Clarke papers. Mrs. Meech and her family. Home letters, familiar incidents and narrations linked for preservation

• .••ilotilililiilhiiilii
iiiiiiiii I hiiit|iiiiii(iii

.u < \

■'•''"•uWi -'Hfth

ttiiiiitft«*i^<>»»»j(n(
'il(tMllilll..'lcliiilll
>liltlltlMlli>l/ii<|^

in lit lifi I ii'l

I'IMIIIIIttllllllll'

.:. '.'ui.'i.',)jii;i>i«<iiiii<Mi<wti<i

, m"iii"

]m>"

m

mmmmMBSmyi

iK'.

il

(l|i**«'l»jl^'M

MlMUffllllllinillWl

— ■"llmuiiiKKi

,,»n.»JOmmmk^[i±±^^^

tniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijiiiii»iH»iiiiiiimiiiii<iiniiiitiii»iiil¥liiiitiitiiM»ti!iiiH»^

«aiiiiMi«iiit<if«j*t<
■•««**iiiitiiiti«oi«i

^

ciVo..C.S.l.L.C.b.

IET&

■^

^

3^

CLARKE PAPERS.

Mrs. Meech and her Family.

Home Letters, Faauliar Incidents and Nakka hons

Linked for Preservation.

BY MISS HEMENWAY.

* •

Author of Ixosd Mi/,stica, etc.

LIMITED EDITION

Published by Miss Hemenv.vay Fp Vt Hist. Gaz.

burlington, vt.

C5 77

1 '

KifVr %l 7 %

BURLINGTON, YT.

FREE PRESS AND TIMES I'RINT.

1878.

0 git gtltste m

^J^S.

SHI Miffi^PM mi^fsm^.

M^ gfcf 8^iti»^« nf

!*«

^miiilii Mi^^eMMI

&ii

SSI liiiBMHME n^ lii i^mm^m

THIS BOOK IS CORDIALLY DEDICATED.

Beautiful is Friendship that outlives the Grave.

, \l'K

V /

Stephen Clark and Brothers

IN MT. HOLLY.

" In the survey of the townships on the East and West
sides of the Green Mountains, there was left between Ludlow
on the East, which belongs to Windsor County, and Walling-
ford on the West, which belongs to Rutland County, a gore
of land not granted at the time. The first settlement on this
tract was begun in 1782, by Abram Jackson, Stephen, Icha-
bodG. and Chauncey Clark trom Connecticut." This tract was
named after the man who made the first settlement upon it —
Abraham Jackson, an original proprietor. It was called
Jackson's Gore. But at the October session of the State Leg-
islature, holden that year (1792), at Rutland, a tract of land
on the East, taken from Ludlow, and on the West a tract
taken from Wallingford v/as added to this gore, and a new
town made up which in point ol territory ranks among the

2 ' JACKSON'S GORE.

larger towns of the State. This town was called Mt. Holly.
The man who was most influential in all these arrangements
was Stephen Clark.*

" He was mainly instrumental in getting the town organ-
ized, and it is said gave it its name." I have frequently
heard the late Gen. D. W. C. Clarke, grandson of Stephen,
boast that his grandfather named the town of Mt. Holly. I
do not suppose there is any question on the point ; none to
my knowledge, has ever been raised. There was a small set-
tlement in that part of the town added from Ludlow, which
was about three miles from the Gore. It is told these two
considerable settlements, the one then belonging to Ludlow,
and the Gore, had been made and existed for several years in
ignorance of each other, the one in Ludlow supposing the
nearest settlement to them to be the Black River Settlement,
seven or eight miles distant, now Ludlow Village, and the
Gore that their nearest neighboring settlement was one some
miles farther off in the opposite direction upon" the Otter
Creek. Only three miles between them was being near for
neighbors in those days ; but they had reached their settle-
ments from opposite directions and were separated by an un-
broken wilderness ; not even blazed trees between them.

Joseph Green, Nathaniel Pingrey, Abram Crowley, David
Bent, Silas Proctor, John and Joseph Hadley, Joseph and
Jonathan Pingrey, Richard Lawrence and Samuel Cook were
all settled and living in the Ludlow part about IVSG.

*Mt. Holly, by Dr. .lli. Crowley in Vt. Hist. Gaz. for Rutland Co., Vol.
in. pp. 845—852.

SETTLE:\rENT DTSCOYERED. 3

The tradition of the discovery of their proximity Ik that
one Saturday night Pingrey's cow and some young stock of
his neighbors had strayed in the woods and were missing, and
Sunday morning the parties, accompanied by tljc other men
in their settlement, started out to search the woods for them.

After proceeding about two miles into this wood, directly
toward the Gore, they were about to change their course for
another direction when they heard a dog bark, and, surprised
at so unexpected a sound in the wilderness, followed in the
direction and soon came to the cabin of Ichabod G. Clark,
which stood some 40 rods northwesterly from the spot where
the Mt. Holly depot now stands. The house stood in a small
clearing. Several horses with saddles on were hitched to the
trees near the house. One man sat upon the steps of the
open door, the visitors could see as they approached ; and
also several women through an open window.

Richard Lawrence remarked to his party, ''It is Sunday,
and probably they are holding a meeting,'^

"If so," said Bent, "I hope we may be in time to have a
part."

Hadley, who was known to be somewhat skeptical, cough-
ed a little, here. But they all proceeded very cordially to the
door — being most agreeably surprised by finding neighbors so
near, and well pleased to have been the first to make the dis-
covery.

David Bent and Abram Crowley were selected to go ahead
and first to enter the house. It was as they expected to find.
The settlers were holding a meeting. They had no minister;

4 DEACON ICHABOD CLARK.

but the master of the house officiated. He was in the midst
of an exhortation to his assembled hearers, when our party
approached the door.

The tradition has been somewhat varied on this point,
one version making him reading- a sermon at this time. But
deacon Ichabod G. Clark, the pride and main pillar, and first
deacon of the Baptist church, in Mt. Holly, in the days when
a written sermon was a scandal in his denomination, would
hardly have been guilty of reading one, or having one read in
his house. We believe he was in the midst of an exhortation,
as became a Baptist deacon of his day, and an able one. The
Clarks were men of a ready tongue. Bent gave back as they
reached the door, and Crowley entered first, all the men fjl-
ing in after him. Deacon Ichabod stood dumb.

Stephen Clark was the only man who had seen them be-
fore they came within the door. All the rest of the audience
had been so absorbed in the good words the deacon was speak-
ing, they had not observed their approach, till to their sur-
prise they were present with them. Stephen Clark arose as
they entered, and gave his seat to Crowley: his neighbors
arose to a man and extended the same courtesy to their unex-
pected visitors. Stephen Clark whispered at the same time
to a young man near him, who went out with another young
man, and the two, in a few moments, returned with another
board for a seat and the blocks to support it.

' Deacon Clark resumed his exhortation, and, with due tact
and courtesy, took occasion to allude to the increase in his
audience, "which the Lord had unexpectedly sent him,^' and

INTRODUCTIONS. 5

to duly and respoctfully exhort them, with his known breth-
ren and friends ; all which waS complacently received by his
new hearers. After this there was prayer by the deacon. He
gave out a well-known hymn which both the Gore people and
the visitors joined in singing, with peculiar felicity, and the
meeting was dismissed.

The men who had made half-acquaintance with their eyes
before the meeting was through, were not slow in following
it up when the opportunity was given. Stephen Clark was
the first man to shake hands with Abram Crowley.

"My name is Stephen Clark."

"Mine is Abram Crowley."

"I live only about three miles from here."

Clark : "Only tliree miles ! In what direction ?"

Crowley : "To the East."

Clark : "East !"

Crowley : "Yes, East."

"What, are all you men and your families living so near
us and we never found it out ! Astonishing! You must be
better neighbors."

Crowley: "Better neighbors, ha ! ha ! You should set us
the example. Bent, do you hear that? Mr. Clark says we
should be better neighbors. Do you believe they would ever
have found us if we had not them ?"

Bent: "Never in the world."

All: "Ha! ha!" heartily.

