
 At the head of the first order, in this imaginary classification, 
 he placed his friend Fitz-Faun ; and at the foot of the latter 
 class, himself. With sarcastic bitterness, he looked in the 
 glass, to learn the lineaments which characterize a dupe. He 
 saw the lines of folly very plain, and wondered that he had 
 not marked them before. No wonder that Fitz-Faun read 
 him at a glance, and set him down as a fit subject for cheap 
 experiment. He stared himself in the face, to see how a 
 fool stares. He assumed an air of sagacity, to see how the 
 grimace of wisdom sits on the face of folly. He looked com 
 placently, to see how a foolish face looks when taking the 
 bait of flattery. Having completed his self-examination, he 
 thus again apostrophized himself: 
 
 " And so you, Alek, idiot son of Deacon Arbor, of Wolfs- 
 den, are the nice young man who judged yourself capable of 
 detecting treachery, and protecting yourself! You are the 
 sagacious genius, who was to behave so warily and circum 
 spectly as not to be ashamed to look yourself in the face ! 
 How do you look now ? Could you look your dog Lion in 
 the face, if he were here ? Do you think you could find youi 
 way back to Wolfsden, and re-learn the knack of raising tur
 
 WOLF3DEN. 25?5 
 
 nips, and pumpkins, and calves 1 Perhaps you might in time 
 get cunning enough to palm off your own head for a turnip 
 or pumpkin, or yourself for a calf, upon some customer about 
 as wise as yourself." 
 
 Having thus vented his self-reproach, he seated himself by 
 the window, and again reviewed the affair. He was more and 
 more convinced of the imposture of the pretended count and 
 his high society. A hundred recollected circumstances con 
 firmed his suspicion. 
 
 The dim though fixed impression of having before seen the 
 pompous personage styled Sir Marc puzzled him. He almost 
 fancied it must have been in some previous state of existence 
 that he knew him. He explored his memory for some clue, 
 and recalled the expression of his features, to compare them 
 with all whom he had seen abroad ; for it did not occur to 
 him that such a magnificent "swell" could ever have been 
 seen in Wolfsden. At length he recurred to the remem 
 brances of childhood, and soon hit upon a strange coincidence 
 of form, features, expression, and even name. Sir Marc cer 
 tainly belonged to the breed of Bang, the blacksmith. Is it 
 possible that he should be no other than the reprobate Mark 
 Barker, who absconded fifteen years ago, after robbing widow 
 Bowler s turkey-pen ? Alek remembered the looks of the boy, 
 but he identified the man chiefly by the resemblance to Bang. 
 He felt strongly persuaded of the truth of his conjecture, and 
 determined to verify it. 
 
 The aftair of the remarkable and valuable jewel displayed 
 by the countess as the gift of a queen, and its exact resem 
 blance to that described by Mrs. Simperkins as stolen from 
 her by Count Flipperton and his lady, employed his reflee 
 tions. Wonderful, if the jewels should prove to be identical
 
 284 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 and Count Flummery the very Count Flipperton ! Here was 
 mutter to be explored, a riddle to be solved. Alek debated 
 whether his own abilities were equal to the occasion. He had 
 just now berated himself as a dupe and a fool, by no means 
 the fit agent to explore mysteries and solve riddles ; but per 
 haps his self-judgment might be revised, now that his self- 
 indignation had subsided. Upon a calm review of facts, he 
 gave himself credit for having acted with some little common 
 sense. He had not been entirely dupjed. He had escaped 
 the snare at the last moment, even when escape was most 
 difficult. It was his first venture into the enchanted den ; and 
 he had baffled the enchanter, and had also gained the experi 
 ence which would make him wiser upon a like occasion. He 
 had now more of the sagacity of self-distrust, and, therefore, 
 of self-watchfulness. He now knew something of the smooth 
 tactics of the enemy, and the necessity of instant and con 
 stant vigilance. 
 
 Upon the whole, he determined to give himself further trial. 
 This might have been but the preliminary skirmish to a com 
 ing campaign, which should test his generalship. His self- 
 confidence, so lately humbled, again inspired him, and he 
 summoned his energies for the strife. 
 
 He impressed upon his mind that of all perils the most 
 dangerous is self-betrayal. So long as he should be vigi 
 lantly true to himself, he could not suffer serious injury. A 
 divine power aids and guards those who faithfully endeavor 
 tc pursue the path of duty. He recalled the timely warning 
 of the dream which saved his life when he slept under the 
 beechen tree by the rivulet, and the mysterious impression 
 which so lately startled him from the more dangerous trance 
 of voluptuous temptation. His relation to the unseen power
 
 WOLFSDEN. 285 
 
 so repeatedly manifested for his preservation, filled him with 
 wonder and awe, and he bowed his head and his spirit in 
 grateful adoration and fervent prayer. His soul was purified 
 and strengthened for duty and for danger ; and he felt reen- 
 listed for the battle of life.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE moment Alek left the count, after taking so abrupt a 
 leave, that high personage immediately found Fitz-Faun, and 
 told him of the flight, as he termed it ; and such was Fitz- 
 Faun s patronizing zeal, that he instantly rushed to the door 
 to intercept his friend s departure, but, finding himself too 
 late, in consequence of Alek s impetuosity in thrusting aside 
 the dilatory porter and opening the door for himself, he has 
 tened back to a private room, and, sending for the noble count 
 and the splendid Erycina, demanded of them an account of 
 his friend, and the reason of his flight. The noble count pro 
 tested that he had acted in every point exactly according to 
 directions ; and the splendid Erycina declared that she had 
 not been wanting in politeness, and could give no reason for 
 his abrupt departure. " He started," she said, " not like a 
 person angry, but suddenly frightened, as though he saw a 
 ghost." She feared he was insane, or eccentric, or some 
 thing of the kind; which she protested was a pity, for he was 
 certainly a most interesting character, and quite an original. 
 
 Fitz-Faun was disconcerted, and hesitated not to let his 
 anger manifest itself in expressions which, considering the 
 elevated society present, were, to say the least, anything but 
 gracious. The count, with remarkable humility, repeated his
 
 WOLFSDEN. 287 
 
 excuses, and deprecated the anger of his guest, while Erjcina 
 eat mute. Perhaps she was terrified at his reproaches. Per 
 haps she was indignant. Perhaps her thoughts were turned 
 in another direction, and cannot now be fathomed. Fitz- 
 Faun intimated to her that her presence might be spared. 
 As she retired, Sir Marc was sent for, to whom Fitz-Faun 
 announced that the bird had flown, for so he facetiously com 
 municated the news of his friend s abrupt departure. 
 
 " How s that ? " said Sir Marc. When the circumstances 
 of the event were told, the valiant knight, for such, we 
 presume from his card of address, is his proper title, the 
 valiant K. B. took a knightly attitude, and stood erect just 
 two minutes. He looked considerate and contemplative for 
 a minute and a quarter. lie then looked sagacious and self- 
 possessed for half a minute. For the remaining fifteen 
 seconds he looked determined and unrelenting, and then took 
 a seat. 
 
 " This is what I call a clumsy piece of business," said the 
 K. B. 
 
 " The question is not what to call it, but how to remedy 
 it," said Fitz-Fuun. 
 
 " Do you give him up on this tack ? " said the K. 13. 
 
 " I rather think he suspects this game," replied Fitz- 
 Faun. 
 
 " Is he worth your while to turn over to me ? " inquired 
 the K. B. 
 
 " I d give a cool five hundred, to fix him," said Fitz- 
 Faun. 
 
 The K. B. walked softly to the door, which he suddenly 
 opened and looked about, and then, as if reassured, returned 
 to his seat. (A gliding apparition without had suddenly
 
 288 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 disappeared as the door-handle turned, but now resumed its 
 position at the key-hole.) 
 
 " I think," said the K. B., after a moment s consideration, 
 " I m your man for that craft ; that is, if crippling is all 
 you are after. If you go in for scuttling, that s another 
 affair." 
 
 " What I want of that craft," said Fitz-Faun, adopting the 
 knight s nautical phrase, " is to get it out of my way. I want 
 a clear coast just at present. I don t care whether it s for a 
 few weeks, or a few months, or forever. I don t want a ves 
 sel of his class convoying sails that I have a mind to over 
 haul. I don t owe the fellow a grudge, he s acting under 
 orders, and also keeps an eye to windward for his own sake. 
 I should prefer to out-manoeuvre him, or decoy him on this 
 Circean quicksand, to founder of his own accord. But, if he 
 won t be diplomatized, he must be driven. I 11 see him and 
 sound him once more, and, if I find him incorrigible, I 11 turn 
 him over to you. If finesse fails, force must do, and we 11 
 conquer a peace. " With these words, this Napoleon of 
 gallantry broke up the council. 
 
 Pursuant to his plan, Fitz-Faun, the next day, found Alek 
 and sounded him. Alek was prepared for the process. He 
 had all the advantage over Fitz-Faun which plain, uncom 
 promising integrity ever has over dissimulation. Alek was 
 not deceived by Fitz-Faun ; for falsehood when once sus 
 pected loses its power to deceive. But Fitz-Faun was puz 
 zled with Alek ; for nothing is so impossible to be compre 
 hended by cunning knavery, as the plain maxims and motives 
 of common sense and honesty. 
 
 " You took French leave, last evening," said Fitz-Faun. 
 
 " Not exactly," replied Alek. " I paid my parting respects
 
 WOLFSDEN. 289 
 
 to the count, and requested him to excuse me to his friends, 
 which is all, I believe, that etiquette requires." 
 
 " But why did you coine away so abruptly ? " said Fitz- 
 Faun. 
 
 " My duties require that I should keep early hours," said 
 Alek ; " and I think it easier to practise self-denial by begin 
 ning with the first temptation, than after having formed a, 
 habit of indulgence." 
 
 " Speaking of temptation," said Fitz-Faun, " I suppose you 
 refer to my fair cousin Erycina. I knew you would be smit 
 ten with her. Is n t she splendid? " 
 
 "She is splendid," replied Alek, "and fascinating. But 
 I would not be understood as referring to a lady when speak 
 ing of temptation, which would hardly be compatible with 
 proper delicacy and respect. I referred to the temptation of 
 late hours, for the sake of any agreeable company." 
 
 " Then you confess she was agreeable company, and some 
 what tempting ? I thought as much from your intimacy. 
 Upon the whole, I think you went about far enough, upon 
 first acquaintance. I presume you will call this evening to 
 inquire her health, as you are an observer of etiquette. I 
 have brought you her card No. 1G Cytheria-strcct. But, 
 by the way, don t encumber yourself with too strict notions 
 of proper delicacy and respect, as you term it. That is n t 
 etiquette in New York, nor anywhere else, I suspect, where 
 the ladies fashion the laws of society. The only way to win 
 the ladies regard is at first to go so far with them as to offend 
 them, or so far that they ought to be offended, and the 
 next time to go further still. That s my rule, and it never 
 fails ! " 
 
 25
 
 290 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 " Then I may presume that you are quite successful in 
 winning the respect of the ladies," said Alek. 
 
 Fitz-Faun started. lie thought he perceived the slightest 
 tone of contempt in the reply, and the slightest shade of em 
 phasis on the word ladies, as though he had no title to the 
 respect of men. He was already somewhat disconcerted with 
 the easy indifference, and, as he sometimes fancied, the air of 
 superiority, which Alek maintained. But his scheme required 
 affability and conciliation, and he therefore smothered his 
 resentment ; and, being resolved to press the conversation to 
 some development, he replied that he made no boasts of his 
 own successes, and no interference with the pursuits of others. 
 Though," continued he, " I half envy the favor you seem 
 to have gained with our fair friend Erycina. I rallied her 
 upon your exclusive attentions, and could see that she was 
 pleased. I ought not to betray her secret, but I know she 
 likes you. It is n t her way generally, for she is thought to 
 be hard to please ; so you should value your victory the more 
 highly." 
 
 " Weil," said Alek, " I will be careful to preserve her 
 regard, by doing nothing to offend her, and nothing that 
 ought to offend her, notwithstanding your infallible rule ; 
 for I mean to deserve her respect, and, if I cannot retain it 
 in that way, I shall at least preserve my own." 
 
 " I see you mean to keep your own counsel," persisted 
 Fitz-Faun ; " yet I suspect you understand the epicurean 
 philosophy of enjoying life while it lasts, as well as myself; 
 for I am frank to avow that as my philosophy, and have no 
 doubt that cousin Erycina will find it to be yours. What is 
 life without love, as the song says ? " 
 
 "Life without love," replied Alek, "would be but an abject
 
 WOLFSDEN. 291 
 
 affair ; but what you term love would debase it still lower. 
 Your mistaking such a passion for love is even a greater 
 error than that of supposing me capable of trifling with the 
 affections of a virtuous woman, or seeking the society of a 
 wanton one. But you have made one correct supposition, 
 for I do mean to enjoy life while it lasts, though not accord 
 ing to your views." 
 
 Fitz-Faun, still more disconcerted and embarrassed by the 
 direct and earnest manner of Alek, wished to continue the 
 conversation only till he might effect a retreat ; and he asked, 
 with a bantering tone, if Alek would favor him with his views 
 of enjoying life, and also inform him where he got such a 
 stock of fine sentiments. 
 
 " My sentiments," said Alek, " I learned of my mother, 
 from whom I also learned not to despise, but only to pity, 
 those who are incapable of appreciating them. My views of 
 enjoying life I am happy to explain, for I acquired them 
 from the same source, and my first lesson was received very 
 early. I was about three years old, and dressed in my first 
 frock and trousers, when I strayed into the field a little way 
 from the house, and found a small tortoise. I raised my 
 stick to strike it, when something within me seemed to say 
 No ! Perhaps it was the echo of something that my mother 
 had inculcated in my infant ear. I held the stick still up 
 lifted until the animal had crawled away out of sight, and 
 then went into the house and asked my mother what it was 
 that said no, when I wanted to strike the tortoise. She took 
 me in her arms, and taught me that it was something within 
 me, which people call conscience, and which the Bible calls 
 the yood spirit, or the still small voice ; and she told me that 
 if I would always listen to that voice, it would always teach
 
 292 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 me, and keep me from doing wrong, and would guide me in 
 the way of happiness. From that time, her precepts have 
 always inculcated the love of what is right, and instilled the 
 true principle, that the highest happiness of which we are 
 capable depends upon the culture of the moral powers. To 
 dwarf and corrupt those by sensual indulgence, is to abuse 
 and destroy all the sources of true enjoyment which make life 
 worth having. My observations and reflections, since I have 
 become capable of observing and reflecting for myself, confirm 
 the incalculable value of this truth ; so that I look with the 
 utmost pity upon those who are incapable of understanding 
 it, however they may be favored by fortune in every other 
 respect." 
 
 Alek looked firmly but mildly upon Fitz-Faun while speak 
 ing, and that epicurean philosopher fancied that he saw a 
 gleam of pity in his look, for which he was not particularly 
 grateful. He affected to yawn, and drawlingly replied, 
 
 " Please give my respects to your good mother, and also 
 to Miss Erycina, to whom I suspect, in spite of all your fine 
 sentiments, you will pay your first visit." 
 
 As Fitz-Faun departed, he muttered, " The fellow is incor 
 rigible ; I shall hand him over to Sir Marc, and I hope he 11 
 scuttle him, as he says. Impudent dog ! pity me! He little 
 knows that I hold the thread of his fate in my hands, to snap 
 when I choose." And Fitz-Faun snapped his fingers by way 
 of illustration. 
 
 This conference took place in an office of the agricultural 
 ware-rooms, from which it was separated by only a glass 
 partition. Various customers were examining the crooked 
 and uncouth articles exhibited for sale outside, while quizzing 
 clerks commended their finish and beauty. After Fitz-Faun
 
 WOLFSDEN. 293 
 
 had gone, a countryman, who had observed him through tho 
 glass, came in and asked Alek if he was acquainted with the 
 Mr. Smith who had just left him. 
 
 " His name is not Smith, but Fitz-Faun," said Alek. 
 
 " Fitz-Forn ! " said the countryman ; " strange ! but do 
 you know his wife ? " 
 
 " He* is not married," said Alek. 
 
 " Fitz-Forn ! not married ! strange ! " muttered the 
 countryman. 
 
 Alek asked no explanation ; but when the countryman had 
 made his purchases, he took note of his name and residence. 
 It was George Washington Bowpin, of Furrowdale. 
 25*
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 What should she do ? Attempt once more 
 
 To gain the late deserted shore ? FEMALE SEDUCERS. 
 
 NOTHING could be further from Alek s intention than to 
 renew his acquaintance with the splendid Erycina ; yet h, 
 happened that Fitz-Faun s prediction, that his first visit 
 would be paid to her, was verified. Scarcely had that epi 
 curean departed, when a prompt young man brought a billet 
 to Alek, informing him that a person wished to meet him on 
 important business, at the Astor House, in private parlor 
 No. 12, at seven o clock, p. M. Alek accepted the appoint 
 ment, and in due season repaired thither ; and, being shown 
 into the dimly-lighted parlor, was welcomed by a very young 
 gentleman, very elegantly dressed, and very handsome. When 
 their eyes met, Alek started with surprise ; and Erycina, see 
 ing herself recognized, blushed, but commanded herself suffi 
 ciently to commence the conversation. 
 
 " I wish," said she, " first, to inquire the reason of your 
 abrupt departure." 
 
 " Because," said Alek, " I felt that my only safety was in 
 flight. I would not be guilty of trifling with your feelings, 
 nor of proceeding in a course incompatible with your honor 
 and my own. To be perfectly frank with you, for my con-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 295 
 
 duct demands, at least, this reparation, it was the sudden 
 recollection of my mother, so strongly impressed that I 
 seemed to see her face, filled with solicitude and warning, 
 and bidding me to flee. I regret that I have ever for a mo 
 ment disregarded her pure instruction ; but I rejoice, for both 
 of us, that she was not quite forgotten." 
 
 " I understand you," said Erycina ;. " I had already begun 
 to understand you, but I wished to hear your explanation, 
 for I doubted whether men were ever conscientiously pure. 
 You would not wonder at my doubt, if I should tell you what 
 I have seen. I am glad to change my opinion ; and I will 
 not again be tempted to believe that all virtue is pretence. 
 
 " I presume that you wonder at my expressing a regard 
 for virtue ; for, notwithstanding your reference to my honor, 
 no doubt you understand my position as one whose honor is. 
 lost. I am, indeed, one of that unfortunate class whom the 
 world so regards. But I do not love dishonor. O, how I hate 
 it ! My soul longs to fly back over the impassable gulf to pu 
 rity and self-respect. 0, MY mother ! Yes, Mr. Arbor, I too 
 had a mother ! If her departed spirit still feels interest in her 
 lost daughter, there must be sorrow even in heaven ! Excuse 
 my emotion. I know not why I am led to speak of myself! 
 
 " I sought this interview to bid } r ou beware of Fitz-Faun. 
 He is your enemy, and will spare no pains to injure or destroy 
 you ; and he is more to be feared than you suppose. He has 
 wealth and cunning, and the resolution that hesitates at noth 
 ing to effect his purpose. If you had tasted the wine offered 
 you last evening, his purpose would have been accomplished ; 
 for it was prepared especially for you, as I have -since had 
 reason to believe, and would have put ydu entirely in his 
 power, so that not even your mother s call would have saved
 
 296 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 you. It was your voluntary self-ruin, the ruin of your char 
 acter and reputation, that he aimed at then. Being foiled in 
 that, he will not hesitate at treachery and violence. He has 
 his tools. Sir Marc is one of them, and they have already 
 conferred with regard to you. 
 
 "I do not know the cause of his malice, but suppose, from 
 expressions I overheard, that he looks upon you as a rival, 
 or as preventing his designs probably criminal designs 
 elsewhere. Perhaps this hint may enable you to understand 
 his motives, which I do not. Now my errand is done, I will 
 not detain you longer." 
 
 "I thank you much," said Alek, "for this information. 
 If I can be of any real service to you, you may command me. 
 I judge, from your expressions, that you are not satisfied with 
 your present position. Why not leave it, while it is still 
 possible, before your mind shall become corrupted ? " 
 
 "I have left it," said she, with earnestness; "and I will 
 die before I will return to it. To regain an honorable posi 
 tion as a woman, is impossible ; but I will not lead a life of 
 self-loathing infamy. This disguise will serve me among 
 strangers, where, as a man, I can gain honorable employment 
 without reference for my character, which would be required 
 of a woman ; for, though every stranger, if a man, is pre 
 sumed to be respectable, every woman whose history is un 
 known is suspected and condemned. Such is man s justice 
 to woman ! 
 
 " I have skill to earn a support by teaching music. In a 
 few hours I shall be in a distant city. I have money to last 
 till I can obtain employment ; and I shall be happy when I 
 can again live by my own exertions, and perhaps recom-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 297 
 
 pense my angel mother with the joy which the angels have 
 over repentant sinners. 
 
 " I thank you for your kind wishes. But you owe me no 
 gratitude, for I was bound to atone for the intended evil, of 
 which I was made the instrument, though not the accomplice, 
 for I was not then aware of his malignant and treacherous 
 intentions. I was then the slave of the wicked Fitz-Faun. 
 He would make my ruin of soul and body complete ; and 
 through me he sought to ruin you. Your mother s image 
 saved you, the memory of mine shall redeem me. It is 
 but a few months since I was led away. Few know me, and 
 none of those, not even yourself, do I wish to see again. 
 When I shall be among those who know nothing of my 
 shame, I shall have the luxury of an untarnished name, and 
 can the better deserve it." 
 
 " I am glad to hear your resolution," said Alek ; " but 
 your plan, though better than none, is not the best. Your 
 best chance of usefulness and happiness requires that you 
 should regain your proper position as a woman ; and this, 
 though perhaps not so speedily attained, is not difficult. To 
 conceal your sex long is entirely out of the question. But 
 in your own attire the few who know you would not be 
 likely to meet and recognize you in a distant town, and in 
 the plain dress and respectable employment of a music-teach 
 er. In many places sufficiently remote, yet sufficiently popu 
 lous, may be found discreet women, whose protection would 
 be a sufficient passport to respect, and who would have the 
 delicacy to understand and appreciate your object, without 
 requiring an account of the past, for the instincts of benevo 
 lence in women are disposed to search out only what is good 
 and hopeful,
 
 298 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 " If you will allow me to advise you, and will give me so 
 much of your history (since I already know the worst of it) 
 as shall enable me to judge how best to aid you, you may rely 
 upon my zeal, and you still will be at liberty to follow your 
 own counsel." 
 
 " I need counsel wiser than my own," said Erycina ; " and 
 my history is a brief one. 
 
 " I lost my parents in early life, and was brought up by 
 an uncle and aunt, who gave me all the advantages of the 
 village where they resided. My natural talent for music was 
 particularly cultivated, with the view of my becoming a teach 
 er, and I had commenced giving lessons when my good uncle 
 died. My aunt, with whom I continued to reside, was a 
 woman of most amiable disposition, but too unacquainted 
 with the world, and too deficient in prudence and precau 
 tion, for our safety. My skill in music gained for me atten 
 tion and employment, and my aunt was gratified with the 
 praises bestowed on me. 
 
 " In one of the few wealthy families where I gave lessons 
 I first met Fitz-Fauu. He was the most accomplished per 
 son I had ever seen, and all his accomplishments were from 
 that moment devoted to my ruin. Nothing could be more 
 delicate and refined than his first advances. My aunt, with 
 whom he immediately made acquaintance, believed him a 
 paragon of every excellence, and particularly praised his 
 candor and sincerity. He can counterfeit every virtue with 
 such perfect seeming, that, on finding out his true character, 
 one is tempted to believe all seeming virtue but counterfeit. 
 His hypocrisy is the most complete of all his accomplish 
 ments, and he possesses every accomplishment consistent with 
 utter depravity.
 
 YTOLFSDEN. 299 
 
 " My heart was full of confidence and love, ready to be 
 bestowed on the first congenial object, and I thought him 
 worthy of it all. I gave him my whole heart. I would have 
 died fcr him ; but he required more than that, even to 
 the utter extinction of my moral being, the death of my 
 soul. 
 
 " He managed to deceive me by a mock marriage, while 
 on a pleasure excursion, and we lived several months in a 
 beautiful retreat near the city. His real character soon be 
 came apparent ; but so entire was my devotion to him, and 
 so impossible was it for me to harbor a thought of censure, 
 that I lowered my standard of morality, and strove to think 
 villany excusable ; and when my moral sense was most out 
 raged by his avowal of the worst sentiments, I only regretted 
 that I had formed such ideas of goodness that the idol of my 
 love held them in contempt. I began to believe that all 
 proper and virtuous sentiment among men is but fashionable 
 pretence ; and only lost my respect for my betrayer, by 
 learning to despise all mankind. 
 
 " Of course I could not be happy while thus parting with 
 all that is elevated and beautiful in existence, and dragging 
 my soul to be fit companion to a depraved sensualist. I felt 
 myself a wreck upon a dark ocean, without a guide or even 
 au object to strive for. Though it had been but a few months 
 since I left my happy and innocent home, I knew that, sooner 
 or later, I should be cast aside a worthless thing, and I firmly 
 resolved that when that moment should come I would cease 
 to live. But the dread of the death I determined on kept 
 me still more subservient to my tyrant s will. I feared to 
 provoke him to discard me, and thus hasten my fate. I 
 hoped that death might reach me in some other way, and
 
 300 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 save me the horror of suicide. I welcomed the news of pes 
 tilence ; and when I heard of a shipwreck, how I envied 
 the victims ! Yet I was forced to appear gay, and to study 
 the arts of fascination, that I might protract my wretched 
 life! 
 
 " It was but recently that I revolved thoughts of escaping 
 from my condition. I began to reflect, that since men are 
 privileged to act either wickedly or virtuously, without for 
 feiting the respect of society, I might assume the dress of a 
 man, and, by concealing my sex, hide my reproach, and be 
 permitted to live without purchasing existence by shame. 
 Yet these vague thoughts might not have ripened to resolu 
 tion, but for the events of last evening. I saw you, and by 
 some strange influence my former ideas of the reality of 
 manly virtue revived, and I looked upon you as their embod 
 iment. Your behavior during the evening weakened the 
 impression, and gave new attractions to evil. But when you 
 broke from me and fled, I was not surprised. I understood 
 you, and was glad that you had not fallen. Fitz-Faun re 
 proached me for your escape, and for the first time used 
 language of insult and threatening. I did not reply, but I 
 resolved, and you see that I have acted." 
 
 " Who is Messalina ? " said Alek. 
 
 " I know not. I never saw her till yesterday, when I was 
 required to appear as her sister. She is probably another 
 victim of Fitz-Faun s, as wretched, and, perhaps, as unhappy 
 as myself. If she is less unhappy, she is more wretched ; for, 
 if her mind is reconciled to infamy, there is no hope of her 
 escape." 
 
 " How much do you know of Sir Marc ? " 
 
 " But little. I know nothing of his history. He is as bad
 
 WOLFSDEN. 301 
 
 as he is capable of being. How great his abilities are, I can 
 not tell. He is illiterate, though he has generally the tact to 
 conceal it. But his knowledge of the world, especially the 
 bad world, is complete. He is a tool of Fitz-Faun ; which 
 proves that he has abilities for evil, for Fits-Faun employs 
 none but capable tools. He is doubtless employed chiefly for 
 desperate enterprises, where fraud will not prevail, and where 
 force and courage are required." 
 
 " And what of the count ? " 
 
 " He is a pretender, an impostor, a tenant and tool of 
 Fitz-Faun. You see that he is polished. He is an imported 
 article. Fitz-Faun prides himself on the perfection of his 
 tools." 
 
 " I see," said Alek, " that he is a systematic villain. I am 
 fully convinced of your sincerity, and will assist you to place 
 yourself beyond his power, and to recover a proper position 
 in life. I have relatives in Saco who will receive you, and 
 their reception will enable you to renew your vocation as a 
 teacher. They would receive and aid you still more zeal 
 ously, if they knew your history ; but there is no necessity 
 for your suffering that humiliation. Let the past be buried 
 in forgetfulness. I will simply write to my aunt that a 
 young woman, dependent upon her own industry, wishes 
 employment as a teacher of music. She will probably invite 
 you to come, and offer to receive you temporarily into her 
 own family ; after which, your destiny will be what you may 
 make it." 
 
 Alek looked and spoke with the decision and gravity of his 
 
 father. The spirit of his mother prompted his action. The 
 
 impulsive and passion-driven youth of the preceding evening 
 
 was merged in the considerate and virtue-guided man. The 
 
 26
 
 302 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 generous warmth of sympathy prompted him, but he reflected 
 before he acted. He considered that there would be some 
 inconvenience, and perhaps risk, in what he proposed, but 
 that the promise of good overbalanced both. He would not 
 be governed by prudence alone, but employed it to direct his 
 benevolence. 
 
 The result was, that the fallen Erycina rose again, and there 
 was joy in heaven over the returned sinner. Uncle Lemuel 
 Hobart and good Aunt Nabby received the plainly-dressed and 
 modest music-teacher, Miss Meekly, for such was her proper 
 name, which she now resumed. The grace and beauty of her 
 person became, under the good influences which now sur 
 rounded her, the fit adornments of a heart and life equally 
 graceful and beautiful. Her talents as a music-teacher com 
 manded patronage, and she again knew the luxury of virtuous 
 independence.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MR. SAMUEL BOYNTON, the uncle to whom Alek took Har 
 ry s letter of introduction, and through whose recommenda 
 tion he obtained his present situation, continued to treat him 
 with kind notice ; and as he observed the young rustic s 
 improved manner and deportment, and received from Mr. 
 Greening the most satisfactory reports of his ability and reli 
 ability, he treated him with still more consideration, and 
 especially after he had received particularly gratifying ac 
 counts of Harry s reformation and honorable career. Harry 
 frequently wrote to his uncle, and his letters bore the evidence 
 of a newly-awakened dignity of character ; he constantly 
 referred to Deacon Arbor s family, and especially Alek, as 
 having developed "his better genius." 
 
 A better genius had certainly been developed in Harry. 
 His aroused emotions seemed to have called up other and 
 nobler faculties, hitherto dormant. With the opened foun 
 tain of his love had been unsealed deeper fountains of thought. 
 He pondered upon the endowments, the capabilities, the re 
 sponsibilities, of life. He reflected that each day s history 
 might be pregnant with an endless series of consequences, 
 and that even now his character might be taking its bent for 
 eternity. The solemn thought matured in his mind to convic-
 
 304 W L F S D E N . 
 
 tion. It was not difficult to discard his frivolities. They 
 had lost their power to please. He had become a man, and 
 his manly spirit rejected childish things. 
 
 His keen intellect, no longer obstructed by folly, was more 
 than equal to the assigned studies of his class. He reviewed 
 and accomplished the tasks formerly slighted or evaded, and 
 though he had been once "degraded" and twice "rusticated," 
 he now, at the close of the term, graduated with the highest 
 honors. 
 
 He immediately repaired to New York, on his way home 
 ward. His uncle received him with gratified pride. Harry 
 was his favorite nephew; and having once predicted his future 
 success, his pride of opinion had ever since led him to look 
 upon the best side of his character, and now his regard for 
 Harry, and his regard for his own discernment, were equally 
 gratified. He gave a " soiree " in honor of his nephew s 
 honors ; and Harry carried his uncle s card of invitation to 
 his friend Alek. 
 
 The two friends were delighted with each other s improve 
 ment. Alek saw in his fashionable friend the elevation of 
 those solid elements upon which full reliance and lasting 
 esteem can be based ; and Harry saw with surprise how 
 quickly the rustic had acquired a becoming address. In 
 their intimacy he alluded to this improvement, and Alek 
 playfully rejoined, in Harry s old phrase, " 0, if I ve a genius 
 for anything, it s for gentility." 
 
 Harry inquired about Wolfsden, and Alek gave him the 
 latest advices, and asked how soon he intended to again 
 explore that remote region, and look after his conquests. 
 Harry replied that he had found the natives too refractory,
 
 WOLFSDEN. ol)5 
 
 and had abandoned the province to his rival, the heathen 
 missionary. 
 
 " I doubt," said he, " if I have any adherents there, except 
 my good allies the Arbors and Bowlers ; and, unless they 
 have revolted, the Chinbys." 
 
 " You do not forget the Murrays, at least, my fair 
 cousin Margaret ? " said Alek ; for, though he still felt sore 
 upon the subject, he determined to break that icy barrier to 
 perfect confidence. 
 
 " Certainly, 7 do not forget" said Harry, with more of 
 feeling in his tone than he meant to betray ; and then, to 
 correct himself, added, with a forced and unhappy smile, "I 
 shall not forget any who are dear to you." 
 
 Alek immediately apprehended his friend s mistake, more 
 from his manner than his words, and hastened to set him 
 right. 
 
 " But Mrs. Simperkins," said Harry, " told me positively 
 that you were engaged." 
 
 " Mrs. Simperkins is not reliable authority," said Alek. 
 " She told Cousin Margaret that you was a student of divinity. 
 I think you had better hasten to Wolfsden, and define your 
 position, as the politicians say." 
 
 " I 11 go and disclaim the divinity, at any rate," said 
 Harry, "even if I have to stump the district, as the politi 
 cians also say." 
 
 He said it with a forced and very solemn gayety. The 
 impassable wall which had so long shut up the way of his 
 heart s longing desire was now thrown down, and hope, new 
 born and doubtful, allured him in the path of promise, whose 
 end was hidden in the mists of uncertainty. But hope soon 
 grows confident when mated with earnest resolve. 
 26*
 
 306 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 " I will go to Wolfsden," soliloquized Harry, " if but to 
 discard the divinity. Provoking Simperkins ! " 
 
 In every heart there is a cell formed by nature for connu 
 bial love. In generous hearts it is a large cell, and takes up 
 much room, and its walls are expansive, and extend indefi 
 nitely to receive and cherish the progeny of tender responsi 
 bilities which follow in the train of connubial love. In nig 
 gard hearts the cell is small, and its walls are rigid and 
 unyielding ; connubial love is cramped for lack of room, and 
 chilled by want of warmth ; if love s fond pledglings peer 
 about, they find no entrance, and soon the cell is tenantless, 
 collapsed, obliterated. But whether hearts be generous or 
 niggard, and the connubial cell little or big, it is fitted for 
 but one tenant, and, however other cells may be filled, this 
 still waits impatient for its proper guest. 
 
 Harry s heart is large. It has many cells, richly stored. 
 In one there only hangs an idolized image upon its spacious 
 walls. The image may be worshipped in the silence of deep 
 love, but its original is beyond his reach. Suddenly hope 
 points a way of access. He is no longer satisfied with the 
 image. He aspires for the substantial bliss. 
 
 " I will go to Wolfsden," said Harry, " if but to disclaim 
 the divinity." 
 
 " To claim the divinity, I guess," replied Alek. 
 
 Harry s soiree at his uncle s was elegant and delightful. 
 He named such guests as he chose, and others were invited 
 with reference to his preferences. Mr. Greening, senior, 
 and lady, came together in the same coach, notwithstanding 
 Harry s opinion that he came round and she cornerwise. Mr. 
 Augustus Greening and his sister Sophia came with them. 
 Mr. Greening, with partial pride, handed out his lovely
 
 WOLFSDEN. 807 
 
 daughter, and Augustus dutifully assisted his doting mother. 
 With Alek came Mr. Edward Clevis. Great was that young 
 man s surprise at receiving a card to a soiree at the rich M* 
 Boynton .s. Alek treated it as a matter of counse, but Mr. 
 Clevis justly suspected by whose interest he had received it. 
 He was exceedingly and nervously gratified with the honor. 
 He could see and perhaps speak with the beautiful Sophi;i, 
 whose idolized image adorned the connubial cell of his expan 
 sible heart. It gave him self-confidence to hope for more 
 substantial possibilities. Mr. Greening, his employer, father 
 to the adorable Sophia, would see that others thought him 
 not unworthy of such honor ; and perhaps this step would 
 lead to further advantage, and so on to the summit of his 
 hopes. On how slight a foundation will hopeful youth erect 
 a superstructure of happiness ! Yet Edward Clevis, though 
 possessing the self-respect which conscious rectitude inspires, 
 was one of the least presumptuous of young men. 
 
 Mr. Mercutio Fitz-Faun was not there. Alek s suggestion 
 to his friend had erased the distinguished name of Fitz-Faun 
 from the list of invitations, and substituted the humble one 
 of Edward Clevis. Fitz-Faun well knew to whom he owed 
 this exclusion, but he cared little for it. It would not facili 
 tate his plans to meet Sophia in company with her father. 
 He held the final issue of the campaign in his own hands, and- 
 only waited his own time to give the decisive blow. Like 
 Napoleon, he scorned the feeble machinations of other powers, 
 and revolved in his breast the mighty scheme which should 
 assert and signalize his star-led destiny. " Yet," said he, 
 " this Alek shall none the less be punished. Sir Marc shall 
 throttle ? no, scuttle him." 
 
 Harry was not one to do good offices by halves. Having
 
 308 WOL.FSDEN. 
 
 introduced Mr. Clevis to the soiree, he took care by his own 
 considerate attention to put him at ease, and in a favorable 
 position with the company ; and, divining the state of affairs, 
 either by a hint from Alek or by his own observation, he 
 contrived to obtain for the young man the hand of the lovely 
 Sophia in a dance, which opened the way for his presenting 
 refreshments and partaking them with her. His tremulous 
 happiness was too apparent to the amused Sophia ; yet she 
 could not be offended with the unspoken sentiments of one 
 who worshipped her beauty, and whose deportment was so 
 respectful, and even reverential. 
 
 " In his proper sphere," said Sophia, " he would be a 
 charming lover." 
 
 Proud Sophia ! she considered not that her honored father 
 had once been a humble apprentice. The only elevated sphere 
 is that to which virtuous industry can surely, sooner or later, 
 attain. 
 
 Proud Sophia ! Weigh in equal scales your sincere and 
 respectful lover with the heartless and malignant Fitz-Faun. 
 The one rich in the solid endowment of purposes and re 
 solves for earnest life ; the other possessing the specious 
 blandishments of fashionable vice. The one would sacrifice 
 his life to guard your honor ; the other seeks to sacrifice you 
 to his idle caprice. The one sees and magnifies your merits, 
 and would devote his dearest interests to your happiness ; 
 the other counts upon your weakness and frailty, as the 
 means for your ruin. Yet the vain Sophia receives with 
 pride the false homage of Fitz-Faun, and would be em 
 barrassed if he should see her receive the attention of 
 Edward Clevis. 
 
 0, that man and woman might have power to read tha
 
 W L F S D E N . 309 
 
 hearts of _those who seek their love ! that some unerring 
 test were given to detect the false, and prove the true ! 0, 
 for the life of that higher sphere, where congenial souls are 
 attracted by mutual faith, and where falsehood dares not 
 approach the clear-seeing eye of truth !
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AUTUMNAL breezes fan and loosen the matured foliage of 
 the forest trees. It is pleasant in childhood to be let loose 
 in the wild garden of nature ; to range at will over the 
 uneven ground, slippery with polished leaves, and spread with 
 rich abundance of scattered nuts. To see the nimble squirrel 
 leap among the lofty boughs, or dart under the leaves and fill 
 his cheeks with supplies for his winter hoard. His provident 
 economy is his pastime ; were there no winter to come, still 
 he would gather nuts for sport. The red-tufted woodpecker 
 flies swiftly among the branches, and, lighting upon the smooth 
 trunk, stands, regardless of the laws of gravitation, and ham 
 mers his rapid tattoo above the insects hidden nests. From 
 the depth of the wood the drum of the partridge is heard, 
 beginning in slow and measured beats, but rapidly increasing 
 in velocity, till the ear can no longer distinguish the inter 
 vals. In each open glade or bushy dell the clustering black 
 berries tempt the eager grasp, but the briery bushes often 
 revenge the rifled fruit. 
 
 Let merry childhood range the uplands, and gather the 
 scattered nuts, and chase the nimble squirrels, and admire the 
 gay plumage of the autumn birds, and listen to the mysteri 
 ous drum of the distant partridge, and leave fluttering tro-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 311 
 
 phics of torn garments upon the briery shrubs. The puro 
 air and active pastime shall strengthen the sinews for future 
 usefulness, while expanding minds mature to deeper and 
 higher pursuits. 
 
 But let the thoughtful wanderer range along the river s 
 level bank, where the tall maples, and the spreading beeches, 
 and the giant oaks, scatter from their waving arms the silent 
 falling leaves, glowing with every varying shade of nature s 
 autumn hues. The dark rippling water is decked with 
 myriad trophies of the forest. Its shadowy surface reflects 
 inverted banks and trees. Its tranquil depths teem with 
 quick though silent life. The perch, mailed in scaly armor, 
 lurks in the deep eddies and quiet pools, well known to the 
 truant school-boy. The pickerel, tyrant of ponds and streams, 
 Avaits in patient stillness among the tall grasses and floating 
 leaves near the river s border, whence he darts upon the ven 
 turous frog or excursive minnow. The trout, speckled with 
 vermilion, silver, and gold, frequents where cold springs 
 abound ; the chub, or cheven, loves the quick water rippling 
 among the rocks ; and the silvery-gliding eel winds among 
 the aquatic plants in still waters. The angler knows the 
 favorite haunts of all his finny prey, and often fills his 
 basket with the struggling victims of his fraudful skill. 
 