Deacon Ichabod Clark: "Nor they us, if they had not lost
their cattle."

6 NEW TOAVNSHIP PLANNED.

iTadioy : "Sharp shooting for the minister. Bat come
and see us, deacon, and all of you, and we will give you as
hearty a welcome as j^ou have us.''

Stephen Clark : ''Let me introduce my wife to you, Mr.

Crowley."

Mr. Crowley : "I will be pleased with the honor, Sir."
Mr Chirk, presenting his wife: " This is my wife, Mr.

Crowley."

Mrs. Crowley : " We are pleased to find we have neigh-
bors so near. You must bring Mrs. Crowley with you the

next time you come."

Mr. Crowley : '' That 1 will. When I go home and tell
her how near we have found neighbors, she will not rest easy
long till she has seen you, you may depend."

Mrs. Chirk : "Neighbors are friends in this new country."
Mr. Crowley: " That they are."

Deacon Clark : "You may look for us, brother Pingrey, as
soon as the crops are in."

lladl(;y : " Brother Pingrey ! and are j^ou not coming to
see th(; rest of us 't "

Deacon and several: " All of you may look out for us all."
Stej)li('n Chirk : " If a week passes over my head before I
see your Kettk'inent, neighbors, I mistake, greatly."

Stephen Clark saw at once the importance to the Gore
of this Hettl{Mnent, so far from the centre of its own town, and
so near to Ihcm, If they could be, as he regarded they might
by a proper nianagement ol' the matter, induced to join with
tlieiii In pelilioiiiiig 1h(^ TiCgislatnre for their union in the new
tuwi>sliip he li;i(l (h'leriiiiiied upon. By his most acceptable

Town named. i

gng-gestion tliey at oncc"set about providing means for inter-
commniiication ; by marked trees at first, and somewhat latei
by primitive roads. The acquaintance thus accidentally begun,
soon ripened into constant intercourse, and resulted in the
union of the two settlements in one town, as above described.

To Stephen Clark was accorded the honor of naming the
new town, which he did, calling it Mt. Holly, after his native
town, Mt. Holly, Ct.

The town was organized under the act of incorporation
at a meeting called for that purpose Nov. 19th, 1792 ; Abram
Jackson, moderator, Stephen Clark, town clerk, and Abram
Jackson, Stephen Clark and Silas Proctor, selectmen.

The old stage route from Burlington by way of Rutland to
Boston passed through this town. The township lies iu a
sort of shallow basin or depression in the Green Mountains,
and in the old days of stage coaches and loaded teams, afford-
ed the best place south of Montpelier for crossing the moun-
tains. There is probably to-day no mountain town in the
State that can boast of better roads It has always been
almost exclusively a farming town. It has no considerable
village, but numerous villes, and a thrift}^ well-to-do people.

Mr. Hagar says of it in his State Geologist Reports :
" There are few towns in the State which produce more cattle,
sheep, beef, pork, butter and cheese or have a larger number of
wealthy farmers ;" — which our own knowledge corrobo-
rates.

The town owed its origin chiefly, says the historian. Dr.
John Crowley, to Stephen Clark. The first honor we claim

8 STEPHEN CLARK.

for Stephen Clark and his descendents is that he was a town
builder, a man who originated one of the towns of our State.

Stephen Clark* and his three brothers, Dea. Ichabod,
Peter and Chauncey, all settled about the same time. The
wiff; of Abram Jackson, the first settler, was their sister.
Stephen was town clerk from the organization to 1800, and
represented the town in the Legislature in 1795, '96, '97, '98,
1801 and 1807, and was one of the selectmen from the
organization.

Stephen Clark was a man of family when he came to the
Gore. He had a wife and several children. lie was son of
Job Clark, of Connecticut. He married a daughter of Abra-
ham Jackson, of Wallingford, Ct., who was a sister of Abram
Jackson, of Mt. Holly, aiid the Rev. Wm. Jackson, D.D., the
old Dorset pastor pleasantly pictured in the Dorset papers of
the first Bennington number of the Vermont Historical Gazet-
teer. None of the other Clark brothers appear to have figured
in the early history of their town, save as staid, good settlers,
except Dea* Ichabod G, and he, only as the Baptist religious
man of the town, as already stated, " prominent as a deacon
and main pillar of the church, organized in 1804."

Stephen Clark, says the town historian, " settled on a
farm at what is now known as the North Parish, near the Bap-
tist church, owning all the land in the immediate vicinity of
what is now called North Mt. Holly, His hirm has been
divided into three farms, owned severally by Silas H. Ackley,

*The Clark family claim a relationship to Capt. Isaac Clark, one of the
leading proprietors of Fairhaven, Vt.

THE OLD iVrEETING -HOUSE. 9

L. A. Colbiivn and Miland Dickcnnan. The site of the origi-
nal building, with about 13 acres of land, is owned by David
Horton."

The old Baptist meeting-house was built on this ground
in 1815 ; occupied till 1851. It was expected at the time this
would be the site of the future village of the town, and to this
day it goes by the name quite generally of Mt. Holly North
Village.

MT. HOLLY, NORTH VILLAGE.

We wish to be pardoned a more free description than we
may usually indulge, along these opening pages ; — the part
set off from Ludlow to help make up this town having been
taken from a town we can but ever most partially remember,
as our native town, among whose beautiful green hills we
were born, and lived mostly our first thirty years; and Mt.
Holly being our next neighbor town ; and in Mt. Holly Vil-
lage we taught one of our earliest schools.

One ? rather three successively in one year — a summer
term, where we enjoyed morning, noon and after school time
the verdure and delightful quietude of the farm-house,surround-
ed by Mt. Holly meadows; an Autumn in the Mt. Holly maple
land ; — the township was originally timbered largely with sugar
maples, small woods of which, making rich landscape pictures
fori\utumn, still remain on every farm ; — and the lively ]\It.

10 BOARDING ROUND.

Holly winter. Perhaps there is not a more social town in the
State — or it used to be so, twenty j^ears since.

The teacher's board-list was made out for every farmer
in the district. The few tenant houses at that time within the
limits of the district were not put on to the list. ''Boarding
round," as we found it in Mt. Holly, was to come in from a heat-
ed, hungry school-room to the cool farm-houses^ where dinner
and supper were timed for the teacher's arrival — to be ready
when the teacher came in ; — where the young lambs of the
flock, the tender chicken, fresh mountain-trout, fragrant June
butter, an abundance of fresh vegetables, cream-biscuit to
melt in the mouth, the pyramid of luscious sirawberries, with
the cut-glass pitcher filled to the beak with thick, fresh cream
beside, cool cucumbers, new honey in the comb, etc., etc.,
made one very comfortable and contented.

We walked to our school-room in pleasant weather. The
walk in the early morning and decline of the day was refresh-
ing. If it rained in the morning, we were "sent." If it rained
in the afternoon the farmer's buggy stood, by four, at the
school-room door. In winter, we were always carried, where
it was at a distance.

That summer road takes us yet. Coming up from the
Ludlow road, just on the brow of the hill upon the right, where
you first come in sight of your Mt. Holly North Village, was
the house of Stephen Holden, eldest of three brothers (Stephen,
Alvin, Harry) in this district- — a weather-brown farm-house,
where the children were grown ; none for school, but a young
lady daughter and one or two noted beaux of the neighbor-

THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 11

hood, who helped to get up the balls in their season and lead
off in the sleigh-rides.

Not far from this old land-mark house, on the same side,
next a tenant house, where the teachers never boarded ; on-
ward the fourth of a mile or less, upon the left side of the road,
farmer Diekerman's house, barn and out-houses. The road
commenced to descend at Stephen Holden's and here com-
menced again to ascend. A few rods from here, upon the
right, you arrive at our little weather-brown school-house.

The tenant house and farmer Dickerman's two houses
were regarded the first you had passed, pertaining to the vil-
lage. Above the school-house, at the summit of the rise of
land, the same side, facing West the Village green, was, reck-
oning in the school-house, the fourth house in the village,
where lived the merchant and post-master, Mr. Pierce. He
did not keep his store in his own house, but he did
the post-office, in the family sitting room, for several years.
He had a large family and furnished four or five pupils to our
school.

Next above Mr. Pierce, on the corner of the Green, stood
the Meeting-house, No. 5, in our counting. The second
street intersected here, running upon the right, easterly straight
the fourth of a mile, when it reached the door-steps of the Silas
Ackley farm-house — the first and last house of the village, as
considered in this direction — once owned by Stephen Clark,
and thence this road, yet eastward, to the Horton farm, next,
where the original Stephen Clark house stood.

13 THE OLD TAVERN.

The residence of neighbor Ackley's was a medium-sized
stor^'-and-a-half house, painted white, with green blinds.

Coming back to the Green on the North side of the com-
mon facing the South, and the intersecting road, stretched
out with its low-pillared piazza the length of the building,
expanded the quite extensive and rather imposing old Hun-
toon tavern.

In point of architecture the old tavern excelled the meet-
ing-house : " An old-fashioned two-story building, without
steeple, with square pews and spacious gallery, a tall pulpit,
with a huge sounding-board suspended over it," Opposite the
tavern-stand, on the north-west corner made by the roads
intersecting, was the store of Mr. Pierce (when we arrived
in town, but who had sold out to another party before the
close of the summer, we think). The intersecting road ran
south-westerly, curving with a hill in that section, upon the
first rise of which stood the large, two-story, painted-white
Ives house, which had maintained for many years the honor
of being the best house in the village.

The master and mistress of this house were ageing.
They had but two children living — Amarillas, a daughter,
married to a Mr. Miller, who I think was in the Pierce store
till about that tinu'. Miller, I think, sold to Pierce. This
store was very salable property and often changed owners —
two or three times, if I remember, in the nine months 1 was
teaching there, that year. Mr. and Mrs. Miller lived with
Mrs. Miller's parents. The other child of Mr. and Mrs. Ives,
and which completed the iamily, was a son, the darling of

FIRST SELECT SCHOOL. 13

their old age, — Jewett D., about fourteen years of age. Mr.
Miller was the summer committee-man. He it was who first
introduced us to Mt. Holly village. We first came to board
in this family. The old Principal of Black River Seminary, to
whom Mr. Miller had applied for "a desirable teacher," had
selected us from his large teachers' class, and we were treated
by Madame Ives, who felt they were the rich folks of the
neighborhood, with pleasant consideration.

The precocious, indulged boy wrote more than tolerable
verses and blank poetry for his years, and was a sort of school
idol. All went flourishing; at the close of the three months
summer term, being on every hand solicited, we decided to teach
a select school during the Fall, It was our first select school
— and the first select school taught in this village, and we
think the first taught in the town ; which prospered very
well in our hands, we believe. At the close we were engaged .
by the new committee-man, Mr. Pierce, for the large and hard
Winter school. There had been trouble in school, we wpre
told, for the ten preceding Winters. They that know noth-
ing, fear nothing. I took the school, nothing doubting. I had
sixteen scholars old enough to go into company with me. The
young gentlemen and ladies of Mt. Holly made parties every
two weeks and at times two in a week, during the Winter, and
the teacher must bo invited to every house. It required some
tact, the day of, or the day after, the party, or visit, to rule in
the school-room all those young, daring, ingenious spirits,
fresh from, or ready to plunge that evening coming, into

2

14 WINTER SCHOOL.

the annihilating vortex of all order and sobriety. It was a
hard spot. We went through by feruling down two of the
committee's boys, and with the loss of our poet and idol,
young Jewett Ives, the first and only boy in thirty terms of
teaching, we ever expelled from school ; and for which we
shed more tears then, than we would for the loss of a lawsuit
now. We should sicken at such a task, now, as that school.
Then we took a pride in it and survived. There was in this,
as in almost all our Winter schools at that period, a class of
young ladies and gentlemen who were finishing their school
education with us, or had perhaps before regarded it finished,
but who embraced the opportunity to finish again ; and who
more particularly supported us through our herculean task-.
It certainly is a herculean task, where one teacher is expected to
govern forty to seventy pupils, gathered in a crowded room,
and teach, according to the usual practice then, every thing
from the a b c up to Algebra, Latin, Philosophy and Chemistry
- — good old days gone by ! I had in the fall term, and in the
winter term, in this school, two young men who were older
than myself — both young men of handsome exterior, handsome
manners and advanced scholarship. Ryland Ackley, the elder
by a little of the two, son of Silas A., who owned a part of the
Clark farm, was the best scholar I ever heard recite ; the
most capable in intellectual power and the farthest ad-
vanced. He had taught school the Winter before and he only
came for six months to read Latin and pursue a course in
Geometry. He was one of the handsomest young men in our
State. His fair, lifted brow, S(»ftly knit with conscious power,

THE MINISTER AND DOCTEK. 15

his dark eye, now deep with penetration, now rich with
humor — his whole fine countenance, stand fresh in memory
before me. He sleeps in a Vermont soldier's Southern grave.
Poor, noble Ryland !

I had, also, the "handsomest girl in town" in my school — ■
dashing Rosa Ilolden, full of sparkle to the brim, just round-
ed seventeen; next, Mary Ely, the minister's black-eyed
daughter, an irrefragable and irreparable coquette at sixteen ;
fair, pink-cheeked, golden-haired Laura Dickerman, among
my elder school girls.

We were describing the North Village and had reached
the then Ives mansion, the ninth and last house in this part of
the village, putting in the meeting-house, tavern, store and
school-house.

Following this road around the curve which leads down
to where Mt. Holly depot now stands, and which was built
this or the next following Summer, we came after about the
eighth of a mile to the parsonage, where resided Rev. Richard
M. Ely, the clergyman who then officiated as pastor to the
Baptist church, and preached in the old meeting-house every
other Sunday. Opposite the minister's cottage was the re-
spectable appearing residence of Dr. John Crowley, who sent
four or five young pupils to school. The Doctor and the
Minister were really the two respectable men of the place.

A little above the Doctor's, on the Rutland road, running
northward, were the two dwellings of Mr. Chase and Mr.
Dickerman, and below the parsonage and Doctor's, a Mr. Elli-
son's ; five houses and families all told in this part of the vil-

16 CHANGES.

lag(3 : and this completed the entire North Mt. Holly Village.
The old Meeting-h(Hise was torn down in 1857, and a new
one built, with a steeple and bell. The old tavern is going to
decay, now, and has been for some years. But there has been
but little increase in the size of the village, we are told.

The inhabitants we knew are chiefly gone, but the old
houses are there. From the Ives mansion on the hill, first
removed Mr. Miller, the son-in-law, and Amarillis, his wife.
Amarillis soon died. Mr. and Mrs. Ives have been long dead ;
but were not, till their philosopher-boy, sprung into preco-
cious manhood, had swindled away all their property and
wasted the last dollar, The minister at the parsonage removed
soon after, and has been long dead. The Pierce family,
the Chase family, the Bradley Dickerman family, the Ellison
family have all removed.

The staid town keeps its increasing, thrifty, agricultural
ways, and very well sustains the original farmers ia their se-
lection of this tract of land for a farming town.

The original proprietors, who had settled here before the
tc)wn was made, and who had helped make it, were naturally
much attached to tiie town they had helped bring into federal
existence. Town-building was popular in those days. The
ambition to build a new town in the New Hampshire or Vermont
wilderness, stirred the nerves of enterprise and courage in
old Connecticut and Massachusetts men of most worth and
endurance. The more ambitious aspired to reach the more
distant and difficult Vermont ; the attractive land of Ethan Al-
len and the Green Mountain boys. They stood by each other,

STEPHEN CLARK FA^IILY. 17

as soldiers do by their comrades, in their enterprise; and
afterward cherished, as worthy veterans might, tlie homes they
had founded, redeemed from the wilderness and cleared up at
so much cost.

So loved Abram Jackson and Stephen Clark Mt. Holly.