 Far from my delight be the cruel pastime to bait the 
 barbed hook with the pierced insect or the writhing worm ! 
 Disport yourselves securely, ye scaly inhabitants of the deep 
 pools and swift waters ! Often I visit your silent haunts to 
 bathe in your cool element, but not to prey upon your harm 
 less race. Man s sustenance and enjoyment require not the 
 pain and death of inferior creatures, for nature s guiltless 
 bounties are spread on every side.
 
 312 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Let us walk upon the soft turf in the shady orchard, and 
 pause under the trees laden with mellow fruit. How pleas 
 ant, how nourishing, how abundant ! The neatly-cultivated 
 garden invites our notice. Here is rich supply for present 
 and future luxury. Dinners of many autumn days yet to 
 come shall owe their abundant variety to these fruitful beds 
 of beets and parsnips and onions, and those long rows of 
 cabbages and beans ; to that patch of turnips and corner of 
 celery, and those spreading vines of squashes. Green peas 
 and ripe currants and cherries have had their day ; but the 
 purple plums, and the yellow pears, and luscious melons, 
 take their place in the list of luxuries. The garden is the 
 delight of flowery spring, the storehouse of summer and 
 autumn, and the bountiful source of the winter cellar s ample 
 supply. 
 
 Already are the fields of grain gathered into the barn, but 
 the corn-fields still wait the harvest. The heavy ears rustle 
 among their white husks above the huge yellow "pumpkins 
 which strew the soil. There will be merry evening huskings 
 when the crop shall be piled into the barn, and all the family 
 with social neighbor friends shall gather around the heap, 
 with laugh, and song, and merry joke, and brisk reply, and 
 vaunting boasts, and trials of expertness, while successive 
 baskets are heaped with golden ears, and borne on broad and 
 willing shoulders to the granary. 
 
 Heap high your granaries, ye young men of broad shoul 
 ders, and strong backs, and willing minds ! How may your 
 cheerful hearts expand with all the genial virtues, your 
 cheerful hearts, never fated to know the fear of soul-con 
 tracting want ! 
 
 And you, above all, fair daughters of rural abodes, pure
 
 W L F S D E X . 313 
 
 as your mountain air, sweet as the wild-flowers of your fields, 
 bright as your sunny hills, gay as your warbling birds, gener 
 ous as the soul of all-bestowing nature ! Ye have nurtured 
 my childhood, and rejoiced my youth, and blessed iny man 
 hood. My love shall repay your care, and reward your ten 
 derness to the advancing infirmities of age. 
 
 Churn the yellow butter ; press the white curd ; pick and 
 prepare the sweet preserves and the sharp pickles ; stir the 
 bubbling pudding ; knead the white bread, and mix the 
 brown ; roll the cream-shortened pastry, and overspread the 
 broad platters and the deep pans ; pare and slice the crispy 
 apples ; stew the ponderous pumpkins ; beat the new-laid 
 eggs, and fill the expectant crust ; with watchful eye explore 
 the glowing oven, and when the rightly-tempered heat shall 
 serve, commit your labors to its perfecting power. Now 
 spread the table, draw the tea, and blow the horn. Soon 
 shall my willing feet obey the welcome. Sweet shall be my 
 repast, prepared by your neat hands, and partaken in your 
 cheerful company. Though my hands be hardened with labor, 
 and my face be embrowned by exposure, and my clothes lack 
 the dainty gloss and my tongue the smooth polish of city 
 refinement, yet have I the wisdom to understand your worth, 
 and the heart to reciprocate your faithful care. 
 
 When dainty-fingered foppery, from Fashion s beaten walks, 
 shall come to court your partial favor, let not your eyes bo 
 dazzled nor your judgment be deluded by the unaccustomed 
 outside show. Weigh with double scrutiny the worth set off 
 by double pretence. But, if your heart incline to yield, let 
 some faithful friend inquire what impartial fame reports. 
 Poor is the hope from the plighted love of the inconstant, the 
 selfish, the vain, the idle, the imprudent, the improvident. 
 27
 
 314 W L F S D E N . 
 
 Above all, as you would shun a life of mortifying humilia 
 tion or disgraceful strife, reject the imperious, the exacting, 
 the jealous, the envious, the easily offended and quick to re 
 taliate ! Better beneath the paternal roof to keep your un- 
 wasted freshness till a worthier destiny shall offer, or till 
 Time s finger shall write the lines of ancient maidenhood upon 
 your peaceful brow. 
 
 New England homes, New England comforts and enjoyments, 
 New England intellect and beauty, New England domestic and 
 social life, here abound the solid virtues, and all that is of 
 permanent value in elegant refinement. In her healthy clime 
 the human germ expands in its highest perfection. Domestic 
 duties direct and nurture its early strength. Its common- 
 school system calls forth, by skilful instruction and worthy 
 emulation, its native powers. All become informed, and some 
 in every town rise to eminence. These supply the learned pro 
 fessions, the places of public life, and the remunerative pur 
 suits and enterprises of manufactures and commerce, while 
 many, discarding ambition, remain to adorn and elevate society 
 at home. Females seldom permanently leave the vicinity of 
 their native place, and therefore New England country society 
 has a still larger portion of intellectual women, whose fame, 
 though confined to their own circle, no less effectually serves 
 the higher purposes of humanity. 
 
 Wolfsden has sent forth its proportion of enterprising men, 
 and retains the material of many more. That group of 
 younglings issuing from yon red schoolhouse, with glowing 
 cheeks and wide-awake eyes, though rough and rude in man 
 ner now, are in good hands, and will fulfil good hopes. Care 
 ful mothers gently bend the pliant shoots of manhood, and 
 shower good influences upon susceptible hearts, which shall
 
 WOLFSDEN. 315 
 
 mature into right thoughts and firm principles. Gentle sisters 
 and cousins, and favorite female companions, shall soften and 
 polish their manners, and excite the desire of being loved. 
 Life s opening prospects and responsibilities shall awaken seri 
 ous resolves and eiforts, till the wild, thoughtless fry shall be 
 transformed into men, ready to take manhood s stations and 
 duties. 
 
 Those little bashful girls, who hide at the stranger s ap 
 proach, shall soon enough learn the powers and privileges of 
 their sex. They will put on airs, they will coquet, they will 
 tease, they will affect disdain, they will jilt, they will play 
 unnumbered mad pranks ; and then, like the unbroken coif, 
 which has spurned its pursuer, and proved its ability to main 
 tain its freedom, they will relent, and receive the matrimonial 
 curb with docile grace, and at once step into the sedate ranks 
 of young wives and mothers, to lead another generation by 
 the same devious paths to the same fair destiny. 
 
 But some will decline the matrimonial bond, and prefer 
 their maiden freedom. Not less happy are they in their con 
 tented singleness. It is not determined celibacy, but prolonged 
 girlhood. They contemplate matrimony, but place it in the 
 uncertain future. They are in no haste to give up the privi 
 leges of maiden life of attracting and rejecting, of plotting, 
 expecting, debating, delaying, denying, disappointing and be 
 ing disappointed, and then, like Penelope with her web, again 
 renewing the interminable task. 
 
 Happy maidens! Still weave and unravel your unprogress- 
 ing web, while impatient lovers wait around. Life has vari 
 ous delights and destinies. Yours is not less bright and 
 worthy than others. 
 
 Fair Lucinda she of the slender waist and many curls
 
 816 W L F S D E N . 
 
 still helps her mother in the mysteries of the kitchen. Yet 
 she is ever ready for the parlor. Her hair is glossy. Her 
 ringlets know and keep their place. Her dress receives no 
 smutch nor unseemly rumple. When a stranger knocks, she 
 lays aside her apron, and is at once the fine lady of the par 
 lor, netting the everlasting purse, and endowed with all the 
 graces which shall bewitch the new comer. So her rever 
 end father, his books of div.inity laid carefully open, and his 
 study-chair ready for his reception, comes in by a back way 
 from inspecting his cattle, or conducting his farm, and receives 
 his guests in clerical state. 
 
 * Let not the parson be blamed for whatever of sham may be 
 implied in these dexterous arts. They are required by his 
 position. It is tacitly understood by his parish that he shall 
 not impair the dignity of his office as minister of Wolfsden, 
 by doing anything or knowing anything that is unministerial, 
 or that is useful. A neighboring minister lost his parish in 
 consequence of putting on working-day clothes and holding 
 his plough a day or two in public view, and refusing to prom 
 ise better fashions. He replied thai his Master was a carpen 
 ter, and his most eminent predecessors in office fishermen and 
 tent-makers, and he therefore felt it a duty to do with all his 
 might whatever his hands might find to do, since he did not 
 neglect his parish duties. Some thought his plea reasonable, 
 especially as his salary was small, and his talents and zeal 
 above the common order ; but the malcontents prevailed, and 
 Parson Probe left Noodleville to a softer-handed successor. 
 
 Parson Boreman, therefore, though he indulges in the 
 luxury of out-door labor, preserves the meritorious pretence 
 of being always in his study. To be sure, everybody knowa 
 the facts of the case, in his private capacity, for every-
 
 WOLFSBEN. 317 
 
 body knows everything about everybody in Wolfsden ; but 
 everybody in his public capacity knows nothing about it, but 
 assumes exactly the contrary, and therefore no principle is 
 violated, nor dignity impaired. 
 
 Parsons have hearts and consciences even as others. Par 
 son Boreman has probably reflected that old Bang s fatal 
 relapse and tragic end might have been avoided but for his 
 unlucky visit. Whatever the motive, and we will not har 
 bor the suspicion that it was but to strengthen, his influence in 
 Deacon Arbor s neighborhood, where it was rather declining, 
 he was very kind to poor Susan and her son Ax. To the 
 latter he offered a home and a good common-school education, 
 if he would remain in his service till of age^ The Bowler 
 family, where Susan and her boy remained, would like to keep 
 them both, but advise that Ax should accept the parson s 
 offer, as affording better prospects. Ax, who remembered his 
 first benefactor, the schoolmaster, with gratitude and admira 
 tion, had ambition also to become a schoolmaster, and stipu 
 lated accordingly. The parson promised to aid him with extra 
 instruction to that ext cnt, if he should prove capable and 
 worthy of it, which Ax considered a fair condition, and the 
 bargain was made, with the consent of all concerned. So Ax 
 served the parson. Pie proved a trustworthy lad, ready and 
 pleasant, and became a favorite in the house. His ambition 
 for learning was commended by the old lady, and applauded 
 by Lucinda, who offered to hear the lessons he might find time 
 to get. Ax was thankful for the favor. He found a good 
 deal of time ; he was up early, and found time where most 
 people do not think of looking_for it. He found time in the 
 evening, when others might be too drowsy to notice it. He 
 got his " stent," and made time out of that. All he gained 
 27*
 
 318 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 was diligently employed with his book, that he might be a 
 schoolmaster. Such is the power of a particular object in 
 stimulating youthful ambition to its best efforts. The general 
 principle that " learning is better than houses and lands," 
 though eloquently urged by official school-visitors, and written 
 in every copy-book, fails of the effect so easily produced by the 
 promise of some particular reward for diligence. Ax learned 
 fast. What he learned he remembered. His look of cheerful 
 intelligence won him favor. Lucinda was proud of her pupil. 
 Like Desdemona, she wished Heaven had sent her such a 
 boy. Be patient, fair Lucinda ! Heaven is all bounteous !
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 WHERE the road lies along the side of yonder hill, which, 
 as you pass by, towers on the right away up into the sky, and 
 on the left slants away down into a dark valley, so far down 
 that its tall trees look like bushes, along that quiet road, 
 looking like a green-bordered ribbon bound on the mountain s 
 forehead, let us loiter, and pick ripe blackberries by the 
 way. How high up in the world, and yet how solitary ! 
 Nature s softened voices float in the stilly air, the busy 
 insect hum, the murmur of the far-off falls, the barking of 
 the distant fox, the screaming eagle, the clamorous crow, the 
 drumming partridge, and often the muttering thunder heard 
 afar in a cloudless sky. 
 
 As we look downward far behind us, the fair home and 
 extensive fields of Deacon Arbor look like a little green nook 
 in the midst of a vast surrounding forest. Beyond that, 
 another green spot, reclaimed from Nature s wild domain, 
 marks where the Bowlers live. Beyond that, other patches 
 of green, with houses and barns which look so small that pig 
 mies and mice would seem their appropriate inhabitants, 
 stretch away, growing smaller and smaller to the sight, till 
 lost among the dark, forest-clad mountains. The road upon 
 which we now linger winds along among them, and links them
 
 320 W L F S D E N . 
 
 together, as children string green leaves upon a slender thread, 
 and form a waving garland. 
 
 As we pass onward and leave the view behind, the road 
 declines and is lost in a woody valley ; but it reappears on 
 hills and mountain sides beyond, still strung with green patches 
 like a waving garland, and pigmy houses like little pictures 
 on the stringed leaves. 
 
 On our right, a little further on, before we descend far, is a 
 pleasant-looking house on a pleasant spot, where the early 
 morning sunshine comes, and the last rays of sunset linger. 
 The house looks old, but cheerful in its old age ; it is inno 
 cent of paint, or other needless ornament. An ample orchard 
 overlooks it from the rear, and in its turn it overlooks an am 
 ple garden in front. Fields and pastures, dotted with various 
 cattle, extend on every side. It is evidently a home where 
 peace and plenty abound. It is Major Murray s. Let us 
 enter. 
 
 A cheerful matron, whom the suns of sixty summers have 
 matured to a becoming ripeness, welcomes us. She is busy in 
 various matters between the kitchen fire and kitchen table, 
 transferring white things from the table to the fire, and brown 
 things from the fire to the table, still entertaining us with 
 pleasant inquiries and remarks. Her active industry is her 
 life. Like Milton s Hobson, her destiny is that she shall 
 never rot, while she can still jog on and keep her trot. Re 
 move from her the cares and labors which employ each cheer 
 ful day, and her earnest spirit, now rejoicing in its active 
 sphere, would pine and perish in discontent. Should some imp 
 of evil offer to aid her labors, and demand employment, as 
 once the devil did of the wizard Michael Scott, she would 
 seat him at her table, and stuff him with good things till his
 
 WOLFSDEN. 321 
 
 evil should become good. A hungry vagabond is a godsend, 
 before whom she delights to spread a bountiful supply, that he 
 may eat till he can eat no more, and store the residue in his 
 empty sack for future use. Give her some pretence for osten 
 tatious display, and with what bustling pride will she show 
 you the treasures of her well-ordered house, her dairy, with 
 its stores of sweet yellow butter and savory cheese ; her chests 
 and dressers filled with bleached linen and fleecy blankets, all 
 the products of her busy wheel and loom ; and the patchwork 
 quilts and lamb s-wool stockings Avhich have employed her 
 leisure hours. Such ever be New England mothers and aunts ! 
 
 Enter her choicely-kept parlor, whose polished floor, con 
 secrated to neatness, is seldom trod by sacrilegious feet. See 
 the upright shining chairs, and round table made to move on 
 hidden hinges from its horizontal plane to a vertical position, 
 by the side of its tripod pedestal ; and the looking-glass of 
 curious frame, surmounted with peacock s plumage ; and the 
 fire-set of well-polished brass. All have served their stately 
 use for two generations, and still are in their fashion s prime. 
 Look with reverence upon those oak-framed pictures of hal 
 lowed scenes, where Abraham lifts the sacrificial knife ; 
 where Lot leaves the doomed city, and his saline spouse ; 
 where Samson, with asinine weapon, smites the Philistines 
 hip and thigh ; and where Saul evokes the hoary witch of 
 Endor. By the side of these triumphs of xylographic art 
 hangs the genealogical tree of golden fruit, inscribed with the 
 sum of all human history births, marriages, deaths. 
 
 Up the narrow and angular flight of stairs, protected by 
 curiously turned and twisted balustrades, we may pass to a 
 dainty chamber on cither hand. That one is the spare cham 
 ber, kept for choice occasions, and guests of note. Its high,
 
 322 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 smooth bed of gay patchwork and diamond quilting, and all 
 its prim furniture, proclaim the matron s care, and justify her 
 decent pride. Let us award the praises due, and linger no 
 longer. 
 
 The opposite door opens upon a view where we might love 
 to linger long. The chamber is smaller. Its two windows 
 open, one toward the east, upon a far-extended view of green 
 fields, and pleasant valleys, and winding waters, and distant 
 farms, and an interminable forest beyond. The other looks 
 towards the north, upon hills surmounted by mountains, rising 
 higher and higher still, in gloomy grandeur, to the clouds. 
 
 The neat and tasteful arrangement of the room shows it to 
 be the favorite resort of a female occupant. A few unframed 
 paintings in water-colors, and drawings in crayon, showing 
 taste and nicety in their execution, are pinned against the 
 walls. Upon the mantel-piece is ranged a compact tier of 
 books, embracing all science, abridged or in full, from a, b, 
 c, to algebra ; and all religion, from the " New England 
 Primer " to the " Whole Duty of Man ; " and all literature, 
 from the " Ladies Looking-glass " to the Lost Paradise 
 of Milton ; and all romance, from Bunyan s Pilgrim to 
 " Thaddeus of Warsaw." But why detain the reader with 
 description of these ? Because the heedless reader will not 
 note them, when once admitted to behold the fair occupant of 
 this favored room. 
 
 The pen of history holds a magic power. At its " open 
 sesame " the secret chambers are disclosed. Softly let ua 
 enter, lest we disturb the genius of the quiet place. 
 
 She sits at her table absorbed in thought. Her light basket, 
 filled with various implements and patterns of female indus 
 try, is laid aside. The fair hand rests upon the snowy page,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 323 
 
 where she traces lines so delicate that they scarce soil its white 
 ness. The face is eloquent with thought, more beautiful 
 than words. Are you a phrenologist ? Admire that head ! 
 How the delighted fingers measure those organs replete with 
 everything that is witty, and delicate, and wise, and benevo 
 lent, and reverential, and self-reliant, and just, and kind, and 
 true ! Fowler might here afford, without price, the flattering 
 " chart " which he sells to others for money ; for its truthful 
 ness would soothe his too often tried conscience. Are you no 
 phrenologist ? Then look upon her face, and let your eyes 
 read with rapture that heaven-impressed page of virgin 
 beauty, love, and truth.-- She seems absorbed in thought. 
 Poetic images crowd upon her active brain. Slowly she 
 ranges them in order, and marshals them in verses, pensive, 
 plaintive, even mournful, yet, like herself, sweet in their 
 sadness. 
 
 " I m weary of this weary world, I in weary of its grief ; 
 My sickened spirit turns away, and vainly seeks relief ; 
 In vain, in vain I seek for peace, in vain I pray to know 
 If pure, unsullie d happiness dwells in this vale of woe ; 
 My wounded soul can find no joy, no healing balm, to stay 
 The deep and fearful gush of griefs that on my spirit weigh. 
 On through the dim, dark dreariness of coming shadowy years, 
 My fancy roves, and meets a waste a wilderness of fears ; 
 So dark, so drear, that death s dread vale to me would be more sweet, 
 And all the terrors of the tomb I would not fear to meet. 
 
 " One voice is wanting to my ear, one deep, low, silvery voice, 
 To breathe its tones of music out, and bid my heart rejoice ; 
 One glance forth from that flashing eye, to chase away my night, 
 One glance of love ; 0, would it not o erwhcltn mo in its light ! 
 To hear love s own sweet language fall from his clear lips on me ! 
 Peace, peace, my fondly-picturing heart ! it is but mockery. 
 It may not be, it cannot be, for woman s lot is thine ; 
 Concealment shall feed on thy cheek, and thou in sorrow pine.
 
 324 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 " Cannot I bid my heart be free ? Will not my woman s pride 
 
 Come now, in its o ermastering strength, my wasted love to hide ? 
 
 Shall all the gushing tenderness which others sought to wake 
 
 Come rushing from unfathomed depths, with its own weight to break ? 
 
 I will not yield me up to dreams ; my spirit shall not bow 
 
 In tame submission to a spell his heart can never know. 
 
 I will awake my slumbering soul ; I will again be free, 
 
 And change into forgetfulncss all my idolatry ; 
 
 Xo flush shall deepen on my brow, no trembling seize my frame, 
 
 When from the gay and heartless throng I hear his own loved name. 
 
 " T is vain ! I wreathe my face in joy, and teach my lip to smile, 
 But, ! my saddened, aching heart seerns bursting all the while ; 
 For sorrow s wasting blight has found its way into my heart, 
 And now hope s budding visions fade, youth s morning dreams depart; 
 And the bright, sunny smile of joy, that on my cheek should bloom, 
 Has given place to sorrow s sigh, the gushing tear of gloom ; 
 And joyous glances of the eye, that once could flash with mirth, 
 Have gone, and tell in quenched beams how fade the joys of earth. 
 
 " They tell me I am beautiful, and speak to me of love ; 
 
 But life too early lost its charm their praises cannot move ; 
 I listen to the honeyed words they breathe into my ear, 
 They fall like Afric s parched sands on the wild desert drear. 
 I listen, and I smile, perchance, or wipe a tear away ; 
 0, might the hope of that blest world, unsullied by decay, 
 Buoy my sad soul above this gloom, above this earthly strife, 
 And bid me plume my fainting wings for realms of endless life ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THUS the fair Margaret, in life s bright morning, meditated 
 and mournfully mused. And thus, full often, the sensitive 
 soul, as yet knowing nothing of the hard ways and heavy 
 burthens of earnest life, faints ere the early dew is dried 
 from its morning path of flowers. Soothe your sorrows, ye 
 sensitive souls ! Your appointed duties and destinies may 
 not thus be evaded, nor can you as yet " plume your fainting 
 wings for realms of endless life." You must learn to bear 
 bravely, and strongly strive. Your strength and faith must 
 be increased by patient use, till your power shall be greater 
 than your burthens, and you shall walk in your appointed 
 way without weariness, and run with unfainting speed. So 
 shall you fairly aspire to nobler destinies, and plume your 
 stronger wings for realms of endless life. 
 
 The fair Margaret sat and meditated, and mournfully 
 mused. A slight knock, and her lovely cousin Frances 
 entered. Her cheeks glowed with exercise, and her eyes 
 shone with intelligence. The fair friends embraced, and 
 kissed. Thus with sweet affection do angels meet. 
 
 " Come," said Fanny, " I have come for you to take tea 
 with us. A friend has come. I was forbidden to tell whom, 
 but you are wanted to make us all perfectly happy. Don t 
 28
 
 326 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 ask who ; it will be a pleasant surprise, and, besides, it is so 
 agreeably provoking not to know, and to guess wrong, and to 
 anticipate and be disappointed ! But it is somebody who will 
 be delighted to see you, and whom you will be delighted to 
 see, unless you are more unlike me and every other girl than 
 I guess. So make haste, there s a good cousin ! And put 
 on your prettiest things ; but not too particular, look 
 pretty, but not yrand." 
 
 Margaret soon started off with her lively and lovely cousin. 
 She seemed not at all " weary of this weary world." How 
 poets deal in fiction ! Her step was light and elastic, and 
 her countenance rivalled her cousin s in radiant and joyful 
 beauty. 
 
 " There they are, coming to meet us ! " said Fanny, while 
 yet half their way was before them. 
 
 Surely enough, they were coming. Billy and Tommy, 
 escorting somebody. Who could it be ? It was not Alek, 
 not so tall and not so stout, but more graceful. Who 
 could be that somebody ? 
 
 Billy and Tommy seemed quite at home with somebody. 
 Somebody seemed giving lessons in oratory to Billy and 
 Tommy ; for Tommy would mount upon a bank, and stretch 
 forth his hand and put forward his foot, apparently in the ex 
 ordium of a speech ; and then somebody would seem to cor 
 rect him, and show how to do it better, by advancing his 
 foot not quite so far, and stretching forth his hand more 
 moderately. And then Tommy would begin again upon the 
 improved model ; and then Billy would mount, and show 
 how he could do it. They were evidently practising ora 
 tory, perhaps for the coming occasion. Who was some 
 body?
 
 WOLFSDEN. d27 
 
 Margaret looked earnestly at somebody, and then inquir 
 ingly at Fanny, but Fanny was dummy. 
 
 And so they loitered and lingered lovingly along. Mar 
 garet seemed now the tired one, at least, so Fanny thought. 
 She seemed to hesitate about proceeding at all. She seemed 
 even to meditate turning back. But she did not turn back ; 
 only she turned aside and plucked fern twigs, and wild briers, 
 and seemed discomposed, and did not look at Fanny while 
 speaking; and Fanny asked her if she was well. Margaret 
 answered yes, and came and gave her hand to Fanny. Her 
 hand was cold, and her clasp tighter than usual, as if nerved 
 by resolute effort ; and they went on to meet the boys and 
 somebody. 
 
 As they approached, Tommy and Billy, earnest with tid 
 ings, like Cushi and Amihaaz the son of Zadok, outran each 
 other to announce the already very obvious fact that 
 
 " Harry Boynton has come, and we are having a famous 
 time ! " 
 
 " My name is Norval on the Grampian hills ! " shouted 
 Tommy, hurriedly, that he might be the first to show his 
 improved oratory. But Billy interrupted him. 
 
 " No, that s not right. Look ! " and, placing himself ora- 
 torically, he spoke on the improved model : 
 
 " My name is Norval ! on the Grampian hills " 
 By this time their oratorical oracle, Harry Boynton, had 
 come up. The onset of the boys had broken the ice of form 
 ality and the spell of embarrassment, and Margaret gave 
 her hand to Harry, and welcomed him with self-possessed 
 grace. But she saw in a moment, for she read it in his 
 sparkling eyes, and deep voice, and tremulous lips, that he 
 loved her (let woman alone for that ! ) and she knew that he
 
 328 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 
 
 had come to tell her of his love ; and she cast down her eyes, 
 that no one should see the joy which gladdened them ; and 
 she looked and spoke at the boys, that no one should see how 
 the red suffused her cheeks. 
 
 " But," said she, " he shall not know that I love him, nor 
 think me too easily won." And so she schooled herself to 
 cool dignity and formal decorum, and wondered how he would 
 proceed, and when he would propose. 
 
 Fanny suspected something of the truth. There is a sym 
 pathy of intelligence between hearts entwined in sisterly love, 
 and each shares the other s secret thoughts. Besides, Harry, 
 who arrived the previous evening, had that morning a long 
 and private conversation with Helen, who, shortly afterward, 
 requested her to invite Margaret, and cautioned her not to 
 tell who was the visitor. And so Fanny s curiosity stimulated 
 her sagacity to suspect something. 
 
 There was in Wolfsden at that time what is there called a 
 reformation. In other places the like is called a revival. 
 We cannot give a perfect account of Wolfsden without in 
 cluding its " reformations." They occur sometimes twice or 
 thrice in a year, and sometimes but once in two or three 
 years. Generally they are local, in the east or west or 
 north or south part of the town, but sometimes they spread, 
 or occur in different quarters simultaneously, so as to include 
 the whole town. The philosophy of these movements is not 
 settled. Like other phenomena of society, they are the result 
 of general laws, whose operations maybe traced in all nations 
 and ages. The solemn feasts and jubilees of the Jews ; the 
 idolatrous festivals and processions of Egypt ; the eleusinian 
 mysteries of Greece ; the pagan saturnalia and Catholic car 
 nivals of Rome ; the Mahometan pilgrimages ; the frenzies
 
 WOLFSDEN. 329 
 
 of oriental devotees, and the superstitious juggleries of 
 heathen tribes, all are manifestations of the soul s spiritual 
 affinities, struggling for higher associations. Among the most 
 ignorant and debased the~only result is wild disorder, folly, 
 and cruelty ; among the enlightened, a true and fervid piety 
 is sometimes unduly stimulated and misled by emotional ex 
 citement, and the religion which should be as a river of life, 
 nourishing and beautifying its borders, with equal flow, is a 
 tide of uncertain motions, now inundating its shores, and now 
 leaving bare its barren sands. Instead of being, like Chris 
 tian s roll, a support and guide on hills of difficulty, and over 
 the enchanted grounds of temptation, and through the valley 
 of the shadow of death, it tempts to by-paths and short pas 
 sages, which look toward the celestial city, but lead to the 
 dark mountains of stumbling. 
 
 The periodical religious excitements, or "reformations," of 
 Wolfsden, often produced good fruit, twenty, sixty, and 
 some an hundred fold ; but many of the converts relapsed, 
 so that, though one fifth or sixth of the population was con 
 verted annually, yet each successive reformation found as much 
 to do as the preceding. Yet, except so far as they might 
 prevent something better, they were not unprofitable efforts. 
 It is better that men should be awakened to their immortal 
 interests, though ever so rudely, than that they should still 
 sleep in the stupor of sin ; for of the many awakened a few 
 are saved. 
 
 One of the series of meetings was to be held this evening 
 at the school-house before referred to, in Deacon Arbor s 
 district. Elder Kraken, a great reformation minister, was 
 expected to preach. Apart from the attractions of a famous 
 minister, it was the duty of the people of the district to 
 28*
 
 330 WOLESDEN. 
 
 assemble and fill the house. This, and another good motive, 
 led Helen to encourage the proposition to attend the meet 
 ing ; and, therefore, after tea, she and Margaret, and Fanny, 
 and Harry, and the boys, went over to the school-house. 
 
 The services began at early candle-lighting, and they ar 
 rived as the people were collecting. Elder Kraken soon 
 made his appearance. He was a man advanced in years, 
 yet still in the full vigor of his powers. His head was a 
 little bald, and well constructed for his calling. The organs 
 of benevolence, firmness, reverence, self-esteem, ideality, and 
 combativeness, were well developed, giving that combina 
 tion which is favorable to fervent devotion and fearless zeal, 
 and to which his vigorous bodily powers gave full effect. 
 His preaching was earnest, and in its way eloquent, though 
 rather dogmatical in tenets, and very barbarous in style, 
 being full of the idioms, technical terms, uncouth words, fig 
 urative phrases, and peculiar expressions, which make up the 
 dialect that many persons think necessary for the expression 
 of religious sentiments. 
 
 So remarkably was his preaching moulded in that style, 
 that Harry was often puzzled to translate his meaning, and 
 was amused when he should have been impressed. Yet he 
 listened with becoming seriousness, which was the more favor 
 ably interpreted by the observing minister, as he had by acci 
 dent taken one of the seats appropriated to the converts, and 
 those " under conviction." 
 
 After the sermon and other exercises, the meeting took the 
 form of an " inquiry meeting," in which the minister sepa 
 rately addressed those upon the seats where Harry sat, call 
 ing upon some whom he knew personally to " speak in the 
 name of the Lord," and addressing exhortations and questions
 
 WOLFSDEN. 331 
 
 to others. Harry, who observed the style of answer, evi 
 dently expected and duly repeated, was tolerably well pre 
 pared for the examination when his turn came ; for the 
 minister naturally took him for one of the converts. 
 
 " Well, my young brother," said the minister, " how is the 
 state of your mind, has the Lord dealt bountifully with 
 you ? " 
 
 Harry. Yes, the Lord has been very good to me. 
 
 Minister. Blessed be the Lord ! And you feel that the 
 filthy rags of your own righteousness are taken away ? You 
 are washed and made clean ? 
 
 Harry. Yes, I have been washed and made clean. 
 
 Minister. Glory to God ! And you are sure that you 
 have a comfortable and well-grounded hope ? 
 
 Harry (thinking of Margaret], The hope which I have is 
 very comfortable ; but I have some doubts. 
 
 Minister. Praise the Lord ! Your doubts will soon be 
 swallowed up in faith. You mean to seek and strive till you 
 obtain the promise ? 
 
 Harry (still thinking of Margaret}. Yes ; that is what I 
 came for. 
 
 Minister. Amen, brother ! Be of good courage, and you 
 will get the reward ; for you have put on the wedding gar 
 ment, and put off the old man with his deeds. 
 
 Harry (thinking of the minister, and very willing to put 
 him off}. I hope so. 
 
 After the examination was over, the minister requested all 
 about him to kneel, which Harry, with the rest, complied 
 with ; and after a fervent prayer, he shook hands with all, 
 giving them encouragement and exhortation, arid, especially 
 addressing Harry, to whose good -looks he took a liking, he
 
 332 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 bade him strive to make his calling and election sure, and 
 to contend earnestly for the prize, and the Lord would pros 
 per him. 
 
 Harry was much vexed to be again made so conspicuous 
 an object of ministerial misunderstanding, which he could not 
 well correct without embarrassing the important objects of 
 the meeting ; and, as they returned homeward, he observed 
 to Helen that the people of Wolfsden seemed resolved to 
 make him a saint in spite of himself. 
 
 " I suppose," said he, " they consider it a duty to sinners 
 to compel them to come in. " 
 
 "The minister took you for one of the converts," said 
 Helen, " because you took the convert s seat." 
 
 "Then," said Harry, i<r l had better have sat in the seat of 
 the scornful. However, I am in the descending scale, and 
 shall soon find my proper level, for they made me a divinity 
 student, or perhaps a doctor of divinity, formerly. Probably 
 they mean to let me down by degrees." 
 
 " O, you have been ranked a reprobate since that time," 
 said Fanny. " Mr. Twangson, the heathen missionary, ex 
 communicated you to save himself, some folks say." 
 
 " And I have understood," said Harry, " that he repre 
 sented me as a deceiver and mocker, which was untrue, for 
 I was innocent of their blunder. I think," continued he, 
 " that I must take some opportunity to vindicate myself in 
 this matter publicly ; for, apart from other considerations, it 
 does not suit my pride to be ranked with hypocrites or 
 scoffers." 
 
 " I think you may properly explain the facts in some 
 conference meeting," said Helen ; " and, if you do it
 
 W L F S D E N . 333 
 
 without reflecting severely upon others, it will be well 
 received." 
 
 She then informed him how he had, through not knowing 
 the usages of the place, confirmed the report of his religious 
 character ; so that Harry was able in a future " conference 
 meeting " to explain how certain mistakes arose without his 
 fault, and to rectify his position. This he did in so proper 
 and conciliating a manner that Elder Kraken accepted the 
 explanation, and only " regretted that so talented a young 
 man was not yet quite ready to come up to the help of the 
 Lord against the mighty." 
 
 Harry and Margaret parted from the rest of the company 
 when they arrived at Deacon Arbor s, for Helen had told 
 Margaret that Harry wished to walk home with her, and, 
 therefore, she would not invite her to stop at her house. And 
 so Harry walked with Margaret alone. 
 
 It was a beautiful autumnal evening. The moon played 
 bo-peep between the fleeting silvery clouds. A gentle breeze 
 fanned the air. The whip-poor-will from the near -grove 
 chanted his oft-repeated counsel. The cricket chirruped 
 in the wall, and the fox barked at intervals in the distant 
 forest. 
 
 The writer of this history regrets being compelled to sub 
 stitute these commonplace circumstances for the story which 
 the reader justly expects to be told ; but, being uncomprom 
 isingly opposed to the license, too often indulged, of invent 
 ing imaginary incidents and sentiments, when what really 
 transpired is unknown, he must confess his ignorance of 
 Harry s and Margaret s conversation after they left their 
 friends at Deacon Arbor s, or how they beguiled their home 
 ward way. It may, however, be observed that Margaret,
 
 334 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 though she afterwards indited many a sonnet in her solitude, 
 wrote nothing more about being " weary of this weary 
 world." And as for Harry, it is enough to say at present, 
 that he did not hang himself, being reserved for another 
 destiny.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SIR MARC BARCIIIER, K.B., sat in the splendid saloon of 
 " Professor Pericrania," proprietor of, the " Emporium of 
 Fashion," in Broadway. The long row of stately chairs was 
 filled with incumbents, upon whom the expert assistants and 
 students of the presiding professor demonstrated their tonso- 
 rial talents. 
 
 " Turn ! " said the professor, solemnly, as one of the fin 
 ished specimens of his skill left the chair of state. 
 
 Sir Marc removed his glossy cravat, turned down his shin 
 ing collar, and surrendered himself to the operator, who, with 
 the sure and dextrous skill which genius, aided by philosophy 
 and cultivated by patient practice, can attain unto, with the 
 aid of saponaceous cream, smooth-gliding razor, clicking scis 
 sors, caloric curling-tongs, fragrant oils, and magic evolutions 
 of brush and comb, at last put the finishing touch upon the 
 noblest part of the knight s noble structure. 
 
 Along Broadway, after due acknowledgment of the profess 
 or s aid, the knight proceeded. As he walked leisurely and 
 dignifiedly adown that fashionable avenue, sometimes glanc 
 ing superciliously upon the humble crowd of plodders in life s 
 lowly vale, or nodding graciously upon the aristocratic occu 
 pants of proudly-passing coaches, what friend of humanity,
 
 
 
 336 VTOLFSDEN. 
 
 observing the vast disparity between mortals of one common 
 mould, but would sigh that fortune should make such wide 
 distinctions among men, endowing some from birth with the 
 golden spoon of pride and luxury, and others with the wooden 
 ladle of poverty and debasement? 
 
 His hair, perfumed and shining, was surmounted by a hat 
 of Genin s latest style. His glossy whiskers and mustaches 
 curled and shone with redundant oil. His shirt of resplen 
 dent whiteness was adorned with diamond studs. A magnif 
 icent breast-pin glittered upon his bosom. The tie of his 
 cravat would have won an approving nod from Brummel. 
 His vest of richest fabric was hung with burnished chains 
 of gold, giving security to his sumptuous watch and richly- 
 mounted eye-glass. His coat was cut by Swell, and his pan 
 taloons by Strutt. His French boots were imported by 
 Crimpp, and his kids supplied by Fripp. His ebony cane 
 was the present of a duke, and his rings the gifts of duch 
 esses, countesses, and ladies fair of high degree. His stature 
 was massive and imposing. His eyebrows were bushy, and 
 if his nose was somewhat snub, his prominent cheeks made 
 full amends. Unassuming men turned aside to give him 
 room. Languishing ladies looked up with pleased approval ; 
 and saucy news-boys vulgarly shouted, " There goes a 
 swell ! " 
 
 lie moved along the thronged way, as some proud bark 
 laden with the costly tribute of foreign climes is borne ma 
 jestically, with full-spread sails and pennons flying, through 
 fleets of petty fishermen and other ignominious craft that 
 infest the ocean. 
 
 Arrived at the Astor House, he stood a while beneath its 
 massive porJico, among others of like lofty bearing, and
 
 W L F S D E N . 337 
 
 leisurely scanned the passers-by ; sometimes tapping his 
 polished snuff-box, *>r twirling the pendent seals of his 
 watch. 
 
 Soon a well-known person ascended the steps, and, with a 
 significant look, entered the hotel. -The gallant knight fol 
 lowed him. They ascended different flights of stairs, and: 
 with a turn of a key entered a private and well-furnished 
 chamber. The well-known person threw himself upon the 
 sofa, and motioned the knight to a chair. 
 
 The well-known person was Fitz-Faun. lie had decided 
 Alek to be incorrigible, and had therefore resolved to turn 
 him over to Sir Marc ; and he now dictated his instructions 
 to that chivalrous knight, with Napoleonic terseness. 
 
 "Anything," said he, "to put him out of my way for a 
 few weeks. Scuttling or stranding, or whatever your sailor 
 lingo likes, so it, be effectual. Some splintered ribs, or a 
 broken nose, or an eye spoiled, or any other decided disfig 
 urement or disablement, that will keep him in limbo long 
 enough, will do. But manage it so as to swear the blame on 
 him. I should like to throw him out of old Greening s confi 
 dence. If you can get him to take a glass of wine with a 
 few drops of this flavoring in it (handing a vial), you can 
 then manage him as you like. He shirked it the other even 
 ing, or he would have been in the watch-house before morn 
 ing, and in the Tombs before getting sober. But I put him 
 into your mess ; you must have wit enough among you to 
 manage him. But, mind, I am not to be mixed up with it. 
 You take the management and risk for the pay." 
 
 Sir Marc undertook the service with alacrity, being stim 
 ulated by the five hundred dollars, half in advance. Less 
 sums have purchased baser services in later times. 
 29
 
 338 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 He was well aware of the principle involved in Mrs. Glass 
 famous receipt for cooking a hare, whidh makes it requisite 
 first to catch a hare. The same prerequisite is indispensable 
 to the success of any plan for " scuttling " young men. Sir 
 Marc planned his enterprise with due regard to first prin 
 ciples. 
 
 He requested Fitz-Faun to write to Mr. Arbor, in his 
 name, a card of invitation to his rooms in the Howard 
 House, that afternoon at six o clock, observing that his own 
 hand was a little cramped. 
 
 Fitz-Faun, with a contemptuous look, took paper and 
 wrote : 
 
 " Sir Marc Barchicr, K.B., snob ly profession, blackley 
 and cut-throat ly practice, invites A. Arbor to his rooms at 
 Howard House, this evening at six o clock, haviny a design to 
 scuttle him." 
 
 " Will this answer ? " said Fitz-Faun, handing him the 
 note. 
 