Jackson was first moderator of the meeting the day the
town was organized ; chairman of the first board of selectmen ;
first representative to the Legislature of the State, and sev-
eral years a justice of the peace. But from difficulties grow-
ing out of the Revolutionary war, its burdens, levies on
property-holders, dealings with land-jobbers and lawyers, he
at length got disgusted and wearied out, "pulled up stakes,"
and removed to New York about 1810.

There was one other office of honor he held, we have
not enumerated above. lie was the delegate from the town
to the Constitutional Convention of the State in 1783.

Stephen Clark had done, however, more than any one
among the settlers, or than all of them, for Mt. Holly, and we
may hence infer was more deepl}^ attached to her in those
days of her youth, than any other man. He was the father of
six sons and three daughters ; six of whom were born in Mt.
Holly : a growing family of which any man might be proud.
The six Clark boys of Stephen were a bright band of young
geniuses around him, for which a father could afford to toil
courageously and ambitiously

A writer in a neighboring State, in the notice of the death
of one of them, in after years, remarked: "He belonged to a
family celebrated for talent, one that has illustrated the
learned profession by the splendor of their genius."

18 MISFORTUNES.

1805 — 1810. The Stephen Clark household appears to
have been a beautiful family. The father, a man of merit and
activity. The mother, a woman of ability and strength, — who
had ability enough for herself and to give her children.*
Lyman, the oldest son, a physician, had commenced practice.
The second son, Miles, had already taken a wife. He married
a Mt. Holly girl, and was engaged in prosecuting and carry-
ing through important enterprises in both his town and coun-
ty. He built the old Fairhaven turnpike, etc.

Russell, the third son, was pursuing his studies for a
physician, in Philadelphia ; Asahel, the fourth son, winning
honors at Middlebury ; Fanny, the eldest daughter, on the
eve of marriage ; Orpha, almost old enough for the same hon-
or.

About 1812 or '13, reverses came. Fanny was married, and,
one week from her marriage, lay dead. She died with the
fearful epidemic of the period, — the spotted fever.

One, Dr. Rugg, a land-jobber, whose notes Stephen
Clark had heavily indorsed, failed to meet his paper when it
fell due, and the law fell upon his indorser and swept away
his hard and honorably acquired possessions in Mt, Holly.
That land upon which all Mt. Holl}^ village is built, and
which is now subdivided into three neighboring farms, had to
be sold.

The old Squire felt it in the bitterness of his heart. He
could not stand the blow and remain ; and, seeing his case ir_

♦Description ol' her by the late Mrs. L. C. Meeeh, her dauohler-in-law,

^ MOVES WEST. 19

retrievable there, resolved to follow his two oldest sons, Ly-
man and Miles, who, it appears, had emigrated to the then young
and opening State of Ohio, a short time before. His goods,
what they could take, were packed in a stout Holland pur-
chase wagon, room being left in front for his wife, two
youngest sons, and two orphan boys of his brother, which
constituted all his family at this time,* and he was ready to
start.

The removal of a family then to "the far West," which
Ohio was at that time — the loss, too, of so respected and
good a neighbor and townsman as was Stephen Clark, was an
event to the neighborhood and the town, and many a hardy
farmer brushed the tears from his eye as he shook hands with
the old Squire for the last time. The entire neighborhood
had gathered to see him start. No one regarded his misfor-
tunes as any way dishonorable to him, and, though he left
with disappointed hopes, he carried with him pleasant memo-
ries to his grave of his old town and neighbors ; and his old
town and neighbors have remembered honorably the name of
Stephen Clark, and their obligations to him.

Stephen Clark and family left Mt. Holly in the Fall of 1815.
With his two youngest soub, he commenced life in Ohio.
January, 1818, Lyman writes from their location, New Port-
age, to his brother, Asahel : "Father's situation and pros-
pects are such as to be very gratifying to those who have
known him in better days and in his more recent trying cir-

*Orplia having married in 1813, and Laura living with her brother
Asahel's famil}' in Glens Falls.

20 ASAHEL CLARK.

cumstances. I have no doubt three or four years will place
him ill easy circumstances. We see with pleasure, after his
being forced to surrender a home in a place where his affec-
tions had so centered, his unbroken enterprise and reward.
At New Portage, in constant growing good circumstances
he filled the measure of his days. Tiiere, also, lived and died
his two sons, the talented, lamented Dr. Lyman ; the substan-
tial farmer and doctor, Miles Clark.

The other sons of Stephen Clark : Dr. Russell Clark, af-
ter he had finished his medical profession in Philadelphia, set-
tled in Sandy Hill, N. Y., where, popular as a physician and
citizen, he died in 1849; Orville Clark, (Gen. Orville), for-
merly known for his railroad enterprises, studied law and lo-
cated at Sandy Hill, N. Y., and was popular in politics — at
one time, "the lion of the New York Senate," as he was term-
ed; he died in 1862 ; Homer Clark became a popular Meth-
odist minister; was president for years of Alleghany College,
Ohio ; he was living in 18t4. I think I have seen his .death
within the last year or two in the papers.

ASAHEL CLARK,

Father of Gen. D. W. C. Clark, and first husband of Mrs
Lydia Clark Mecch, fourtli son of Stephen and Rachel (Jack-
son) Clark, was born in Mt. Holly, Vt., in the year 1*184. He
graduated at Middlebury, in 180*7. He was chosen to deliver
the commencement poem. He was married before he left col-
lege, but married so well, or so fine a girl, he was not expell-

GOVERNOR CLINTON'S LAWYER. 21

ed for it. After he left College, he studied law with Esq.
Shepherd, then of Granville, N.Y., and after of Vergennes, Vt.
He practised, upon being received to the New York Bar, of
Washington Co., first for a time as partner with Mr. Shep-
herd ; — but soon established himself independent of partnership
at Glens Falls, where he had a successful practice till his
death. He was soon engaged in public speaking ; he delivered
the oration at the dedication of the Granville Academy in 1809 ;
was a popular Fourth of July orator. 1 have a printed copy of
one of his public addresses. He was an able speaker at political
conventions, and soon became a leader in politics. He was
the legal counsellor of Gov. DeWitt Clinton, and his warm
and intimate friend. Gov. De. Witt Clinton was the man of his
time most noted for personal elegance and polished conver-
sation. Ashael Clark, his lawyer, was a man of distinguished,
handsome manners. He dressed with scrupulous care. He
always wore the grand old ruffled shirt — the ruffles a finger's
width from the throat down the bosom-length, and around the
wrists. The Governor not unfrequently dined at the table of
his friend, his handsome wife presiding. The three made up
a handsome table-picture. I have in my house an oil painting
of Mr. (/lark, aliie-size portrait, which shows a fine head and
countenance. A cousin of late dear Madam Meech, gazing at
it once with me, exclaimed, raising his hands emphatically
"Ah, but it does not look as well, he was the finest looking —
the handsomest man, I ever saw!" He was fond of the mili-
tary— an officer of the New York Militia. He held a Major's
Commission in the war of 1812, and it was a detachment of

22 THE REVOLUTIONARY SWORD.

bis Brigade that took the first stand of colors in the war — at
the battle of Plattsburgh, for which upon his return, he was
honored by Governor Clinton with the presentation of a sword ;
as told me by the late Gen D.W.C. Clarke, to whom the sword,
fell as an heirloom, and by whom it was much prized. Showing
it to me one day, one summer when on from Washington, at
home. "There," he said, "is something that the Historical
Society would be pretty glad to get hold of, but they can't
while I live. This is an old Revolutionary sword. It be-
longed to my father, and w<is presented to him by Govern-
or Clinton. It was the sword carried by the valiant
Baron De Kalb, the last day he bravely fought for American
Independence, and fell covered with wounds,'' said General
Clarke, "My father said that Governor Clinton told him,
De Kalb saw a British officer, in one of their engagements, kill
an American officer, and take from him this blade, and he
killed the British officer, recaptured the sword, cast his
own aside, and adopted this." It was in the battle of Saun-
der's Creek, a few miles Nortli of Camden, South Carolina —
General Gates, 1st in command, Baron De Kalb, 2nd, — on the
16th of August, 1780, in which engagement Baron De Kalb
was mortally wounded, and died soon after. "At the close of
the Revolutionary war, Lord Cornwallis presented the sword
to Governor Clinton, and when my father's regiment took the
first staff of colors in the war of 1812, Governor Clinton pre-
sented the sword to my father. This old sword has been
through two wars — the war of the Revolution, and the war of
1812."