 Sir Marc, whom nature had not gifted with the art of 
 reading, but who made it a point not to acknowledge the 
 deficiency, took the paper, and, glancing over it, approved it, 
 and requested Fitz-Faun to direct it. Fitz-Faun laughed at 
 this detection of the knight s ignorance ; and, tearing up the 
 note, wrote another to the effect that " Sir Marc Barchier, 
 K.B., would be happy to receive A. Arbor, Esq., at his 
 rooms in Howard House, this evening at six o clock ; or, if 
 the appointment should interfere with other engagements, at 
 such other time as Mr. Arbor might appoint." Calling a 
 
 rvaut, he sent the letter, directing the messenger to wait 
 or an answer. 
 
 In due time the messenger returned with a note to the
 
 WOLFSDEX. 339 
 
 effect that Mr. Arbor would wait upon Sir Marc at the hour 
 appointed. 
 
 It should be explained that Sir Marc (whom the reader 
 already recognizes as the reprobate son of old Bang) knew 
 Alek very well ; at first from his name, and afterward more 
 certainly by ascertaining from whence he came. But he sup 
 posed his own disguise too perfect for detection by one whom 
 he remembered but as a mere child at the time of his own 
 flight from Wolfsden. 
 
 Eitz-Faun, after reading Alek s note to Sir Marc, told 
 him that, now he had put the game in his hands, he would 
 dismiss him with the exhortation not to let the pigeon again 
 escape. 
 
 Sir Marc returned to his room to prepare for the expected 
 pigeon. At the appointed hour Alek appeared, accompanied 
 by Mr. Edward Clevis, and they were shown to Sir Marc s 
 room. Sir Marc was unpleasantly surprised to see two gen 
 tlemen, when he expected but one ; and still more, as they 
 looked rather too self-possessed and business-like for his pur 
 pose, and too little like pigeons come to be plucked. 
 
 Sir Marc, however, welcomed them with extreme cordiality, 
 and invited them to seats; which, to his further surprise, they 
 declined. 
 
 " We have come," said Alek, looking Sir Marc in the face, 
 and speaking deliberately, " not to accept your hospitality, 
 but because we have business with you. My name is Alex 
 ander Arbor, commonly called Alek. Wolfsden is my na 
 tion, and Neiv York is my station, and you know my occu 
 pation* Your name is Mark Barker, of Wolfsden, aforesaid, 
 
 * Alek partly quotes from a rustic rhyme, well known in Wolfsden and 
 elsewhere iu New England.
 
 340 W L F S D K N . 
 
 and your occupation is also perfectly well known to me. I 
 have come to let you know that I am not the man you want. 
 If I prove to be the man you don t want, it will be your own 
 fault. I shall not go out of my way to trouble an old towns 
 man, but I am prepared for emergencies. I shall not expose 
 myself unguardedly ; and if, unawares, any accident should 
 befall me from an unknown source, you will be held accounta 
 ble, for I have already given your history and my suspicions 
 to one or two prompt friends, and to one of the police. I 
 will only add that in my opinion this city will not henceforth 
 be the safest sphere of your operations ; and with this hint 
 I bid you a very good-night." 
 
 With these words and a ceremonious bow, the friends de 
 parted. Sir Marc attempted no reply, nor even moved his 
 position till the echo of their footsteps had ceased. He then 
 went to the window, threw open the sash, and gazed out as 
 if consulting the aspects of the stars, or the state of the 
 weather. Then he took a glass of brandy and water, as an 
 aid to reflection, and reflected. 
 
 " This is what I call a clumsy piece of business," solilo 
 quized he, repeating the words in which he expressed his 
 opinion on the former occasion of Alek s escape. " A darned 
 clumsy piece of business ! Not the man 1 want ! Pretty 
 true that. Thinks I had better be off, eh ? Not a bad 
 notion. I ll be hanged if I don t think so myself. Things 
 look squally. We must stand out for sea-room. 
 
 " But, then, we must look this matter on all sides. First, 
 there s Fitz-Faun. I ye got his check for two hundred and 
 fifty dollars, and want the balance. If I had the knack of 
 the pen, I d alter the check and make it look a little more 
 generous, if only for the sake of upholding Fitz-Faun s liber-
 
 WOLFSDEX. 34l 
 
 ality. The schoolmaster told me I should some day regret 
 neglecting my learning, and I feel the truth of his remark 
 when I get a bit of paper like this, that needs doctoring and 
 I can t doctor it. However, Fitz-Faun shall do it for me. 
 I 11 get up some pretence. If I can t pluck a pigeon, I 11 
 pluck a hawk. 
 
 " And then there s my Messalina. How she 11 take on 
 when I take myself off ! But I must leave her, for I can t 
 afford to take her. She s too expensive, and needs too 
 much watching. Besides, if I don t jilt her, she 11 jilt me 
 the first opportunity ; and I 11 save her the trouble by doing 
 it myself. 
 
 " Then there s some other little affairs. Money and 
 trinkets to borrow, tailor s and jeweller s bills to run up, and 
 other little speculations that I have deferred, to save my 
 reputation, for bigger hauls. But, if I must be off, I 11 use 
 up my credit before I go. It s an extravagance I can t 
 afford, to leave a good name behind, when I may as well dis 
 pose of it and pocket the proceeds. 
 
 " But where shall I go ? Into the smuggling business 
 again, or back to Carolina and into the nigger speculation, 
 as Bob Cantwell proposed ? Cute dog, that Cantwell ! He d 
 steal a nigger or eat one for ten dollars, but I ve a little too 
 much conscience for that. I got sick of the business when I 
 sailed from Boston in that ship. To see the poor nigger 
 whimpering and pining all the way, and then the cutting up 
 they gave him when they got him to Charleston. Jt rather 
 stuck in my crop. But I think I am not so soft-hearted 
 now, since I ve heard Scripture for it. T is n t so bad, aftei 
 all, sending off a darned nigger, as if t were one s own mother. 
 That I would n t do. As for sons and brothers, they sell them 
 29*
 
 342 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 off every day at the south, and I s pose I might get used to it. 
 I hope I in not such a reprobate as not to profit by the good 
 preaching I ve been hearing." 
 
 Fitz-Faun met Sir Marc the next day. 
 
 " All right ! " said Sir Marc. " This Alek is a jollier 
 fellow than \ve took him for. We took wine together, but 
 left out the flavoring. I was not quite ready for operations. 
 I want to get his full confidence. I understood you to prefer 
 that he should ruin himself, if he would do it effectually. I 
 prefer it also, for it involves no risk ; and now that I have 
 sounded him, I know how to do it. He let me into a little 
 secret last night. He has got a mistress for the first time in 
 his life, and wants money. By the way, you must come 
 down a little more liberally, if it s only by way of loan. I 
 want to let him accidentally see me overhauling a few large 
 bank-notes, just to convince him of my ability to put him in 
 a way of doing the like. I ve a scheme, the same that 
 did young Clodpole ; this fellow is greener than Clodpole, 
 and, besides, he s in for it a considerable already." 
 
 Fitz-Faun, who had full confidence in Sir Marc s ability in 
 the line of his profession, and who had his own reasons, since 
 the flight of Erycina, for crediting the report of Alek s hav 
 ing an expensive mistress, was deceived by Sir Marc s plau 
 sibility, and gave him a new check for five hundred dollars, 
 which the knight fook care to get cashed as soon as possible. 
 And, having finished sundry other little speculations, by way 
 of turning his credit into cash, he informed his landlord that 
 he might not return till next week, and so took his departure 
 for parts unknown. 
 
 When Fitz-Faun, after some days delay, became aware of 
 the knight s delinquency, he was shocked at the baseness and
 
 WOLFSDEN. 343 
 
 depravity of mankind, which, in his first indignation, he pro 
 nounced without parallel ; but, afterward reflecting upon 
 Erycina s flight, he matched it with the falsity and treachery 
 of womankind, and, like Byron, sighed that his own true 
 heart so ill deserved the fate it found. 
 
 "Strange," said he, "that the two trusted friends whom I 
 relied upon to serve me in this matter have successively 
 betrayed my confidence ! " 
 
 Like Napoleon, his great archetype, when informed of his 
 favorite Moreau s defection, he was more pained by the per 
 fidy than disheartened by the loss. 
 
 He now resolved to bring his own invincible genius to the 
 task, and, having maturely reflected upon the hidden springs 
 of human action, he concluded that Alek probably had not 
 involved himself with Erycina, but was playing for a more 
 profitable prize. He again gave to the ambitious Yankee 
 the credit of being a shrewd, circumspect, designing fellow, 
 who would do his best to obtain the beautiful Sophia, and 
 thus secure to himself present enjoyment and future solid 
 advantages, a scheme which his evident good standing 
 with the old gentleman made very possible. If he himself, 
 therefore, could by any means get possession of that young 
 lady, he would thus thwart and punish Alek (whose pre 
 sumption in pitying him and out-generaling him deserved 
 punishment), and would gratify his own wishes at the same 
 time. 
 
 To this end he devoted his talents ; and, after several 
 weeks assiduity, Fortune, the patroness of the persevering 
 brave, gave him a golden opportunity, which, with praise 
 worthy promptitude, he instantly seized. It happened that 
 he met the fair Sophia unattended, as the was returning from
 
 344 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 a short walk, and, joining her, he pleaded his own cause so 
 successfully, that the generous-hearted and somewhat senti 
 mental young lady agreed to come out alone the next day, 
 and meet him at a fashionable place of resort. 
 
 Sophia, observant of the promise exacted from her, made 
 no report of her interview with Fitz-Faun, and went out to 
 meet him the next day without giving notice of her depart 
 ure, fully intending to return in an hour at farthest. She 
 met Fitz-Faun, and he told her all the cherished hopes and 
 wishes of his true heart, and vowed eternal constancy. He 
 lamented that the unfounded prejudices of her father, whom 
 he highly honored, should preclude the hope of getting his 
 immediate consent ; but, if she would give him any hope, 
 however distant, it should be the leading star of his life, and 
 prompt him to every efibrt for conciliating the fathers favor, 
 and ultimately gaining his consent. 
 
 *His honeyed phrases fell sweetly on the believing maiden s 
 ear. She knew Fitz-Faun to belong to the highest circles of 
 fashion, with riches, elegance, accomplishments, and every 
 outward advantage to support his pretensions ; and he as 
 sured and convinced her that the reports which had preju 
 diced her father were groundless, fabricated by his enemies, 
 or imagined by others on no better grounds than the innocent 
 gayety which sometimes disregards grave conventionalities. 
 He acknowledged his former indiscreetness in trifles, but 
 averred that since he had become older he had learned to 
 place a proper value upon outside appearances, as well as 
 inward virtue. " He had never gone about to vindicate his 
 character ; he would not condescend do so, except to her, 
 whose esteem was dearer to him than life. As for others
 
 WOLFSDEN. 8 45 
 
 his friends knew him ; and even his enemies would, in time, 
 forget their animosity, and do him justice." 
 
 Nothing more effectually wins woman s sympathy than the 
 complaints of injured innocence. Sophia pitied Fitz-Faun, 
 and pity is a long step toward love. She hoped her father 
 would learn to look upon him favorably. He might count 
 upon her friendship ; more than that she hoped he would 
 not require her to say at present. 
 
 This was, in fact, enough for the present (this opinion is 
 expressed for the benefit of others in like cases) ; but Fitz- 
 Faun fancied that her eyes and cheeks said even more. At 
 any rate, he meant they should. 
 
 Just then, by chance, the Miss Dryades came by, Messa- 
 lina with another Dryad who had taken the place of Ery- 
 cina. Fitz-Faun rejoiced to meet his superb cousins, and 
 introduced Sophia. The young ladies were full of good 
 spirits and good feeling, and immediately adopted Sophia as 
 one of their dearest friends. At another time she might 
 have detected something equivocal in their appearance ; but 
 her own thoughts were now preoccupied by an all-absorbing 
 theme, and her instincts directed more to the concealment of 
 her own emotions than to the scrutiny of others. 
 
 The young ladies explained that they had come out in the 
 coach with their mother, who desired to call upon Bishop 
 Onadonky s lady, and while the mother was making her call 
 the daughters had driven round the square, and were now 
 about returning. As Sophia was also about to return home, 
 they insisted upon setting her down, before returning for 
 their mother. Sophia consented, and Fitz-Faun, " wishing 
 to improve the opportunity of a longer chat with his cousins,"
 
 346 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 whom he protested he had not seen for an age, also entered 
 the coach, and they drove rapidly away. 
 
 They drove a long time. Sophia would have wondered 
 that they drove so far, but her attention was engaged with 
 the brisk conversation of the Miss Dryades, and she forgot 
 to think of anything else. At length the coach stopped, 
 and before a stately mansion. Messalina, looking out, ex 
 claimed, 
 
 " Why, sister, here we are at Bishop Onadonky s ; the 
 coachman has made a mistake. Why, John," continued she, 
 as the coachman opened the door, " why did n t you drive 
 round to Mr. Greening s ? " 
 
 The coachman pleaded that he had received no orders. 
 
 " I declare ! " said Fitz-Faun, " I must take the blame 
 myself, or rather throw it upon the ladies, who were the 
 cause of my forgetfulness. But never mind, John can 
 Urive us back in a few minutes, and we can have the longer 
 chat." 
 
 " Wait a while," said Messalina, " till I run and tell 
 mother." 
 
 The sprightly young lady skipped up the marble steps of 
 the stately mansion of Bishop Onadonky, and soon returned, 
 saying that mother must have the coach a few minutes to be 
 set down in the next square, and that they would all alight 
 and wait its return. So they all alighted, and Sophia was 
 in a moment safely housed, safely, as she supposed, in the 
 stately mansion of Bishop Onadonky ; but really in the 
 house to which Alek was formerly introduced as Count 
 Flummery s. 
 
 Sophia was introduced to a splendid drawing-room, and 
 presented to the supposed lady of Bishop Onadonky. All
 
 WOLFSDEN. 347 
 
 were excessively delighted with Sophia, and profuse in atten 
 tions. Cake and wine were presented, and the bishop s lady 
 insisted upon her taking a little of her own favorite cordial. 
 Sophia had been educated by her medicinal mother in the 
 duty of taking whatever remedies, preventatives, and strength- 
 eners, might be prescribed ; and, though she would rather not, 
 she took the cordial. It was finely flavored. In a few min 
 utes she was as lively as the best of them. Her eyes spar 
 kled with animation. Her cheeks glowed with excitement. 
 Her gayety became excessive. She talked, and laughed, and 
 sang, and heard Messalina sing, and laughed at her song. 
 She waltzed about the parlor with her and with Fitz-Faun. 
 She ran up stairs with the charming counterfeit daughters of 
 the Onadonky. Fitz-Faun was already there. ****** 
 Alas ! deceived, betrayed, lost Sophia ! 
 
 It was immediately after dinner when Sophia left her 
 father s house. It was tea-time before her absence was 
 known to her mother, who was during the intermediate time 
 in her own private room, studying some descriptions and cer 
 tificates of a new medicine to purify the humors of the blood, 
 ventilate the vapors of the brain, and fortify female weak 
 nesses. When she found, upon inquiry, that none of the 
 domestics had seen Sophia during the afternoon, she became 
 alarmed. Mr. Greening, soon coming in, soothed her with 
 the suggestion that she had probably gone out with Augus 
 tus, and would soon return. They sat down to tea, expect 
 ing every moment the return of their children. Soon Augus 
 tus came. He had not seen his sister since dinner, but 
 laughed at the idea of alarm ; and they took their tea, but 
 not with accustomed pleasure, for she who shed light and 
 beauty upon the repast was absent. After tea Mr. Greening
 
 o43 WOLFSDEK. 
 
 proposed to walk to a neighbor s, where Sophia had probably 
 called, and wait upon her home. It is needless to say that 
 his inquiries there and elsewhere were fruitless. The evening 
 wore on, and the anxiety of all increased. Some accident 
 had doubtless befallen their beloved child. At a late hour 
 application was made to the police, and every possible means 
 of discovery employed. 
 
 Anxiously wore away the night. In the morning, more 
 extensive inquiries were instituted. Messengers were des 
 patched to every place where she was known, and the day 
 was spent in searching wrong places, investigating false 
 rumors, and pursuing wrong directions. In the afternoon, 
 it was believed that her retreat was discovered ; but, after 
 the loss of several hours, this discovery was also proved 
 false. 
 
 In the first moment of real alarm, Mr. Greening suspected 
 Fitz-Faun, and went to that gentleman s residence ; but was 
 there informed that he had been absent from the city for 
 several days, and, on pressing his inquiries, was shown a let 
 ter received from him the day before, dated and postmarked 
 several hundred miles away, stating that business having de 
 tained him some days longer than he expected, he should not 
 return till the ensuing week. Mr. Greening, therefore, dis 
 missed his suspicion of Fitz-Faun. 
 
 Mr. Greening had made known his daughter s absence, and 
 his own apprehensions, as little as possible, consistent with 
 active inquiry; for he wished to prevent injurious suspicions 
 and ill-natured gossip, to the injury of her reputation. When, 
 however, the second morning arrived bringing no resource, he 
 sent for Alek, and told him of the dreadful bereavement, and
 
 WOLFSDEN. 349 
 
 all the circumstances of his fruitless inquiries, and asked if 
 ke could suggest any plan of discovery. 
 
 " Yes," said Alek. " We must trace her through Fitz- 
 Faun. We must search all his premises, and examine all his 
 associates and servants." 
 
 " But I have told you," said the father, " that Fitz-Fauu 
 has long been away from the city. I saw the letter in his 
 own hand, dated and postmarked hundreds of miles away." 
 
 "That is what confirms my suspicion," replied Alek. 
 " Himself or his agents have accomplished this villany, 
 either by force or treachery. Will you give me authority to 
 act?" 
 
 " Yes," said the father. " Here, take money spare noth 
 ing. 0, God ! what would I give to save ray child ? " 
 
 Alek paused not to hear the agonized expressions of the 
 despairing parents. His resolution was taken. Count Flum 
 mery s establishment must be searched ; but perhaps a shorter 
 way of discovery might first be tried. Hastening to the coach- 
 stand near the City Hall, he singled out the carriage in which 
 he had been driven with Fitz-Faun and the Miss Dryades. 
 The driver was lolling idly upon his box. Alek, who wished 
 to be out of hearing of others, sprang up and sat by his 
 side. 
 
 " Tell me," said he, " where you took the young lady, the 
 day before yesterday, by Mr. Fitz-Faun s order." 
 
 " Fitz-Faun, Fitz-Faun ! " said the faithful John ; I am 
 not certain as I know him. Where does he live ? " 
 
 " Come, come," said Alek, " this is no trifling matter. Tell 
 me where the young lady is, and you will save yourself trou 
 ble. I know who took her away, and now the question is, 
 where to find her. Let me know where she is at once, and 
 30
 
 *350 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 it will be fifty dollars in your pocket, and nothing said. Look 
 at this" (and he exhibited a well-filled pocket-book) ; "now 
 look at me, are we friends, or not ? " 
 
 " Well," said faithful John, I d help you fifty dollars 
 worth, if I could do it, and nothing said. I don t pretend to 
 know anything, but you may have my opinion, if that s worth 
 fifty dollars." 
 
 " Then," said Alek, " let me have your opinion, and if it 
 proves true the fifty dollars is yours. I m in Greening s 
 employ, and, if my promise needs backing, just drive me to 
 his house in two minutes." 
 
 " I d rather trust you," said cautious John, " than to be 
 seen in the affair. But I 11 give you my opinion, and if it 
 comes true you may give me the fifty dollars. But you must 
 take another coach. I don t want to get mixed up in any 
 thing against my customers." 
 
 Alek agreed to the terms, and John, with a meaning wink, 
 whispered, 
 
 "You know Count Flummery s." Alek assented. "Well, 
 that s my opinion." 
 
 " It s mine, too," said Alek. And, taking the next coach, 
 he drove immediately for Edward Clevis, and, telling the 
 young man to enter without delay, they proceeded to the 
 police station, and obtained an ample force, with which they 
 proceeded to Count Flummery s, whose residence Alek had 
 taken care to remember. 
 
 Alek explained the matter to Edward, while on their 
 way to the police station ; and nothing could exceed the in 
 terest and zeal of the young man. He warmly expressed his 
 thanks to Alek for calling upon him to aid in the search. It 
 was not only because Alek knew the deep interest his friend
 
 WOLFSDEN. 35l 
 
 would feel in the affair, but also because he had observed 
 his shrewdness and capacity in other matters, which made 
 him, as. it soon proved, a very, fit person to select for the 
 occasion. 
 
 Count Flummery was no way disconcerted or offended at 
 the visit of the police. He was " very glad," he said, " since 
 there was suspicion, that there should be an examination, by 
 which the suspicions would be removed. Besides, his pur 
 pose in residing for a short time in this country was to ex 
 amine its institutions ; and he was pleased with this visit, as 
 it would give him an opportunity, which might otherwise 
 have been wanting, of observing the police system, which he 
 " doubted not that he should approve, as he did other feat 
 ures of our institutions." He invited the gentlemen to take 
 wine ; and, in short, presented in his own person a most 
 favorable specimen of foreign manners. 
 
 The policemen, however, to whom Alek had given his 
 opinion of the count s real character, and who had perhaps 
 Borne knowledge, or suspicions, concerning it, performed 
 their duty faithfully. Every room was searched, every 
 door opened, and every possible place of concealment 
 explored. At length they all returned to the parlor, con 
 vinced that, whatever might have been the fact previously, 
 the object of their search was not now concealed in the 
 house. 
 
 They remained in the parlor a few minutes, exchanging 
 civilities with the count, expressing regret at the intrusion 
 which their official duty required, and their satisfaction at 
 the honorable result, which indeed his eminent position and 
 character made obvious from the first. They were the more 
 earnest in their civil expressions, because they still suspected
 
 352 \V O L V & D E N . 
 
 him to be cognizant of the affair, and purposed to watch him 
 secretly. 
 
 They were about to depart, when Edward Clevis, who had 
 all the time been musing apart, expressed a wish again to 
 examine the rooms of the fourth story ; and immediately 
 proceeded thither, accompanied by Alek and one of the police. 
 On entering one of the rooms before searched, he remarked 
 that he had observed it to be narrower than the room below 
 it, although it extended further toward the staircase, making 
 the entry narrower ; and, therefore, it could not occupy the 
 whole width of the house on the side opposite the entrance ; 
 and he asked the others how to account for the diminished 
 size of the room, since there was apparently no other beside 
 it. The truth and importance of the suggestion was at once 
 perceived by the others, and they proceeded to examine the 
 wall for a concealed opening, but without success, only 
 they observed that, on striking the wall, it was evidently 
 not of masonry, like the outside wall, but of carpenter s 
 work. 
 
 They then examined the room in the rear and adjoining. 
 It was of the same width with the last, and, like it, elegantly 
 furnished. Against the wall which contracted the width of 
 the room was a beautiful wardrobe, movable upon castors. 
 Slipping it on one side, a door was brought to view, which, 
 on opening it, disclosed a large wardrobe closet, hung thickly 
 on every side with various garments. 
 
 " It is evident," said Clevis, " that there must be another 
 room cut off from the front room, and the access to it may be 
 through this closet." 
 
 The reasonableness of this supposition was clear, and they 
 proceeded to remove the clothing and other furniture from
 
 WOLFSDEN. 855 
 
 the closet ; and Edward examined the end of the closet tow^ 
 ard the front room. The closet had little light, but the 
 policeman remedied the deficiency by producing a dark- 
 lantern. 13y close observation, it was found that the wall 
 was a movable one. Edward found that one of the pegs on 
 which clothing had been hung was loose, and in endeavoring 
 to remove it he turned it round, and heard a click, like the 
 pushing back of a bolt. With a slight effort, he then slid 
 the whole wall, which moved in a groove to one side, and 
 discovered an additional wardrobe, with a door opposite. 
 Opening the door, he saw the object of his search. 
 
 Sophia was sitting in an arm-chair, enveloped in a loose 
 dress of rich fabric, but carelessly adjusted. Her face was 
 pale. Her eyes were inflamed, as if with weeping. Her hair 
 was disordered, and her whole appearance that of affliction 
 and fear. A young girl attended her. 
 
 The room, though small, was splendidly furnished. A 
 couch of the richest drapery occupied one end. The walls 
 were covered with costly mirrors and beautiful paintings. 
 Nothing which luxury could devise and adapt to the room 
 was wanting. A soft and beautiful light was diffused from 
 the ceiling, which seemed composed of a single plate of glass, 
 tinted and traced in the most beautiful colors, and with the 
 most exquisite taste. 
 
 Upon seeing Edward enter, Sophia started with alarm, but 
 as he approached her, saying, " Dear lady, your mother has 
 sent for you," she sprang toward him, exclaiming, " 0, take 
 me to my mother ! " and, reeling, she would have fallen, but 
 Edward caught her in his arms, and placed her upon the 
 couch, as Alck and the policeman advanced to give their 
 aid. Alek, telling them to await his return, ran down 
 30*
 
 854 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 stairs and reported the discovery, requesting one of the police 
 to go immediately in the coach for the parents, and the others 
 to secure and detain the count and all other inmates of the 
 house. His directions were obeyed, and scarcely an hour had 
 elapsed since Alek had first been consulted, before the daugh 
 ter was enfolded in her parents embrace. 
 
 When the parents returned home with their daughter, they 
 found Augustus just returned from a search in a different 
 direction, whither he had been sent by false information, and 
 which had consumed several hours. He was extremely 
 affected by his sister s sorrowful appearance. He embraced 
 her affectionately, and conjured her to tell him all the 
 truth. 
 
 " 0, my brother ! " said she, " I am not guilty, but I am 
 ruined ! The wicked Fitz-Faun deceived and lured me in 
 his power, and I could not escape ! They gave me drink 
 which took away my senses. If he had murdered me, it 
 would not have been so cruel ! But he has left me alive to 
 be a shame and reproach to you and our dear parents." 
 
 " Dearest sister," said Augustus, " do not speak so ! You 
 are our joy and pride. Do not think we can value you the 
 less because -you have suffered wrong and violence. But your 
 wrong shall be avenged. Fitz-Faun shall pay dearly for this. 
 My sister, you shall see, and others shall see, that jou have 
 a brother to protect you, or at least to punish those who dare 
 to injure you ! " 
 
 "Dear brother ! " said the agitated girl, "do not attempt 
 it ! Do not take any steps that may involve our parents in 
 deeper distress, or make this dreadful affair any more widely 
 known. 0, what distress has my indiscretion brought upon 
 you all ! But wait, at least, if anything must be done, till
 
 WOLFSDEN. 355 
 
 there is time for thought. Do not attempt anything rashly. 
 0, brother ! promise me this favor, for our dear parents 
 sake, as well as your own, and mine, if you can still love 
 me ! " 
 
 " Sister, I will do as you say. I will do nothing without 
 due deliberation. It will take time to decide how to act. 
 Be quiet, now, upon that point, and reassure yourself every 
 way. You are my own dear sister, and our parents love 
 and mine should console and comfort you. Compose your 
 self to sleep, while I watch by you, for you look weary." 
 
 Augustus assumed calmness to quiet his sister s apprehen 
 sion, but a settled purpose of vengeance upon her betrayer 
 Lad taken possession of his heart. His sister composed her 
 self at his request, and he took a book and sat by her, that 
 his moderation might give her assurance of his purpose to 
 obey her wishes. 
 
 However faulty Augustus might be in other respects, he 
 was by no means wanting in the impulsive virtues of what is 
 generally called a "high-spirited fellow." He was generous 
 in any direction where his feelings or fancy might lead, and 
 brave to repel or avenge insult. If his principles were not 
 always strict to observe the respect due to another man s or 
 woman s honor, at least his pride was sufficiently sensitive to 
 what might wound his sister s or his own. 
 
 His energies were of that kind which, if not the most dur 
 able, is nevertheless capable of being wound up to the highest 
 pitch of immediate action. Nothing was wanting in the pres 
 ent case to inspire the most desperate resolution. His sister rf 
 injury, -his own insulted honor, the vengeance due to violated 
 friendship and hospitality, the sting of scorn which tameness
 
 5356 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 would provoke, these were more than enough to fix his fiercest 
 determination. 
 
 He continued to look over the pages of the book for some 
 time after his mother had entered the room. He then went 
 carelessly out, as if for an ordinary purpose. Once out of 
 hearing, he hastened to his chamber, and examined the pistols 
 which he had used in the shooting gallery. They were in 
 excellent order, and he loaded and capped them in the most 
 careful manner. He then cloaked and capped himself with 
 equal care, and in a few moments gained the street without 
 exciting observation. 
 
 He repaired hastily to a public house which commanded a 
 view of Fitz-Faun s residence. His faculties were sharpened 
 by the emergency, and he sagaciously reflected that the surest 
 way to effect his purpose was to await Fitz-Faun s appear 
 ance in the street, as he was probably guarded against attack 
 in his own house. His vengeance was impatient, but he 
 resolved not to frustrate it by want of due caution. He 
 therefore waited in the window where he was seated till 
 Fitz-Faun should appear, or till he could devise a sure means 
 of access to him. As destiny would have it, he did not wait 
 long. Fitz-Faun had been informed of the discovery of 
 Sophia, and resolved to leave the city till the aifair should 
 be blown over. He probably thought that, as Napoleon had 
 sometimes retreated when he could do no better, it would be 
 no impeachment to his own generalship to retreat upon like 
 occasion. He therefore had already made preparations for 
 departure, and ordered his carriage. It was soon at the 
 door. He entered it just as Augustus, who had advanced as 
 rapidly as possible without exciting observation, had reached 
 it ; but the coachman at that instant snapped his whip, and
 
 WOLFSDEN. 357 
 
 the horses started rapidly away. Augustus, nerved to des 
 peration, followed with equal rapidity, resolved that his prey 
 should not escape him. The direction of the carriage made 
 it necessary to cross Broadway, which was then thronged 
 with carriages, so that Fitz-Faun s carriage was for a mo 
 ment stopped. That moment sufficed for Augustus to gain 
 the carriage window. He saw Fitz-Faun reclining in the 
 back part of the carriage, his face mostly concealed by a 
 travelling-cap. Augustus, throwing off his cloak, broke in 
 the window with the butt of his pistol. Fitz-Faun looked up. 
 Their eyes met, and in that moment he received the contents 
 of the pistol in his throat. 
 
 The ball cut its way through his cravat, his windpipe, tore 
 the carotid artery, and, passing through the neck, lodged in 
 the cushioned side of the carriage. 
 
 Fitz-Faun, in the agonies of death, dashed through the 
 opposite window, and fell heavily upon the muddy pavement. 
 He sprang, in his death struggle, again upon his feet. The 
 blood foamed from his mouth and nostrils, and his eyes pro 
 truded with suffocation. He faltered a few steps, and fell 
 headlong. The horrified spectators attempted to raise him. 
 His struggles became less violent, and shortly ceased, They 
 placed him in his own carriage, which returned immediately 
 to his house. 
 
 When Augustus discharged his pistol, his excitement had 
 risen to the pitch of frenzy. His cloak and cap had fallen in 
 the street, and he sprang around the carriage to the side 
 whence Fitz-Faun emerged, with his remaining pistol pre 
 pared for action. Facing Fitz-Faun as he rose, he would have 
 again fired, but the bloody and ghastly spectacle deterred 
 him. But he shouted, in the madness of ungovernable rage,
 
 858 W L F S D E N . 
 
 " Die, wretch ! die, dog ! Do you know me ? I m your 
 old friend, Augustus Greening. Yes, gentlemen," said he, 
 looking round on the gathering crowd, " I ni the man that 
 killed that dog ! He was the Napoleon, but I m the Wel 
 lington. Yes, sir (to a policeman who advanced to him), 
 I in your man ! " 
 
 Alek had remained at the count s till Sophia departed with 
 her parents ; then, leaving the count and his household in 
 charge of the officers, he hastened to the court of police, and 
 entered a complaint against the count, and also stated his 
 belief concerning the bracelet in possession of the countess. 
 An examination of those eminent persons was ordered ; and 
 it appearing, among more important matters, that the object 
 of the count s brief residence in this country was chiefly to 
 examine into American institutions, the judge very graciously 
 awarded to him an apartment peculiarly favorable to his 
 studies, in an edifice of Egyptian architecture, sometimes 
 styled " The Tombs." 
 
 An examination of his effects proved that the count had a 
 decided talent for choice collections ; and a list of articles 
 being taken and exhibited for the benefit of the curious in 
 such matters, a number of gentlemen, tradesmen and others, 
 formerly patronized by the count, appeared and identified 
 many choice articles, to which they laid claim, forgetful of 
 the delicate feelings of their noble friend, who had privately 
 appropriated these trifles as keepsakes and memorials of 
 friendship, as was afterward proved by his own declaration 
 in his defence. The countess objected to the indignity of 
 being searched, as the operation seemed to imply suspicions 
 derogatory to her honor and rank ; but, being told that the 
 ceremony was indispensable, she finally submitted ; and the
 
 WOLFSDEN. 359 
 
 bracelet, the gift of a queen, with many other costly trinkets, 
 doubtless presented by duchesses, peeresses, marchionesses, 
 and other high pomposities, were all carefully collected, cat 
 alogued, and safely kept, as was her ladyship, for further 
 consideration. 
 
 Alek had scarcely returned to his place of business, when 
 a fanner-looking man, attended by a young man who was his 
 son, came hastily in, and inquired for Mr. Greening. Alek 
 recognized him as Mr. George Washington Bowpin, of Fur- 
 rowdale, the same person who had formerly inquired of him 
 concerning Fitz-Faun, whose name Mr. Bowpin supposed to 
 be Smith. Mr. Bowpin had witnessed the death of Fitz- 
 Faun, and, hearing the homicide declare himself as Augustus 
 Greening, he had come to announce the fact to the father. 
 
 Alek heard his story, and, requesting him to await his 
 return, ran to his employer s house, and, calling him in pri 
 vately, communicated the intelligence in the terms the least 
 likely to agitate a father in such a case. They at once pro 
 ceeded to Augustus place of confinement ; Alek, in the mean 
 time, suggesting to the father the justice and expediency of 
 withholding all censure, and vindicating his son s act as the 
 necessary result of virtuous and honorable impulses. 
 
 " For," said Alek, " the law is now his accuser, ami both 
 nature and justice require of you to be his advocate until 
 acquitted by the law, and then you may properly judge him 
 as a parent. Mr. Greening took the same view, and in his 
 interviews and consultations with his son, then and afterward, 
 gave no hint of disapprobation, but supported him with un 
 qualified tenderness and encouragement. 
 
 To avoid the necessity of recurring to this affair again, it 
 may as well be here stated that the trial took place shortly
 
 860 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 afterwards, and Augustus was honorably acquitted, on the 
 ground of temporary insanity. His frantic gestures and 
 exclamations at the time of the murder, as sworn to by Mr. 
 George Washington Bowpin and his son, and other specta 
 tors, gave a sufficient pretence for acquittal in this case, 
 though it would hardly have availed in case of a murder com 
 mitted with less provocation. The verdict was received with 
 a burst of applause by the spectators which the court reproved 
 with unusual mildness.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 WHEN* Alck returned to the office, after communicating the 
 manner of Fitz-Faun s death to Mr. Greening, and accompa 
 nying him to his son s place of imprisonment, he inquired of 
 Mr. Bowpin more particularly about the circumstances of the 
 tragedy ; and also the meaning of his expressions of surprise 
 on a former occasion, when told the real name of Fitz-Faun. 
 Mr. Bowpin replied that, some few months ago, that person 
 had brought to his house in Furrowdale a lady whom he 
 introduced as his wife, and with whom he took a room, which 
 they occupied several weeks. The gentleman gave his name 
 as Smith. He was absent most of the day, sometimes leav 
 ing the lady, but often he took her with him. The lady was 
 very beautiful, and seemed much attached to him, but ap 
 peared not perfectly happy, especially when he was absent. 
 He was liberal in his expenses, but by no means communica 
 tive, and appeared to avoid observation. 
 
 Mr. Bowpin was certain that Fitz-Faun was the person ; 
 and the son, who recognized him as he sprang from the car 
 riage after receiving the fatal wound, was equally certain of 
 his identity. Their description of the lady answered to the 
 appearance of Erycina ; and Mr. Bowpin expressed the opin 
 ion that she was innocent of any intentional deception. Both 
 31
 
 362 W L F S D E K . 
 
 the Bowpins said that they should know the lady again under 
 any circumstances. 
 
 Alek took a note of these statements, and told the Bowpins 
 that there might be occasion to verify the facts by their tes 
 timony, for the purpose of maintaining the lady s right of 
 dower as Fitz-Faun s widow, and they agreed to be ready 
 when called for. 
 
 It had occurred to Alek, that if Miss Meekly s statements 
 could be proved, namely, that Fitz-Faun had lived with her, 
 or represented her as his wife, she might perhaps have a legal 
 claim to be so considered ; and, since he had deceived her by 
 means of a marriage ceremony, nothing could be more just 
 than that the marriage should thus be legalized. 
 
 The opportune discovery of the Bowpins seemed to supply 
 an important part of the needed evidence ; and he immediately 
 consulted counsellor Grappler, who, like faithful John the 
 coachman, was ready to dispose of his opinion, which Alek 
 found sufficiently favorable to encourage him to proceed as 
 is generally the case when litigants ask legal advice. 
 
 Alek had lately received a letter from his Aunt Hobart, 
 which gave so favorable a view of Miss Meekly s character 
 and disposition, that he was the more earnest to obtain for 
 her the just redress which her case claimed. The letter was 
 as follows : 
 
 " MY DEAR NEPHEW : Miss Meekly requests you to send 
 the enclosed twenty dollars to her aunt, Mrs. Sarah Meadows, 
 whose place of residence she says you are informed of. She 
 speaks of her aunt as being in circumstances which may make 
 the money needful to her ; but wishes her not to know where it 
 comes from, for reasons which she thinks you will understand.
 
 W L F S D E N . 303 
 
 " The young woman is much approved here, being discnet 
 and well-favored. It is very good of her to bestow her earn 
 ings to help her aunt ; and it is hopeful that she will not lose 
 her reward. 
 
 " I am glad to hear good accounts of you, and hope that 
 you will always remember to wait upon the Lord, and not let 
 your heart be puffed up by prosperity ; for the Lord hateth 
 the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble. 
 
 " Your cousin Hezekiah sends his kind regards. He is to 
 visit Wolfsden next Thanksgiving ; and I trust that we shall 
 have Helen with us the coming winter. 
 
 " Your affectionate aunt, 
 
 " ABIGAIL HOBART." 
 
 Having received counsellor. Grappler s advice, Alek wrote 
 to Miss Meekly, informing her of Fitz-Faun s death, and 
 stating in detail the discovery and the importance of her 
 legal rights as his wife and widow, to vindicate which re 
 quired her immediate return to New York. He enclosed the 
 letter in one to his aunt, in which he stated more briefly that 
 Miss Meekly s rights in the property of a person lately de 
 ceased required her presence. He also wrote to Mrs. Sim- 
 perkins, detailing the developments concerning Count Flum 
 mery, and his probable identity with her former friend, Count 
 Flipperton, especially as a bracelet displayed by the countess 
 answered her description of the one formerly belonging to 
 herself. He advised her, that she might probably recover it 
 by early application. 
 
 In due season the winning old lady came, and made such 
 excellent impression upon the chief of police, by her appear 
 ance and her story (which Alek confirmed as being her old
 
 304 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 story), and also by other proofs (the strongest of which was 
 her instantly identifying the count among a crowd of prison 
 ers), that the bracelet was restored to her ; perhaps partly 
 through virtue of an ancient precedent established by a 
 famous judge, " Lest by her continual coming she weary 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Simperkins, having regained her long-lost bracelet 
 and having duly considered the fleeting nature of such orna 
 ments, and having, perhaps, some vague impression that the 
 period of youthful vanities was passing away, and that the 
 solid charms of a well-lined purse might better become her 
 maturer years, took the advice of Alek, and, applying to a 
 jeweller in Broadway, whom she convinced that the ornament, 
 or at least herself, was " ha hunique," she received the cash 
 value of her treasure, which paid her expenses and carried 
 her home with a heavier purse than she had ever before pos 
 sessed ; and also with a heart from which all traces of resent 
 ment toward Alek, for her long-remembered shipwreck in the 
 snow-drift, were forever obliterated.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Miss MEEKLY, upon her arrival in New York, being advised 
 by Mr. Grappler (whose activity in behalf of his fair client, 
 aided by the zeal of Alek and the recollections of the Bow- 
 pins, had already accumulated an amount of evidence sufficient 
 for present purposes), took the name of Fitz-Faun, and imme 
 diately proceeded to his late residence, accompanied by that 
 eminent counsellor. At the house they found the elder Fitz- 
 Faun, father of the deceased, under whose orders some of the 
 furniture was being removed. Mr. Grappler, in behalf of his 
 client, commanded a stay of proceedings, and introduced the 
 lady to Mr. Fitz-Faun, senior, as the widow of his son, who 
 had come to claim her dower and take possession of the house 
 and personal effects of the deceased, by virtue of her legal 
 right. The old gentleman was astonished at the announce 
 ment ; but the highly respectable character of Mr. Grappler, 
 who briefly told the fact of the private marriage of his son, 
 and that it could be substantiated by the acknowledgment of 
 the deceased, and other sufficient proof, prevented resistance, 
 and the old man left the house in possession of the new claim 
 ant and her adviser, and proceeded to the office of his legal 
 counsellor, the equally eminent Mr. Grinder ; between whom 
 and Mr. Grappler the business was settled to the advantage 
 31*
 
 366 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 of all parties, Grappler and Grinder included. A compro 
 mise was effected, by which Mrs. Fitz-Faun yielded all inter 
 est in the estate of the deceased, and received ten thousand 
 dollars, and a proper acknowledgment of the legality of her 
 marriage. 
 
 Alek had in the first place stated her case to Mr. Greening 
 (omitting the circumstances of his first acquaintance with her), 
 and it was by his advice that Mr. Grappler was retained in 
 her behalf. When her claims were adjusted, Mr. Greening 
 desired to see her ; and, on being introduced, after some con 
 versation, he inquired the place of her early residence. 
 
 " Cedar Grove," she replied. 
 
 " Cedar Grove ! why, my daughter spent several weeks 
 there, two years ago." 
 
 " Your daughter ? is her name Sophia Greening ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Why, she is my dearest friend. Can I see her ? " 
 
 Mr. Greening explained his daughter s misfortune, and 
 added, " If you can still condescend to claim her as your 
 friend, I will take you to her at once." 
 
 " Condescend ! " exclaimed she. " Why do you speak so? 
 as though she were degraded by the villany and violence 
 of another. To admit such an idea is to degrade me also ! 
 Let me see her as soon as possible. She is an angel of purity 
 and goodness." 
 
 The gratified father led the fair Fitz-Faun to his daughter. 
 As soon as they met, Sophia sprung to her arms, exclaiming, 
 " My dear Emily Meekly ! " 
 
 Fondly sweet was their sisterly embrace. Emily remained 
 and comforted Sophia. They confided to each other all their 
 history. Together they visited the imprisoned brother, whose
 
 WOLFSDEN. 367 
 
 acquittal, or pardon, Mr. Grappler assured them might be 
 relied on. Together they attended the trial, where Sophia 
 was compelled, as a witness, to tell her story ; which she did 
 with such simplicity and clearness, as aided not a little her 
 brother s cause, and together they rejoiced at his acquittal. 
 
 The heart of Augustus was touched with the sympathy 
 and the charms of Emily ; and after his release he proved 
 his unabated love to his sister, by falling in love with her 
 friend. 
 
 That this episode may not hang upon our hands, we will 
 add, that Augustus became sobered down to a rational being 
 by the late tragic events. He concluded to exchange his 
 chivalrous notions and high-life pretensions for a common- 
 sense character, as more useful and respectable ; and he re 
 solved upon matrimony, as the first decided step in his new 
 career. Parents approved. Sophia solicited. Emily hesi 
 tated, and insisted upon a year s probation ; but finally com 
 promised for six months, a part of which time she spent with 
 her aunt, Mrs. Sarah Meadows, at Cedar Grove, to whom, 
 with the approval of Augustus and his father, she secured an 
 independent support during life, by the purchase of an annu 
 ity. In due time Mrs. Fitz-Faun became Mrs. Augusta 
 Greening (adopting the feminine of her husband s name). It 
 is now some years since, and they all profess never to have 
 regretted the transaction.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A DAY or two after the acquittal of young Greening, the 
 father called Alek into his private counting-room, and thus 
 addressed him : 
 
 " My young friend, your faithfulness and ability have been, 
 of the utmost service to me and my family, more than I 
 can express. It is to your efficient aid that I owe my daugh 
 ter s restoration. It is impossible that I should fully repay 
 you ; and it is not in your disposition to expect it ; indeed, 
 no person of right disposition desires to be fully repaid for 
 the benefits which his abilities may enable him to confer upon 
 others. We are bound to help each other according to our 
 several needs and opportunities, and God has appointed a 
 sufficient recompense for every good deed. I wish, however, 
 to show you that I appreciate your services, and am grateful 
 for them. I have made an entry on my journal which 
 doubles your salary for the present year, and it shall be pro 
 portionately increased beyond our first agreement for the 
 time that you shall remain in my employ. I intend in a 
 reasonable time to make you an advantageous offer of a part 
 nership in the business, which, whether you accept it or not, 
 will show my perfect confidence in your ability and zeal. In 
 the mean time, consider me a friend and adviser, more than
 
 WOLFSDEN. dby 
 
 an employer ; and when you have need of my influence or 
 resources, they are yours. I need not say that your company 
 is always particularly welcome at my house, since I am com 
 missioned by the unanimous request of my family to invite 
 you to take residence with us, if agreeable to yourself, as soon 
 as convenient." 
 
 " Your kindness to me," replied Alek, " is more than any 
 thing I have done deserves, but I will make every effort to 
 deserve it, as I have opportunity. You are, however, under 
 a misapprehension as to the person chiefly instrumental in 
 rescuing your daughter, and I should be guilty in receiving the 
 praise belonging to another. It was Edward Clevis who liber 
 ated her, by insisting on a second search, when we were on the 
 point of leaving the house, supposing that we had examined 
 every possible place of concealment." 
 
 Alek then gave an account of all the particulars of the 
 search, and placed his friend s promptitude and sagacity in 
 the fairest light, and added, " I think it proper, since you 
 have admitted me as a friend, who may allude to your domes 
 tic affairs, to give you information that may enable you to 
 act understandingly in whatever marks of favor you may be 
 disposed to show him. Mr. Clevis has long been deeply 
 impressed with the merits of your daughter, and probably 
 might have the presumption to make his partiality manifest, 
 if admitted to a position giving him encouragement. He 
 never has spoken to me of his attachment, nor probably to 
 any one else ; but I am positive in my opinion, and I have 
 so good an impression of his personal merits, that I wish 
 his situation in life were equal to his good taste and ambi 
 tion." 
 
 " You mean that you would like to speak a good word for
 
 370 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 him," said Mr. Greening, goodnaturedly. " Your honorable 
 conduct, in explaining his share in the important service ren 
 dered me, is worthy of you. It does not lessen iny obliga 
 tion to you, though it admits him to an equal claim. The 
 young man has always stood well in my opinion, though I 
 have not had occasion to employ him in any service requir 
 ing more than ordinary ability. Your opinion of his merits 
 weighs much with me, and I shall give him opportunity to 
 prove them. By his situation in life, I suppose you refer 
 to his not possessing property ; but if he possesses talent, it 
 is an equivalent. Both you and he are richer than myself, 
 taking the difference of years into account, provided you have 
 proper business ability ; for the thirty years which you have 
 in prospect before attaining my present age will, if employed 
 in making money, as I have, perhaps too assiduously, em 
 ployed my years, will make either of you richer than I am, 
 for you have a much better beginning than I had at your 
 age ; as I had neither instruction in business, nor available 
 friends, and you have both. You may bring your friend to 
 my house, and I doubt not that his discretion will be equal to 
 his other good qualities." 
 
 Alek rightly understood this last remark as an intimation 
 to check any undue forwardness in his friend, but not to for 
 bid his hopes, and he therefore modified the invitation to 
 Edward accordingly. Edward visited his patron s house 
 with his friend, and made himself agreeable by his unas 
 suming manner, and soon became on familiar terms with the 
 family. It has already been told how Sophia perceived his 
 partiality on the occasion of their first interview at Mr. 
 Boynton s soiree, and was not unfavorably impressed by it.
 
 WOLF8DEN. 371 
 
 Her deep humiliation and sorrow since that time had dis 
 posed her still more favorably to appreciate the regard of 
 a sincere and honorable heart ; and it may be inferred that 
 Edward, who had much love, had also some ground of 
 hope.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 O, FAIB flowers of life s dewy morning ! 0, breezes redo 
 lent of youth s balmy breath ! 0, gleams of early brightness 
 still gilding the fading horizon ! O, memories still fresh and 
 fragrant, ye choice treasures of the secret heart, no longer 
 open to gather joys from without ! Let your influence exhale 
 from the recording pen, and crystallize upon the descriptive 
 page. So, though the dust of present neglect should settle 
 here, yet some future explorer of ancient lore shall find the 
 long-forgotten tome, and, scanning its pages, say, " These are 
 the traces of a faithful pen." 
 
 Harry and Margaret sit together upon the shelvy rock in 
 the mellow autumn evening, and watch where the rays of the 
 yet unrisen moon silver the tops of northern mountains. His 
 arm encircles her graceful form. Her clasped hands rest 
 upon his shoulder. His fond eyes are fixed upon her radiant 
 face. The evening breeze fans her waving ringlets till they 
 touch his inclining cheek. They speak to each other in sweet 
 tones, the ever new language of a thousand years, of un 
 known ages, of unnumbered worlds, the speech of the soul, 
 the language of love. The silence of nature s solitude suits 
 their listening ears. Her soft murmur, blended from a 
 thousand distant sounds, borne upon the breeze, disturbs
 
 WOLFSDEN. 373 
 
 not their thoughts. There is a universal harmony of peace 
 and love. 
 
 She tells him of the thoughts of her young days ;. of her 
 aspirations for the beautiful, the spiritual, the elevated, the 
 refined. How, though inward purity and goodness com 
 manded her esteem and reverence, yet, wanting in outward 
 grace and elegance, they could not touch her heart. How, 
 though she dared not hope to possess, she had sighed at least 
 to see the perfection which her fancy pictured ; a diamond 
 sparkling with wrought and polished lustre, a soul of inward 
 worth and outward adornment. 
 
 " God, is good to me," she said. " He has given me my 
 soul s desire. I feel your purity and truth ; they are the 
 deep foundations of my reverence and esteem. I am charmed 
 with the outward grace which sets forth the inward worth. 
 This is the superstructure within which my heart of love 
 delights to dwell." 
 
 Thus the love of pure minds exalts its object, shedding 
 thereon the light of its own brightness. It also elevates and 
 refines that upon which its light is thrown. The generous soul, 
 which finds itself prized above its deserts, will strive for the 
 excellence which shall make it worthy of all the praise it 
 receives. 
 
 Thus Harry Boynton resolved to strive and attain the ex 
 alted sphere of purity and goodness, where the love of Mar 
 garet placed him. His conscious faults he would amend ; 
 his hidden evil he would detect and subdue ; he would 
 strengthen his reverence for goodness, purity, and all that 
 elevates the soul. He would be worthy of Margaret s price 
 less love. 
 
 He told her of the larger experience of his life ; how he 
 32
 
 374 WOLFS DEN. 
 
 had dwelt among the high-wrought scenes of artificial society ; 
 how his fancy was fascinated by the grace and elegance with 
 which polished culture gilds outward forms, though moulded 
 of mean material ; how pretty lips are taught to counterfeit 
 the language of the soul, or speak the senseless babble of 
 fashion in such enchanting tones as charm away the soul s 
 discrimination ; how he scanned their affectation, and thought 
 he scanned the female heart ; how he discarded serious 
 thought, and laughed, and sported, and sung the songs and 
 danced in the idle rounds of frivolity, and said that all life 
 was but an empty show, for man s illusion given, being as 
 yet unaware of its deep meaning and high destiny. How, as 
 a dreamer long entranced in gay delusions, half conscious of 
 their unreality, is wakened by the rising sun to worthy duties 
 and delights, so the light from a true soul had beamed through 
 her dear eyes into his welcoming heart, and wakened it to a 
 glorious life. 
 
 Thus does love exaggerate its history, and exalt its votary 
 and its object above the mortal sphere, perhaps above mortal 
 comprehension. 
 
 The risen moon ascended in serene majesty among the 
 twinkling stars. Nature listened in silence to their sweet 
 accents of love, or responded in softened echoes of distant 
 sounds. With encircling arms or clasping hands they slowly 
 wind along the rustic pathway, by gray lichened rocks ; by 
 hillocks of green tufted moss ; by young birchen trees that 
 greeted them with the gentle murmur of waving leaves ; by 
 scattered ferns that offered the incense of their sweet fra 
 grance ; through the broken wall which bounds the orchard, 
 beneath the apple-trees whose yellow or ruddy fruit bestrewed 
 the soft turf; by the well, where the old oaken bucket swung
 
 WOLl SDEN. 375 
 
 idly from the sweep ; through the deserted porch where milk 
 pails and pans were piled for morning use ; through the spa 
 cious kitchen, swept and silent, save the cricket chirruping 
 in the hearth ; whence, lingeringly separating, they sought 
 their several rooms, and adored the Power who formed the 
 soul for love. 
 
 Much was little Amy vexed when Fanny told her, as a 
 great secret, that Margaret was to marry Harry. She said 
 that " It was a shame for Margaret to do so, when everybody 
 said that she was to be Alek s wife, and she had got the 
 promise to go and live with them when they should be mar 
 ried ; and now there is nobody left good enough to be 
 Alek s wife only you, and you can t be his wife because you 
 are his sister ; and, besides, you are only a little girl, and I 
 am only a little girl ; and, besides, I am to be his daughter, 
 and so I can t be his wife, and I wish Harry had got some 
 body else. He might have had Sister Ann, only Josiah 
 Brown wants her ; but he might have had Sister Hannah, 
 only mother can t spare her and Ann and me too. But now 
 Uncle Alek will never be married when he comes back, and I 
 never can live with him." Thus little Amy mourned, but 
 Fanny soothed her, saying, 
 
 "Alek will have a nice wife, one of these days; for mother 
 says there is a sweet girl growing up for him, and what 
 mother says always comes true. So I think you will have a 
 chance to live with him, and we shall have nice times, after 
 all." 
 
 Then Amy wondered who the sweet girl could be, and if 
 she should love her as well as Margaret ; and she resolved to 
 ask Aunt Deborah about it. But Aunt Deborah told her it
 
 376 W L F S D E N . 
 
 was a great secret yet ; and Amy puzzled herself to think 
 who it could be. 
 
 All over town they talked of Harry and Margaret s engage 
 ment, they always do so in Wolfsden. The girls who 
 judged themselves handsome thought, if Harry looked for 
 beauty, he was not the best judge in the world. Those who 
 prided themselves upon their skill in housewifery reckoned 
 Harry would be disappointed when he found what sort of a 
 housekeeper she would be. Those who counted themselves 
 among the aristocracy of Wolfsden thought Margaret a proud 
 minx, "just as if nobody in Wolfsden was good enough for 
 her." Those who were become sensible of the full maturity 
 of their own virginhood thought Margaret a forward miss, to 
 be engaged before she was out of her teens. And so they all 
 envied her, and congratulated her, and told her they were 
 glad to hear it. 
 
 The young men " thought it a good joke that Alek should 
 be jilted, when he counted his game so sure. Would n t he 
 swear when he heard of it ? True, his mother had taught 
 him not to swear, but they should like to be there and see. 
 But it was not a handsome thing in Harry to cut out his old 
 friend and crony. That s the way of those city chaps ; give 
 em a spoon, and you may as well give up the whole platter, 
 they 11 take it, anyhow. Harry s got his eye-teeth cut. 
 He thinks the major may die and leave em the farm. May 
 get cheated, after all, some old folks never die. However, 
 Harry s a generous fellow, and we 11 hope for the best ; 
 he must stand a treat, anyhow." 
 
 And so they envied Harry, and censured him, and proph 
 esied ill luck, but greeted him with double complaisance ; 
 " For," said they, " we now look upon you as a Wolfsdenner."
 
 W L F S D E N . 377 
 
 The mothers of fair daughters " wondered what Mr. Boyn- 
 ton saw in Margaret so much better than anybody else, and 
 hoped it might all come out well in the end; but they had 
 known things which did not come out so well in the end, 
 after all," and they shook their heads negatively. But they 
 told their daughters that they might invite the young couple 
 to tea, some afternoon ; they wanted to be neighborly. 
 
 The brethren of the church thought Major Murray would 
 do well to look to the ways of his household. They should 
 feel it a duty not to let a daughter of theirs marry an uncon 
 verted person, especially one brought up among the Episco 
 palians, who read their prayers and sing the Scriptures, and 
 all that heathenish sort of thing. But it would be of no use 
 to interfere. The major was a set man in his way. And so 
 when they met the major they shook hands with double vigor, 
 to atone for uncharitable thoughts. 
 
 Thus the people of Wolfsden endured what could not be 
 cured. Harry and Margaret were allowed to have it all their 
 own way, and their own way was to be married next Thanks 
 giving ; and in the mean time Harry would go to his home 
 in Carolina, and make preparation. 
 32*
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HARRY S father, Mr. Pelham Boynton, was declining in 
 health, and glad to have his son return ; and glad when he 
 asked permission to bring a Yankee girl to share his paternal 
 benediction. Since his strength and ability to look after his 
 own affairs was abated, his estate had become ill-managed 
 and unprofitable, and his neighbors predatory, thievish, and 
 insolent, as they generally are toward those who lack strength 
 or spirit to make themselves feared ; so that his life was an 
 uncomfortable monotony of petty miseries. 
 
 His only daughter Angelina was his chief society. She 
 was some years older than Harry, and in merits and attrac 
 tions quite above the average of Carolina home-raised ladies. 
 For her superiority she was partly indebted to nature, having 
 been born a good-looking and promising baby ; partly it was 
 in her blood, for she was a Boynton ; something she had 
 gained by reading, for her father had a small library, a 
 rare possession on a plantation ; somewhat her father s soci 
 ety had done for her, for he was originally a man of good 
 mind, though rusted by long residence in Carolina. Her 
 brother s suggestions and example had helped her much, so 
 that, though raised in Carolina, she had through these extra 
 aids attained to more than Carolina cultivation.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 370 
 
 The mother s lingering and fatal sickness had prevented 
 her being sent away for education while young ; and when 
 her mother died, she was too tall and plain for promising 
 experiments, and her father too lonely to spare her. So he 
 gave double advantages to the brilliant son, and kept the 
 plain daughter to soothe his solitude. 
 
 But neither the brilliant son nor the plain daughter de 
 murred at their parent s economy. They were both of ami 
 able and yielding dispositions, and loved each other spite of 
 all disparity of years and habits. Harry saw few faults in 
 his sister, and these were more than atoned for by her affec 
 tion ; and Angelina thought her brother faultless. 
 
 Their plantation home was in Beaufort County, North 
 Carolina. Judging from its name, we might suppose it a very 
 pretty place. A brief description will enable readers to ap 
 preciate the appropriateness of its pretty name. 
 
 Beaufort County lies around the head of Pamlico Sound, 
 and is traversed by Pamlico river. Pamlico Sound is an 
 extensive sheet of half-stagnant water. It is a thin sheet. 
 and a very dirty one. Navigators, laboriously paddling their 
 cypress canoes two or three miles distant from the shore, 
 drag their keel through the sludge, and leave a muddy wake 
 behind. Huge snakes and lizard-like reptiles abound in the 
 rank, unsightly vegetation which surrounds and covers the 
 flat islands that in many places elevate themselves a few 
 inches above the water s surface, to an extent sometimes of 
 several acres, though generally of but a few rods. Slimy 
 crabs, and testaceous reptiles, and sluggish, unwholesome fish, 
 swim or crawl where the water is deep enough. Black cypress 
 swamps mostly bound the view, except toward the sea, whicb
 
 3SO W L F S D 13 N . 
 
 cannot he seen, for long reaches of dry sand-banks intervene, 
 This is Pamlico Sound. 
 
 The dry sand-banks, and the cypress swamps, and creeks, 
 called " branches," bordered with extensive marsh, covered 
 with tall, coarse, useless grass, and the pine barrens beyond, 
 make up the territory about Pamlico Sound; and this is the 
 lower part of the county called Beaufuit. 
 
 Pamlico river runs, or rather creeps, into the upper end 
 of Pamlico Sound. It intersects the upper part of Beaufort 
 County, which answers nearly to the description of the lower 
 part ; only the water of the river is somewhat less stagnant 
 than that of the sound, and the land is more embellished with 
 pine barrens, and less adorned with cypress swamps, " branch 
 es," and marshes. Sometimes a ridge of oak-land is seen, or a 
 mixed and tangled wood of hard pine, loblolly, gum-tree, &c., 
 thick with rank mildewy vines and parasitic plants. But the 
 prevailing feature is a sandy plain, sometimes warted with 
 eandy hillocks, and furrowed by deep galleys, but mostly of 
 an irregular monotonous level, covered with shrubs and coarse 
 grass, and scattered pitch-pines, dwarfish, scarred, hacked, 
 denuded of their bark for many feet from the ground, and 
 covered with dripping turpentine " scrape." This beautiful 
 region is the upper and remaining part of the County of 
 Beaufort. 
 
 At the upper end of Beaufort County, at the head of the 
 shallow navigation of Pamlico river, is a town, equal in ex 
 tent (but not in neatness, convenience, taste, or wealth) to 
 an average New England village ; and it is dignified with 
 the title of "city," WASHINGTON CITY. The population 
 numbers a little more than two thousand, of all shades of 
 color, from dingy white to decided bin ok ; and equal variety
 
 WOLFSDEN. 381 
 
 of moral and intellectual complexion, beginning not too high 
 in the scale, and ranging downward indefinitely. Such is the 
 circle of society in the North Carolina Washington City. 
 
 In little shops are displayed coarse miscellaneous goods, 
 sometimes a horse-load, and sometimes a pedler s pack full ; 
 and the sallow, cadaverous possessor lies at length upon the 
 counter, saturated with whiskey, shaking with fever and ague, 
 and smoking a pipe or cigar. And this is a North Carolina 
 city merchant. 
 
 Hanged along the foot pathway (which serves also as gut 
 ter) are little stalls, or booths, where superannuated slaves, 
 worn out with labor and the lash, tempt passengers with gin- 
 gerrpop, sweet cakes, and like luxuries, whereby they earn a 
 few dimes weekly, to pay their magnanimous masters for the 
 rent of their own out-worn bodies. 
 
 Sometimes sweet, molasses-looking damsels, dressed in 
 cheap finery, parade in frequented places, and with winning 
 Bmiles and siren songs entice the sentimental swain to the 
 soft delights of southern life; and these blissful belles also 
 pay so much per week to their noble-minded masters and 
 delicate mistresses for the rent of their own bodies and 
 souls. 
 
 Sometimes a sentimental journeyer (not a STERNE, for he 
 hated slavery), seeing those petty traders and these contented- 
 looking courtesans, with their flaunting dresses and enticing 
 looks, and, though perhaps a divine, not divining the meaning 
 of all he sees, even though enforced by " rhetorical liftings 
 of the leg,"* is " deeply affected with patriotic feeling; " and 
 ere he lays him down to sleep, and prays the Lord his soul to 
 
 * Sec Rev. Dr. Nehenriah Adams " South Side View of Slavery."
 
 382 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 keep, he writes another chapter in his book, which he fondly 
 hopes "may quiet northern sentiment." 
 
 Paltry scenes tire the beholder, and we will not further 
 describe the city but by comparison. It is better than Tim- 
 buctoo or Booriboola-gha. It is worse than Paris, or Pekin, 
 or St. Petersburg. The travelled reader may, from these 
 data, classify the city of Washington in North Carolina. 
 
 The reader will be glad to escape from this same city. He 
 may do so (if white). There are various directions of egress. 
 He may take a canoe and paddle down the Pamlico ; or he 
 may take a plank and pole up the Tar river ; or he may take 
 stage and go north or south. Let us take stage and go north, 
 by all means. 
 
 Wearily borne along in a vehicle that creaks, and flaps, 
 and jerks violently, though it scarcely moves ahead ; that 
 jolts, and pitches, though there are no obstructing stones or 
 solid soil ; buried beneath its felloes in yielding sand ; buried 
 all over in a cloud of dust just large enough to envelop and 
 suffocate us ; dragged slowly along, with writhing, wriggling 
 progress, by skeletons of hungry horses, driven by a dirty, 
 drunken, pipe-smoking coachman, still it is something to 
 be going, or at least heading, north. The slow tortoise won 
 the race at last, and the history of his travels may console 
 us. At any rate, we are now at the bottom of fortune s 
 wheel, and, though it turn but as slowly as the creaking four 
 which bear us, it may bring us upward at last. 
 
 Looking from either crisped, torn leather window, the same 
 sandy, scathed, pitch-pine, scrub-oak monotony prevails. We 
 have travelled half a day at a rate somewhere between that 
 of a snail and a streak of lightning, and find ourselves almost 
 in sight of something. By and by we see it. It is a planta-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 383 
 
 tion. It is an oasis in a sandy waste, not exactly an 
 Eden, but pretty fair by contrast. 
 
 There is a two-story whited house, surrounded by a piazza, 
 and shaded by various shrubbery. Apple-trees, and fig-trees, 
 and peach-trees, that should bear and will not bear, and per 
 simmon-trees, that should not bear and will bear, and some 
 climbing scentless roses, and briers that are not sweet, com 
 prise a scanty paradise. The negro " quarters," some twenty 
 rods distant, complete the view of the two extremes of south 
 ern life, scarcely tolerable luxury here, scarcely endurable 
 wretchedness there. 
 
 At the entrance of the carriage-way to the lordly mansion 
 stand two painted gate-posts with a high cross-beam. The 
 gate is broken ; but we will pause by the gate-posts, for on 
 them our present history hinges. 
 
 Some forty years ago a traveller from the north came in 
 view of this gate, then newly erected. He drove his own 
 high-spirited horse, and rode in his own elegant sulky, and 
 he was a high-spirited and elegant young man. He drove 
 leisurely, for his object was pleasure and observation. His 
 horse saw the gate too, and pricked up his ears. It was 
 worth his while. A dozen children, of various complexions, 
 were playing about the gate, climbing the posts, and ventur 
 ing with fearful steps across upon the overarching beam. 
 
 Among them was one so far superior to the rest as to 
 eeem like a being of another sphere. She was a vision of 
 all-surpassing loveliness. Her head was adorned with a 
 slight wreath of flowers, which the children in their gay 
 mood had woven. Her rich golden hair fell in profuse and 
 golden curls upon her neck and shoulders, of faultless form 
 and grace. Her deep blue eyes were fraught with beaut} ,
 
 384 W L F S D E N . 
 
 gentleness, and intelligence. Her transparent, pure-veined 
 complexion, heightened by sportive exercise, excelled the 
 artist s highest skill. Her form was a model of symmetry 
 and active elegance. Her movements were spirited, yet 
 graceful ; youthful, yet dignified. She was twelve or thir 
 teen years old ; just budding from lovely childhood into love 
 lier maidenhood. Her companions were as the dusky attend 
 ants of some peerless Circassian queen. 
 
 The traveller we may as well tell his name was Mr. 
 Pelham Boynton, then of New York, all unconscious of 
 the years and cares which have since whitened his head, and 
 furrowed his cheek, and weighed down his heart. He was 
 fresh and buoyant with youth, and health, and hope. He 
 had taste to appreciate and a heart to love the beautiful. 
 He was educated a gentleman, and had the address by which 
 even a stranger may make himself acceptable. Leisure and 
 observation were his objects. He came near the merry- 
 hearted group before he was seen by them, so intent were 
 they on their play. 
 
 He bowed, and addressed the beauty, who received his 
 courtesy gracefully, and invited him to alight and see her 
 father. Relying upon the famed hospitality oT the planter 
 (a hospitality which the want of society will stimulate in the 
 most churlish hearts, especially as it costs little and has 
 seldom occasion for exercise), he accepted the invitation, and 
 was introduced to the father, General Bateman. 
 
 General Bateman was really a hospitable and generous- 
 hearted man. He was pleased with the traveller, and, 
 learning his objects, invited him to pass some days, or 
 weeks, at his plantation, the name of which was Oak- 
 ridge.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 385 
 
 This was the commencement of an acquaintance which 
 ripened into the warmest friendship and closest connection. 
 Mr. Boynton became deeply in love with the beautiful daugh 
 ter, it could not be otherwise. Their love was mutual. The 
 generous father was happy to promote the happiness of his 
 daughter and his friend; and he joined them in marriage, stip 
 ulating that they should reside on the plantation, at least for 
 the present. Their blissful honey-moon lasted many months, 
 many years. Her name was Angelina. She became the 
 mother of the present Angelina and of Harry. 
 
 Meanwhile the old general became infirm. His estate had 
 long been embarrassed, and himself harassed with mortgages. 
 Mr. Boynton, when he found out his situation, -relieved him ; 
 and at length the planter proposed to sell to his son-in-law 
 his plantation, with its slaves and other property. Mr. 
 Boynton bought the estate, and thus became a Carolina, 
 planter. The general lived as before, only more happily. 
 AVhen he died, he left his remaining property to Mr. 
 Boynton. 
 
 The reader now sees how our history, so far at least as 
 Harry is concerned, hinges upon the gate-posts aforesaid. 
 Had they not been erected, the children would not have 
 played about them ; Mr. Boynton would not have seen 
 Angelina, but would have passed on his way ; and there 
 would have been no Harry Boynton, and no history of 
 him. 
 
 Thus far this retrospect, though brief, is pleasant. But 
 there is a sad side to it. The beautiful, the angelic Ange 
 lina, was, by Carolina law, a slave. Her mother, fair and 
 beautiful as herself, was descended from some great-great- 
 grandmother, kidnapped from some unhappy mother, Afri- 
 33
 
 386 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 can, American, European, or Indian (for all races are made 
 to contribute to the stock of slavery). 
 
 General Baieman had married Angelina s mother, but that 
 fact did not change her legal relation as his slave. He would 
 have given her a deed of emancipation, for he loved and 
 prized her above every other possession ; but he was procras 
 tinating, and hated to recur to the fact that his beloved wife 
 was legally a slave. Also he supposed himself beyond the reach 
 of adversity, and thought not of what might happen after his 
 death ; and so the good and beautiful wife of General Bateman, 
 and his fair, angelic daughter Angelina, who of course followed 
 her mother s condition, were, and remained slaves. 
 
 When General Bateman gave the beautiful Angelina in 
 marriage to Mr. Boynton, he did not think it necessary to 
 tell the fact of her legal condition. He expected to continue 
 to live ; perhaps thought of no other alternative. He could 
 not become bankrupt, and so it was needless to mention the 
 disagreeable subject, since Angelina must of course be safe 
 while he lived ; and even if he died, the heir was not likely 
 to claim Angelina as a slave, and would naturally sup 
 pose that he had emancipated her mother, and thus made 
 them both free. To guard against contingency, so far as the 
 estate was concerned, he made the arrangement by which the 
 plantation and other property became Mr. Boynton s by pur 
 chase, leaving only his most precious possession, his beloved 
 wife, at the mercy of chance and Carolina slave-law. 
 
 When General Bateman died, his daughter, the wife of 
 Mr. Boynton, and her children, Harry and Angelina, became 
 the " property " of Timothy Bateman, legal heir of General 
 Bateman ; but Timothy was a half-brother, and something 
 of a man, and therefore he did not interfere to claim his
 
 WOLFSDEN. 387 
 
 property, by which forbearance Mrs. Boynton lived and died 
 in ignorance of her legal condition and danger. Timothy 
 Bateman lived till about the time when Harry came home 
 from Wolfsden to make preparation for his future bride. 
 When Tim Bateman died, his estate fell into possession of a 
 mean, miserable, miserly fellow, named Marshy, who lived 
 near Pamlico river. Marshy had married Tim s only daugh 
 ter, and had a minor son ; therefore Marshy came into pos 
 session of the estate as guardian of his son. 
 
 Tim Bateman s daughter would .never have stooped to 
 marry Marshy, but for having already stooped to an unlaw 
 ful intimacy with one of her father s servants, whereby her 
 reputation was smutched. It made no difference with Marshy. 
 Her father was wealthy, and willing to give a good sum of 
 money and a plantation on Pamlico river, to get his daughter 
 off his hands, even to Marshy ; and finally, as we have seen, 
 the whole estate of Tim Bateman, including Mr. Pelham 
 Boynton s children (for his wife was now dead), fell by law 
 into the possession of Marshy. 
 
 This monstrous and horrible fact, the legitimate result of 
 slave-law, should be stated more emphatically. Harry Boyn 
 ton, the noble-hearted, highly-accomplished gentleman, and 
 his sister Angelina, were legally slaves of the mean-souled, 
 miserly, and ignorant Marshy ! 
 
 But the principal parties knew not of this fact, and were 
 therefore unlikely to be affected by it. Harry never sus 
 pected that his honored mother was in law a slave ; nor had 
 Tim Bateman ever told Marshy, or any others of his family, 
 of the fact. It belonged to a Yankee lawyer, belonging by 
 birth to the noblest country under heaven, member of a pro 
 fession founded on the noblest uses of man s highest powers,
 
 388 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 to a Yankee lawyer, or rather pettifogger, to ferret out this 
 opportunity of perpetrating villany in the name of law. 
 
 The name of this vampyre was Buzzard, of a breed prom 
 inent in the annals of infamy. He came from Massachusetts, 
 and settled in the Washington City, North Carolina, already 
 described. Would that all of his race were there ! He came 
 of various stock, but all of like character. Kidnappers, 
 slave-hunters, and other traitors to humanity, were his chief 
 progenitors. They are a well-known ancestry, of different 
 grades of society, but of. one original stock. By the opera 
 tion of some hidden laws of generation, he inherited the vilest 
 qualities of them all. 
 
 This fellow, a fit agent and tool of Carolina law, began his 
 crooked career by looking up and encouraging litigation 
 among those who had more money than good sense or good 
 nature, and by finding out loopholes and evasions for rurnsell- 
 ers and other petty violators of law. He tried the trade of 
 politics, and figured successively as an abolitionist, an anti- 
 mason, and a democrat, offering himself to all bidders, and 
 gaining the sobriquet of "the soldier of fortune; " and now 
 he speculated in slave-hunting, kidnapping, hunting up flaws 
 in titles to estates and titles to freedom, so that by these 
 ingenious enterprises he turned many a pretty penny. 
 
 In the assiduous pursuit of his vocation, he had ferreted 
 out the legal relations of the Batemans and Boyntons, and 
 after the death of General Bateman he offered his services 
 to Timothy Bateman, the uncle, to reduce the young Boyn 
 tons to slavery, or compel their father to pay a high price for 
 their freedom. Tim declined his offer, and so Buzzard filed 
 away the papers, and waited for Tim s death. When that 
 took place, and Marshy became, in effect, his heir, he posted
 
 WOLFSDEN. 889 
 
 to Marshy with the same offer. Marshy was ready to turn a 
 penny, honest or otherwise, provided no risk was incurred ; 
 and Buzzard concluded a bargain with him, by which Marshy 
 should have half the profits, but be subject to no costs in case 
 of failure. 
 
 At the present period of this history, Buzzard was engaged 
 in looking up and linking together his evidence, so as to 
 strike sure. Much caution was required, lest his object 
 should get wind. He must find or feign other business, and 
 make acquaintance in different families, and introduce his 
 subject indirectly ; and, after finding out who knew exactly 
 what he wanted to prove, he must then carefully sound the 
 temper, sentiment, simplicity, or shrewdness, of the individual, 
 and work upon his or her weakness, avarice, envy, self-conceit, 
 or other folly, to secure and make available what might serve 
 his purpose. All this mining, and burrowing, and tamper 
 ing, takes time, so that many months transpired before his 
 web of evidence was complete, and he thought safe to try its 
 strength. 
 
 Mealitime Harry was forming plans of a happy and noble 
 life. Whatever a magnanimous mind can conceive, the ardor 
 of youth and conscious genius counts as practicable. Since 
 his nobler faculties had become awakened, he had reflected 
 upon the value of life as a means of advancing noble princi 
 ples, of promoting noble purposes, and accomplishing noble 
 ends. "The elevation of humanity," said he, "is the noblest 
 work of life. Whoever employs his talents in this direction 
 advances toward a higher sphere ; and whether he raises 
 others or not, he at least elevates himself. His efforts may 
 pot seem fruitful of immediate results, but, if man is immor 
 tal, it will be his great reward to contemplate the progress 
 33*
 
 o JO WOLFSDEN. 
 
 of the good which he began, and to see it go on increasing 
 forever." 
 
 His destined position as a slaveholder engaged his earnest 
 thought. AYhile a student in Harvard University, some 
 sparks from Channing s mind had electrified his understand 
 ing, and left an ineffaceable impression of the wrong of hold 
 ing human beings in slavery, llecollecting that such senti 
 ments might become inconvenient to the son and heir of a 
 slaveholder, he attended other churches in Boston, to get the 
 impressions rubbed out ; bat the imbecile and canting defences 
 and apologies which he heard only provoked his contempt. 
 
 " Surely," said he, " if slavery requires such prevarication 
 of truth, such perversion of religion, such prostitution of prin 
 ciple, and stultifying of common sense, in its behalf, there 
 must be something wrong in it." And so he set his genius 
 to devise a way to correct the wrong without attacking the 
 institution, to prune the upas-tree without destroying it. 
 
 " I will educate my slaves," said he ; " the laws forbid it, 
 but, since the laws to prevent excessive cruelty to slaves are 
 violated with impunity, I may with equal impunity disregard 
 those which are made to degrade them. Such as show a 
 capacity for freedom I will encourage to purchase their free 
 dom, and aid them to settle where they can do well. I will 
 promote the comfort and good morals of my slaves, and rule 
 them by good will, and not by fear. I will make myself 
 their guardian and benefactor, more than their master." 
 
 It may seem strange that the son of a slaveholder, reared 
 among the practical workings of slavery, should suppose it pos 
 sible to effect any real good for slaves without first emancipat 
 ing them, and removing them from the region of its influence. 
 But he had not spent many of his maturer years at home, and
 
 WOLFSDEN. 391 
 
 had not reflected upon the inevitable operations of arbitrary 
 power ; and if he foresaw difficulties, he trusted to overcome 
 them. He talked over his prospects and his plans with Mar 
 garet, and she shared his enthusiasm, and they perhaps 
 already fancied themselves the patriarch and patriarchess of 
 an Abrahamic household.
 
 CHAPTEK XXX. 
 
 So they were married, and there were present the Picninnics, and the 
 Joblillies, and tbe great Panjandrum himself, with the little round 
 button on the top. FOOTE. 
 
 THERE are joys which we most enjoy when the world wit 
 nesses the enjoyment. There are pains that please, because 
 they impart fame. 
 
 Ilomancing fledglings of youth most delight in dazzling 
 delights, and spurn the dull happiness which challenges no 
 admiration. Why do lovers roll the eyes in ecstasy, or clasp 
 the heaving breast in anguish, and call upon the winds to 
 waft their sighs and the briny waves to receive their tears? 
 It is that the admiring world may write their names on the 
 sentimental page, and that the muse may chant their plain 
 tive story. 
 
 But the sober, solid joy of maturer manhood asks no ap 
 plause of others. The possessor is content to possess, and 
 cares not to awaken the astonishment or envy of the world. 
 In his own heart he rejoices unboastingly. He displays 
 no ecstatic raptures. He locks his sterling gold in strong 
 though homely coffers, and sobers his brows to unpretending 
 vontent.
 
 WOLFSDEX. 393 
 
 But the muse of history lags. No entrancing scenes, no 
 thrilling hopes and fears, point the recording pen. The 
 world will not admire what was only made for use, and a 
 useful life is of all lives the most useless to fancy s page. 
 
 Thus by marriage, as surely as by death, the admired 
 actors slip from the stage, and are seen no more. When 
 people are married, their story is told. What more can be 
 said of them ? Shall we surfeit fancy s guests with home 
 brewed beer ? Shall we stuff the muses with plain beef and 
 pudding ? Shall we write a chapter, in a history like this, 
 upon the subjects of common life ? Let us put them in skel 
 eton order. See the synopsis : 
 
 " Married in Wolfsden, Thanksgiving day, by Rev. Parson 
 Boreman, Mr. Hezekiah Hobart, of Saco, to Miss Helen 
 Arbor." ".Honey-moon Settled down Humdrum 
 Contented lot Every-day life Washing-day life Iron 
 ing-day life Sunday life Jog trot Petty cares Dull 
 visitors come Go to see dull company Linen to make 
 up Doctor Cradle Plot thickens Culminating point 
 
 Baly Grandmother comes As well as could be ex 
 pected Wonderful child Teething Ilattle Cries 
 for moon Baby talk Measles Rocking-horse Bread 
 and butter Whooping-cough ABC Sled Satchel 
 
 Quarterly bills Economy Small leaks Schemes to 
 get and save Daughters portions Sons settlements." 
 
 Behold the materials of the matrimonial chapter. Let 
 some aspiring child of genius try his teeth upon the dry 
 crusts, but let no dull descriptions compel my courteous 
 reader to doze over the drowsy page.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 LOVE makes strange metamorphoses. It converts a clown 
 into a gentleman, a plodding mechanic into an airy spark ; 
 or, reversing its operations, it puts a distaff into the hands of 
 a hero, and presents a spade and hoe to the delicate palm of 
 the dainty-bred scholar. 
 