SICKNESS — DEATH. 23

I remember distinctly every word of this conversation.
It was my first knowledge that the General's father was in the
war of 1812.

Mr. Clark was talked of for the coming election for Con-
gress in 1822. From overwork in the canvass, he brought
on tj'phoid lever ; was sick but a week and died.

His biography is more fully given in the Mt. Holly His-
tory, iu our Gazetteer. We cannot, however, refrain from
quoting one paragraph here, relative to the regard of the lead-
ing members of the bar of his adopted State. From an old
letter I hold, says Judge Davis of Troy, to his son, twenty
years after :

" Asahel Clark was the most eloquent man, I ever in the
whole course of my life knew, by far. He stood as a pleader at
the head of the whole bar. He was infinitely beyond competi-
tion. I have seen Judge D wight sit with his mouth open for an
hour on the bench, completely carried away by your father's
eloquence." Have you any of your father's eloquence? If
you have, you have got a fortune."

24 LYDIA FINNEY.

MRS. LYDIA CLARK MEECH.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHIC RECORD.*

Lydia. Finney, daughter of Nathan and Urania Finney,
was born in Shrewsbury, Vermont, April 10, 1786, and mar-
ried to Asahel CUxrk, May 6, 1806.

The first time slie saw her husband, as she wouUl pleasant-
ly narrate, in her old age, she was sitting on her mother's feet,
who was curling her hair for a ball. "Mother had crossed her
feet for me a seat. 1 was sitting there, mother making up my
curls, when a boy of about fifteen years of age came into our
old sitting room at the P'inney Tavern where we lived, and
passed through. 1 noticed ho looked at me, and 1 thought
he was seeing how nice my hair was going to h)ok. I did
not utiierwise think anything about him. 1 was only thinking
of my hair jind the ball there was to be that night in our hall.

He afterwards told me that it was there on my mother's
feet, whcr(3 he first saw me, that he said to himself: "there is
the girl that shall be my wife."

♦Every item from her lips, except au occasional explanation in paren-
thesis, ct literatim, as one may say, and by her tirst expressed wish
recorded, wlicn she was 8() years of age. See reminiscences of
felirewsbury iu Vol. 111. ^'t. liisl. Gaz.

FOURTH OF JULY RIDE. 25

Soon after he came to ask her to a horseback ride with
a party of young folks, who were going to Clarendon the
next town North, for a Fourth of July ride.

During this ride, the young folks got to racing their
horses. She rode a spirited young horse. Another horse rush-
ed past, after which, her horse so suddenly sprung, she was
thrown from the saddle, and one foot becoming entangled in
the stirrup, was dragged some rods, to the fright of all, es-
pecially that of her young beau.

"Iwas rescued. All said it was the greatest wonder that
I was not killed," and she would always add, with a special
benignity of countenance, "1 alwa^^s attributed it to some
special kind providence.

When we arrived at Clarendon, I had to lie down. I did
not enjoy that day. But ever after, my young admirer came
to ask me to some party, or to sit with me awhile in the eve-
ning. The latter was particularily irksome, as I did not care
at all then for him. I was too young for that, and he was a
great bore to me. But it would not be polite, the folks told
me, to refuse.

He never went with any other girl, and was all attention
to me ; but I never cared anything for him till alter he went
to college. During the time he was there, we had a ball one
night at our house in Shrewsbury. I did not know he was
going to come. I had not seen him since he had been to col-
lege; for over a year, I think. I was sixteen at this time, he
was nineteen. In the dance that evening we were dancing

26 AT THE BALL— JACK MATTOCKS.

"Lady's Chain'' — when it was "change partners and cross
hands" a hand touched mine with a peculiar thrilL I looked
startled up. I did not know till then that he was there.
A glance from his eyes went to the core of my heart. I knew
from that moment I loved him. Ever after that, I would not
have exchanged him for a king upon his throne.

I did not wish to be married while he was in college, nor
until he had finished his law studies, but about this time, I
attended a ball at Rutland, where Jack Mattocks (afterwards
Governor) danced much with me and was very attentive. I did
not think any thing more of it at the time, or of his attentions,
than it being the usual gallantries of a gay young gentleman to
his partner at an evening ball. He was handsome, a remarkable
good dancer and a great beau among the girls, and I was"
pleased to dance with him; that was all, on my part. But
Mattocks soon after saw my father and asked his permission
to pay his addresses to me. 'Jack Mattocks,' answered my
father, 'I would as soon permit the devil to court one of my
girls as you.' 'But I wish to marry her, whether with court-
ing, or without courting,' replied Mattocks ; and my father
told him that he would tell me, and leave it to me. My father
would have been willing, 1 think, that I should have married
Jack Mattocks, he was so popular ; but he did not urge the
matter. 1 think he was afraid that he was a little too wild to
make so good a husband as he desired me to have.

He never quite liked, however, my choice. It was noth-
ing that he had against Mr. Clark. He personally liked him ;
but I was the favorite among his children, and he was desir-

HER iSIARRIAGE. 27

ous that I should marry a rich man. lie actually compelled
me, near this time, to receive one visit from a wealthy widow-
er from Massachusetts. I could not for one moment, however,
consent to relinquish Clark, and my father would not compel
me, against my happiness.

Mr. Clark, visiting me soon after, I told him about Mat-
tocks and the Massachusetts man. He had also heard of it
from others. I assured him my regard was not to be shaken ;
but he said if others were beginning to speak, he thought it
was time he should be putting his claim on.

He went back to college, but in two weeks came again to
Shrewsbury. It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon in May.
After he had been there a short time, old Squire Clark and
wife drove up to the door. They had come for a visit. I did
not think at the time, but afterwards, that it was by design,
as they were good Congregational church members, and did
not make visits Sunday. After a little general visiting with
his parents, Asahel asked me to walk out with him. He had
something he wished to talk over alone with me. As we
walked together, he remarked, as we were to be married soon
— he must have it so — and as his parents were there now with
my parents, it would be a good time that evening. I was sur-
prised, but I could not refuse him ; so I put on, before supper,
a white cambric dress, one that I had just had made. It was
not made for that, but it was suitable, and we stood up in the
presence of our parents, and my brothers and sisters, and Mr.
Clark's father, who was a justice, and he married us : and I
never regretted it for one moment in my life, for he was the

28 FAMILY PARTIALITY.

loveliest man and the best husband, it seems to me, that there
ever was in the world.

He went back to his studies and I remained at my fath-
er's ; did not go to house-keeping for two or three years.
They were very glad at home to have me there to help look
after the house. [Her father kept a country tavern.]

Hannah was mother's favorite. She was the oldest and
looked most like her. I was father's, and looked most like
him, and Hannah was married and gone, and I had the field.
I had never had a hard time, though, while mother gave the
preference to Hannah. Mother was a good mother to all her
children, and father always stood up for me more than for any
of the other children.

Mother bought my sisters, Hannah and Cynthia, at one
time, each of them, a new silk dress. Hannah's was a blue
silk ; her eyes were blue, and Fhe was fair. It was pretty for
her. Cynthia's was a pink lute-string. She was fair with a
red cheek, and dark eyes; the pink became her. Mother did
not buy me one. I suppose she thought I could do well
enough without, or she did not find an3^thing that she thought
would adorn me, I was so brown and plain, beside my sisters.

I did not say anything, but father said : "Why did you not
buy Lydia one, too ? She is worth more than both the other
girls ever were in the house. She always was, and always
will be. She is the smartest girl I have got, if not the hand-
somest."

The next time he went up to Rutland, he brought me
home a silk dress, the handsomest golden and black mixed

GOES TO HOUSE-KEEPING. 29

silk I ever saw, which suited admirably my dark complexion.