 Harry, the gay, generous, enthusiastic, sentimental lover, 
 became a practical, energetic, efficient husbandman. He 
 planned improvements, and calculated their advantages. He 
 inspected the fields ; inquired the history "of their cultivation, 
 their productiveness, the adaptation of different soils and 
 different modes of culture to various products, and the profit 
 of each ; and estimated to what extent animal labor might be 
 substituted for that of men, and what new implements might 
 profitably be introduced. 
 
 At Alek s suggestion, he had brought various tools from 
 New York, of a construction and quality very different from 
 Carolina tools. There were ploughs, and yokes, and harrows, 
 and hoes, and twenty other things, to take the place of the 
 clumsy, inefficient contrivances with which the plantation had 
 been worked. To one of his most intelligent slaves he en 
 deavored to impart the teamster s art, as he had seen it prac 
 tised in Wolfsden ; and, notwithstanding his own small expe-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 395 
 
 rience, and the awkwardness of the slave and the oxen, he 
 soon showed them that two teamsters, at most, were sufficient 
 to manage one pair of cattle, and that the plough had capa 
 bilities beyond the mere scratching of the surface of the 
 soil. 
 
 He examined the negro quarters, and, though they were 
 more comfortable than on most plantations in North. Caro 
 lina, where they are generally better than further south, still 
 he found much to mend, about which he gave directions, and 
 also gave the occupants the time and materials necessary for 
 the improvements, and although he soon found that enslaved 
 human nature is little capable of enterprise, trustworthiness, 
 sincerity, economy, or any of the virtues of self-respecting 
 manhood, and that whatever may be done to ameliorate the 
 slave s wretchedness serves chiefly to awaken hopes and 
 stimulate desires incompatible with his condition, yet he 
 persevered, and in improving their outward comforts and 
 decencies hoped that he had already done something toward 
 their real elevation. 
 
 It cannot be known what might have been the final result 
 of his progress, after coming into possession of the estate ; 
 for while his father lived he would not presume upon any 
 radical measures, and after his father s death his own course 
 was suddenly arrested in a way which the reader may have 
 already foreseen. It is probable that his growing convictions 
 of duty, and his experience of the futility of half-way reform, 
 would finally have led him to emancipate his slaves from 
 servitude, and himself from the responsibility of managing 
 human beings by any means, however mild, which denies the 
 exercise of man s noblest birthright the free exercise of his 
 will. Perhaps his gradually advancing soul might have risen
 
 896 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 in the scale of justice and magnanimity, till his tongue would 
 have been compelled to utter the thrilling words, " Be free ! 
 man, be free ! " 
 
 At first, his plans of improvement could not be expected 
 to flow wholly in this channel. His approaching happiness, 
 the preparation of his home for his coming bride, and all 
 bright. visions of the fancied future, filled his soul. 
 
 " I will give to my home," said he, " all the outward per 
 fections and beauty it is capable of, till she, the soul of beauty 
 and perfection, shall come to give it life. When it is made 
 worthy to receive her, it will need no other adornment but 
 her presence. It will then be an Eden of happy joys, and 
 hopes, and attainments, that shall ripen unto immortality." 
 
 The home wherein Harry promised himself so much happi 
 ness certainly seemed to possess great capabilities. Bating 
 the climate, which, even with the best circumstances, slackens 
 and unstrings the firm fibres of the human frame, on which 
 life s vigorous use and enjoyments, both bodily and mental, 
 depend ; and bating the deteriorating effect of isolation from 
 cultivated society, by which alone the human faculties can be 
 stimulated and balanced to produce their best results ; and 
 bating the restriction upon free thought and free action, ex 
 cept in accordance with institutions and usages hostile to gen 
 erous thoughts and just acts ; and making some other necessary 
 deductions from what a New Englander includes in the idea 
 of independence, and comfort, and home, Oakridge was a 
 delightful place, something dilapidated, but so much the 
 better for one bent on improvement. 
 
 The house stood upon an eminence, which declined thence 
 toward the road and toward the south, but gradually ascended 
 toward the north and west, in which direction were many
 
 w o L F ST> E N . 397 
 
 scattering oaks, irregularly but pleasantly grouped, and grow 
 ing more thickly as the distance increased, till at length they 
 formed a majestic grove, mostly excluding the sun, yet pro 
 tecting a mingled grassy and leafy lawn, where it was pleas 
 ant to wander, and imagine how sweet would be such a soli 
 tude with a loved companion to whom one could say, " How 
 sweet is solitude ! " 
 
 On the southern slope were scattered various ornamental 
 trees ; two or three magnolias, many china-trees, and beyond 
 them a mixed plantation of wild orange, persimmon, pome 
 granate, and wild cherry. Smaller fruit and ornamental trees 
 and shrubs adorned the front view, among which were the fig, 
 the peach, and the crab-apple, with rose-bushes, syringas, 
 altheas, anemones, &c. An arched way, covered with climb 
 ing roses and ivy, led to an embowered summer-house ; both 
 of which, however, through neglect and decay, with the en 
 croachment of weeds and mould, presented an appearance of 
 doubtful ornament. Over the court separating the house 
 from the kitchen an enormous grape-vine, supported by a 
 rude trellis, spread its extensive branches, yielding abundant 
 clusters of the rich and delicious " scuppernong " grape. 
 
 By Harry s energy and taste, all these decayed beauties 
 and capabilities were restored and improved. The arched 
 bower and summer-house were newly trimmed and opened to 
 healthy and inviting light and air, and adorned with plants 
 of choice beauty ; camellias, japonicas, geraniums, and what 
 ever nature makes beautiful, or rarity makes desirable. Trees 
 and vines were pruned and cultivated to invite their appro 
 priate fruit. The gate was newly hinged, and the house 
 repaired and embellished. 
 
 Upon one room, whose windows opened toward the setting 
 34
 
 398 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 sun through embowering rose-bushes, and jessamines, and 
 honeysuckles, Harry expended his best resources and best 
 skill, taxing his own ingenuity and his sister s taste to ar 
 range and adapt the beautiful furniture and choice books he 
 had provided, so as to combine the attractions and elegances 
 of a library and a lady s boudoir. " For," said Harry, " our 
 hearts and minds will take some influence from the things 
 about us, and will tend more to refinement and beauty where 
 all else is refined and beautiful."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MEANTIME many notes of preparation were heard in Wolfs- 
 den. Margaret threw aside her sketch-book and other idle 
 amusements, and took to the spinning-wheel and other 
 thrifty implements of female industry. It were vain to 
 recount the webs of linen, coarse and fine ; of flannel, thick 
 and thin; of check for aprons, and stripe for skirts; of 
 stockings, and yarns, and threads of every color, for knitting, 
 and darning, and sewing ; of quiltings, and counterpanes, and 
 comforters, and curtains, which comprise the fitting out of a 
 Yankee bride. Aunt Dolly, the bounteous mother, was deter 
 mined that her one daughter should not go slenderly fur 
 nished. And Margaret, prompted by many admonitions and 
 stories of her mother s experience, and also by her own activ 
 ity, carded and spun and wove, and sewed and knit and 
 quilted, colored and bleached, till those who had depreciated 
 her housewifely qualities were compelled to acknowledge that 
 she might be good for something, after all. 
 
 More than twenty maidens, mindful of customs which 
 might some day bring them equal advantages, brought their 
 marriage presents; so that when the wedding day came, a 
 pile of chests, and bales, and bundles, of things home-made
 
 400 VVOLFSDEN. 
 
 or bought, or given, were accumulated, which would have 
 astonished the pilgrims of the Mayflower. 
 
 Some articles of doubtful utility were presented. Little 
 Amy brought a basketful of little stockings and rnittens of 
 her own knitting, requesting that they should be given to the 
 little slave-girls of Carolina, of whom she had heard that 
 they had no stockings and mittens ; and the adjutant brought 
 a hand-sled and a pair of bantams for the slave-boys. 
 Billy and Tommy brought a pair of pintadids, or Guinea- 
 hens (most pugnacious of all gallinaceous fowl) ; " These," 
 said they, " will drive away the hawks." The blue-eyed 
 Chinby daughters sent some pretty night-caps, and also knit 
 hoods and buskins, to keep out the Carolina snow-storms. 
 LucinJa Boreman sent pincushions and fancy-worked moc- 
 casiris ; and Ax, who, since his prospect of becoming a school 
 master, had put away childish things, sent his skates, to be 
 kept for Margaret s oldest boy. 
 
 The wedding-day came as appointed. We will not describe 
 it. All readers have had, or hope to have, a wedding-day of 
 their own, compared with which all other wedding-days are 
 but as fast days. Major Murray would have made a solemn 
 affair of it, but the overflowing good-humor of (he guests, and 
 the fun of the boys and girls, were too much for his solemnity 
 to repress ; and, recollecting that he had no more daughters 
 to marry, he let things go as they would, and all had a happy 
 time. Parson Boreman performed the ceremony, and, while 
 thinking all the time of the old mistake about the divinity 
 student, tried to look as if he had entirely forgotten it. 
 Harry, to please the parson and his new father-in-law by not 
 appearing too happy, put on an edifying gravity, which made
 
 WOLFSDEN. 401 
 
 Fanny ask Margaret, in a whisper, if he really meant to be 
 a doctor of divinity. 
 
 All this was on Thanksgiving day. The happy couple soon 
 departed for North Carolina, and passed the winter on their 
 plantation ; and when the reader is informed that they passed 
 it happily, he must conclude that they carried a large stock 
 of happiness with them, to outlast the drizzly, dirty dreari 
 ness of a Carolina winter. 
 31*
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 SPRING, which chases dulness and dreariness from its 
 strongest holds, came to Oakridge, bringing bland gale$, and 
 green, flowering turf, and opening buds and leaves, and sweet 
 fragrance, and sportive butterflies, and humming bees, and the 
 welcome warbling of many birds. 
 
 But sadness came with the spring to Oakridge. The be 
 loved father, who, for many months, had been declining, but 
 who promised to himself and children that the spring would 
 restore his health, found instead that his life was passing 
 away. 
 
 He was prepared to die ; for he was a Christian. To 
 those who have hearts to understand (for it requires hearts 
 even more than heads to understand) the wrongs of slavery, 
 this may seem impossible. But a right judgment, formed 
 from a just estimate of all the circumstances, will not make 
 the slaveholders chiefly responsible for the guilt. Compared 
 with northern abettors and apologists, and especially with 
 those who press the Bible into its support, thus corrupting 
 the very fountain of morals and religion, their sin is small. 
 And there are some among them who sincerely strive to keep 
 their hearts and consciences free from guiltiness toward their 
 brethren in bonds, by doing all they think practicable to
 
 WOLFSDEN. 403 
 
 lighten and loosen the yoke, and whom a little instruction and 
 aid would lead to break the yoke and let the oppressed go 
 free. 
 
 Mr. Boynton was one of the best of this not too numerous 
 class. His eyes were not opened to see the radical and in 
 herent wrong of slavery. Perhaps the Bible arguments in its 
 favor, emanating from northern theological schools, had con 
 vinced him that slavery was a divine institution, since no 
 answering arguments are allowed to circulate in the south. 
 Yet, though his religious light might thus be turned into 
 darkness, his native benevolence and sense of right made him 
 a kind master, even to the extent of offending the proprietors 
 of neighboring plantations, who complained that the notions 
 Boynton encouraged among his slaves would ruin not only 
 himself, but, if allowed, would overthrow the whole system 
 of slavery in his section. 
 
 And, indeed, there seemed good reason for their animad 
 versions ; for it was very clear that if Mr. Boynton had pos 
 sessed no other resources than those derived from the planta 
 tion, he must long ago have become bankrupt. Such is the 
 natural and necessary waste of slavery, that nothing short of 
 severe and grinding oppression will make it profitable. Plant 
 ers in the older states, who have not the perseverance or the 
 heart to exact all possible labor from their slaves, and to 
 watch and guard that they eat no more than barely sufficient 
 to sustain life and labor, are frequently obliged, in their own 
 phrase, to " eat a nigger," namely, to balance accounts by 
 the sale of a babe, or a mother, or a maiden, or a " boy." 
 
 But Mr. Boynton was free both from the grinding oppres 
 sion and the cannibalism ; and though, perhaps, not a perfect 
 Christian, was probably at least as good as many made by
 
 404 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 the missionaries at the Fejee or Sandwich islands^ or on 
 Greenland s icy mountains, or India s coral strand. 
 
 We have alluded to the church relations of the family as 
 Episcopalian. Mr. Boynton was a faithful churchman. He 
 had regularly read prayers to his slaves on Sundays, and 
 Angelina constantly instructed them in the catechism. Often 
 he had addressed them individually and collectively on 
 religion, assuring them of their immortality, and teaching 
 them the conditions of salvation. 
 
 When he now found that his life was drawing to a close, 
 he called them together, and, addressing them with great 
 solemnity, told them of his approaching death, and his hope 
 to meet them in heaven, where there would be no masters nor 
 servants, but where all would be brethren. He then read to 
 them, from the burial service, the authoritative argument of 
 St. Paul, proving the immortality of the soul. 
 
 1 Cor. 15 : 20. " Now is Christ risen from the dead, 
 and become the first fruits of them that slept. For since 
 by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of 
 the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall 
 all be made alive. * * Behold, I show you a mystery : 
 We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in 
 a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump. 
 For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised 
 incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible 
 must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on im 
 mortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on in 
 corruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then 
 shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death 
 is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is thy sting ? 
 O Grave, where is thy victory ? The sting of death is sin,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 405 
 
 and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, 
 who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immova 
 ble, always abounding iu the work of the Lord ; forasmuch 
 as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord." 
 
 Thus, with religious rites and instructions, and many part 
 ing blessings, and tokens of remembrance, the good old man 
 dismissed his slaves, who lingered and wept as they took 
 their last earthly leave of one who was indeed their friend, 
 and with a little better knowledge of duty would have been 
 their benefactor. 
 
 To his children, Harry, and Margaret, and Angelina, he 
 gave many salutary counsels and consolations. " I am 
 going," said he, " to join your angel mother. Weep not for 
 me, for I go in peace and joy, trusting to meet you again 
 where we shall part no more." 
 
 As his children knelt by his side, he placed his hands on 
 their heads, and gave them his benediction ; and, having thus 
 set his house in order, he gradually sunk to repose. 
 
 His body rests beneath the bay-tree which spreads its 
 branches above yonder grassy knoll, and by the side of his 
 once beautiful bride the lovely Angelina. 
 
 How short the time since he first saw her playing by the 
 gate of her father s dwelling, as he was journeying to the 
 south, when her beauty had power to arrest his journey, and 
 to bind him forever to her side in the strong bonds of undying 
 love ! 
 
 Clothed in celestial bodies, they now rejoice in a higher 
 sphere. The once fair forms of mortal mould have served 
 their purpose, and now and evermore they rest beneath the 
 bay-tree, emblem of everlasting peace.
 
 C II A P T E K XXXIV. 
 
 HARRY and Margaret sat in their favorite room, whose 
 windows opened to the setting sun. The spring was far ad 
 vanced, and the summer approaching, yet the prolific rose 
 bushes still put forth and spread their swelling buds, which 
 the slight breeze made to wave against the windows, as if 
 seeking admission to the paradise of love, while the full- 
 blossomed honeysuckle diffused sweet odors around. 
 
 Margaret had been sewing on some delicate fabric, of a 
 form not as yet exactly defined, though, perhaps, a practised 
 eye might detect its design. Harry had been reading to her 
 the plaintive ballad of " The Somnambulist," from Words 
 worth. 
 
 " Sir Eglamore and Emma loved as we love," said Harry, 
 laying down the book, and lifting the fair hand of his lovely 
 wife to his lips. " They loved as we love, though their fate 
 was not so happy as ours." 
 
 " I was strongly impressed," replied Margaret, " by the 
 saying of the wise Greek whom you read about the other 
 day ; that no man could be accounted happy till the day of 
 his death, for there is no happiness in life so secure that a 
 moment may not destroy it." 
 
 " The Greek s wisdom was not worth much," said Harry
 
 WOLFSDEN. 407 
 
 " if it teaches us to undervalue present happiness, because we 
 may at some time lose it. If I have a genius for anything 
 it is for making the most of happiness, not only by taking all 
 possible precautions to secure it, but also by appreciating it 
 while in possession, even as now ; " and the kiss before 
 -bestowed upon the fair hand was now impressed upon the 
 lovelier fips. 
 
 "My kind husband," said Margaret, "your genius is 
 worth all the wisdom of all the Greeks put together. Your 
 never-failing cheerfulness is like the sunshine which makes 
 everything pleasant ; otherwise I fear that, with all my hap 
 piness in your love, I should be sometimes sad." 
 
 " Dearest wife," said Harry, " I shall tax my genius to 
 chase away all your sadness. Perhaps what you told me 
 of yesterday, and which makes me happier than ever, gives a 
 temporary depression to your spirits. But y.ou must be kept 
 cheerful now, for your health s sake, and for the sake of our 
 happy hopes." 
 
 Margaret hid her face in her husband s bosom, and replied, 
 " Dearest, I am perfectly happy, even when I may appear 
 sad. Do you not know," said she, again looking up, " that 
 the best happiness does not always show outwardly, just as 
 people may be very mirthful with no happiness at all ? How 
 merry the slaves often appear, though we know that their lot 
 is not only wretched, but that they feel it to be so." 
 
 "Howl wis-h," said Harry, " that I could make every 
 body happy ! Do you think our servants would have a better 
 chance of happiness if we should send them into the free 
 states ? " 
 
 " I know that they think so," said Margaret, " those of 
 them who think at all, and indeed I think so. I know
 
 408 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 that the kindness they receive from you is everything it can 
 be, short of freedom ; and I suppose their inexperience would, 
 if free, lead them into many hardships. But you know that 
 much of our happiness comes from surmounting hardships ; 
 and, at any rate, the best chance of happiness to their pos 
 terity would be in freedom. 
 
 " And I have some thoughts," replied Harry, " that the best 
 chance for our posterity would be in freedom the freedom 
 of the free states, which is the only freedom in the land. 
 There all men may elevate themselves, and others, according 
 to their abilities, and look with hope instead of fear upon the 
 advancement of just principles, and the approach of the good 
 time coming." 
 
 " My dear husband," said Margaret, " how perfectly united 
 are our thoughts ! If we have children, it is my most earnest 
 prayer that the^ may have the advantages of the free states, 
 and, if possible, that their home may be there. I wish for 
 nothing to be done contrary to your judgment ; but I am pre 
 pared for any sacrifice of position or property for this object, 
 when you are ready." 
 
 " We will consider of this," said Harry, taking her hand 
 and leading her to the window, where they looked upon the 
 sunny landscape. 
 
 Many humming-birds darted and poised their tiny forms 
 of green and gold among the festoons of lithe branches and 
 pweet flowers which hung against the windows, and mingled 
 their shadows with the rays of the declining sun. 
 
 The orioles sang at intervals their sweetly-wild and careless 
 notes, as they wove their pendent nest to the end of a waving 
 branch of a tall and slender persimmon-tree. 
 
 A pair of turtle doves mingled the varied notes of their
 
 WOLFSDEN. 409 
 
 plaintive melody, sadly seeming, yet truly joyful in fond and 
 faithful love, as they peered among the branches of the far- 
 spreading grape-vine, now clothed in its young leaves, and 
 putting forth its clustered blossoms. 
 
 Two Carolina mocking-birds, most wonderful warblers of 
 all the feathered tribes, perched among the branches of a 
 pomegranate, poured forth their inexhaustibly various songs, 
 now of surpassing and original beauty, now plagiarizing and 
 parodying the productions of every rival warbler. 
 
 Many robins hopped about the green lawn, and pecked the 
 scattered seeds and crumbs, or gathered little filaments or 
 feathers to line their connubial nests, and ever and anon 
 peered around and above, that no treacherous beast or bird 
 of prey should take them unawares. 
 
 A peacock, proudest and most splendid of all plumed birds, 
 strutted in sight of his admiring harem, and spread his 
 gorgeous train, reflecting the sun s rays in forms and hues of 
 indescribable splendor and beauty, while with hollow, mur 
 muring voice he expressed his amorous desires. 
 
 A flock of field-sparrows rose like a cloud from the twigs 
 and garden stubble, and wheeled about in close phalanx, often 
 and again opening and reclosing their ranks, till they settled 
 where they rose, and vanished from view, as did Clan Alpine s 
 warriors true on Benledi s side, at sign from Roderick 
 Dhu. 
 
 Thus nature s broad bright page spread forth its lessons of 
 love and joy, teaching how abundant is the benevolence of 
 that Power who framed the universe on a plan of universal, 
 all-embracing love. 
 
 But lessons of caution, of danger, and defence, need also to 
 be taught. And while they looked, a sudden shadow flapped 
 35
 
 410 W L F S D E N . 
 
 by the window and darkened the sunshine. It was a mon 
 strous turkey-buzzard, most obscene and hateful of all the 
 vulture race. The merry mocking-birds, and golden orioles, 
 and busy robins, and murmuring turtle doves, and bright 
 humming-birds, and myriad field-sparrows, all disappeared 
 hidden in the branches, or fled far away. 
 
 The unwieldy and foul bird had alighted on a fence, and 
 looked audaciously and securely around, like the horrid 
 harpies whom JEneas encountered on dire Strophadean 
 shores, audaciously and securely, for it, too, like human 
 harpies, is protected in its rapacity and obscenity by Caro 
 lina law.* 
 
 But, lo ! a lesson of courage also, and defence. The two 
 pintadids, presented by Tommy and Billy, set up a scream of 
 defiance, and flew fiercely at their menacing foe ; and, as the 
 cock threatened him in front, the hen darted a stunning blow 
 upon the back of the buzzard s head, which tumbled him from 
 his perch. The clumsy creature, cowardly as voracious, 
 spread his huge wings and flew skulkingly away, pursued and 
 insulted by the screaming and triumphant pintadids. " Hurra 
 for the Wolfsdenners ! " exclaimed Harry. 
 
 These lessons of love, of danger, and defence, were season 
 ably given. Whoever watches the indications of nature and 
 Providence will find counsel for every emergency. 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and a little woolly- 
 headed house-servant announced that " a gemman wanted to 
 see mas r." 
 
 Harry stepped into the parlor, and was agreeably surprised 
 to find an old college acquaintance and friend, whom he had 
 
 * It is unlawful to kill the turkey-buzzard and black vulture in Carolina.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 41 1 
 
 not seen for two or three years, Dr. Drinkmore, formerly 
 for a brief space a tutor in Harvard University. 
 
 Dr. Drinkmore was a citizen of the world ; one of its best- 
 natured, but not best-respected citizens. He was one, like 
 Hamlet s friend Horatio, whose revenue was his good spirits, 
 and who took fortune s buffets and favors with equal thanks ; 
 that is, he abused the favors, and fought manfully against the 
 buffets. He was an Englishman and a scholar, educated at 
 Oxford. His besetting sin was conviviality, generally degen 
 erating into drunkenness. He had reformed twenty times, 
 and as often relapsed ; and had out-worn the philanthropy of 
 fifty friends, who had again and again reformed and re-re 
 formed him. His learning and talents were eminent, and his 
 manners so pleasant that he always found some patron to 
 help and set him in the right way. Harry was one of those 
 who had done him that service. He was grateful for such 
 kindness. But, however he fortified himself by good resolu 
 tions and pledges, he would sooner or later relapse, though he 
 sometimes persevered for one or two years at a time. When 
 he had forfeited his position in England, he came to Boston, 
 and, his abilities being discovered, he was employed as tutor 
 at Cambridge, whence, but for a relapse to dissipation, he 
 might have risen to a professorship. 
 
 Since about that time Harry had lost sight of him, and 
 was now exceedingly pleased to see him, especially as his ap 
 pearance indicated health and prosperity, and still more when 
 informed, in a subsequent conversation, that he was a tem 
 perance man of "fourteen years standing." 
 
 After a brief enjoyment of the hospitalities of the house 
 Dr. Drinkmore requested of Harry to show him the planta-
 
 412 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 tion. When they had proceeded so far as to be out of hear< 
 ing, the doctor told him the object of his visit. 
 
 " I have come," said he, " to warn you of a terrible danger. 
 I knew of it but this morning, and have averted it for a 
 single day, which I employ to warn you against to-morrow. 
 
 " I am nominally a law-student at Squire Buzzard s, in 
 Washington. I arn writing a book which requires me to 
 know something of manners in the south, and also something 
 of your rascally laws ; so I avail myself of a lawyer s office, 
 which serves both purposes, and, by entering myself as student, 
 I avoid troublesome inquiries. In this situation, besides 
 seeing many villanies which I have not interfered with, since 
 I could not prevent them, I became cognizant of a plot to 
 reduce a gentleman and a lady, his sister, to slavery. I was 
 this morning invited by Buzzard to be one of a chivalrous 
 party, armed with pistols and like persuasives, to accomplish 
 that object, and was about declining, with proper thanks for 
 the honor, when the name of the gentleman for whom the 
 favor was intended happened to be mentioned. The name was 
 HARRY BOYNTON ! Upon inquiry, I found that it was 
 doubtless my old college friend and benefactor ; and I at once 
 accepted the invitation, stipulating that the excursion should 
 be put off till to-morrow. The time thus gained I have 
 employed to learn the facts, or pretences, on which this pro 
 cedure is based, and to give you warning." 
 
 Dr. Drinkmore then informed Harry of what he had found, 
 by examining the papers in the office, relating to his descent 
 from a slave-mother, and his consequent defencelessness by 
 Carolina law, of which the reader is already informed. He 
 added that Buzzard and Marshy, with several assistants, were
 
 WOLFSDEN. 413 
 
 coming, on the following day, to seize both him and his 
 sister. 
 
 " It is their plan, however," said he, " not to use force, if 
 they can prevail by stratagem. They will probably make- 
 some pretence of business requiring your attendance at 
 Washington, where resistance would be out of the question. 
 They will, however, come prepared to use force if fraud shall 
 fail. Their object is doubtless to extort money from your 
 family for your ransom ; for I heard Buzzard say the prize 
 was worth at least ten thousand dollars, which, I believe, is 
 above the market price for mere human blood, and sinews, 
 and souls, in this beautiful country. But, whatever their 
 object, I am ready to help defeat it, and will give my services 
 in any way you will command them only the more fight 
 the better." 
 
 Harry s countenance showed every variety of indignant 
 emotion while the doctor told his story. At its conclusion he 
 replied : 
 
 " My dear friend, you have rendered me a most important 
 service. I know the character of that Buzzard, and I now 
 recall that I have been informed of some inquiries of his in 
 relation to my affairs, which seemed strange and impertinent, 
 but not of enough importance to be noticed, though they now 
 serve to confirm your account. It has been many months 
 since, and he has doubtless thoroughly matured his plan ; 
 for he would not venture upon such an outrage except 
 upon safe legal ground. My position requires decided, and 
 perhaps desperate action. I think I am equal to it. My 
 grandfather and my brave grand-uncle, still living in Wolfs 
 den, fought for freedom, when their case was not so imminent 
 as mine ; and I feel some of their blood tingling in my veins 
 35*
 
 414 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 just now. But I must not involve you in the affair. You 
 have done a friend s duty, for which I am grateful. Now 
 leave the affair to me, and I will fight or fly, as seems safest 
 on reflection." 
 
 " My brave friend," said Drinkmore, " I see you mean to 
 fight, which is also to my taste at present; so that you must 
 receive me as a volunteer, or I will fight on my own hook. 
 I shall not suffer you to be engaged against such odds without 
 sharing your danger; and, let me tell you, I am no mean 
 ally. Would you like to see me snuff a candle at twenty 
 paces ? I have brought my pistols on purpose to show you 
 the experiment, and also for more important services. You 
 will disoblige me if you refuse my assistance." 
 
 " I shall not disoblige you, then, but receive your aid 
 thankfully. At what time to-morrow will they arrive ? " 
 
 " At ten or eleven, at latest ; perhaps earlier," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Then let us plan the campaign at once," said Harry. 
 
 They did so ; and, without detailing their conversation, we 
 will briefly state their resources and plan of defence. 
 
 Harry s slaves were about fifty in number, of whom some 
 fifteen were able-bodied men. They were all well attached to 
 him ; but their ability as soldiers had not been tried, and 
 the present crisis was too important to be trusted to raw 
 troops. There was one among them, however, called Ben 
 Blacksmith, so named from his trade, being the Vulcan of the 
 plantation, a fellow of herculean strength and dauntless 
 courage, whom Harry counted as a match for a dozen com 
 mon men without fire-arms. 
 
 " But, as they will come armed," said Harry, " we will com 
 bine our stratagem with his strength, and it shall go hard
 
 WOLFSDEN. 41C 
 
 but we three can take care of at least a dozen such as you 
 have described." 
 
 It was planned to take the assailing party prisoners, and 
 thus prevent their seeking reinforcements, while Harry should 
 have time to take other measures of safety. Angelina was 
 already safe from present danger ; for she .had accepted an 
 invitation from her uncle in New York, and was now there on 
 a visit, a fact which, from the carelessness of their spy, had 
 escaped the vigilance of Buzzard and Marshy. Harry was, 
 therefore, the only person liable to be seized ; and he might 
 have arranged for his wife s protection, and sought his own 
 safety in flight, but he chose to face the danger ; " for," said 
 he, "I, too, am a Wolfsdenner." 
 
 There was under a part of the house a wine-cellar, deep 
 and securely built, where many barrels of the rich juice of the 
 scuppernong grape had matured, especially in the old pro 
 prietor s day ; and even now, though seldom visited, it was 
 not destitute of the delicious beverage. 
 
 " It will be a very convenient prison for our invaders," 
 said Harry, "if we can but persuade them to enter it." 
 
 " I will undertake that business," said the doctor, " if I 
 have a genius for anything, as a certain college pupil of mine 
 used to say, it is for leading and being led into wine-cellars ; 
 only you provide the force to keep them from coming out." 
 
 "That I will," said Harry; and, calling a velvet urchin 
 playing near, he sent for Ben Blacksmith. Ben soon ap 
 peared, and, with hat in hand, bowed to the gentlemen, and 
 drew himself up, as waiting orders. He was more than sis 
 feet high, and built on the most approved model of strength 
 and activity ; besides which, there was a look of intelligence 
 and determination in him, which would have made him in the
 
 416 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 eyes of most planters what is termed a " dangerous fellow," 
 not the kind most coveted by buyers; but, having been 
 raised on the plantation, and always treated with consid 
 eration, he was a willing and faithful servant. He stood 
 before them grim and stalwart, as stood the genie of the lamp 
 before Aladdin, ready to do his bidding, but conscious of his 
 own power. 
 
 Ben was sot a man of many words, often substituting a 
 language of gestures and figures of action more expressive 
 than words. 
 
 "Ben," said Harry, " can you fight?" 
 
 Ben closed his brawny hands and brilliant teeth, and, look 
 ing down upon his strong legs and arms, he inspected them 
 separately, as a general inspects his troops before action, and, 
 being satisfied that all was right, he gave an affirmative nod. 
 
 " Well, Ben, there s a fight ahead. You know Marshy ? " 
 
 Ben knew Marshy, and, sharing the general sentiment of 
 contempt for hkn, he replied affirmatively by a disparaging 
 snap of his fingers. 
 
 " Well," said Harry, " that Marshy and Squire Buzzard, 
 and a dozen more such fellows, are coming to-morrow to make 
 plaves of us. What shall we do with them?" 
 
 Ben looked about for an illustration. A huge spider was 
 crawling upon the ground near by. Ben pointed at it with 
 the toe of his brogan, and then, with a rhetorical lifting of 
 the leg, he set his heel emphatically upon the ugly insect. 
 
 " That s what you would do about it, eh ?" said Harry. 
 " Well, Ben, that s my mind." 
 
 Harry then gave Ben particular information and instruc 
 tions concerning the service required, and what subsequent 
 proceedings would bo necessary, aa will hereafter be de-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 417 
 
 velopcd. Having dismissed him, and fully arranged the order 
 of proceedings with Drinkmore, the doctor departed for 
 Washington, to return on the morning with the marauding 
 party, according to agreement. 
 
 Harry returned to his wife, and gave a full account of all 
 that had passed. Margaret s confidence in her husband s 
 ability and courage to meet this strange emergency was equal 
 to her love. Like a sensible woman, she strengthened her 
 husband s hands by approbation of his resolution, and proffered 
 assistance. She expressed no fears for the result, and de 
 clared her readiness to take any part in the battle for free 
 dom which might become a lady Wolfsdenner and the wife 
 of a Boynton. 
 
 Thus sustained, Harry completed his preparations, not only 
 to foil his foes, but for a final departure from the plantation. 
 He knew that the estate, including the slaves, must fall to his 
 uncle as collateral heir, if his own slave-descent and conse 
 quent incapacity to inherit under Carolina law should be 
 proved ; and therefore the property was safe from Marshy. 
 He wrote immediately to Mr. Brooks, a respectable lawyer in 
 Washington, stating the proceedings, and requesting him to 
 act as attorney and agent for himself and his uncle, until one 
 of them should appear. He then packed up his valuables 
 and sent them with a wagon and team of mules to Plymouth, 
 a port on Albcmarle Sound, with orders of shipment to New 
 York. The family carriage and horses were put in order for 
 travelling; and, having prepared his pistols for action, ho 
 waited events. 
 
 It was nearly eleven o clock the next day, when the boy 
 whom Harry had ordered to watch for company announced
 
 418 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 that a " smart chance of gemmen and osses were coming up 
 de lane." 
 
 " How many ? " said his master. 
 
 " May be twenty or forty," said the dark curly-pate, whose 
 notions of numbers were not very definite. 
 
 Harry looked ; there were, as he expected, about a dozen. 
 There was one carriage occupied by four persons, and doubt 
 less intended for his own conveyance back. 
 
 Buzzard, and Marshy, and Dr. Drinkmore, were of the 
 party. The others were also partly known to Harry, par 
 ticularly a Mr. Sycophant Curtis, whom Harry counted the 
 most despicable of the whole crew, inasmuch as the others 
 were prompted by hope of gain or other common temptations 
 to their base work, and showed some tokens of shame and 
 repugnance, while Curtis acted only from inherent baseness, 
 in which he felt no degradation. 
 
 Besides this cheesy, passionless-looking fellow, there were 
 several of lower degree ; Butmans, Byrneses, &c., too insig 
 nificant even to be inscribed on the rolls of infamy. 
 
 Only four entered the house Buzzard, Marshy, Curtis, 
 and Dr. Drinkmore. The doctor appeared as a stranger. 
 Buzzard put on a pompous business air, as usual, though evi 
 dently flustered and confused. Marshy skulked behind, like 
 a cur who doubts his company, and keeps an eye on the door 
 of retreat. But Curtis, who saw nothing in the business 
 out of the common course, appeared as usual, bland and 
 imperturbable. 
 
 Harry received the company with composed dignity. A 
 servant handed chairs. Buzzard opened the business with a 
 well-conned lie, saying that a measure of great importance to 
 the public, especially to planters and men of property, re-
 
 WOLPSDEN. 419 
 
 quired the presence and deliberation of freeholders and men 
 of influence in Washington, and they had come to escort him 
 thither. 
 
 Harry replied that he was very sensible of the honor they 
 were doing him, and would readily reciprocate their kindness. 
 Turning to a servant, he sent orders that dinner should be 
 served up with despatch, and that the gentlemen s horses 
 should be cared for. The outsiders were invited in, and a 
 brief general conversation of news, weather, &c., followed, 
 and Harry soon asked if they would like to look over his 
 plantation while dinner was in preparation. Dr. Drinkmore 
 assented, remarking that he felt somewhat thirsty. " 
 
 " Then, we 11 first visit the wine-cellar, and take your 
 opinions of my wine," said Harry. And, ordering lights, he 
 led the whole company down a labyrinthine flight of passages 
 to a deep cellar, in which there was a long row of barrels on 
 one side, and shelves filled with bottles on the other. There 
 was a table on which were also bottles with glasses and cork 
 screws, and a huge covered basket. About the table were 
 two or three chairs and a rude bench. Harry asked the 
 company to be seated ; and then, ringing a small bell, he 
 stepped back to the door, and was immediately joined by 
 Ben Blacksmith, with a heavy sledge-hammer in his hand. 
 
 Harry, standing in the doorway by the side of Ben, and 
 exhibiting a pair of pistols, requested Dr. Drinkmore to pass 
 out from the cellar, with which request he immediately com 
 plied. The astonished and alarmed company would have 
 been glad to follow, but there was something in Harry s eye 
 and attitude, in connection with his weapons and the giant 
 Vulcan by his side, which held them motionless. Ben, per 
 haps, thought he saw a desperate purpose to force the pas-
 
 420 WO LFSDEN. 
 
 sage ; for he set his teeth with peculiar ferocity, and gave a 
 flourish of his ponderous hammer, wielding it as lightly as 
 the fencing-master flourishes his foils, and struck the granite 
 wall with a force which scattered splinters over the cellar. 
 The demonstration was sumcient. 
 
 Harry, looking at Ben, said, " These are the fellows I told 
 you of; what would you do with them ? " 
 
 Ben thrust his hand into a pocket, and, taking thence a 
 handful of hazel-nuts, he threw them into his capacious mouth, 
 and, shutting his strong jaws with an emphatic gesture, he 
 ground them as a horse grinds oats. 
 
 " That is," said Harry, " you would chaw em up ! " 
 
 The black nodded approvingly, as if to say that he could 
 not himself have expressed it better. 
 
 " They deserve it/ said Harry ; " but they shall first have 
 a fair trial. Buzzard," continued he, addressing that indi 
 vidual, " I hear that you have been making some inquiries 
 concerning my family. I presume that bundle of papers in 
 your pocket may relate to the subject. Toss them this 
 way." 
 
 Buzzard saw that resistance was hopeless, and gave up the 
 papers. 
 
 " Now, villains," said Harry, " I shall leave you here till 
 I resolve upon your fate. You will find water in those bot 
 tles. The wine is removed, not being proper for persons in 
 your condition. There is corn-bread and bacon in that bas 
 ket, lawful provision for a week; at the expiration of that 
 time, more will be supplied. I leave you candles and a Bible 
 and prayer-book, and advise you to spend your remaining days, 
 or hours, in penitence." 
 
 Harry s calm and deliberate look and speech struck more
 
 WOLFSDEN. 421 
 
 terror into the hearts of his captives than any demonstration 
 of anger could have done. Buzzard, a poltroon in danger as 
 a tyrant when in power, began to beg for. freedom, and offered, 
 in behalf of himself and Marshy, to cancel all claims against 
 his person, and give legal papers of freedom, with whatever 
 damages he might require ; and Marshy offered to sign any 
 papers and make any atonement in his power. But Harry 
 knew, even if he had been disposed to compromise, that 
 agreements made under such circumstances would not be 
 legally binding, and that therefore no reliance could be put 
 on their engagements. Poor Butman was still more hum 
 bled. With blanched face and chattering teeth, he begged 
 piteously for liberation. He called heaven to witness that 
 he intended no harm ; that he did not come to kidnap, and 
 never would do so again. He would be Harry s obedient 
 servant and friend forever, if set free ; and said that nothing 
 but his poverty had induced him to join Buzzard. As Harry 
 looked upon that abject wretch, and then upon the brave Ben 
 Blacksmith by his side, he mentally said, " And that is one 
 of the Anglo-Saxon race, who pride themselves upon their 
 vast superiority over such as this African ! " 
 
 Harry commanded them all to be silent ; and, closing and 
 double-locking the massive door, left them to their reflec 
 tions. He did not intend to keep them imprisoned longer 
 than necessary for his own safety, but meant thoroughly to 
 frighten them. 
 
 The papers taken from Buzzard proved to be what Harry 
 expected. Besides Buzzard s agreement with Marshy to do 
 the business on shares, there was a complete history of the 
 Bateman and Boynton family, with dates of marriages, births, 
 deaths, connections, &c. ; a schedule of slaves and other pos- 
 36
 
 422 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 sessions, and a list of witnesses and particulars proving the 
 fact of Harry and his sister s descent from a slave-mother, 
 the property of General Bateman, whose children, not being 
 included in the sale to Harry s father, were therefore the 
 property of the heirs. 
 
 The evident accuracy and authenticity of the information, 
 so far as Harry knew the various circumstances enumerated, 
 left no doubt that Buzzard had made out a clear case accord 
 ing to Carolina law, and that there was no hope for safety 
 but in flight. 
 
 As his indignant soul revolved the atrocity of the scheme 
 devised against him, and of the laws which justified it ; and 
 as he reflected that the wretches who had come to reduce 
 himself and sister to a state of unutterable wretchedness 
 were now in his power, and that the papers containing the 
 facts upon which they relied were in his possession, and 
 that probably no other persons knew or would search out 
 the facts, and therefore, if these persons and papers were 
 destroyed, the conspiracy against him would be ended ; and 
 as he considered, further, that, since the laws of his country 
 gave him.no protection, he owed them no obedience, and he 
 was therefore morally free to use his natural rights of self- 
 protection, he felt a tide of unaccustomed emotions fill and 
 agitate his heart. 
 