My oldest son, Nelson, was born while I lived at my
father's. Nelson was always the special favorite of my moth-
er, and I think father and the rest of the family liked him bet-
ter than they ever did DeWitt. 1 think it was because he was
born with them ; and he was a more quiet and manageable
child; and they liked him, perhaps, fur his name. I had lost
a little brother of five years, the youngest child of my father's
family, two years only before my marriage, who had been the
pet of us all — and my little boy came to take his place.
I called him after my little brother. My husband, from his
admiration for Lord Nelson, was pleased with the name ; and
he added that of Napoleon, his other favorite hero ; and we
called our little boy Nelson Napoleon, I have sometimes
thought it had something to do with his luture choice of a
profession. He was, when a boy, very proud of his name. He
caught it from his father.

Father did not want that I should leave when I did, nei-
ther did mother; but my husband and 1 were anxious to set-
tle down in our own home. We went to house-keeping first in
Granville, in the Fall of 1809. How happy I was to become
my own housekeeper ! and my husband was as happy as I.

We lived at Granville a few years, till after Do Witt was
born, who was three years younger than Nelson, — when we
removed to Glens Falls, where I rounded and ended the golden
part of my life.

The society was very agreeable at Glens Falls. There
were a good many young married people, all social and intel-

30 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS.

ligent. Mr. Clark was a great favorite in society. I do believe
he was beloved by every man and woman in our society there ;
and he never gave me cause for one jealous pang. In society
it was all concord ; at home it was all perfect happiness. If I
fretted sometimes when the children or household care teased
and tired me, or when he was gone longer than I expected in
attendance on the courts — for I never had so lovely a disposition
as he, such eveness and goodness, then he would just put his
arms right round m}^ neck and say: ' 'Lydia, that will never do.
You and I must never indulge in any such thing as that. Don^t
fret, my dear ! don't fret !" and it was all ended. I could not fret
any more for my life. He never spoke in any other than the
kindest manner to me.

We had two beautiful bo^s. Our home was happy : so
happy ! and we went much into society and had a good deal
of company.

My husband read Shakspeare best of any one that I ever
heard read. We had a Shakspeare club that often met with
us, at our house.

It was too near perfect happiness to last, sixteen years of
such life.

The first misfortune was the burning of our house. The
fire caught in the chimney. It was a large house and stood on
the brow of a hill, or of an elevated place. We had been away
that day. It was Sunday. We had been to church. We had
dinner prepared on our return and did not discover the fire,
which must have been burning while we were at dinner. We
heard some one cry, Fire !

HOUSE BURNED. 31

My husband went to the hall door, and to several men,
rushing up the hill, called out, "Where is the fire ?" "Why,
your own house, over your own head." The fire had burst
out first to view on the roof. True enough, and in one-half
hour it was burned to the ground. A few things were got out,
but mostly the things were consumed with our house.

I had a very nice set of wine-glasses of which I was par-
ticularly choice ; as an evidence how crazy men will act at
such a time, these, which happened to set on a tray upon a
bureau, instead of being carried right out on the tray, were
swept into the upper drawer and every one shivered to atoms
in the act. There are some exceptions : That large glass there
[a full-length mirror in her sitting-room], I never thought of it
at the time, but the next day was lamenting it, supposing it to
have been destroyed, as no one seemed to know any thing
about it, when our hired man, who heard me, went to the barn
and brought it in. lie had the thought and care, the first
thing, to take it, and hide it in the hay in the barn ; and it
came out as whole and fair as ever. We were greatly delighted
with him for it.

The people were very kind to us. There was no other
house to be had in the village, but Mr. Gibson, the merchant,
let us have the upper part of his store, and my liusband fin-
ished off several rooms that were very pleasant, and we had
just got nicely settled in them when he was taken sick.

He had been unwell for about, a week, but I did not ap-
prehend any danger till he was taken down with the typhus
fever, from which time he lived only five days.

3^ THE TYPHUS FEVER.

Dr. Russell, his brother, who was regarded a very skilful
j^hysician, took care of him and I never thought but that he
would get well till the day he died. Perhaps it was best.
I had my fears though ; but could not admit them.

I think he knew that he should die ; but he did not say
anything to me about it. He knew it would kill me. He
talked one day about seeing a funeral procession, the many
people that there were dressed in black ; and he seemed to
think it was his own funeral. The doctor said he was out of
his head. I could not bear to hear him at the time, but I long
remembered it all afterwards.

There was no minister at the time in the place to send for
to visit him ; there was a good man who used to go and pray
with the sick ; the day before my husband died, I asked if I
should send for him. He said he was willing. I sent. He
was away from home, but another man came and prayed with
him. I do not think my husband paid much attention to it, he
was so sick.

His parents were strict Congregationalists, and as they
had children baptized — as he remembered, the younger mem-
bers of the family — he thought that he had been baptized in his
infancy.

A little while before he was taken sick, I said to him one
day : "Pa, would you not like to have us unite with some
church ? I think it would be good for us, and that we could
bring up our boys better.'' He said he would ; but that he did
not like the Methodists. There was no other church in Glens
Falls at this time, though a Presbyterian church was soon after

THE GRA^VE. 33

formed. My liusbciiid and 1 both thought that we liked the
Episcopal church best.

1 lost my darling husband ! He seemed too good to live —
too good for me.. 1 oftentimes told him so. lie always said
"No !" But I always knew he was a great deal better than I
was. He always had such good principles, and always seemed
to have a natural religion about him.

He died in the night. Worn out with watchings and grief,
I cried myself to sleep from very exhaustion. How strangely
unconscious I slept, till when I awoke the morning sun was
shining- in at the window, full and bright For a long time I
could not tell where I was ; when it rushed over me, how I
screamed and fell back !

I thought at first, I could not live without my husband.

I went to the funeral with my two fatherless boys, one
eleven, the other fourteen. Every one pitied me when they
saw me lead my boys, one by each hand, after their father's
coflQn ; but that did not, could not comfort me.

Never could people have been more kind than our Glens
Falls friends were after the funeral to me, but all my heart was
in my husband's grave. I used to steal away down there when
1 could stay in the house no longer and weep till into the night,
sometimes. When they would miss me,th€iy would come down
several of them together, and tell me I must come back, and I
would go back to my children. Oh, the tears I shed that Fall
and for four years. At last it became so cold, and they talked
to me so much for going there, I gave it up — going to the
grave.

34 FIRST WIDOWHOOD.

Mr. Mallary, a friend oimy husband, (Rollin C, member of
Congress), helped me to get an appointment for my eldest son
at West Point the first year after I lost my husband. I did not
try to keep house. My friends all sent for me to come and
stay with them. I would go and stay first with mother and
Levi's family at Shrewsbury, then with Mrs. Jackson, my
sister, and then Dr. Russell Clark's family would claim me.

I had homes enough, but no fixed one. I do not think I
could have remained fixed in those days.

Mrs. Jackson, who had a large family and was always
delicate, particularly desired me, as did her husband, to remain
permanently with them. But I was no longer satisfied any-
where, but tried to make the best of it, and as to the thought
of ever marrying again it seemed utterly impossible. De Witt
also, had no permanent home. He was first at his uncle Rus-
sell's, then in a store as a clerk, and at length, I put him at
school in Castleton. Two or three gentlemen asked Mr. Jack-
son to see me in reference to marriage, but I would not consent
to see them. One gentleman, however, came one day, whom
Mr. Jackson would liked to have had me favor. I was
in my chamber, when he sent me word to dress and come down.
Not to refuse Brother Jackson, and to end his labors forme, I
did dress — in the worst dress 1 had, and without brushing my
hair went down Neither oi us when introduced M\as very socia-
ble. Mr. Jackson was aimoyed, but laughed over it afterwards.
I knew that the easiest way to get rid of a gentleman's atten-
tions is to not please at first.

The summer of 182G, 1 spent with Mrs, Jackson. There

VISIT TO WEST POINT. 35

was no society in Sudbury, where she lived. I grew more and
more lonesome. For a little change, that summer, I thought
that I would go down and visit Nelson at Wcjst Point. When
I arrived, he was in some exercise at the school and could not
come to meet me.