 Phrenologists say that when the organs of combativeness 
 and dcstructiveness are strongly excited, they force the whole 
 moral energies into their own channel. It was so with Harry. 
 The protection of his own rights demanded retributive ven 
 geance on his foes. He meditated on his position, an out 
 law, though innocent of wrong, and beset by ruffians protected 
 by law. He walked the floor with accelerated steps. His
 
 WOLFSDEN. 423 
 
 bands were unconsciously clenched, and his teeth firmly set 
 The muscles of his face, formed to express good will, were 
 now contracted into the lineaments of resolute wrath. His 
 eyes glared with a terrible fire. His chest heaved with quick, 
 panting rags. His breath came frequent and hot. He was 
 ripe for a desperate deed. 
 
 Ready means for safe and speedy execution were not want 
 ing. His friend Drinkmore would doubtless depart for the 
 north immediately, if requested. Ben would do his bidding 
 to any extremity. There was plenty of charcoal at the 
 forge, and straw and sulphur were in abundance. In a 
 few moments the villanous crew might all be suffocated 
 in their dungeon, as other vermin are suffocated in their 
 dens. 
 
 It is thus that emotions turned in one direction, impelled 
 by an ardent temperament and driven by surrounding cir 
 cumstances, soon gain an ungovernable fury. The soul, in 
 tent upon one point, ceases to survey the whole field of 
 moral vision, and rushes onward with irresistible rage. 
 
 An angel intervened, or a deed of death had been done. 
 The whole detail was already wrought in Harry s mind. He 
 was in the act of departing to put it in execution, when a 
 door opened, and Margaret entered. She saw and compre 
 hended her husband s unwonted mood. 
 
 " lletire ! " said he, with a sternness never used before. 
 " lletire, and do not interrupt me ! " 
 
 She suspected the terrible purpose he intended, and, with a 
 pleading look, threw her arms about his neck. 
 
 " My husband," said she, " vengeance belongs to God. Let 
 us do nothing to offend him. He is now on our side, and will 
 protect us. Let us leave our cause with him, and escape from
 
 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 this evil land. We can now go harmless, and with no wrong 
 on our souls." 
 
 " It is no wrong thing, but a just and right thing, which I 
 mean to do," said Harry. 
 
 " O, it is wrong wrong to yourself" replied the wife. 
 " You are not called upon to punish wickedness, but to pre 
 serve your own goodness. Treat them not according to their 
 deserts, but according to your own generous and noble heart. 
 You have called me your angel ; let me now be your good 
 angel, and save you in this hour of angry temptation. It is 
 your loving wife, and another still dearer to us, though yet 
 unborn, who plead to you husband and father! " 
 
 The tender embrace, the pleading voice, the magic words 
 wife, husband, father, penetrated through the fierce pas 
 sions which had fortified Harry s heart. The current of his 
 emotions was checked. They turned to their accustomed 
 channel of generous and loving purposes. He embraced his 
 wife, and exclaimed : " You are, indeed, my good angel. 
 You once saved me from sinking in the quicksands of dissi 
 pated folly, and now you have saved me from the whirlpool 
 of ungovernable rage. We will fly from the evil intended by 
 others, and from the temptation to revenge it." 
 
 In a few moments horses were put to the carriage, and, in 
 an hour from the arrival of the hostile and treacherous crew, 
 Harry and his wife, accompanied by Dr. Drinkrnore, and 
 driven by Ben, were on their way to Portsmouth, in Vir 
 ginia, whence they would proceed by steamboat through 
 Chesapeake Bay to Baltimore, on the way to New York. 
 The keys of the house were given to a trusty servant, with 
 orders to let no one enter till Mr. Brooks, or some one bring 
 ing a specified token from him, should come ; and the neces-
 
 WOLFSDEN. 42-T 
 
 sity of keeping the prisoners safe till Mr. Brooks should 
 come was particularly enforced. 
 
 The horses soon traversed the more than one hundred 
 miles to Portsmouth, from whence, leaving the carriage, the 
 whole party, including Ben, took passage for Baltimore; 
 where Harry mailed his letter to Brooks, having first added 
 a postscript, stating the imprisonment of Buzzard and his 
 crew, and authorizing their liberation. 
 
 When they arrived in New York, Harry took carriage and 
 drove to his uncle s, where, learning that his uncle was at 
 his counting-room, he left his party, and proceeded thither 
 without entering the house. 
 
 Great was the surprise of the old merchant at the entrance 
 of his nephew. Still greater grew his surprise at the account 
 which his nephew gave of himself. He was a fugitive from 
 Carolina law, and had come to seek his uncle s protection for 
 himself and family. 
 
 " Of what can you have been guilty ? " exclaimed the uncle. 
 
 " Not guilty at all, dear uncle," said the nephew, " except 
 of the sin of running away from slavery, which is crime only 
 against slave-law and slaveholding divinity, both of which 
 I repudiate." 
 
 Harry then gave a full account of facts, and exhibited 
 the papers taken from Buzzard, including the agreement with 
 Marshy to do the work of kidnapping at halves. The mer 
 chant was astonished at the baseness of the wretch Buzzard, 
 whom he knew, and who had once, in the character of an 
 antimason and patriot, claimed the merchant s aid and hos 
 pitality. " But I never thoroughly trusted him," said Mr. 
 Boynton; "there was something in his countenance which 
 36*
 
 426 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 forbade that, though I did not think him capable of such 
 villany." 
 
 Harry remarked that the climate of Carolina was favora 
 ble to the development of villany in such as have a natural 
 inclination that way, which is the case with a large propor 
 tion of the Yankees who go there. " And, indeed," continued 
 he, " I had pretty nearly determined not to trust myself there 
 much longer before I found the necessity of immediate de 
 parture." 
 
 " Well," replied the uncle, facetiously, " I think I shall 
 not send you back ; for I have not yet conquered my preju 
 dices, and do not recognize any law or divinity which re 
 quires me to do it. Even Dr. Dewey s divinity does not 
 apply here; for, though he spoke of sending back his mother, 
 son, or brother, he said nothing of sending his nephew ; and 
 as for the example of St. Paul and Onesimus, I think you 
 could scarcely be trusted with a letter to Marshy requesting 
 him to receive you as a dearly-beloved brother. " 
 
 " I think," said Harry, " I should rather be his slave than 
 his brother." 
 
 " "Well, my boy, we must not waste time. There is more 
 to be done than you know of. Your sister Angelina is now 
 on her way to Carolina. I must follow her, or rather head 
 her off by the first conveyance, lest she should fall into the 
 hands of Marshy." 
 
 Great was Harry s surprise and alarm at this information. 
 He was told that Angelina, having accepted her uncle s 
 advice to remain in New York for a greater length of time 
 than at first proposed, had thought desirable first to return 
 and spend a week or two of preparation in Carolina. The 
 sailing of a fine new schooner belonging to her uncle, and
 
 TVOLFSDEN. 427 
 
 which, in compliment to her, he had named " Angelina," and 
 which was bound for Newbern, N. C., whence the conveyance 
 to Oakridge was easy, offered a pleasant opportunity, espe 
 cially as some friends, desirous to try a sea-voyage, would sail 
 in the same vessel. 
 
 The schooner had already been at sea one or two days, and 
 might be expected in Newbern in two or three more ; and there 
 was, therefore, no time to be lost, as it was desirable to inter 
 cept the lady on the arrival of the vessel. 
 
 Mr. Boynton had conceived a high idea of Alek s sagacity 
 and promptitude in cases of difficulty, as in the rescue of 
 Sophia Greening, and one or two other incidents within his 
 knowledge ; and, thinking it possible that he might require 
 such aid, he applied to Mr. Greening, who willingly consented 
 to Alek s accompanying him, and Alek was gratified with the 
 confidence and the excursion. In a few hours they departed, 
 and in two days arrived in Newbern. 
 
 A severe storm had commenced soon after their departure, 
 which increased to a hurricane by the time they had arrived 
 in Newbern. Trees, fences, and buildings, were prostrated. 
 Torrents of rain, driven by the fierce winds, flooded and 
 gulleyed the roads. The Neuse river, swollen by the deluge, 
 and driven back by the tide, overflowed the banks, destroying 
 dwellings, and driving the vessels moored at the wharves and 
 in the stream high on unnavigable sands. Disaster, discom 
 fort, danger, and dismay, prevailed. 
 
 The storm lasted several days, which in such a place as 
 Newbern must necessarily be tedious days, even without a 
 storm. There was reason to fear great disasters and ship 
 wrecks on the coast ; but news in Carolina, like everything 
 else, travels with a tardy pace, and several more days must
 
 428 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 elapse before definite knowledge would arrive. "When a week 
 had passed away the schooner Angelina had not arrived, but 
 a most unpleasant visitor had come. It was Marshy. Being 
 liberated from the cellar, and recovered from his terror, he 
 had come prepared to assert his claim upon Angelina. It 
 happened that she had, on the eve of departure from New 
 York, sent a letter to inform her brother. The letter had 
 fallen into Marshy s ha nds. He had quarrelled with Buz 
 zard, to whom he attributed the disaster of his confinement 
 and suffering in the cellar, and he was now resolved to seize 
 Angelina, and save all the profits to himself. 
 
 He had come directly to the tavern where Mr. Boynton and 
 Alek tarried, and soon the parties became aware of each 
 other s presence and object. 
 
 It was unpleasant to Mr. Boynton to make any advances 
 to such a grovelling wretch ; but necessity required it, and he 
 therefore sent for him to his room, and opened the business 
 at once by asking what ransom he demanded for his claim. 
 Marshy, who knew something of Mr. Boynton s wealth, and 
 rightly presumed that he would ransom his niece at any price, 
 grasped at the highest sum he could muster courage to name, 
 which was ten thousand dollars. Mr. Boynton, to be free 
 of the hateful business, would probably have acceded to the 
 demand ; but Alek, who had stipulated with his employer for 
 liberty of interference according to his discretion, and who 
 had all the time been scanning Marshy s countenance with a 
 curious and puzzled interest, now took up the work, and 
 replied, peremptorily, " We shall not give it. You must name 
 reasonable terms, or we shall not negotiate." The effect of 
 this prompt reply upon Marshy showed that he was not ex 
 actly sure of his ground, or at least had not the resolution to
 
 W L F S D E N . 42D 
 
 maintain it. It was well that Buzzard had not come with 
 him. 
 
 Alek reminded Marshy that, as the vessel now so long due 
 had not arrived, perhaps she might not arrive. She might 
 have foundered in the storm, or been driven back to New 
 York, or into some port whence Angelina would return 
 thither. He hinted, also, that the Boynton family had many 
 friends in Carolina, whom a much less sum than tea thousand 
 dollars would stimulate to vindicate their cause, in spite of 
 law ; and that, for the sake of his own safety and that of his 
 property, he had better be reasonable. In short, he so worked 
 upon the cautious and cowardly nature of the avaricious knave 
 that he at last consented to sell Harry and Angelina to -their 
 uncle for two thousand dollars, and the deed and payment 
 were made accordingly. 
 
 Mr. Boynton, having thus secured the essential object of his 
 journey, waited with patience the arrival of his vessel. Shortly 
 she came, m gallant trim ; for the captain, skilful and for 
 tunate, had gained a safe haven and outridden the storm. 
 The uncle and niece commenced their homeward journey 
 through Washington; where Alek had already gone, and was 
 spending a few days not idly, as we shall see by and by. 
 
 In Washington Mr. Boynton saw Mr. Brooks, who had 
 taken possession of the estate at Oakridge in behalf of his 
 client, though uncertain whether the client was Harry or his 
 uncle. Mr. Boynton requested him to hold the estate subject 
 to Harry s control, who would soon dispose of it ; and in the 
 mean time to place on it some trusty white person, who might 
 protect and employ the slaves for wages, but not coerce 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Boynton also saw Buzzard. The fellow looked crest-
 
 430 . W L F 8 D E N . 
 
 fallen, and would have avoided recognition ; but, finding that 
 impossible, he assumed a confident brazen-facedness, and offered 
 to shake hands. Mr. Boynton only looked upon him with 
 the steady scrutiny of one who studies a rare reptile, with 
 mingled curiosity and disgust, till the fellow skulked con 
 fusedly away. 
 
 Mr. Boynton, with his niece, visited Oakridge, where each 
 looked with tears of affectionate grief upon the graves of 
 those so dear to them both. It is human weakness that sheds 
 the tears. Had we angel natures we should rejoice with 
 songs of triumph for those who have finished earth s pilgrim 
 age and passed to a higher sphere.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ALEK S investigations in Washington gave him a knowledge, 
 general and particular, concerning the people and their insti 
 tutions, which proved useful as well as curious. Among 
 other particulars, he ascertained something of Marshy s pre 
 vious history, which helped to confirm certain suspicions re 
 lating to his identity. He also learned that Marshy s wife 
 resided much of the time in that uncelestial city, preferring 
 its society to the solitariness of the plantation. She was not 
 reported to possess much gentleness, or refinement, or other 
 amiabilities, even according to the Carolina standard ; but, a 
 an offset, she was loud and bold, and had a just contempt for 
 her husband. Marshy was, as he deserved to be, little better 
 than her slave ; but it was considered that by selling himself 
 for the price of a plantation he had got his full value. 
 
 On the other hand, Mrs. Marshy was about as badly used 
 by her son, little Bob Marshy, a snub-nosed, wide-mouthed, 
 lop-eared boy of ten or eleven years, precociously profligate, 
 and uniting the sly, sneaking, selfish nature of his father 
 with the swinish coarseness of his mother. 
 
 She passed much of her time in coaxing, threatening, abus 
 ing, and bribing her whelp, who, as relentless as an old slave- 
 driver in his tyranny, used all his perverse powers to plague
 
 432 W L F S D E X . 
 
 and tease her. He had already the advantage in his own 
 hands ; for his mother, in her fits of fondness, and to inspire 
 him with a proper contempt for his father, represented 
 Marshy to him as a nobody, and himself as the important 
 personage who inherited the estate from his grandfather, 
 which Marshy could control only till the heir should be grown 
 up ; so that Bob even now despised " old Sneaky," as he 
 called him, as much as the lady herself. But, as Marshy was 
 not a man of much perception concerning the fitness of filial 
 and paternal relations, nor of any delicacy of feelings, he prob 
 ably suffered no regrets, but was in reality that which seems 
 monstrous in imagination a contented slave. 
 
 Alek, having stored his memory with these and all other 
 historical and local facts concerning the paltry place bearing 
 the august name of Washington, rejoined his friends at Oak- 
 ridge, whence they all soon departed, and in due season arrived 
 in New York. 
 
 Shortly after their return, Mr. Boynton sent for Alek to 
 his counting-room, and presented him with a bank check for 
 five hundred dollars. " Your prompt and able services," said 
 he, " have saved me much more than that sum, and whenever 
 you engage in any enterprise requiring assistance count me 
 as one of your friends." 
 
 " I accept the money," said Alek, " only with permission 
 to act in your service a little longer, and in a way for which 
 the money will be necessary. My object is to make Marshy 
 restore the two thousand dollars of which he plundered you ; 
 and, if you approve the object, and will allow me to pro 
 ceed in my own way, without implicating you. I think I can 
 convince the pirate of the propriety of his restoring the 
 plunder."
 
 WOLFSDEN. 433 
 
 " If you can do that," said Mr. Boynton, "you shall have 
 the whole sum, and my thanks. My chief regret at losing it was 
 that it went to reward a villain deserving the hangman s rope. 
 But," continued he, " I give no consent to any plan which 
 shall require you to return to Carolina, or incur any danger." 
 
 " No," said Alek, " I shall not leave New York. There is 
 a genie who will do the business for me without risk, and you 
 have furnished me the talisman (referring to the bank check) 
 which will command him." 
 
 That evening Alek wrote a letter to his old friend Ike 
 Bowler, of Wolfsden. 
 
 " DEAR IKE : You are wanted here for a particular occa 
 sion. Nobody but a Wolfsdenner will do, and of all Wolfs- 
 denners you are the one. It is inexpedient to explain 
 particulars till we meet. You will find them satisfactory. 
 You remember that Santa Glaus went to old Bang s with 
 boots for Sue, and afterwards to Bragly s to recover them for 
 her. That was a good thing. This is a good thing. En 
 closed are fifty dollars to start with. Please to start sud 
 denly, and be here before a week, if possible. With love to 
 your folks, and especially my sweet daughter Amy, 
 
 "Yours, ALEK ARBOR." 
 
 Ike was punctual to the summons. He had never before 
 left Wolfsden, but would have gone to China if invoked by 
 Alek. Particulars were explained, and proved satisfactory, 
 and Ike, with a new outfit, and three or four hundred dollars 
 in his pocket, left New York as suddenly as he entered it. 
 Few knew whither he went ; but it was not in the direction 
 of Wolfsden. 
 
 37
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 ABOUT this time appeared a wonder in Washington. A 
 stout, swaggering, odd-looking individual, with long hair hang 
 ing over his shoulders, and other peculiarities enough to make 
 folks stare who have nothing else to do, as is universally the 
 case in Washington, came suddenly into that once obscure, 
 but henceforth famous city. 
 
 The odd-looking individual announced himself as Dr. Polly- 
 wog. He professed to cure all diseases by the application of 
 cold water, and announced lectures to maintain his doctrine. 
 The idea was very novel in that place, where whiskey is the 
 general remedy. Everybody turned out to hear Dr. Pollywog. 
 Though ignorant, as far as appeared by his lectures, of every 
 thing pertaining to diseases or remedies, or any other science, 
 he managed, by his assurance, and volubility, and jocularity, 
 and incomprehensibility, to make a wonderful impression. 
 His audience were more ignorant than he. Ignorant people 
 always take the side of ignorant doctors, and a lecturer who 
 can make them laugh is more acceptable than one who re 
 quires them to think. The natives thronged to Dr. Pollywog 
 to be cured of all manner of diseases ; and he soused them, and 
 packed them in wet sheets, and made them swallow quarts 
 of hateful water, till they were glad to confess themselves 
 3ured. So Dr. Pollywog got much notoriety, and many dollars.
 
 VTOLFSDEN. 435 
 
 Besides his droll dress, his slouching hat and gait, and 
 hanging hair, and flapping ruffles, and big bright buttons, and 
 scarlet vest, and boots outside his trousers, he drove a stout, 
 
 
 
 parti-colored horse, of extra spirit and speed, and a light, 
 gay gig, in which he would every day whisk through the 
 town in a manner that would have reminded the natives cf 
 " Tarn o Shanter " and his mare " Meg," only the natives 
 never read Burns nor anything else, except their paltry 
 newspapers. 
 
 Among other oddities, Dr. Pollywog affected a great fancy 
 for the company of vagrant boys (all white boys there are va 
 grant) ; and with them he would go on fishing and shooting 
 excursions, supplying them with abundance of candy, cakes, 
 whiskey, tobacco, cigars, and other luxuries congenial to Caro 
 lina juveniles, whom their wise parents are careful to bring 
 up in the way they choose to go. Often he would take one 
 or two of the rowdy young hopefuls and give them a rapid 
 airing in his gig. The snub-nosed, wide-mouthed, lop-eared 
 Bob Marshy, as being one of the rascaliest of the crew, was 
 his particular favorite. Not even the mother s partiality for 
 her pig-headed progeny exceeded that of Dr. Pollywog. 
 
 The doctor had patients in Newbern, a few hours ride 
 from Washington, and would often take one of the vagrant 
 boys with him, who, on his return, would exaggerate the jolly 
 times enjoyed, setting other boys agog for like delectations. 
 The doctor invited Bob Marshy to go ; and, though his mother 
 objected to trusting him so long out of her sight, yet, as Bob 
 swore he would go, the mother yielded the point, perhaps to 
 prevent his perjuring himself, only exacting of the doctor a 
 promise to be particularly careful of her darling. After he 
 had gone once or twice and returned safely, the mother s con-
 
 4oG WOLFSDEN. 
 
 fidence was fully established, and the doctor and Bob were 
 absent sometimes one or two days at a time. 
 
 Pollywog told .Bob all about the great cities, and the lots 
 of fun going on there ; the military companies, with swords 
 and epaulets, and colors and feathers, and also the music- 
 grinders and the monkeys, and all such wonders. Bob swore 
 he d go in for it, the first chance, and cut Sneaky and the 
 old woman, by which filial terms he designated his honored 
 parents. 
 
 Dr. Pollywog and Bob started for Newbern one bright 
 morning. They did not return that day. They did not re 
 turn the next day. Madam felt a little fidgety. Dr. Polly 
 wog had told her when she felt fidgety to cool off in a wet 
 sheet ; but she neglected his prescription, and therefore grew 
 more fidgety. The next day thvy did not come, and she 
 fumed and fretted furiously. The fourth day she sent Marshy 
 in pursuit, but no Pollywog nor Bob had been seen in 
 Newbern. They had not been there. Nobody had seen them 
 anywhere. 
 
 There was a buzzing in the wasps nest. The road to New- 
 bern continues on south, and travellers may pursue it and 
 avoid Newbern; therefore the fugitives had doubtless gone 
 south. There was indeed an obscure road, which turns off 
 and by a circuitous route leads north ; but nobody wmild be 
 likely to take it, and therefore their pursuers and advertise 
 ments were sent south. 
 
 They went a good ways, and inquired of many persons, but 
 got no news of Bob. How could they? Bob was by this 
 time in New York, enjoying lots of fun, and following the 
 military companies, with their swords and guns, and epaulets
 
 W L F S D E X . 437 
 
 and feathers, and the organ-grinders and monkeys, and other 
 worthy curiosities. 
 
 In a fortnight Mrs. Marshy was frantic with all the strong 
 
 O J O 
 
 emotions of her slrong temperament. Should not "sulk," as 
 her slave Lolly did, when Marshy, at his wi . e s instigation, 
 sold oft her little boy to a trader. Loity " sulked," and Mis. 
 Marshy tried the whip, and then Marshy himself tried it, but 
 all did no good. Lotty shammed sick, and Mrs. Marshy beat 
 her till ehe was tired of it; and then, when she found, as she 
 said, that the jilt would die, she sold her tu a trader at h:ilf 
 price. The trader would not have given half price for a sick 
 nigger, but Mrs. Marshy told him Lotty was getting well; 
 and, by telling Lolly that she should be sent to find her boy, 
 which brightened up the wench wonderfully, she made the 
 trader think so ; but the trader lost money by the specula 
 tion, for Lotty died on his hands. This is Mrs. Marshy s 
 own account of the afl air. 
 
 Mrs. Marshy did not sulk, not she. Hers was the femi 
 nine fury which a she-bear manifests when robbed of her 
 whelps. Marshy himself was wonderfully stirred up. Some 
 thing besides parental feeling was involved ; for, Bob being the 
 heir of his grandfather, by his guardianship a large property 
 was held and enjoyed by the parents, and the possession of 
 the property was identified with the safety of the boy. Other 
 heirs, by will or otherwise, stood ready to claim possession if 
 he should be put out of the way; and perhaps this was a 
 scheme to put him out of the way. The Marshys had suffi 
 cient motive of apprehension. 
 
 But partial relief came in shape of a letter from New 
 York, thus : 
 
 37*
 
 138 W L F S D E N . 
 
 " MISTER MARSHY : You can have your boy by coming 
 to New York and paying three thousand dollars. I could 
 make more of him, but I only want what s right. So, if you 
 want him, come on with the cash. It s no use to come with 
 out it, for I shan t take off a cent. We shall sail in a week, 
 if we don t get the money. Mr. Arbor, at Greening & Rus- 
 sctt s agricultural store, will tell you where to find us. And 
 so no more from your humble servant to command till death, 
 " WIDEAWAKE WOLFSDENXER." 
 
 This was not exactly the way to please Marshy and lady. 
 He would have paid with his soul, or she with her good name, 
 supposing them to have been possessed of such commodities, 
 rather than with three thousand dollars. But there was a 
 necessity to get back the boy even at that price ; for, setting 
 aside parental prejudices, several times the sum depended 
 upon him as heir to his grandfather. So, as the letter was 
 peremptory, they raised the sum and departed. 
 
 Alek Arbor had just closed his books and locked them in 
 the iron safe, and was about closing the office, when a man 
 and woman entered. It was Marshy and his wife, or rather 
 Mrs. Marshy and her husband ; for she entered first, bold, 
 earnest, and business-looking, while he lagged behind, skulk 
 ing, furtive, and suspicious-looking. 
 
 It was scarcely two months since she had seen him near 
 her own home, and she claimed acquaintance. " I have 
 come," said she, " to get my boy ; can you tell me where to 
 find Wideawake Wolfsdenner ? " 
 
 " You may find a Wideawake Wolfsdenncr without going 
 far," replied Alek ; " but have you brought the three thousand 
 dollars, for without that I shall not introduce you to him."
 
 W L F S D K N . 439 
 
 " Surely you will not keep a mother from getting her own 
 boy ! " said Mrs. Marshy, suppressing for the moment her 
 natural spirit, and putting on the pathetic. 
 
 " No, madam," said Alek, " I shall not interfere with your 
 efforts. But, by the way, what became of Lotty and her 
 boy?" 
 
 " You don t mean to throw that nigger in my teeth ! " said 
 Mrs. Marshy, laying aside the pathetic, and resuming her 
 natural spirit. " She was my nigger, and so was her boy. I 
 had a right to sell em." 
 
 " Well, madam," said Alek, looking at his watch, " I have 
 no time to argue the matter. It is tea-time." 
 
 " 0, Mr. Arbor," said she, again putting on the pathetic, 
 " do let me have my boy, and I 11 pay you anything you 
 ask." 
 
 " Produce tho three thousand dollars, then," said Alek, 
 " and I 11 do my part." 
 
 " Don t tell me about three thousand dollars ! " said the 
 virago, resuming her natural spirit, and dropping the pathetic. 
 " Do you think to swindle me out of three thousand dollars? 
 I tell you, young man," said she, marching up to him with a 
 threatening look, "that you ve got to give up ray boy, or," 
 continued she, abating a little her threatening look, on seeing 
 that Alek did not quail before it, " or, if there s law in the 
 United States, I ll have it ! " 
 
 Alek pulled a bell, and a boy answered the summons. 
 " Madam and sir," gaid he, addressing his company, " you 
 may leave the office immediately, or I shall send for a police- 
 officer to take charge of you." 
 
 " 0, Mr. Arbor," exclaimed she, relapsing to the pathetic, 
 don t do so, don t treat a lady so ! Come, now, say the best
 
 440 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 you will do. You know Mr. Marshy asked you only two 
 thousand dollars for the Boyntons." 
 
 " Yes, he asked ten thousand dollars, and would have got 
 it if you had been there to back him. But the case is differ 
 ent. He had not got the game quite in his hands, and was 
 afraid of losing the whole. We have the game in our hands, 
 and are sure of the whole ; and, besides, you began the bat 
 tle, and have no right to complain that we fight harder than 
 you expected." 
 
 " But you mean to go according to law, I suppose," said 
 Marshy, for the first time interposing a word. 
 
 " I have not decided upon that, sir," said Alek, fixing his 
 eye full upon him. " I shall see how this matter ends before 
 I decide upon the next business, sir. Do you know anything 
 of Wolfsden, sir, and of Bragly, the grocer, sir, and 
 of Simon Bragly, sir? We shall see about law. as soon as 
 we get through the present business, or before, unless it 
 ends soon, sir." 
 
 Marshy quailed, and said no more ; but ever and anon he 
 stole a glance at Alek, as at a wizard beneath whose power 
 resistance was vain. 
 
 The lady could not comprehend it, but, knowing her hus 
 band s character, and that he had before been in New York, 
 she suspected that some former villany of his was detected, 
 and that new dangers, and perhaps new demands, awaited 
 them. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Arbor," said she, with a double proportion of 
 the pathetic, " do let us off as easy as you can ; do let me 
 see my boy, and know that all is right, and you shall have 
 the money." 
 
 " Madam," replied Alek, " you shall have sufficient security
 
 WOLFSDEN. 441 
 
 that I shall fulfil my engagements. Mr. Marshy knows very 
 well that the family of Deacon Arbor, whose son I am, 
 always fulfil their engagements ; besides, I will call a gentleman, 
 well known to you as a man of honor, who will take charge 
 of the money, and return it to you unless the boy be forth 
 coming." 
 
 The Marshys assented, and Alek bade the boy run for Mr. 
 Harry Boynton. They started at the name. They would 
 rather not have faced their former neighbor, under present 
 circumstances ; but there was no help. Harry came and 
 looked upon the crestfallen couple, but made no remark. 
 Alek explained the business, and Harry consented to act as 
 banker. Little as the Marshys could comprehend the nature 
 or motive of honor, they knew it to be an indisputable quality 
 of the Boyntons ; and the money was deposited without much 
 more delay, for the harassed and jaded couple had worn out 
 much of their energy and power of resistance. All the 
 faculties sink under , long-continued excitement, and even 
 avarice loosens its grasp when nature is exhausted. They 
 were anxious to have the business ended, and to be away 
 from the city, where the lady had vague fears of further trou 
 ble and expense; and whence Marshy, now that he knew him 
 self known, had good reason to wish to escape as noiselessly 
 as possible. 
 
 Alek wrote a note, and sent it off by the boy. He then 
 took from a drawer a legal-looking paper, tied with red tape, 
 and addressed Marshy thus : " Sir, your son will soon be here, 
 and your wife will be free to depart with him. You will 
 also be free to go when you have put your proper name to 
 this document, which Mr. Grappler, a legal friend of mine, 
 has prepared for your signature. He has also drawn up
 
 442 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 another document to which your attention will be emphati 
 cally called, if you decline this. You will infer from the 
 paper that Bragly senior, of Wolfsden, is dead. This docu 
 ment," continued he, opening it and occasionally quoting 
 from it, " this document, as you see, is already sealed, and, 
 when properly signed and witnessed, transfers all the right, 
 title, and interest, which Simon Bragly, son and heir of the 
 late Solomon Bragly, of Wolfsden, has in the property of 
 which said Bragly was seized and possessed at the time of 
 his death, to Colonel Jacob Bowler, of Wolfsden, aforesaid, 
 in trust, for the support and benefit of Susan Barker and 
 her son Jotham Barker, widow and son of the late Benja 
 min Barker, of said Wolfsdeu, blacksmith, and to their use 
 and behoof forever. 
 
 " My motive," continued Alek, " for requiring this trans 
 fer, is that the Bragly here mentioned was the means of 
 turning Barker the blacksmith into a sot, and depriving his 
 family of their proper protection and support ; and, there 
 fore, his property should go to recompense the injury. I 
 think I have said enough to bring you to that opinion ; if 
 not, I have a stronger argument, or, at least, one of more 
 personal application." 
 
 Marshy guessed well enough the kind of argument which 
 Alek held in reserve. Since the mention of Mr. Grappler, 
 and the additional document drawn up for him in case of his 
 demurring at this, he felt himself, to express it gently, in a 
 delicate position.
 
 CHAPTEK XXXVII. 
 
 MARSHY S delicate position may be briefly explained. 
 Simon Bragly, left his paternal home in Wolfsden about 
 twenty years previously, being then of age. He went to seek 
 his fortune, and supposed himself well qualified to make his 
 way in the world ; for he had learned all his father s maxims 
 of low cunning, and had np scruples of honesty to interfere 
 with whatever chance of gain might fall in his way. He spent 
 a year or two in Saco, then a year or two in Boston, and then 
 a year or two in New York. In each city he gained practice 
 and experience in his chosen line of life, so that, at the end 
 of six years of advanced pupilage and practice, he self-com- 
 placently considered himself a finished villain. 
 
 He did himself no more than justice, so far as the solid 
 qualities of such a character go ; but he was somewhat defi 
 cient in the tact and adroitness which characterize the most 
 accomplished professors of his school. His natural gifts were 
 not equal to the greatest attainments in any line. Besides 
 his lack of capacity, there was some deficiency in that earnest 
 perseverance and singleness of purpose which is necessary to 
 great results; for he had devoted himself occasionally to de 
 bauchery, which necessarily impeded his race for preeminence 
 in the sublimer mysteries of knavery.
 
 444 W L F S D E N . 
 
 Haying, however, tested his abilities and good fortune, by 
 the success of some small villanies, he le .t encouraged to 
 venture on a larger enterprise. He forged his employer s 
 name to a draft of considerable amount, and sent another 
 person, whether innocent or confederate is not known, to 
 present it for payment, with directions to bring the money to 
 a certain place. Simon did not await his emissary at that 
 certain place, but posted himself in sight of the bank to judge 
 of his success. Omens were not auspicious. The emissary 
 tarried too long. A boy came cut of the bank, and ran to a 
 police-station. A police-officer came to the bank. When 
 the emissary reiippeared, the police-officer was also in sight. 
 The emissary hastened to the place of rendezvous, and the 
 police-officer followed and enteved with him. Simon under 
 stood the manoeuvre, and congratulated himself thut, tbough 
 he had not got the money, he had outwitted the officer. 
 
 Henceforth he wisely judged that New York was not his 
 proper sphere.- He had already abstracted a little sum from 
 his employer, and put it with the other avails of his profes 
 sional industry ; and with this means he immediately ab 
 sconded, and, though advertised, was not overtaken. He 
 found his way to North Carolina, which he judiciously judged 
 to be his proper sphere. 
 
 It is not worth while to track his crooked trail very closely. 
 To evade pursuit, he changed his name to Marshy, and, after 
 various fortune, sold himself to Tim Bateman s daughter of 
 smutched reputation, for the consideration of a plantation. 
 It was worse than a wooden-nutmeg speculation, for both 
 parties got the worst bargains possible. 
 
 When Alek first saw Marshy at Newbern, he was struck 
 with something in his face at once familiar and disagreeable.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 445 
 
 " If Bragly had a brother," thought Alek, " this must be he; 
 or, can it be his son ? He looks too old for that, but his 
 reputed habits when last heard from, and the Carolina cli 
 mate, may have added to his age." 
 
 The more Alck studied his features, and expression, and 
 voice, the more strongly he was impressed with the proba 
 bility of the supposition. His inquiries at Washington con 
 cerning Marshy s previous history, of which nobody knew any 
 thing, confirmed his belief; for concealment is seldom sought 
 but to escape infamy. He told Ike Bowler what he thought ; 
 and when Ike (whom the reader has recognized as Dr. Polly- 
 wog) visited Washington and saw Marshy, he said there could 
 be no mistake, Marshy must be a Bragly, for nature would 
 never fashion two families on such a shabby model. Alek, 
 therefore, upon consulting Squire Grappler, who happened to 
 know young Bragly and his history when in New York, had 
 the papers referred to made out in preparation for his ap 
 pearance ; for it was judged that, upon the whole, the ends 
 of justice would be better subserved by inducing the rogue to 
 part with his property for the benefit of his father s victims, 
 than by his arrest and imprisonment. 
 
 We have seen that when Alek in effect charged upon 
 Marshy his identity with Bragly, he showed no surprise. 
 He saw himself detected, and did not venture on denial. Ho 
 had supposed that after the lapse of so many years he should 
 not be recognized in New York. His wish now was to retreat 
 with as little loss as possible ; for his arrest and conviction 
 as a forger would not only hurt his feelings, but, what was 
 worse, would endanger his fine prospects as planter and guard 
 ian of Bob s patrimony, and perhaps also as future legisla 
 tor, representative, judge, governor, or president, for all 
 38
 
 440 \V L 1 8 D E N . 
 
 which offices he thought his talents and qualifications to be 
 of the kind most in request. 
 
 Therefore, when Marshy understood that by resigning his 
 own patrimony for the benefit of his father s victims he might 
 be allowed to escape the present dreaded danger, he accepted 
 the compromise as a lucky chance. He acknowledged him 
 self to be the identical Bragly junior ; and went with Alek 
 and Harry before Squire Grappler, who at once recognized 
 him, and by whose legal aid the deed of transfer was duly 
 authenticated. 
 
 When they returned to the office, Dr. Pollywog had already 
 brought Bob, who was very dirty, and very sulky, and re 
 ceived his mother s caresses, coaxings, and promises, with a 
 very ill grace. He " did n t want none of their doggin arter 
 him," and wished his " mother and Old Sneaky " (meaning his 
 honored father) to a place unnecessary to mention. He 
 swore he would stay in New York " where there was some 
 thing of some count, music-grinders, military soldiers, and 
 monkeys." 
 
 The reader, though regretting the perjury, will be gratified 
 to know that he was finally persuaded to go back with his 
 mother and " Old Sneaky ; " and that they still continue very 
 creditably to fill their place in the upper circles of society in 
 Washington, North Carolina.
 
 CHAPTEK XXXVIII. 
 
 ALEK wished to return to Mr. Boynton the two thousand 
 five hundred dollars, plundered by Marshy and borrowed by 
 himself, but the generous merchant would accept no part of 
 it. After consultation with all parties, it was finally 
 determined to apply the whole three thousand dollars taken 
 from Marshy for the benefit of the slaves at Oakridge, 
 whom Harry had determined to emancipate, and to instruct 
 in the use and advantages of freedom. Harry, therefore 
 (accompanied by Ike), returned to Oakridge ; and, after con 
 sulting the wishes and capabilities of the slaves, brought 
 most of them to New York, where, being scattered in dif 
 ferent families and employments, they soon acquired ideas 
 and habits of self-dependent industry and economy. Those 
 who remained in Carolina, being superannuated, or other 
 wise incapacitated for freedom, were allowed a small pension 
 for their support. 
 
 Ben Blacksmith found employment in an iron foundery 
 connected with Messrs. Greening & Russet s establishment, 
 where his strength and dexterity commanded high wages, so 
 that he soon saved a considerable sum ; and then, to the 
 surprise of his employers, asked for his discharge. He made 
 no explanations, but, having settled his small affairs, silently
 
 448 W L F S D E N . 
 
 disappeared. lie was not heard from afterward till the 
 account of the capture of the brig " Creole " electrified the 
 nation, exciting iu the friends of freedom the highest admira 
 tion, and in the lovers of slavery the fiercest indignation. 
 
 How came Ben Blacksmith again in slavery, and com 
 pelled to achieve his freedom by desperate strife against 
 armed kidnappers and keepers ? He returned voluntarily to 
 the land of slavery, but with no motive of again submitting 
 to its boasted institutions. 
 
 He returned to the region of slavery from the same motive 
 which led Orpheus to brave the horrors of the infernal re 
 gions ; which urged Menelaus to, ten years of strife and 
 danger on the plains of Troy ; which brought Samson to the 
 Philistine s house of bondage ; which impelled Don Quixote 
 to encounter dreadful dangers ; which betrayed Antony to a 
 bloody death. 
 
 It was love ! Of life s voyage, the tempting siren, the 
 hidden rock, the faithless quicksand, the wrecking hurricane, 
 the fatal whirlpool. 
 
 Of life s battle, the ambushed foe, the unsuspected mine, 
 the treacherous ally, the fatal destiny, the overwhelming ene 
 my, the Waterloo defeat. 
 
 Of life s economy, the wild extravagance, the sanguine 
 folly, the misplaced trust, the desperate venture, the reckless 
 loss, the inevitable bankruptcy. 
 
 Of life s pilgrimage, the enchanted ground, the slough of 
 despond, the vanity fair, the doubting castle, the dire Apol- 
 lyon, the giant Despair, the city of destruction. 
 
 Ben Blacksmith went back to the south that he might 
 rescue his dark Virginia bride from slavery. While in con 
 cealment awaiting his opportunity, he was betrayed by a
 
 WOLFSDEN. 449 
 
 false friend, surrounded by an armed force, and loaded with 
 fetters. He was sold, with others of his acquaintance, includ 
 ing the wife whom he had come to rescue, to a slave-trader 
 to be carried to the Louisiana sugar plantations, where the 
 avowed policy is to work men and women, and boys and 
 girls, to death within six years, and to replenish their gangs 
 by new purchases. 
 
 How the slave-trader, after completing his purchases, 
 shipped his freight of human beings for New Orleans on 
 board the brig " Creole," fastening them with fetters and 
 under hatches ; how, on the voyage, Ben Blacksmith and 
 Madison Washington, with other heroes whose liberty-loving 
 devotion redeems the land of slavery from the reproach of 
 utter degeneracy, burst from their confinement, and inflicted 
 just vengeance on their truculent keepers and kidnappers, 
 but spared those who submitted, and then, with a prudence 
 and skill unsurpassed in heroic history, navigated the vessel 
 to a British port, and there maintained their own and their 
 companions just independence, is told by the " protest " of 
 the owners of the vessel in New Orleans, who, though com 
 pelled to record the glorious deed, worthy the tallest monu 
 ment ou American soil, yet suppressed much that adds to the 
 honor of the victors. 
 
 They did not tell of the wanton cruelty and insult which 
 wound up to desperate valor the unarmed slaves, till, brav 
 ing every disadvantage, they rushed upon their armed 
 guards, and bore them headlong to the deck, or over the 
 bulwarks. 
 
 Nor did they tell how, in the plenitude of their irrespons 
 ible tyranny, they tortured the husband by cutting with the 
 38*
 
 450 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 merciless whip the quivering flesh of his wife his wife, 
 dearer to his heart than its own life-blood. 
 
 And how, when her little child besought the cruel wretch 
 " not to whip mamma," he spurned the beseeching babe with 
 his boot, and sent it headlong and stunned against the wall 
 of their floating dungeon. 
 