Desolate-feeling enough, I was climbing up the hill to the
Academy. It was a hot day in July and I was much fatigued,
when a gentlemanly-looking man, coming down the hill, ^net
me, and enquired who I was coming to see. I told him. Nel-
son Clark, my son, who was there. He said, very politel^^ "I
am one of his oflScers. Mrs. Clark, let me assist you up the
hill; you look very fatigued and the day is so warm." He
gave me his arm and walked with me up the hill and into the
reception parlor, when he brought me ice-water and a glass of
wine, and talked with me awhile, and then told me he would
go and bring Nelson when he was through his exercises.

How impatient I was to see my boy ! I had not seen him
for so long a time. But he spoke well of my boy ; that did
my mother's heart good. Soon my brown, weather-tanned
boy, taller, but with handsomely knit form, stood before me ;
gave me a military salute first, and then came to my arms. I
was much pleased with Nelson and my visit. The gentleman
who met me in the morning, with several of the officers, came
to the parlor and spent the evening with me. I found Nelson
doing so well and so much improved, and had seen so little
company of late, that I enjoyed the evening much. The gen-
tlemen were good conversationalists ; the one especially with
whom I became first acquainted, talked with me on many sub-

36 THE WEST POINT OFFICER.

jects for two hours or more. They all bade me good night
very pleasantly, hoping to see me well in the morning. I did
not say that I was going to leave in the morning. X did not
think it necessary. I left early in the morning and thought
nothing of it. But in a few days I received a letter from one
of the officers, saying that the gentleman I first met was
greatly disappointed to find I was gone when he called to see
me in the morning ; that he had supposed I was to stay sev-
eral days, and had never thought of my leaving. He informed
me that he had never seen his friend so taken with any lady,
and that the gentleman was anxious, lest in some way he had
displeased me, as I had left so early and without giving him
any information of my intentions ; that he wrote to bespeak
a kind reception of his friend's letter, who would probably
address me in a few days — from whom I would soon hear.

The gentleman not long afterwards wrote to Dr. Russell
Clark for my address, and communicated his reasons for the
same to him. The first I knew it was all around among the
friends that the gentleman had written to Dr. Russell, and that I
had an ofier of marriage. I was rallied not a little about the
handsome officer at West Point.

But about this time Judge Meech came down to Sudbury
to make my acquaintance, and my friends were all for him in
preference to the West Point officer, as he was wealthy and
a member of Congiess. Dr. Russell answered the West Point
gentleman that a Member of Congress had stepped in, and I
heard no more from him.

Judge Meech came down to see me in his carriage-and-

JUDGE MEECH. 37

four — four handsome bay horses. 1 remember distinctly how
they looked. There never was anything I so much admired as
handsome, spirited horses, and never anything I ever liked to
see as handsome horses race.

The Judge was sociable, sensible, straightforward. He
introduced himself and his business, at his first visit. He told
me his wife died in March, the Spring before ; that she had
been sickly several years, and was sick to the bed^ some
months before she died. His house needed a mistress in it and
his children a mother, and he had thought it better to be set-
tled and to have a wife there before he should leave for Wash-
ington ; and he would like to have it arranged and resettle the
home in time to take her with him, if she preferred to go.

He said he had thought of a widow lady that he had seen
down in Albany : that he went a few days before down to see
her, but she was away. On his return to the hotel where he
stopped, he spoke to the landlord, who was a personal friend,
of his business.

Said he : "Meech, she is no such woman as you want.
You want a wife that you will be proud to take to Washington,
and that the people of your State will be proud to have you
take with you there. You can in your position just as well get
such a one as not — one who will be just as good a wife in
other respects, and always an accomplished mistress in your
own house, as some common-place woman.

''There was one along here the other day. 1 have not seen
so splendid a woman for a long time. She was on her way

4

38 ESQ. SHEPHERD CONSULTED.

home from a visit to her son at West Point. If I were a single
man, I do not know a woman in the world I would so soon
many. By the way, she is the widow of Asahel Clark, whom
I am sure you used to know at Middlebury, when he was in
college there. Just the wife for you. I don't know where
she is now ; but somewhere in Vermont. Sheplierd, of Ver-
gennes, with whom her husband studied law, nia}'^ know, per-
haps ; and I tell you to go home and not to speak to another
woman, nor even so much as look at one with a view to mar-
riage, till you have seen her.'^

"After I came liome to Shelburne, I thought over what my
Albany friend said, and, as he was so much impressed with the
woman, and I knew him a man of very good judgment, I con-
cluded, in a few days, as I knew Shepherd very well, to drive
down and talk with him about it.

"He knew where you were ; said you were with your sis-
ter, Mrs. Jackson, at Sudbury; that you were just the woman —
I could not in the whole world do better ; but that 3^ou.were
terribly cut up by the 'death of your liusband, whom you had
perfectly worshipped ; that he had scarce ever seen so deep
an attachment between a husband and wife, and he did not
know as you could be persuaded to marry ; but if you would,
he thought it would 1)0 a most suitable marriage for us both.
He told me I might say to you from him, that he earuestl}'"
recommended it from his knowknlge and friendship for us both.'^
• He did not tell me that he had a letter of recommenda-
tion in liis pocket, from Mr. Sliepherd, for me. Long 3^ears
after, looking over some of his old papers for him, I found it

COURTSHIP. 39

and could not think at first wheat it meant. I was sure I had
never seen it. I sll0^v'ed it to him and asked him. He laughed
and acknowledged it. He had asked Shepherd for an intro-
ductory letter, as he had never met me, and Shepherd had
given it. "But, coming down," he said, "I thought I wouhl
do my own introducing, and on my own merits with you,
stand or fall.''

I appreciated it in him, but I kept Mr. Shepherd's letter.
I was pleased with so handsome a letter from my first hus-
band's friend.

I respected the appearance of Judge Meech, and liked
his frankness and self-confidence. It was in no way displeasing
to me, that a leading man in the State should, in his first inter-
view, decide so promptly in my favor, as it was done with
an upright manliness ; but I could not, at first, think of looking
upon him in the place of my idolized husband who was gone.
My whole soul was averse to marriage with any one ; it had
been, ever since my own best husband had died, and I could
not help but show it.

Ho did not, however, ask me to decide then, but only to
think it over for a month, and then let him know. He would
be pleased, he was assured, with me ; and he hoped, when
we became better acquaint;'d, that 1 might like him better
than perhaps I now thought.

He had not foi'gotten his former wife, and he would never
ask me to forget my former husband, and should never look for
the same ardent attaclnnent as in youth; but he thought we
should be mutually pleased ; he trusted so, on due reflection,

40 COURTSHIP CONTINUED.

and would both be happier, married again and settled in our

own home.

He said Shepherd had told him that I had two boys ; that

he did not think I woukl marry unless they were provided for;

■ — that I would be a fool if I did, for I was a woman with my

boys who would find enough offers from suitable men. He

said he told him that if the woman pleased him, he should not

mind the boys, as he had enough for them and for his own

children.

I thought this was very kind in Mr. Shepherd. It showed

a kindness to his old friend who was in his grave.

Mr. Meech said he had quite a family of his own, and if I

were willing to undertake to be a mother to them, he was to
be a father to my boys. I told him I was poor and had noth-
ing to bring him. My husband, by his father's failure in Mt.
Holly, had been lel't with college debts to pay after we were
married. Then there had been his law studies for six years,
and the expense of a young family ; and for his success it was
necessary, though I tried to be economical, that we should live
in some style. He had paid up all his college debts and for
his law studies. He lost his services in the war for about two
years, being paid in Government land. West, which was unsold
at the time of his death, and for which afterwards I could not
obtain any adequate value. He was very successful in his
practice. We were getting a start. We had bright hopes of
soon laying up a competency, when our house was burned and
all our effects in it. We had but just got over the effects of this
and were beginning to prosper again, when he died. He died so

WHAT DECIDED IIEIt. 41

suddenly and loft his aiTairs so unsettled, very littlo was left
for me when his estate was settled. " I should have, Judg-e,''
I said, "nothing' to bring you but myself and two fatherless
boys."