 Then the electric spark darted forth from the overcharged 
 brain of the husband and father, and strung his nerves to 
 deeds of matchless valor. In vengeance the volcano found 
 vent, or the brain would have burst with accumulated 
 torture. 
 
 With superhuman strength he wrenched the irons that 
 bound his wrists, and dealt the wretch a blow that needed 
 no repeating. It was the crisis of fate. Then the outburst- 
 ing spirit of the hero inspired congenial spirits around. 
 Madison Washington, a man of milder mood and less feared 
 by the captors, had just been unfettered that he might per 
 form some laborious service for his masters, and he now 
 sprung to the side of Ben, and shouted " Liberty ! " 
 
 "Now for liberty, boys ! " they shouted both, and sprang 
 through the hatchway upon the deck. Their first onset 
 decided the fate of the day. They wrenched the muskets 
 from the vainly-struggling sentinels, and shouted to their 
 companions, now fast emerging from the unguarded hold, and 
 in a few moments the victory was won. 
 
 With what consummate skill the fruits of victory were 
 secured ; with what vigilance they guarded against treach 
 ery and surprise, and compelled their tyrants to become their 
 servants, and to pilot them to a haven of safety, in spite of 
 their wish to betray them ; with what forgiving mercy they 
 abstained from all retaliation for cruelties received; with what
 
 WOLFSDEN. 451 
 
 heaven-trusting faith they throw the deadly arms overboard, 
 relying upon British justice and the God of the oppressed to 
 protect them, all this may be gathered from the story even 
 as told by their enemies in the "protest" of the owners; and 
 if such was their defamers story, in what glorious words 
 might their eulogist record their deeds ! 
 
 What stirred the blood of these submissive and all-endur 
 ing blacks to such deeds of matchless valor ? It was the 
 controlling energy of the master spirit Ben, communicating 
 itself like the electric current to the sympathizing hearts 
 about him. What was the power that strung his own spirit 
 to that pitch of frenzied valor to that desperate encounter 
 with adverse odds, where prudence would have counted suc 
 cess impossible ? 
 
 It was that power which bore Ulysses through a thousand 
 dangers again to his long-deserted Ithaca, and his long-wid 
 owed Penelope ; which sustained Jacob in his twice seven 
 years service to the faithless Laban ; which inspired the 
 gentle spirit of Petrarch in strains of deathless song, and 
 prompted the heroic Tell to deeds of deathless fame. 
 
 It was love, which dares all things for its devoted object, 
 and snatches victory even from opposing Fate. 
 
 It was love, of life s battle the invincible champion, the 
 heaven-sent aid of chariots and horses of fire, the sacred ban 
 ner, the palladium of power, the inspiring watchword, the 
 tocsin of victory. 
 
 Of life s economy, the cheap luxury, the elevating dignity, 
 the gain counterbalancing all losses, the insurance covering 
 all risks, the guarantee of ultimate success. 
 
 Of life s voyage, the unerring compass, the leading star,
 
 452 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 the hopeful anchor, the protecting flag, the directing helm, 
 the welcome port. 
 
 Of life s journey, the flowery path, the pleasant compan 
 ion, the refreshing fountain, the cheerful sunshine, the sweet 
 return. 
 
 Of life s pilgrimage, the interpreter s house, the greatheart 
 guide, the delectable mountains, the embosomed roll, the key 
 of promise, the helping angel, the celestial city.
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIX. 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 LET the heart be pure, and the faith be clear, and the soul 
 be strong to pierce the bounds of earthly knowledge, and 
 learn the wonders of the spirit world. We are on its borders. 
 We are in its midst. The soul has eyes to see a million sur 
 rounding, sympathizing, kindred souls. But the film of mor 
 tality curtains the spiritual vision, and we grope in spiritual 
 darkness, though surrounded by spiritual light. 
 
 So the man born blind walked the streets of Jerusalem, 
 but saw not its holy temple, nor its glorious sunlight, nor 
 the faces of his brethren ; for his eyes, though formed to see, 
 were darkened by a film, and he saw not the wonderful and 
 pleasant things of the world wherein he walked. So the film 
 of mortality shuts our spiritual eyes from the inward world 
 wherein we walk, and we see not its spiritual glories, nor our 
 spirit companions. 
 
 But when the Lord of light appeared and touched the 
 blind man s eyes, though all things else remained as before, 
 he was ushered into a new world, of glories inconceivable. 
 So the Lord of light has power to open the spiritual eyes 
 of mortals. This grace he has shown to some, but not to
 
 454 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 all. Of the many blind men of Judea, but few were 
 healed. 
 
 0, deep, unfathomable mysteries of our being ! Why do 
 men say that the age of miracles is past? Each man is a 
 miracle. Each new discovery of the laws and powers of mat 
 ter is a revelation. God still speaks to man in the thunder s 
 crash, and the ocean s roar, and the whispering breeze, as once 
 in the Eden garden-walk. 
 
 In visions of the night God s angels have talked with men; 
 or on the holy mountain, or on the desert plain, or in the 
 wilderness, or in the crowded streets. 
 
 Frances was ever, while amongst us, but as a visitant from 
 some brighter sphere. Native grace and loveliness surrounded 
 her as with a more ethereal atmosphere. Always pleased and 
 cheerful, she threw the sunlight of her own happy disposition 
 into every place where she entered, and her presence was 
 always an assurance of pleasantness and peace. Where she 
 came, even the rude affected gentleness, the overbearing be 
 came affable, and the selfish learned to be generous. Human 
 nature, however degraded, never becomes blind to the attrac 
 tions of unaffected goodness. Happy Frances ! the favorite 
 companion of angels, even while in mortal life. Happy 
 spirits ! who now, with the angel Frances, rejoice in immor 
 tality. 
 
 There seemed no failure of Fanny s health or strength ; 
 her eye was bright, her step was free, her voice was clear, her 
 cheeks lost not their lovely glow. But she talked to her 
 mother of heaven, as a home where she soon should go ; and 
 spoke cheerfully and happily, as though it were not a matter 
 of regret, nor even of solemn thought. It had become familiar
 
 WOLFSDEN. 455 
 
 to her mind, as if it were but a removal to a new and better 
 tenement, where the same loving friends would still be about 
 her, or would soon follow. 
 
 There was a heart which throbbed with anguish then, when 
 her true words told of its coming bereavement. It throbs 
 with remembered anguish now, though so many years have 
 passed. But, away with selfish regrets ! She said that she 
 would still be about us, and love us ; and it is so. Soon the 
 veil will be removed. 
 
 THE VISION, AS TOLD BY HERSELF. 
 
 It was a moonlit night, and Frances had retired to bed 
 alone. The door which opened into her mother s room was 
 shut, but not fastened. She lay quietly, thinking only of 
 common affairs, when, without the slightest feeling of alarm, 
 she became conscious of the presence of other persons. There 
 were three of them, and all unknown to her. One was an 
 elderly lady, looking much like her mother, but more slender, 
 and dressed in Quaker fashion. Another appeared as her 
 daughter, and looked much like Frances herself, but dressed 
 like the mother. The third was an elderly man, looking 
 benevolent and happy, but rather staid and precise. 
 
 The little girl approached the bedside, followed by the 
 mother. Their faces were radiant with goodness and love. 
 " Will you go with us a little while, and see the new home? " 
 said the daughter. 
 
 The invitation was so gentle and winning, that Frances 
 thought not of refusing, but gave her hand in confidence. 
 Instantly her relations to the things about her were changed. 
 She was no longer confined to her bed, nor to the room, nor 
 even to her bodily form. Neither the curtains, nor walls, nor
 
 456 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 any of the surrounding world of matter, obstructed her sight 
 or her movements. A vast and delightful plain of waving 
 groves and winding streams and charming flowers opened 
 before her. Thousands of radiant beings, with looks of love 
 and social joy, thronged the delightful region, and seemed to 
 expect and welcome her approach. She felt the attraction of 
 mutual sympathy, and hastened to join them. To one, even 
 more than to the others, her soul was linked in love. 
 
 " I have long been your guardian angel," said the bright 
 being ; " and now I will show you the delights and the duties 
 of immortality. Here we are free from earthly hindrances 
 and infirmities ; and here duty is ever a delight, because our 
 minds are moulded in the love of duty. The world of infinite 
 progression is before us, and every step is a new joy, higher 
 and better than mortals know. The march of improvement 
 has no limit, and its resources of delight are inexhaustible. 
 Millions of happy spirits have progressed for millions of ages 
 in these paths of peace, and are ever filled with new wonder 
 as worlds of new and varied happiness are unfolded before 
 them. How impossible is it that mortals should comprehend 
 the idea of infinity ! Not even seraphs can compass the 
 thought. 
 
 " Yet it is not that the soul travels far to its heaven. It 
 is only the awakening of new powers; for the more the. soul 
 is developed, the more it is capable of appreciating and enjoy 
 ing. Creation has no limits, either in extent or variety, when 
 the powers have become expanded and refined to survey it. 
 But mortals are like the beasts which grovel upon the earth, 
 and know nothing but its grossest gifts. The dull ox grazes 
 in the meadow, or basks in the sunshine ; but feels not the 
 beauty and fragrance of the flowery green, and has no ear for
 
 WOLFSDEN. 457 
 
 the warbling melody of the grove, and no eye or thought to 
 pierce the wonders of the starry heavens. Of all that Heaven 
 bestows, only the herbage and the warmth of the sun is within 
 the scope of his capacities. Mankind have faculties- a little 
 more expanded and refined to embrace the things about them, 
 yet theirs is but a slight advance toward the high progression 
 of spirits. 
 
 " Creation has no limits. These spiritual bodies which we 
 have, and this wonderful landscape which surrounds us, though 
 invisible to mortal eyes, is still as much a part of creation as 
 the grosser substance of earth. In this wonderful creation 
 you also continually move, though your eyes are not open to 
 behold it. Unimaginable beauties and angel companions sur 
 round you ; and they often influence your minds, and commu 
 nicate thoughts of which you know not the source. But it is 
 only to those who bring themselves near to the spirit-sphere 
 that we have power to communicate. 
 
 " Not all who enter this world arc capable of enjoying its 
 happiness. They who have nourished the passions of avarice, 
 of envy, of hatred, or of low sensuality, are unfitted for heav 
 enly joys. What are delights to the good are plagues to the 
 evil ; and the tastes which they have formed find no food. 
 See, afar off, at the foot of that unsightly mountain, an un 
 happy group. Their faces show their discontent. Even now 
 they are in contention. Vulgar taste ungratificd, or, if grati 
 fied, unenjoycd; sour disdain, gnawing -envy, soul-racking 
 hate; ignorance, which scorns truth; jealousy, which repels 
 confidence ; cruelty, which feels no sympathy, these are the 
 kindred cankers of earthly life : they arc the devils, self-be 
 gotten, who guard the infernal gates ; for these gates are only 
 perverted wills. They herd together, though not in peace. 
 39
 
 458 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Theirs is the affinity of baseness, and they are repelled by 
 inward antipathy from the good. 
 
 " Let us partake of these surrounding fruits. You have 
 tasted nothing on earth so delicious. But their excellence is, 
 that they nourish not only our spiritual bodies, but also our 
 souls. Observe the fragrance of these flowers, and their 
 variety, each with its own delightful perfume. How refresh 
 ing are these fountains ! how grateful the breezes ! 
 
 " Now, let us ascend the empyrean heights ; for, in what 
 ever direction we move, we equally ascend ; or, rather, the 
 distinctions of height and depth, in the earthly sense, do not 
 prevail here, but only in a moral sense. The highest-ascended 
 angels stand by our side, or dart with us through space ; their 
 loftiness of ascent is within them, and they gladly help us to 
 rise toward their eminence. 
 
 " Yonder bright being is my guardian angel, as I am 
 yours. See ! he kindly proffers to accompany us, and invites 
 us to a circuit among the infinite heavens. Together, gently 
 or swiftly, with one mind they fly." 
 
 The worlds of wonders opened to Frances sight were incon 
 ceivable ; as if the vast concave sky were filled with floating, 
 sparkling bubbles, and each bubble magnified into a world of 
 surpassing size and beauty, each filled with its own peculiar 
 wonders and delights, yet all uniting in one grand whole, 
 through which the happy dwellers might pass at will. Such 
 seemed the opening panorama of heaven. 
 
 " Yet these," said the guide, " are but the beginning of 
 scenes of which there is no end. The archangels of uncounted 
 ages know that these wonders are without limit. They are the 
 works of an infinite God ; and he has made them also infinite, 
 even as he has formed us for infinity."
 
 WOLFSDEN. 45ft 
 
 "But, where is the heaven of God s throne? and where is 
 Christ the beloved Son ? " asked Frances of the superior spirit. 
 
 The angel smiled sweetly, and laid his hand upon his 
 breast. Heaven and Christ were there. 
 
 " Think you," said he, " that God s throne is afar off, or 
 that his kingdom is confined to place? Through all the in 
 comprehensible vastness of infinity there is no place where his 
 glories dwell more than in your own heart, nor any other 
 place where you could approach and dwell among them. The 
 loftiest seraphs who stand in his presence are but those whose 
 faculties are most nobly improved, and who thus come into 
 nearer unity with his will. They then dwell in the immedi 
 ate brightness of his glory ; for his glories are unfolded within 
 them. Learn, then, and understand what Christ told you long 
 before, that God s kingdom is within you, and cease to 
 form ideas of a local heaven, as though He who is omni 
 present could be less in one place than in another. His 
 highest and happiest angels are ever drawing nearer to him, 
 and more 1 clearly beholding his glories ; because each, within 
 his own heart, explores and ascends, and receives the inward 
 light. Yet, though they ever advance in wisdom, and good 
 ness, and happiness, the way of progression is still infinite. 
 
 " To you, as to us, it is given to partake these heavenly 
 fruits around us. Often have you unknowingly been refreshed, 
 by them. The fragrance of heavenly airs, wafting good de 
 sires, hopes, and resolutions, has revived you. Heavenly 
 streams of confidence, resignation, faith, forgiveness, charity, 
 and love, have refreshed and strengthened you. When you 
 have been startled by new triumphs of your own thoughts, 
 and when spiritual light has unexpectedly filled your mind, it 
 was then that you had unconsciously been refreshed by heav-
 
 460 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 enly fountains, and partaken of spiritual food ; and when you 
 now return to your earthly sphere, where your pilgrimage 
 will be brief, your soul will be strengthened by what you have 
 seen and tasted with us. 
 
 " Behold a sign by which you may know that you have 
 seen realities, and talked with angels." 
 
 Frances looked, and saw her brother Alek, seated at a rude 
 table, in a rustic and roughly- furnished room, and surrounded 
 by wild and unwonted scenery. One other person, of refined 
 and intellectual appearance, accompanied him ; and these two 
 were attended by strange-looking persons, of various complex 
 ions, and savage though submissive aspect. Before him lay 
 a parcel of letters just written, one of which was directed to 
 herself, informing her that he was then in South America, 
 whither he had gone suddenly, in company with a son of one 
 of his employers, on business which would require extensive 
 journeys, and consume much time. 
 
 Frances clearly saw and studied her brother s counte 
 nance, and admired his air of sagacious resolution altd delib 
 erate self-confidence. But, while she looked, she felt herself 
 rapidly receding from him ; and in a moment the vision had 
 passed away, and she found herself in her own room, and 
 alone. 
 
 The strong assurance expressed by Frances that she had 
 indeed conversed with spirits made a deep impression upon 
 her parents, and others who shared her confidence. In a few 
 weeks a full confirmation of the spirit-intelligence was received 
 in a letter from Alek. He was indeed in South America, 
 having been sent by his enterprising employers, in company 
 with Mr. Sylvester Russet, son of the junior partner of the
 
 WOLFSDEN. 461 
 
 firm, and, like his father, strongly devoted to the science ot 
 agricultural husbandry. And here I cannot but express my 
 regret that so few young men of talent and energy like his 
 are led to engage in a field of enterprise so healthful and 
 remunerative, and giving scope for the largest activity of 
 body and mind. 
 
 Young Mr. Russet, having received all the advantages of a 
 scientific training in the best schools, devoting himself espe 
 cially to those departments of natural science pertaining to 
 agriculture as a profession, formed a plan of exploring differ 
 ent regions of South America, to transplant to the soil of New 
 York such of its productions as might appear worthy of the 
 experiment. His father, though he approved the plan, would 
 not consent to his son s attempting it except on condition that 
 Alek should accompany him ; for Alek s good conduct and 
 good fortune had by this time gained him a reputation for 
 energy and sagacity equal to any emergency : and it was in 
 this way that he was introduced to a new field of adventure, 
 well adapted to his nature, and favored with the advantage of 
 cultivated and scientific companionship. 
 
 It belongs not to this history to pursue the adventures of 
 these utilitarian travellers ; but it may be said, in passing, 
 that to their active and successful researches and selections 
 the magnificent gardens and plantations about New York owe 
 some of their choicest embellishments. Their stay was pro 
 longed to nearly three years, during which they visited most of 
 the semi-civilized countries of the southern continent, exam 
 ined their productions and resources, and rendered substantial 
 services to their employers in a commercial view, besides 
 adding much curious knowledge to the public stock. 
 39*
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE full story of a single life would fill many volumes. 
 How briefly, then, must we note events who attempt the his 
 tory of a whole town in a single hook! Matters which were 
 a month s wonder in Wolfsden must be compressed in a single 
 line ; and, like the school-girl s genealogical sampler, one little 
 page must suffice for all that is important in many lives, 
 their births, marriages, and deaths, with moral reflections, 
 rejoicings, and regrets, an epitaph, a tree, and a tomb. 
 
 The Wolfsden Philharmonic Society, after snapping many 
 strings, and exploding much wind, and setting many teeth on 
 edge, and many tempers, too, at length composed all its 
 differences by the expulsion or voluntary withdrawal of all 
 its members, who colonized into new harmonical associ 
 ations, borrowing names from Handel, Haydn, Mozart, and 
 Beethoven, but manufacturing music independent of all 
 masters. Squire Noseby s oft-resounding hall is now silent as 
 the cave of Fingal. Squire Noseby is silent, too. Dropsy 
 did it. Brandy began it. Snuff and tobacco aided it. 
 Squire Noseby has blown his last twang. 
 
 Squire Chinby still flourishes. We cannot pause now ; but 
 we must again visit Chinby, if but for his blue-eyed daughters, 
 as bright and cerulean as ever.
 
 WOLFSDEN. 463 
 
 Time s wheel revolves, and brings many changes ; but the 
 pivot stands still and unchangeable. Lucinda Boreman is 
 still the same sweet slender siren as in other days, her 
 curls still captivating, and her everlasting net-work purse, 
 like Penelope s web, still perplexing her lovers. But Luciuda 
 has seen the sorrow which comes nearest a faithful daughter s 
 heart, the loss of her mother. Her smile is sadder than 
 before, but not the less sweet. 
 
 The good old parson has received an addd dignity. Be 
 fore his bereavement it would have been a glory and a 
 triumph. Even now it adds a solemn grandeur to his pres 
 ence. He is made a doctor of divinity. No parson better 
 deserves the degree than he. No town better deserves a 
 doctor of divinity than Wolfsden. 
 
 Ax is a faithful servant faithful to his patron and to him 
 self. He has grown to be a likely lad of sixteen, and tall as 
 some boys at twenty. ; He perseveres in his resolution to be 
 a schoolmaster, and the very resolution has already given him 
 the air of one. Besides, he has really gained much knowl 
 edge. He has made the most of district school advantages, 
 and has devoted all leisure hours and holidays to study. 
 Lucinda has been his teacher ; that is, she has heard him 
 recite lessons, spell, abbreviate, and parse, and has taught 
 him to guess riddles and make acrostics. She has set copies 
 for him, and with her pretty fingers showed him how to hold 
 the pen. She sometimes bends over the slate to show him 
 the sums, and her captivating curls wave near his cheek, 
 possibly they may once or twice have brushed against his 
 budding whiskers. Ax loves to write and cipher who would 
 not? 
 
 The good old parson, who has thus given a home to the
 
 464 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 fatherless in his own house, forgets not the widow. He comes 
 often to Colonel Bowler s to see poor Susan. But Susan is 
 no longer poor, in any sense. Her comfortable residence, 
 since Bang s death, has much improved her appearance, and 
 she is plump, cheerful, and good-looking. Her accession to 
 Bragly s property (for she has the benefit of it while Ax is a 
 minor, and he says she shall always have it) has made her 
 quite wealthy. Whisperers say that the parson s attentions 
 to the widow have been more regular and particular since her 
 good fortune than before. The insinuation is not becoming, 
 if intended to reflect upon the good minister s motives, as 
 though they could be mercenary. Charity thinketh no evil, 
 especially of a doctor of divinity. 
 
 Major Murray and his wife miss Margaret much. As 
 monotonous time moves slowly on, they miss her more and 
 more. They are in the uncomfortable position of people who 
 have nothing to plague them. The old lady cooks, and pam 
 pers the hired man and the cat, but cannot find half enough 
 employment in that way. She has knit a trunk full of stock 
 ings ; but there is nobody to wear them out, and no darning 
 to be done. If sometimes a moth makes a hole, she is thank 
 ful foe the favor, and makes the most of it ; but such good 
 luck comes seldom, for she beats and brushes her hoarded 
 stores every week, which happily passes away some super 
 numerary hours. She sweeps her house twice a day. Once, 
 in her palmy days, she could have made a glorious dust ; but 
 now nothing comes of it. She taught the major long ago to 
 clean his shoes as he entered the house ; and now, though he 
 seldom goes in the dirt, he is tediously scrupulous, and makes 
 no tracks to give occasion for mop or broom. Poor madam 
 is puzzled what to do; yet, as the mill-stone still revolves
 
 WOLFSDEX. 465 
 
 though the corn is all ground, so the busy lady still goes 
 round, and tries to make a comfortable clatter. 
 
 Colonel Bowler still reports himself as fit for service. The 
 spirit of Seventy-six sustains him. He says the campaign is a 
 pretty long one, but he trusts that it will end honorably, and that 
 he bhall be promoted into the great army above, where every 
 soldier is greater than conqueror or king. The " Adjutant " 
 is still the colonel s favorite " staff," and by this time a pretty 
 stout one. The boy loves his grand ther more than all other 
 playmates, so permanent are the affections which are fixed 
 and fostered in childhood. 
 
 Amy is as sweet as ever sweeter, for there is more of 
 her, and she is all sweetness. She has grown up from a 
 pretty child to a more than pretty maiden, but still is as art 
 less and unpretending as in her bread-and-butter days 
 the same generous, impulsive heart, the same sincere, over 
 flowing affections. The instinctive love of truth and good 
 ness, and the antipathy to wrong ; the care and regard for 
 others welfare, fearless for herself; the nice sense of propriety 
 which nature gives to those whom she chooses to be known 
 as ladies, wherever they may be found; all the loveliness of 
 childhood, with the added dignity and worth of womanhood 
 these were, these still are thy qualities, dear sister mine. 
 From infancy till now, thy life has been a continual lesson oi 
 goodness, and thy presence a reward.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 IN reverent silence let us approach the chamber where the 
 soul prepares to change its earthly garment for the robe of 
 immortality. 
 
 Pale as the pillow which supports her feeble form, mourn 
 fully beautiful as the white rose which even now withers by 
 her side, with failing breath and fluttering pulse, the young 
 Frances awaits her summons to the spirit sphere. 
 
 A hectic glow at intervals passes over her cheek, and her 
 eyes dilate with unusual brightness. It is as if the curtain 
 were lifted, and the soul s vision looked beyond mortal things, 
 while a rosy gleam of immortality illumines her face. But 
 the hectic glow passes away, and the eyes are closed. Not 
 yet is the spirit victory won. 
 
 Sometimes she has strength to speak a little. When her 
 friend knelt at her bedside, and took her thin, transparent 
 hand, and pressed it to his lips, she faintly smiled, and 
 said, " It is but dust, soon I shall have a form better worth 
 loving." 
 
 When a companion asked her if she suffered much, she 
 cheerfully answered : " No ; my body has pain, but no more 
 than I can easily bear; and my soul has no pain, but is filled 
 with peace and joy. How good was the Saviour, to teach us
 
 WOLFSDEN. 467 
 
 that these little pains are but the birth to a better life, and to 
 Bhow us how to bear them ! " 
 
 It was wonderful to observe how constantly she considered 
 the soul as distinct and separate from the body, and as the 
 only essential interest. In speaking of herself, she did not 
 include the idea of her outward being. " I seem," said she, 
 " to perceive my gradual separation from the body, and often 
 to watch the progress of rny new birth. Yet I neither wish to 
 hasten or delay it. God has ordered it aright. The bud 
 swells and the flower expands by his rules ; it is so with us." 
 
 To one who read a hymn referring to 
 
 " The faithful Saviour, who shall come 
 Out 1 dust to ransom from the tomb," 
 
 she replied : " O no ! not the dust. We shall be done with 
 dust. Nothing which goes to the tomb returns. The body 
 belongs to the tomb. Our Saviour came to raise us from the 
 body." 
 
 Another read or spoke of the death of the righteous as a 
 blessed sleep, and she replied : " Not sleep, but a blessed 
 waking. We are not fully awake while in the body, but 
 when we leave the flesh we shall have spiritual bodies, which 
 will not retard the soul with sleep, nor with other infirmities. 
 God has given us these bodies only to prepare us for better 
 ones." 
 
 To her mother she said : " Think of me as with you still. 
 God will permit me to minister to you, and others whom I 
 love ; and it will be a part of my happiness to commune with 
 vou, and to sustain you till you also shall be free, and we 
 shall be sister angels." " Only remember," said she, play 
 fully, " that there I shall be the eldest."
 
 468 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 As the moment of her dissolution approached, she seemed 
 mostly insensible to outward things, but her countenance 
 often expressed the soul s communings, and a radiant smile 
 passed over her features. Through the thin and broken veil 
 of mortality, she may have seen and talked with the happy 
 ministering spirits in the angel sphere. 
 
 When the last earthly hour approached, there was a struggle 
 of bodily pain, severe, but short, and then she breathed calmly, 
 but more and more faintly, till daybreak. As the light 
 dawned she rallied her strength for a moment, and wished to 
 speak. Her sister Helen bent over her to catch her words, 
 but could distinctly hear only the word "SEE." The expres 
 sion of her countenance explained the rest. It was some 
 beautiful sight of which she wished to speak 
 
 How beautiful was that mortal body which we consigned 
 to the grave ! ! then how surpassingly beautiful must be 
 the spiritual ! We cannot conceive, but, when our spirit vic 
 tory is gained, then we shall " see." 
 
 Let us bravely bear our earthly lot, our burthens and 
 bereavements, rejoicing in the treasures of love which shall 
 surely be restored to our faithfulness. And let us not mourn 
 that those whom we love are sooner advanced to the blessed 
 sphere. If death were indeed dreadful, its most dreadful form 
 would be a long-protracted earthly life, with the successive 
 loss of all our joys, and decay of our powers. But to the 
 truly enlightened death in no form is dreadful ; it is but the 
 sudden or the gradual awakening to a new and glorious life. 
 
 Yet it was mournful news to pass from house to house in 
 Wolfsden, when the young Frances, so lately the fairest, 
 loveliest, and most welcome, wherever she appeared, was now 
 departed from our sight.
 
 W L F S D E N . 469 
 
 The young and old, from far and near, came to take a last 
 look of the form no longer animated by the spirit which 
 moulded it in such grace, and to learn anew the lesson of 
 death, so often learned, yet so little understood. 
 
 In little scattered groups, with hushed voices, they spoke 
 of how she looked when they saw her last so blithe and 
 beautiful ; or told what they knew of her patient sickness, and 
 how it was believed that she had talked with angels, and 
 foreknew her early death ; or they spoke of the absent brother 
 how dearly he loved her, and how he would grieve. 
 
 The scripture which she selected was read, and her chosen 
 hymn was sung. They expressed consolation and triumph. 
 
 Over the flowery turf which her fairy feet had so often 
 trod, beneath the spreading elms where her play-ground had 
 been, past the green grove where she loved to wander, through 
 the field and by the hill-side where every picture of the 
 scenery is blended with her presence, silently, reverently, 
 mournfully, the long procession passed, attending her body to 
 the grave. " 
 
 Yet the robin sweetly sang, and the sparrows blithely twit 
 tered, and the flowers expanded their various beauties and 
 sent up their sweet fragrance ; and all nature smiled as if to 
 assure us that God s laws were even now, as ever, harmoni 
 ously working out their happy results of mercy and love, 
 only our eyes were too dim, and our spirits too sad, to receive 
 the grateful truth. 
 40
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 ANOTHER year has unfolded its lessons of duty, of patience, 
 submission, and improvement ; and another spring brings its 
 tokens of faith, hope, and love. Affection s wounds may not 
 heal, but we learn to endure them. Departed delights may 
 no more return, but we hasten to overtake them. 
 
 New duties demand our attention. Life, like the historian s 
 page, still hastens on. We may not loiter in the field, for 
 the harvest demands the sickle, and the reaper Death fol 
 lows close behind us. Let us hasten our work while the sun 
 still shines. Hasten your deeds, ye heroes of destiny! Glide 
 glibly, fair pen of history ! 
 
 It was near the close of a pleasant day of June, 18 , 
 when two travellers pursued their winding upward way along 
 the wildly romantic banks of the Saco. One of them, gentle 
 manly-looking, and in the early prime of life, rode in a well- 
 varnished " rockaway," whose easy luxury might have served 
 a softer frame. The other, a stout and spirited horse, trotted 
 briskly along the uneven way, and drew the shining rock- 
 away, as gay and well pleased as his master ; and as they 
 journeyed he who rode mused thus : 
 
 " Here am I and my good steed pursuing our winding way 
 along the banks of this romantic river ; and why are not we
 
 WOLFSDEN. 471 
 
 and our fortunes fit matters for romance ? Were the wonder- 
 writing JAMES apprized of our position, how quickly would 
 his genius install us in the long ranks of his renowned heroes ! 
 Little thinks that mighty master of rigmarole what a quarry 
 he misses by not following on our track. Let us cast a 
 retrospective view. 
 
 " Seven years have I wandered from my native home, 
 driven by unrequited love and unrelenting fate (so the story 
 should read, though the plain fact is, I went of my own free 
 will). Many perils have I encountered, and many achieve 
 ments have I performed, some of which might deserve at 
 least a ballad, if a cheap poet could be found ; but Willis has 
 taken to prose, and Holmes to pills, and the others are prob 
 ably above my price. These scenes bring back early lessons 
 of economy. If I buy a whistle, it must be a small one. 
 
 " Beneath yon beechen tree, by the side of that rippling 
 rivulet, I met the first peril of my travels, which came near 
 to prove the last ; but I killed the rattlesnake that threatened 
 me, and hung him for a warning on that very thorn-bush 
 which still guards the wayside. 
 
 " My first adventure in New York was worthy of Quixote s 
 fame, and something more; for my impulse was as good as 
 ever warmed his chivalrous bosom, and my success better 
 than he often found. I beat the rowdies who would have 
 mobbed the women, and suffered no damage in the encounter, 
 
 " I shall not omit to credit myself for my flight from Count 
 Flummery s palace of seduction. That flight was my most 
 praiseworthy deed, for it was my most difficult one ; and, if 
 recorded at all, it shall be compared to the retreat of Xenophon 
 with his ten thousand Greeks. 
 
 " Also I preached morality to poor Fitz-Faun ; but I could
 
 472 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 not save him, and therefore I infer that he was a predestined 
 reprobate. It is of no use to contend against the decrees of 
 destiny. 
 
 " But I helped to save the splendid Erycina, who so danger 
 ously imperilled me. She is now a good and happy matron, 
 with a lot of pretty children. I claim the whole family as 
 stars in my diadem of good deeds. 
 
 " What a knight for distressed damsels and widows I have 
 been ! Sophia Greening may thank me that I put her deliv 
 erer on the right track for rescuing her and winning her; 
 and widow Simperkins owes the recovery of her hunique 
 to my sagacity ; but we 11 offset that against the snowdrift 
 haccident. 
 
 " But Bang s widow and son owe me full credit for my 
 labor of love in their behalf; though Ike must come in for his 
 share of merit in the management of Marshy, which was very 
 adroit, and perfectly justifiable. Wretches who ignore all 
 honorable principles and rules of conduct cannot claim pro 
 tection by them. Vermin are out of honor s pale. 
 
 Who ever recked where, how, or when, 
 The prowling fox was trapped and slain ? 
 
 " Ike writes me that our old minister, now a widower and 
 doctor of divinity, pays extra attentions to the widow Susan 
 since her fortunes have mended. All very natural, and very 
 characteristic. It is prudent to befriend those whom Provi 
 dence befriends ; it proves our piety to be on the same side 
 with Providence. I hope she will profit by his ministrations. 
 
 " But I forget to complete the summing up of my own 
 good deeds. No matter, they are all recorded, and will 
 appear in the final reckoning ; but possibly may not figure up
 
 WOLFS DEN. 473 
 
 so favorably as I am disposed to make them. It is unsafe to 
 reckon without our host. 
 
 " I have, however, served my employers faithfully, besides 
 services rendered to others, including myself; and I believe 
 that I have wronged no one wilfully, either in mind, body, or 
 estate ; so that between myself and my fellow-men I have a 
 clear conscience, which is doubtless an essential part in the 
 great account. And in the great struggle between right and 
 wrong, which in a thousand forms is ever going on in the 
 world, my sympathies, at least, have always been on the side 
 of truth and humanity; which, however, is no matter of boast, 
 for it was not in my nature to be otherwise. 
 
 " And now, after my seven years apprenticeship in the world, 
 I return to embrace my beloved parents and brothers, and to 
 see the grave of my sister. She left word for me that I 
 should not weep, but rejoice, for her. If my soul were as 
 pure and elevated as her own, I might perhaps be able to 
 obey her request ; but, 0, how much of the loveliness of 
 home has departed with her ! Yet the dear remembrance of 
 her presence will ever be a bond of attachment to the scenes 
 of my youth, and I doubt if ever I shall be enough of a 
 philosopher to regard any other place with equal interest. 
 How beautiful is the image of her life and death as pictured 
 in my mind ! How elevated and unselfish her thoughts, and 
 how fond and strong her affections ! Her last message to 
 me, through sister Helen, was to bequeath her share in my 
 heart to her dear friend Amy. Dear little Amy ! how fond 
 was she of Frances, and how much attached to me ! I re 
 member that I left my home^at dawn of day, to spare her the 
 pain of parting. But she is now no longer a little pet. How 
 
 many of the sweet charms of home I shall miss ! Yet my 
 40*
 
 474 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 father and mother still remain in health, and this is much 
 to be thankful for ; and Billy and Tommy I hear are stout 
 and good boys, and ambitios to emulate their brother Alek, 
 whom they have set up as a pattern. Well, we shall see 
 what they can do." 
 
 Thus, musing and soliloquizing, our romantic traveller in 
 the rockaway communed with himself, while his horse trotted 
 steadily along, making speedy progress, pausing not in the 
 upward or downward waving, bending way, now through cool 
 valleys, arched by the overhanging forest and dusky from the 
 declining sun; now over knolls rising into the smiling view 
 of approaching sunset; now turning by sharp angles around 
 insurmountable ledges of precipitous rock, and now in grace 
 ful bendings by the base of some near encroaching hill, till at 
 length they came where a road turns abruptly from the river, 
 and a guide-board pertinaciously directs the traveller to 
 WOLFSDEN, as though there were no other place in the world 
 where travellers need to go. 
 
 Our travellers obeyed the intimation, and, ascending a hill, 
 soon emerged from the woody solitude to scenes of livelier 
 interest. 
 
 Behind, stretching far to the south and east, lay the shad 
 owy vale, threaded by the winding river, along whose banks 
 hitherto for several hours they had journeyed, meditated, and 
 soliloquized. 
 
 Before and on either hand, near and remote, high on the 
 hill-sides or deep in the shady valleys, on the level plains, 
 by the border of wood-encircled lakes, and along the fertile 
 meadows, where slow-winding streams loiter lazily along their 
 level bed, by the wayside, or in remoter retreats, threaded 
 by green lanes, and obscured by orchards and scattered trees,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 475 
 
 a hundred homes fill and adorn the pleasing panorama ; a 
 hundred homes, recalling a thousand familiar faces, and ten 
 thousand associations of early life. Even yet the apple-trees 
 were in bloom, and gave their fragrance to the gentle breeze. 
 The rising corn had just begun to mark the fields with slender 
 lines, and green patches of various grains displayed their 
 young luxuriance. Cattle of every color and degree gentle 
 cows, majestic oxen, and defiant bulls; mares sedate, and frisk 
 ing colts ; quiet ewes, and bleating lambs harmoniously 
 shared their green pastures, and helped to fill the faithful 
 picture, and recall the realities of rural Xew England life. 
 
 Every farm-house, every family, every human heart, has 
 its history, its joys and sorrows, its thrilling hopes and 
 trembling fears, its anticipations and disappointments. Life s 
 drama is every\yhere in progress ; its curtain rising and fall 
 ing, ever closing and ever renewed ; and, however high or hum 
 ble the stage, still the story is of humanity. Human hearts 
 throb with all that humanity can feel, and learn what expe 
 rience alone can teach. 
 
 Here, a newly-married couple have just begun life s career. 
 Themselves, their cares, and their young dreams, are enough 
 to people and fill with ample resources their home and their 
 time. There, a maturer pair are surrounded and overshad 
 owed by a rising family : striplings confident of untried pow 
 ers ; young maidens with timid steps entering upon life s 
 stage, each needing and receiving the correcting and support 
 ing aid of parental experience ; while, lingering among tho 
 busy bustlers of life, the gray patriarch and ancient dame, 
 with silent care, perform the last duties, and await the closing 
 event of mortality. 
 
 Half hidden in the distance toward the left, among the
 
 476 W L F S D E N . 
 
 hills and the trees, the searching eye obtains the outward 
 view of an unpretending yet independent home, the home of 
 three living generations, as of other generations which have 
 passed away, and perhaps of generations yet unborn. There, 
 at this moment, the flower of them all, a lovely maiden, stands 
 at her little glass, and arranges her simple toilet. Her daily 
 routine of duties done, she prepares for an evening walk. 
 Though untaught by fashion, she is educated in all that na 
 ture, truth, and innate delicacy, can teach. Her neat and 
 dextrous hands easily supply all the ornament her native 
 beauty needs. Her wavy auburn hair is combed with a 
 gentle downward curve, slightly covering her fair temples. 
 Her muslin kerchief protects, yet not quite conceals, her beau 
 tiful neck. A well-chosen and well-fitted fabric of light mate 
 rial displays the symmetry of her form, moulded and rounded 
 in the fairest proportions of perfect womanhood. Her eyes, 
 radiant with intelligence and good-humor, but softened with 
 modest diffidence, look approvingly upon the faultless form 
 and features reflected in the little glass. She turns this way 
 and that in every direction, but finds nothing amiss ; and, 
 calling " Champion," the strong and watchful house-dog, who 
 gladly obeys her summons, with gentle caress and light elas 
 tic step, she leaves the house. 
 
 She trips along the green path, bordered by the lilacs, 
 their gay plumes now bending with superabundant fragrance. 
 High over head the tall old pear-tree showers down its white 
 blossoms, half covering the turf, and giving a brighter yel 
 low to the new-coined dandelions which thickly bedeck the 
 green. 
 
 She passes through the gate and adown the road by the 
 old stone wall, over which the blackberry waves its flexile
 
 WOLFSDEN. 477 
 
 branches, and displays its snowy blossoms, in token of luscious 
 pickings to come. 
 
 She pauses but for a moment where a narrow grove of 
 beeches, fresh in the light green of their young leaves, fringes 
 the field, and gives to the wayside traveller in sultry noon a 
 grateful shade. Here, each year, when October frosts open 
 the rough burrs, has she gathered ample hoards of nuts for 
 winter evening s hospitality, but left to the squirrels and wild 
 pigeons their larger share. 
 
 The road descends and crosses a little brook, which gurgles 
 and glides and eddies along, among mossy rocks, and over 
 shining sands, and in deep pools, where the speckled trout 
 loves to hide, and dart upon the luckless grasshopper betrayed 
 upon the treacherous tide. 
 
 From the thick alders which border the brook a partridge 
 springs and whirrs away to securer depths. Champion jumps 
 to chase the escaping prey, but soon ceases the fruitless pur 
 suit, and only wishes he had sooner been there. 
 
 The ascending road, fringed and encroached upon by ferns 
 and whortleberry-bushes, at length discloses a by-path, 
 the hypothenuse of a distant angle. It is a shorter and pret 
 tier way, and leads through a grove of maples, where but 
 lately the dripping sap filled the shallow troughs of rifted 
 wood, and, thence transferred to the boiling kettle, became by 
 rustic alchemy transmuted to the yellow nuggets which juve 
 nile mortals love. 
 
 At length the path emerges upon a broad road, with well- 
 built walls of stone on either side, enclosing and protecting 
 far-reaching fields, now springing in green promise, and soon 
 to glow in gorgeous array of gold, and silver, and crimson, 
 and purple, such as Solomon in all his glory could not reach,
 
 478 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 but soon again, alas ! to be despoiled by the unsparing 
 scythe, relentless emblem of the fate which awaits all flesh, 
 which is but grass. 
 
 But youthful beauty moralizes not thus. She trips along 
 and enjoys the lovely scene and balmy air of June, and thinks 
 not of despoiling autumn. Champion, as regardless as her 
 self of the destiny of dogs and men, now scours away in long 
 excursion, scaring blackbirds and robins from their grassy 
 hiding-places, and now trots panting by her side. Happy 
 mortals ! No objects or cares perplex them. They go 
 forth without expectation, and, therefore, meet no disap 
 pointment. 
 
 But events meet those who do not expect them. Whether 
 unawares or anticipated, the fate which destiny decrees will 
 find us. The fair maiden had already sufficiently prolonged 
 her walk, and was about to return, when a carriage came 
 suddenly in sight. It was a shining rockaway, occupied by 
 a single traveller, and drawn by a handsome horse. She 
 could not well turn to go back till she had passed the car 
 riage, for that would look like an uncivil avoidance of the 
 stranger. She saw that it was a stranger, and such a one 
 as youthful maidens do not often shun. 
 
 The carriage approached, and the stranger, with deferen 
 tial grace, bowed, and, with apologizing politeness, begged to 
 be informed whether Colonel Bowler lived in the vicinity. 
 His look, and indeed his motives, were sincere, but his words 
 dissimulated ; for he already well knew where Colonel Bow 
 ler lived. It was something else he wanted to know, and 
 which his penetrating eyes seemed already to find in the 
 maiden s countenance. 
 
 The maiden replied, unsuspiciously, but with a flutter in
 
 WOLFSDEN. 47U 
 
 her heart which she could not understand, nor quite repress, 
 that Colonel Bowler was her father, and lived less than a 
 mile distant. It was the first house after turning the first 
 corner to the left, 
 
 " If you are Colonel Bowler s daughter," said the hand 
 some stranger, " you must be Amy, whom I have so often 
 called my daughter." 
 
 Amy looked up with surprised recognition. 
 
 " Do you not know Alek ? " continued he, alighting from 
 the carriage, and offering his hand. " Recollect who found 
 you in the woods, and whom you used to call uncle." 
 
 The maiden s eyes sparkled and suffused with artless and 
 earnest welcome. It was Alek, altered, indeed, but still 
 impersonating the image cherished and venerated from child 
 hood. Alek saw his advantage, and, seizing her hands, pressed 
 them to his lips with many kisses. Her cherry lips, and 
 blushing cheeks, and radiant eyes, looked as if they had at 
 least equal claims. Amy forgot for the moment that she was 
 not still a child. Alek seemed to forget it too ; for he clasped 
 her in his arms, and repaid to cherry lips, and blushing cheeks, 
 and radiant eyes, their well-deserved tribute of a hundred 
 kisses.* 
 
 But her self- forgetful ness was but for a moment. With 
 gentle dignity she disengaged herself; and, giving her hand, 
 told him that she would accompany him home "Where," 
 said she, " your father and mother, and Billy and Tommy, 
 will be gladder to see you than I am." 
 
 She got into the carriage, and sat by his side. He asked 
 a thousand questions, not one of which was prompted by the 
 
 * Amy, who has got a peep at the manuscript, insists that this is an 
 exaggeration by ten-fold.
 
 4oU WOLl SDEN. 
 
 interest uppermost in his mind ; for his heart and brain were 
 filled with new-born thoughts and emotions, too immature 
 for present utterance. What were they ? A glance at his 
 present position may explain them. 
 
 He had just returned, after years of absence and enterprise, 
 to the calm and congenial scenes of his youth. His mind, so 
 long given to the pursuits and projects of busy ajnbition, was 
 now turned into a new channel, where early feelings, affec 
 tions, and sentiments, cherished, though repressed, were wait 
 ing to resume their sway. 
 
 His heart was filled and expanded with tender emotions 
 and ardent affections. His love of home beat stronger in 
 his bosom as the distance lessened. Even inanimate ob 
 jects shared his regard ; the dumb animals seemed like 
 familiar friends, and the birds in the branches gave notes 
 of welcome. 
 
 Attentive readers, who have retained the philosophy as 
 well as the facts of this history, already understand the moral 
 anatomy of the human heart ; how, when the warm emotions 
 filial, fraternal, and social love friendship, patriotism, 
 and their kindred train, crowd into and fill their respective 
 places, then the whole sentimental system expands, and opens 
 to every generous impression. Then the connubial cell, before 
 described, and now accessible through a thousand enlarged 
 channels, is prepared to receive its occupant. If at this 
 auspicious moment the destined one comes by, the indAvelling 
 spirit recognizes and invites the life-long guest. 
 
 Thus, surrounded and swayed by the unseen destinies 
 which direct and control the actions of mortals who fondly 
 fancy that they move with unbiased free will, Alek drove 
 on, and the fair Amy sat by his side, by the side where
 
 WOLF 3D EX. 481 
 
 his full heart lay the nearest and beat the strongest. He 
 asked a hundred random questions of things he thought not 
 of, that he might look in her radiant face and hear her sweet 
 voice in reply. He saw for his quick-discerning mind 
 could trace the true signs which mark the abode of a heav 
 enly-gifted soul that the face whose beauty delighted his 
 eyes was also lighted with the deeper and rarer radiance of 
 refined and expansive thought. The features and form which 
 must attract all eyes was invested with grace and dignity 
 compelling respect from all. He saw what a precious prize 
 awaited some happy adventurer in life s lottery, and pon 
 dered how long the golden moments of opportunity might 
 last. 
 
 The idolized though forbidden image which had so long 
 been shut up in his secret heart, excluding every other tender 
 impression, was now suddenly obscured ; for a brighter vision 
 filled its place, and sweet hope rejoiced in the change. He 
 rode on, and held joyful converse with his fair partner ; but 
 not of the subject which filled his mind. 
 
 And what were Amy s thoughts? Tell, ye who can fathom 
 the female heart. The looks and words were those of undis 
 guised gladness and frank welcome, such as a sister might 
 bestow. Was there a deeper and secret sentiment? Who 
 can know, or, knowing, would presume to tell ? 
 
 Their carriage moved slowly, but the moments passed 
 quickly ; and, in a space which seemed miraculously brief, 
 they came to the paternal" door. Alek announced himself to 
 his parents with fond embraces, and introduced Amy as a 
 lady whom he had picked up astray, and brought to be iden 
 tified. 
 
 " You could not have brought one whom it gives me more 
 41
 
 482 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 pleasure to identify," replied his mother, welcoming Amy, 
 though a daily visitant, as warmly as if she had been absent 
 a month. 
 
 Billy and Tommy, atout, red-cheeked, rough and ready 
 youngsters, full of youthful spirits and green promise, were 
 quickly present to share the reunion ; and even Lion, now in 
 his dotage, by degrees recognized his old master, and rejuve 
 nated himself with reminiscences of the fights and frolics of 
 his days of glory. Joy, thankfulness, and deeper emotions 
 and remembrances, mingled their sweetness and sadness ID 
 the full fraught hour
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 WHEN Alek and his mother were alone, and after other 
 matters had been sufficiently treated, she asked him what he 
 thought of Amy. Alek, with assumed indifference, replied 
 that she had grown finely, and seemed a clever girl. 
 
 " She is a precious girl," replied his mother, earnestly. 
 " I have never seen one out of my own family whom I should 
 so much rejoice to call daughter." 
 
 To Alek s excited mind the remark had a meaning per 
 haps stronger than was intended ; and he blushed, not with 
 confusion, but with pleasure. 
 
 " Surely," said he to himself, " I shall not be so undutiful 
 as to deny my mother so reasonable a wish, if it shall be in 
 my power to fulfil it." 
 
 Thus, the first day of his return from enterprise abroad 
 became the era of more important enterprise at home. 
 
 But the enterprise was not difficult. It is provoking that 
 such fine materials for romance should be spoiled by the per 
 verse kindness of fate. Never was wooing, and winning, and 
 wiving, so quietly done. Like the boy s whistling, it did 
 itself. Everybody saw that it was an inevitable event, and 
 therefore helped it along with hearty good-will ; and those 
 who might be most suspected of secret envyings were most
 
 484 \v o L r s D E N . 
 
 forward to manifest their magnanimous approbation. Before 
 the principal parties had proper time to interchange a word 
 on the subject, their wedding-day, with all its circumstances 
 and ceremonials on a most liberal scale, was debated, ar 
 ranged, fixed, and proclaimed, all over Wolfsden. Under 
 these circumstances, an explicit understanding between the 
 primary parties became essentially expedient. 
 
 " Dearest Amy," said Alek, one day, after several weeks 
 of closely-cultivated companionship, with mutually increased 
 esteem and attachment, " dearest Amy, our kind neighbors 
 have not only given us to each other for life in anticipation, 
 but have actually appointed our wedding-day for next Thanks 
 giving. If you will be but as kind as they, I shall be still 
 happier in your society than now, for I shall feel secure of 
 not losing it." 
 
 Amy was silent for a few moments, as if endeavoring to 
 comprehend the meaning of what she heard ; then, with a 
 trembling voice, though trying very hard to appear natural, 
 she replied, 
 
 " You know I love you very much; but indeed really 
 
 I this is an important matter, and very sudden 
 j 
 
 " Sweet Amy," said Alek, stopping her broken speech 
 with a kiss, " you shall not be hurried ; we will delay the 
 subject till evening ; and now let us take our morning 
 walk." 
 
 They walked through the orchard, where the new-mown 
 grass gave a smooth, soft carpet to their feet ; along by the 
 embowered hedge, bending with ripe raspberries; through the 
 grove where the birds sang songs of love ; across the field, 
 and adown the cross-road to the Morgan estate, now pos-
 
 W L F 3 D E N . 485 
 
 sessed by Jacob, the elder brother of Amy. Before they 
 reached the gate which led to his house, Amy stopped, and 
 pointed, 
 
 " That," said she, " is the tree under which I left my 
 basket of berries, when I went to gather flowers, just twelve 
 years ago yesterday. This is the anniversary of the day 
 when you found me, and made me yours forever." 
 
 She looked up in his face ; her own was full of blushes. 
 and her eyes suffused with starting tears, but love shone 
 resplendent and triumphant through them all. 
 
 " Mine forever ! and may God make me worthy of the 
 gift ! " said Alek, with deep emotion, as he clasped her to his 
 bosom, and kissed her blushing cheeks and tearful eyes. 
 
 They prolonged their walk ; but minded not whither they 
 went. There was no need ; to them the world was every 
 where full of beauty and sweetness. The loving skies encir 
 cled the peaceful earth, and the peaceful earth reflected back 
 its smiles of love and joy. 
 
 Come, ye who find the world a dreary abode of moody dis 
 content, of harsh discord, and pining grief, and learn how it 
 may become a home of heavenly peace and delight. Let it 
 be filled with love. Heaven is full of it, and is free to 
 bestow it upon the earth in fulness, would mortals but 
 receive it. 
 
 When Alek went home, he told his mother of his engage 
 ment to Amy. 
 
 " Now," replied she, " my fondest wish for your happiness 
 is granted. She is worthy of your best affections ; for she 
 has the heart to reciprocate your love, and the mind to com 
 prehend and associate with your own. Nothing is more 
 essential to the happiness of a man of refined understanding 
 41*
 
 486 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 than that his wife should be able to appreciate and respond to 
 it. The sweetest tribute to superior talent is that paid by 
 a beloved wife. But when a man of high endowments mar 
 ries a woman of common or vulgar mind, mutual dislike is 
 sure to follow. The husband naturally expects the deference 
 due to conscious superiority ; while the wife, so far from ac 
 knowledging, or even seeing it, probably considers him inferior 
 to the common kind, who belong to her own level ; for them 
 she can understand, and him she cannot. Your love will be 
 lasting, for your wife will have the good sense to perceive 
 and take pride in your intellectual powers to enjoy them, 
 and even improve them ; for a woman of good natural 
 endowments will aid to improve her husband s mind, though 
 his endowments and attainments be superior to her own. 
 There is a delicacy and refinement in a true woman s genius, 
 whose influence is essential to the highest point of man s 
 culture, as her approval is to his highest triumphs. It is the 
 foible of men of genius that they scarcely prize even love 
 itself, unless accompanied by respect and honor." 
 
 Alek announced the matter to his father, who warmly ex 
 pressed his approval. 
 
 " It is now more than thirty years," said he, " since I was 
 united to your dear mother, who was then more beautiful than 
 any girls we see nowadays, though Amy comes nearer than any 
 other I know of. I hope she will prove as true and as good, 
 and then you will have the best blessing earth can give 
 one whose price, as Solomon says, is above rubies. I am truly 
 thankful that you are to come with so good a girl to make 
 your parents home brighter in their old age. You are much 
 richer than your father ever was, or desired to be ; but you 
 are above pride in wealth, and therefore arc not in so much
 
 WOLFSDEN. 487 
 
 danger from it. I hope you will always bo content with the 
 home place. You may improve it as much as you will, but 1 
 wish that my children may always possess the home that has 
 been so dear to their parents, and so signally blessed to us all." 
 
 " It will ever be the dearest spot in the world to us all," 
 replied Alek, " and when Billy and Tommy shall have finished 
 their apprenticeship in New York, and seen enough of life 
 there, they will return to settle about us, so that we shall all 
 have opportunity to help and enjoy each other while we live." 
 
 It should here be explained that it had already been ar 
 ranged that Alek should take the home place, and that Billy 
 should accept a place in Messrs. Greening & liusset s agri 
 cultural establishment, and Tommy should go into Mr. Boyn- 
 ton s counting-room. Alek s good conduct and successful 
 services had opened the way for these valuable situations, 
 with peculiarly favorable circumstances ; and it may be men 
 tioned, in passing, that hitherto they have justified the expect 
 ations raised by their brother s honorable career. But we 
 cannot pursue their fortunes. Our history must pause, and 
 end where it began in Wolfsden.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 TIME moves swiftly on golden pinions. Many a youth and 
 maiden, looking upon Alek and Amy, see a more attractive 
 grace in their devoted though dignified and unostentatious 
 affection than they had before imagined, and sigh for equal 
 bliss. Their sighs mingle, and the soft contagion spreads. 
 There will be more weddings than one, next Thanksgiving. 
 Parson Boreman, or rather the Rev. Dr. Boreman, will be in 
 request. 
 
 But the Rev. Dr. Borcman s gracious head has already 
 pondered and arranged a matter which must intercept, for his 
 own benefit, the benedictions with which he has blessed so many 
 couples for so many successive Thanksgivings. He means to 
 be blessed himself. But so important a matter must be an 
 nounced in his own words. 
 
 -It was of a Sunday evening, while the reverend doctor was 
 still invested with the dignity of his pulpit dress, his robes and 
 lands redolent of sanctity, and his face radiant with his own 
 eloquence, that ho sent for Lucinda to his study, and, with an 
 air which indicated matter of unusual weight, thus addressed 
 her : 
 
 " My daughter, it is now two years since your departed 
 mother left me a mourner. During that time, as ever before,
 
 WOLFSDEN. , 489 
 
 you have been all to me that a daughter could be, and I have 
 been resigned, as it behoved me, to the divine will. But, 
 considering your solitary condition, without the help and 
 guidance of maternal counsel, my mind has been led to re 
 flect upon the fitness and propriety of changing my condition. 
 I have, therefore, taken counsel with a very worthy woman, 
 and it is appointed that she shall dwell in my house as as 
 as one of its united head. I refer to Mrs. Susan Barker. 
 I trust that you will be prepared to receive her as a mother ; 
 and I doubt not that the the visitation or rather the 
 the dispensation, as I may say, will be sanctified that is, 
 profitable to us all." 
 
 Lueinda, as already hinted, had read romances, and well 
 knew how such announcements should be received by dutiful 
 and sentimental daughters. She therefore gracefully advanced, 
 and, kneeling by his chair, kissed his hand, and in a pretty 
 speech prepared for the occasion, which she had long been 
 expecting, wished him every joy in his new relation. 
 
 The reverend doctor was delighted at what he considered 
 the happy conclusion of this embarrassing .part of the busi 
 ness ; but, as his own impatient congregation had too often 
 found, there were more " last words," even after the conclusion. 
 Lueinda still kept her position she had "a word to add." 
 
 " My dear father," resumed she, "I I have something 
 on my mind to say ; I I hope, as you are so good as to give 
 me a new mother, you will not object to to receiving her 
 sen; that is, Jothani, as your son that is, I mean, we have 
 thought of being being a united head. " 
 
 "What! you marry Ax?" exclaimed the doctor, hardly 
 believing that he had heard aright. 
 
 " Yes, father," meekly replied the daughter.
 
 490 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 The reverend doctor was dumbfounded. Here was an un 
 expected catastrophe. He had not imagined an emergency so 
 out of the common order of events, and it took some moments 
 to calculate the consequences. 
 
 " This is a crabbed text," thought he. " She pays me back 
 in my own coin. Who would have thought of such a plot 
 where all seemed so quiet ! But it is the way of her sex, ever 
 since Eve. Truly the apostle observes, Woman was first in 
 the transgression; and some able commentator says, that 
 women sometimes lose their wits. " * 
 
 Reflecting, however, that it was best to put a good face 
 on it, since opposition would provoke trouble all round, and 
 that Ax, though but a boy, was well grown and a serious lad, 
 he gave his paternal consent; and Ax (who was, by Lu- 
 cinda s contrivance, listening in the adjoining entry) being 
 called in, the clerical benediction was bestowed, and the busi 
 ness comfortably concluded. 
 
 * This remarkable saying is quoted in the Arabian Xights by tlio 
 Caliph Haroun Alraschid, who declares that he does not know who is its 
 author. Dr. Boreman s quoting it proves that his reading was not exclu 
 sively canonical.
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 TIME may have lagged with the impatient lovers; but it 
 shall not so with the reader. Thanksgiving day came in its 
 appointed season, with all its budget of good cheer. To Col. 
 Bowler s hospitable house it came with even more than its 
 wonted preparation. Ike had proclaimed his resolution that 
 Amy s wedding should be celebrated in grand style. Nobody 
 dissented, and all the younger fry applauded the resolution, 
 and joined in the preparation. The colonel expressed himself 
 gratified that the spirit of Seventy-six was still extant. The 
 Adjutant volunteered to muster the company. George said 
 that he would screw up his fiddle once more. The guests were 
 invited, and the auspicious day came in with glory. 
 
 Elder Kraken (the same who presided at the reformation 
 meeting, where Harry was mistaken for a convert) performed 
 the priestly office ; for the Rev. Dr. Boreman had two wed 
 dings on his hands at home his own and Lucinda s ; but 
 the Elder did it with zeal, and gave good satisfaction to all 
 concerned. 
 
 We cannot stop to enumerate the guests, nor describe the 
 various entertainment, the sports and the solemnities ; but the 
 reader may depend upon it that it was a great wedding, just 
 as Ike had resolved.
 
 492 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 Harry and Margaret were there. They came a month 
 before, with a brisk little curly-pated, bright-eyed imp of 
 their own, who, being a prodigy, everybody had conspired to 
 spoil. The grandparents that is, Deacon Murray and wife 
 were there. The deacon s gravity was as an ounce of bal 
 last to a whole cargo of gayety. The Chinbys were there. It 
 was thought that much of the motive of Ike s enthusiasm for 
 a great wedding was to get the Chinbys ; for, by his con 
 trivance and Amy s cooperation, he and the eldest of the 
 blue-eyed daughters were groomsman and bride s-maid. Dr. 
 Drinkmore was there. He came all the way from New 
 York, at Harry s and Margaret s invitation, to try the air 
 of Wolfsden. He finds it agreeable to his constitution ; and 
 Harry remarks that the water will prove no less so. He 
 and Margaret have resolved to make a teetotaller of the doc 
 tor. Mrs. Simperkins was there ; having timed her annual 
 visitation so as to include all such occasions. It was well 
 enough. The wise ancients hung up a skeleton in their halls 
 of festivity, to remind them of their mortality. 
 
 Some were merry, and some were serious ; there were 
 laughter and sighs, mirthful jests and solemn reflections ; 
 every room had its congenial circle, attracted by mutual 
 affinities. All tastes were accommodated. Major Murray, 
 and others who had a character for gravity to maintain, took 
 the little parlor furthest from the kitchen, where the festivi 
 ties of the young folks, as ultra in their levity as the others 
 in their gravity, became at times uproarious. The large 
 sitting-room was filled mostly with the middling or transi 
 tion class, many of whom sympathized and sometimes 
 joined with the rantapoles in the kitchen, where George,
 
 WOLFSDEN. 493 
 
 with his violin, somewhat restrained and regulated their wild 
 spirits with musical harmony. 
 
 The happy bridal circle, including the principal parties and 
 their closest intimates, and some others, inquirers or converts to 
 the institution of matrimony, were generally grouped together. 
 Old times and events were recalled with new interest, and the 
 beautiful things of the past, culled from its asperities and 
 garnered up in memory, were reproduced. Margaret, with 
 matronly soberness, reminded Alek of their last merry meet 
 ing ; and, looking significantly at Amy, archly inquired 
 whether the hero of his " Match Story " had not found an 
 estate with not only a better title, but also a prettier pros 
 pect. Alek was half confused by the reminiscence and the 
 application, but owned that his hero (meaning himself) had 
 profited by the suggestion with which she so ingeniously fin 
 ished his story. 
 
 When the more active sports subsided, psalmody was sug 
 gested. The colonel brought out his bass-viol, George brought 
 in his violin, and the soul-stirring strains and fantastic fugues 
 of Billings and Holden were performed with the lofty energy 
 of old days. The spirit of Seventy-six was roused. Harry 
 and Margaret led ; Alek and Amy seconded ; Squire Chinby 
 and his blue-eyed daughters, with Ike by their side, and all 
 who had voices and lungs, joined in full chorus. There 
 was a tempest of music. 
 
 When this was abated, match stories and other stories 
 were told. We have not room to repeat them, but will give 
 one to fill up this chapter, and attract juvenile tastes. It was 
 told by Aunt Deborah to a group of young and attentive ears. 
 Aunt Deborah always found a time. to please and instruct chil 
 dren ; and Parson Boreman, when, after exhausting his subject, 
 42
 
 494 WOLFSDEN. 
 
 he finds a page of his sermon left blank, generally fills it with 
 " a word to the young." Philoprogenitive readers will not 
 censure us that we follow their example, and devote a pago 
 to the juveniles. 
 
 AUNT DEBORAH S STORY. 
 
 " A generous youth once met a warm-hearted maiden. A 
 gleam of sunshine, brighter than common sunshine, shone 
 upon them and the things about them, and made the flowers 
 gayer, and the fruits sweeter, and the birds more melodious, 
 and themselves more attractive to each other, than they had 
 before imagined ; and when they separated, the common sun 
 light seemed dim, and the flowers faded, and the fruits taste 
 less, and the birds mute, and themselves unhappy. So they 
 again met, and resolved to live always together ; and the 
 gleam of bright sunshine illuminated their dwelling and 
 shone about, their path, and the flowers were again bright, 
 and the fruits sweet, and merry were the songs of the birds. 
 
 " As they continued to live together, the gleam of sun 
 shine took various forms. When he cultivated his fields, it 
 ran along and smoothed the way, and made his task easy ; 
 and when he was tired, it made even weariness pleasant, and 
 rest refreshing. When he drove his team, it made his steers 
 docile and obedient, and his colts gentle and willing. His 
 trees grew thriftily and bore abundantly ; his house was filled 
 with plenty, and his heart with peace. 
 
 " And as she performed her household duties, the bright 
 gleam of sunshine ran along and made them light, and pre 
 vented all vexations. The cows gave their milk quietly and 
 abundantly ; the sweet butter came quickly from the rich 
 cream ; the hens laid eggs with liberal hearts, and cackled to
 
 WOLFSDEff. 495 
 
 give notice of their timely tribute ; her stores of comfort in* 
 creased, she performed offices of charity, and her heart was 
 filled with peace. 
 
 " But the demon of discord passed by, and envied their 
 happiness ; and he came in disguise, and hid by their hearth, 
 and breathed forth a vapor that clouded the gleam of sun 
 shine, so that it could not illuminate the house, and the walls 
 of the dwelling were filled with gloom. 
 
 " And as the man went forth to his toil, the cloud went 
 with him, and his way was rough, and his labors hard, and 
 his rest gave no refreshment. His oxen were unruly, and 
 would not obey ; his horses were vicious, and would bite and 
 kick ; his trees forbore to grow, and their scraggy branches 
 were covered with canker-worms, and yielded only hateful 
 moss ; his prosperity declined, and his heart was filled with 
 discontent. 
 
 " And as the woman toiled at her household tasks, every 
 thing went wrong. The cloud followed her from pantry to 
 dairy, and from chamber to cellar. The sheep shed their 
 fleeces among the briers ; the cows held up their milk, or 
 kicked over the pail ; the butter would not come, and the 
 maggots spoiled the cheese ; the hens scratched the gar 
 den, but refused to lay ; her cakes were heavy, and so was 
 her heart. 
 
 " And they went out from their house by different ways. 
 The man took the road that went upon the hill, and the 
 woman took the road that went into the valley. And the 
 man saw an eagle soaring and screaming among the cliffs 
 as he guarded his nest ; and he listened to the voice of the 
 eagle, which seemed to say, I am the king of birds, and the
 
 496 vr o L F s D E N . 
 
 companion of Jove. I rule my house iu fear, and discord 
 dares not to disturb my rest. 
 
 "And the man said, I too will assert my prerogative, and 
 compel the obedience which is my due, and discord shall not 
 disturb my dwelling. 
 
 "And the woman walked in the valley, and saw a raven 
 upon her nest, watching her young. And the raven croaked, 
 and seemed to say, I dwell in silence and gloom, and, though 
 I am weak, yet my voice has power to chill the heart with 
 omens of ill, and I am feared by those who are mightier 
 than I. 
 
 " And the woman said, I too will dwell in silence and 
 gloom, and nurture my powers to repel and assail. 
 
 "So the demon of discord rejoiced, and made strong his 
 dwelling in the hearth of the once happy home. 
 
 " And again the man and woman went forth by different 
 ways, and the woman went upon the mountain, and the man 
 went into the valley. And the man saw a dove by its nest, and 
 the dove cooed, and seemed to say, I bow my spirit in meek 
 ness, and rejoice to give joy to others, and therefore my breast 
 and my nest are filled with peace. 
 
 " And the man pondered long, and various thoughts arose ; 
 but at last he said, I am not a dove, and I cannot bow my 
 spirit in meekness. Yet he sighed for peace. 
 
 " And the woman who went upon the mountain saw at a 
 distance the gleam of bright sunshine which rejoiced her 
 early days, and her heart yearned for it to come nearer ; 
 and she ran toward it, but it seemed to recede, and she 
 was fearful and faint ; but she stretched forth her hands, 
 and cried, 0, beautiful sunshine, come and warm my 
 heart !
 
 WOLFSDEN. 49? 
 
 " And a voice answered and said, I am the spirit of LOVE. 
 I dwell only with those who subdue their spirit in meekness, 
 and who seek reconciliation for offence, even though self-justi 
 fying pride oppose it. You have chosen the demon of discord, 
 and therefore I have departed. 
 
 " But the woman cried aloud, and said, 0, beautiful spirit 
 of sunshine and love, come back and drive the demon of dis 
 cord away, for I will subdue my spirit in meekness ! and her 
 heart trembled and was sore, but the weight and gloom which 
 oppressed it passed away. 
 
 " And she hastened home, and the gleam of sunshine went 
 before her, and her house was filled with its light, and the 
 demon of discord was dazzled and blinded, and fled from the 
 door. 
 
 " And while the man pondered in sadness, he looked up 
 and saw his dwelling bright with the sunshine of former days ; 
 and he hastened home, and his companion came to meet him, 
 and said, 0, my husband ! I have subdued my spirit in 
 meekness, and the demon of discord has departed, and the 
 sunshine of love fills our house; and even now shines upon* 
 your face, and makes it beautiful. 
 
 " And the man answered, 0, beloved of my heart ! you 
 are indeed my better half, for you have by example taught 
 me what I should do. I will also subdue my spirit in 
 meekness, and the demon of discord shall no more enter our 
 dwelling. 
 
 " And the man went forth to cultivate his field, and the 
 sunshine went about him, and his work was easy ancLhis rest 
 sweet. His oxen ploughed their furrows deep and straight 
 his horses came at his call, and rejoiced to do his bidding 
 his trees put forth thrifty branches, and bore abundant fruit ; 
 42*
 
 498 
 
 W L F S D E N . 
 
 his garners were filled with plenty, and his heart with 
 peace. 
 
 "And as the woman went about her house, the bright 
 gleam filled every room, and her duties were easy and delight 
 ful. The pretty lambs frisked in her path, and gave their 
 finest wool. The cows gave overflowing pails of milk, and 
 sweet were the treasures of her dairy. The hens cackled to 
 give notice of new-laid eggs ; her bread was light and sweet, 
 and so were her heart and her life."
 
 CHAPTER XL VI. 
 
 WHERE are the heroes of my story? Like the fleeting 
 shadows thrown by the magic lantern, they have flitted over 
 the disk of romance into the shade of obscurity, into the 
 retreats of domestic life, or into the spirit sphere. 
 
 From my favorite window in Alek s house, which sister 
 Amy s careful prudence and cheerful affection make so pleas 
 ant, I look upon a merry group of children playing beneath 
 the trees. One, a " toddlin wee thing," is Amy s pride and 
 everybody s wonder. I myself think him a " remarkable 
 child." Of the others, the two biggest are Boyntons. Harry 
 and Margaret are responsible for them, and will soon be here 
 after them. Harry has found out that his genius is for farm 
 ing, and the major has given up the farm to him. The old 
 lady s influence brought it about. She could not have been 
 satisfied otherwise. Too much ease was her disease. She 
 was oppressed with too little to do. Quietude was killing 
 her. Now that trouble is effectually remedied. Harry and 
 his two boys and the baby would banish the quiet of a church 
 yard. Besides, Dr. Drinkmore is still their guest. He helps 
 plan crops and improvements. Harry holds his opinions in 
 high estimation. They are " book-farmers," and it must be 
 owned that they produce some noble crops, and raise fine
 
 500 AVOLFSDEN. 
 
 cattle, though neighbors say that, were Harry s resources lim 
 ited to the proceeds of his farm, his genius would soon fail for 
 want of funds, but the sale of Oakridge supplies the sinews 
 of enterprise, and the Boynton farm, with its cattle and crops, 
 gets honorable mention in the " Agricultural Reports." 
 
 But there is no time for details. We are all to be at the 
 wedding at Squire Chinby s to-day. Ike . has won the eldest 
 of those cerulean daughters to be his bride, and he wants us 
 for witnesses. All of us are to be there, Bowlers, Arbors, 
 Boyntons, and the rest. Just now a carriage comes over the 
 hill ; it is Harry and Margaret. Dr. Drinkmore is with 
 them ; they are to call for the children, and we are all to go 
 together. Alek s colts are harnessed, and impatient for the 
 excursion. Lion, yes, here comes Lion with the children. 
 His faculties have lapsed into second puppyhood, and he judges 
 himself still fit to partake in wedding festivities. Well, come 
 along, Lion ; you are not the only overweening dog in the land. 
 
 Hullo, Harry! Good-morning, fair Margaret! Still as 
 fair and bright as in your girlhood, and a good deal happier, 
 
 with your pretty babe in your arms, and your rantapole 
 boys spreading themselves around. Good-morning, Dr. Drink- 
 more. Here are all the children flocking to be taken into the 
 carriage ; and here comes Amy with her cherub, a match 
 for anybody s. Ah, doctor ! these pretty sights sometimes 
 make us regret our bachelorhood ; but it is too late to sigh 
 
 THE HISTORY OF WOLFSDEN is ENDED !
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 A. 
 
 THE story of Mrs. Simperkins, being omitted in its proper place, for 
 reasons there given, is here appended by virtue of permission con 
 tained in the following letter : 
 
 " RESPECTED SIR : I received your polite letter, and take up my pen 
 to inform you that I approve of your printing the history of Wolfsden; 
 for when all the families have their names and connections printed, 
 then everybody can tell who is who, and there will be no mistakes in 
 generations. In the old country, everybody that is anything has a 
 coat of arms, which is the same thing. As you propose very kindly to 
 put my name in (which I consider very proper, being in some sort a 
 daughter of America, as I adopted this country from affection, and not 
 for pi-ofit), I send you my coat of arms, which you may put in the 
 book, as it tells all about my family ; and you can get some English 
 man to explain it, as I do not exactly remember the meaning of the 
 signs, only the figure on the top is a vampyre rampant, which sig 
 nifies that we descended from the nobility. 
 
 "As you ask for leave, to put in my story, I am willing, being in 
 some sort bound, as an adopted daughter of America, to do something 
 for the literature of the same ; and I shall feel that I have some part 
 in the book, which I hope you will acknowledge. 
 
 " I shall spend the winter paying the visits I am owing in Wolfsden, 
 at Deacon Arbor s, and Major Murray s, and Colonel Bowler s, and 
 good dear Doctor Boreman s, whose family are all thriving nicely ; for 
 Lucinda has got a fine boy, and her husband, whom we used to call Ax, 
 is the best schoolmaster in Wolfsden. I mean to spend a few weeks at 
 Mr. Harry Boynton s, and Alek Arbor s, and Josiah Brown s that mar 
 ried Ann Bowler, and Isaac Bowler s that they called Ike. They all 
 used to be wild young men, but are now very steady and sober. 
 
 " I hope you will send me some of the books as soon as they are
 
 502 APPENDIX. 
 
 printed ; and also send a bottle of Dr. Diddler s Hair Dye and Remedy 
 for Wrinkles, which is wanted for a friend ; and when you see Mrs. 
 Greening, ask her to send any female medicines which she finds best. 
 And so I remain your friend, respectfully, 
 
 "AsN AMANDIXA SIJIPEKKINS." 
 
 The following is the substance of Mrs. Simperkins story, so fre 
 quently crammed into our ears against the stomach of our sense ; 
 though, as several years have since passed, it is not possible exactly 
 to represent from memory her peculiar graces of delivery : 
 
 " When I resided in Lunnun I became hacquainted with a great 
 gentleman, who came into hour shop in Cheapside. I say hour shop, 
 because I used to be there hoften when Mr. Simperkins was haway ; 
 and it was dull sitting in my parlor ha-lone, and so I used to run 
 hover to Mrs. Snubs . And when poor Mr. Simperkins died I took 
 hup my habode there, and elped to tend shop. Mrs. Snubs was a 
 werry genteel lady, and her shop was the genteclest in Cheapside, and 
 Cheapside is the genteelest street in Lunnuu next to Pall-Mail and 
 Covent Garden. The nobility and gentry do hall their business there, 
 and hit s a gi and thing to see the coaches, and the coachman hon the 
 box, with his powered wig and white gloves, and the lords and ladies 
 getting hout to do their business. And when the nobility walk through 
 Cheapside, it is a grand sight ; for one can halways tell a lord by his 
 hattitude and hair. 
 
 " I was one day sitting in the shop, when who should come hin but 
 one of the most helegant gentlemen myheyes hever beheld. He had a 
 star and ribbon, by which I knew he was a lord, and he hasked for 
 some gloves, and tried hon a pair ; and O, such ands ! as delicate as 
 a lady s, and covered with diamond rings. He hordered a dozen pair 
 worth twelve crowns, and threw down three guineas and his card, and 
 said he would send his servant for them ; and when I hoffered change, 
 he refused it, and made one of those fine speeches which the gentry 
 so love to make, but which I never would listen to. 
 
 " I appened to ave hon a werry fine bracelet which my usband left 
 me. He had been hunfortunate in business, but the bracelet was werry 
 waluable. Hit was left for security by a werry great lady, who bor 
 rowed money ; for my usband was a pawnbroker, and the bracelet was 
 presented to the lady by the Prince of Wales. He said hit was a hu- 
 nique ; and certainly hit was something wonderful. Hit was made of 
 the most waluable stones, set in gold. The centre was a brilliant dia 
 mond, with rays made of different gems and pointed with diamonds. 
 
 " I noticed that the count seemed to hadmirc hit werry much. I won t
 
 APPENDIX. 503 
 
 gay but what, being werry young, for that was ten years ago, I was 
 a little wain. When lie was gone I looked at the card, which was en 
 graved with a coronet, and COUNT FLIPPER-TON hunder it. In half an 
 hour a spruce footman in livery came with his master s card, and took 
 the gloves. 
 
 " Hin a few days Count Flipperton called again when Mrs. Snubs 
 was hout, and bought some lace ruffles, and paid as liberally as before. 
 And about a week hafter he came again in a coach with two smart foot 
 men behind, and led in the prettiest lady you hever set heyes hon, and 
 hintroduced her as lady Flipperton, and said to her, My dear, this is 
 the young lady I praised so ighly ; and her ladyship gave me a worry 
 polite bow, and hobserved that she was worry appy to be hacquainted 
 with me. She was much pleased with hour goods, and made the great 
 est purchases we had sold for a long time. Hevery beautiful and rich 
 thing she paw she hadmired, and the count hencouraged her to buy hev- 
 crything she hadmired, so that the bill amounted to a undred pounds. 
 
 * When the goods were ready, the footman took them to the coach, 
 and the count wrote a draft lion his banker for the hamount. I was 
 worry much hembarrassed, for Mrs. Snubs had told me to take nothing 
 but gold or silver ; and I told im I oped he would hexcuse me on that 
 haccount. Perfectly right, said he; my servant shall take the draft 
 and get the gold, and we will wait. I felt worry much hembarrassed, 
 but lady Flipperton said to the count, My dear, there is a uudred 
 guineas in the pocket of the coach, that Dobson paid for rent this morn 
 ing. You left it hon the table, and I hordered hit put hin the coach 
 for safety. My dear, said he, you are hover careful ; but it s lucky 
 just now. So he sends for the bag, and counts hout ninety guineas to 
 pay the bill, and gave me two more; one, as he said, for my good looks, 
 I was young then, and the other for my good behavior. 
 
 " Just then the lady hasked to look at my bracelet. I held out my 
 harm, and she hunfastened the clasp, and turned to show it to the count; 
 who praised it ighly, and then she put it hon my harm again werry 
 condescending. 
 
 " When they went away, I was werry much pleased with making so 
 large a sale, till Mrs. Snubs came ; but when she looked at the money 
 she said it was hall false coin ; and, sure enough, I could ave told it for 
 bad money in the dark, if I ad not been so much hembarrassed by their 
 genteel ways. Mrs. Snubs hasked me hall habout what they said and 
 did, and when I told about the bracelet, she looked at it, and said they 
 had hexohanged it and left a false one made of copper and glass ; and 
 sure enough it was so. Hon hinquiry at the police, we were hin- 
 forined that there was no such lord as Count Flipperton ; but they
 
 504 APPENDIX. 
 
 took the description, but did not bring back any goods, nor money, 
 nor my hunique bracelet." 
 
 B. 
 
 The account of Ben Blacksmith is derived from different sources, 
 the best known of which is the protest of the officers and crew of 
 the brig Creole, published in the New Orleans Advertiser, December 8, 
 1841, of which the following is a brief abridgment : 
 
 " By this instrument of protest be it known that on the second day 
 of December, 18-11, before me Wm. Y. Lewis, notary public in the city of 
 New Orleans, personally appeared Z. C. Giflbrd, master of the American 
 brig Creole, of Richmond, who declared that the said brig sailed for New 
 Orleans on the 13th day of October, laden with tobacco and slaves. 
 
 " That when about one hundred and thirty miles N. N. E. of Ilole- 
 in-the-wall, the slaves rose on the officers and crew, killing one and 
 severely wounding others, including the captain and first mate. 
 
 " The conspirators then compelled the crew, under pain of death, to 
 navigate them to a British island. Ben Blacksmith, Madison Wash 
 ington, D. Ruffin, and Elijah Morris, were the ringleaders. These four 
 assumed command, and watched the compass constantly by turns. So 
 close was their watch, that it was impossible to rescue the brig. "When 
 they saw Merrit mark on the slate the latitude he was taking, they 
 compelled him to rub out the writing and make only figures, for fear 
 that they might communicate by that means. The conspirators threw 
 all the arms in the vessel overboard. 
 
 " When we made the light of Abaco, and the brig approached Nassau, 
 the pilot came on board. He and his men were all negroes. They told 
 the slaves they were free, and could not be carried away. 
 
 " On Wednesday following, three civil magistrates came on board 
 and set free the slaves, against the protest of the captain, and gave 
 them their wearing apparel and blankets. 
 
 "And, therefore, the appearers do solemnly protest," &c. &c., 
 Signed by officers and crew of brig Creole. 
 
 C. 
 
 To prevent misconception, it is proper here to repeat, that the lines 
 attributed to Margaret were really written by that lady, and also that 
 a few of the flowers of rhetoric which adorn the heads of some of the 
 chapters were culled from Lucinda s album. Except for these, and 
 what belongs to Mrs. Simperkins and others, the responsibility rests 
 with j. B.
 
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