He said lie had no doubt that he might marry a rich wife,
but if he preferred me, it was nothing to any one but to him-
self and to me. He preferred me with my two boys. If I
would be a mother to and bring up his large family, he would
do for my boys as he did for his own.

Nelson was indeed, provided, for, in a measure ; but, as
Mr. Shepherd had remarked, the United States salary was so
small, the cadets always needed more or less help ; he should
never refuse any such help desired, if indorsed by his officers ;
and that DeWitt should have a college education. He intend-
ed to give it to his own hojs, and he would educate him the
same, and do for my boys as for his own. I did not stipulate
or ask for any of these things, but he proffered them : and 1
think it was this decided me eventual^, the thought of having
DeWitt provided for : the mother's heart for him : the kind
offer of provision for him : to give him a father, that influenced
and decided me to the dreaded step.

He gave me a month to decide, and asked me to occa-
sionally wiite to him. In a few days, he wrote to me.

The more I reflected, at first, the more adverse I grew to
this proposal of another marriage ; but my friends and every-
body I saw and knew were bent on it, especially Mr. Jackson,
He said I would be crazy to refuse a Member of Congress,

43 THE SECOND MARRIAGE.

and so weal thy, and so excellent a man ; and so I answered his
first letter rather favorably.

Whereupon, he agahi came down to visit me before the
time set, and pressed me so sensibly and earnestly, as I had
concluded to favor his proposal, to name an earlier day than
first talked of, I yielded.

T think, rather, he first wrote me to this effect, and then
came a few days before I had determined how to reply — came
down to personally urge his wishes and reasons. I allowed him
to name the day himself.

I concluded, as it must be, it might as well be, and over
with. I was in such a state of anxiety between the anxieties
of my friends lest it would not come off, and to see it through
with ; and of my own heart, to whom another marriage seemed
a sort of sacrilege to my feelings and to the dead.

I did not make much more wedding preparations than for
my first marriage. The Judge did not think it was necessary
at all, and I felt it became a second marriage better. I was
married in black silk. (Ominous !) 1 thought black best be-
came a widow-bride. I only got a new and rather smart cap.

We were married at Mr. and Mrs. Jackson's, in Sudbury,
the summer of 1826.

There were none of my friends but Mrs. Jackson's family
present. Her eldest daughter, my favorite niece, Ann, was at
home. '

"DeWitt ?" I enquired. He was there ; but I did not in-
tend to have him come. I was not going to have that big boy
there. I did not want him to see me stand up to be mar-

UNEXPECTED GUEST. 43

riod, and I did not sond him any word. I did not intend liim
to know it till it was over with.

The Judge came down with liis "carriage and fonr," tlie
day before. We were to bo married in the forenoon, and drive
home to Shelbnrne that day.

My friends were all ready. The minister drove n]) to the
door. I looked out at a window ; another wagon drove up af-
ter him and stopped also. I wondered who had come. A
boy, crouched down back of the seat behind, attracted my at-
tention. I went to the door, and, behold! DeWitt's great
black eyes, shining, stuck out as big as saucers.

"DeWitt," I said, annoyed, "What are 3''ou here for?"

''I don't think,'' he said, ''that my mother was going to
be married and I not see it done."

I was considerably chagrined, but all my friends were
pleased with his appearing, and took his part.

The Judge said he liked it in the boy; it showed his
love for his mother, and his spirit; that he did right. We
had to wait for the boy to be washed and combed; and then
he stood up with us and saw us married DeWitt was at
school at Castleton Academy. Some one told liim, the
afternoon before, that his mother was going to be married,
it was certain, to Judge Meech the next day. He started
for Sudbury. He did not ask his teachers, he said ; he was
afraid that they would not allow him to go, as he had not been
sent for ; and as he was going to come, he thought it would
be better to come without being refused than witli.

He went to the store where he found a farmer, who lived

44 GOING TO SEE HIS MOTHER MARRIED.

in the next town, just ready to start for home, with whom he
secured a ride for the first eight or ten miles. The farmer reach-
ing his destination, the boy trudged on a-foot, looking out for
the next man that might come along alone in his wagon. It
was not long before one appeared, and when DeWitt took off
his hat and made him a bow, as boys were then taught to do,
the man invited him to ride, and asked him Vv^hose boy he
was ; and when DeWitt told him, and that he was going to
see his mother married, the man, who knew the Judge very
well, was very kind to the boy and made him stay with him
that night, and found a chance to send him on by another man
who was going as far as Benson early the next morning.
From Benson to Jackson's, in Sudbury, he walked, finding
one or two more chances to ride. Every one was very kind
to the boy going to see his mother married, and helped him
along. They all seemed to regard it a very good j<»ke upon
the Judge and myself, who had slighted the boy by not invit-
ing him. Several men laughed with the Judge about itafter-
wards DeWitt made friends at once with the Judge ; and
he persuaded me to let him stay a few days with his cousins
before sending him back to school, and he wrote a letter him-
self to his teacher to excuse him.

The Judge had stopped at Middlebury, on his way down,
where he was well-known, and the news of his approaching
marriage had reached. He was invited and pressed to stop
the next day with his new wife. They would have a public
dinner ready for him. He did not promise, but agreed to
leave it to me.

]\IY STEP-DAUOrTTERS. 45

When we got near the village, I asked the Judge to have
the driver drive fast by; so he ordered. The driver whipped
up, and we went by with quite a little flourish. There was a
crowd gathered at the door of the hotel, expecting that we
were to stop ; but all was so sudden and well done, we heard
only a little hurrah. They had a dinner ready for us, we were
afterward told, and were quite provoked j.it our driving by ;
but I had no notion of a public dinner that day, and stopping
there to be looked at and quizzed over ; and the Judge laid it
all to me, as I told him to.

At Shelburne I found a family of four children.

Mary, the oldest daughter, a rather fine looking girl, with
black eyes, was courted then, and married during the year.
She married Dr. Moody, of Burlington. Poor thing! She
took cold a short time after. She went out to ride in the even-
ing not sufficiently clad, and came home with a chill. We did
not suppose it serious at first, but consumption, hereditary
from the mother, soon developed itself. She went to Florida,
hoping to be benefited by the climate, but died and was
buried there.

Jane, the next oldest, was my favorite in the family. She
was a fair-complexioned, gentle girl of sixteen years. She was
always compliant with all of my wishes, and lived with me
the longest ; and 1 called her my dear Jane.

She was married some years later to Esq. Warner,* of
Middlebury.

•

♦Hon. Joseph Warner, born in Sudbury, casliier of the bank at ]Mi(ldle-
bury over 30 years, died in 18(35. See Sudbury Papers, Vt. Hist.
Gaz., p. 1140.

46 MY DEAR JANE.

She had three children. When the youngest was a babe
she went into a decline. It was advised by the physicians
and urged by others, she, too, must go to Florida. Her father
was opposed to it from the first. He always said it hastened
Mary's death going there, and would Jane's, but he yielded
to the opposition.

I remember the day that it was decided that she should
go. He came in to the house and walked the floor for an
hour. Then he said he had given her up He never spoke of
her afterwards but with tranquillity. He was a man that when
a grief met him, he wrestled with it till he put it down ; and
he never let it come up again to disturb him or any one. He
thought it useless and wrong to repine at the dealings of
Providence. The babe was put out to nurse, we took the two
older children home, and poor Jane started with her husband
for Florida. The journey fatigued her much, and she only
grew worse rapidly there. She was very anxious to get home
to old Shelburne and to me.

She was brought back, not to her own home in Middle-
bury, but, at her request, directly to us.

How 1 felt when I saw her ! 1 knew at once there was

no hope.

"Mother," she said, ''I have come home to die with you."
She never spoke of dying again : and I could not, neither
could her father, speak of it to her ; we saw she so shrank from
having it talked of. We brought Mary and James, her two
oldest children, in to the room to see her. They only seemed
to tire her, she was so exhausted ; she asked to have them

MY DEAR JANE DIES. 47

taken out of the room. When asked again if she would see
them, she said no. Did she not wish to see her babe ? "No."
So much she suffered, and so completely had she given
them up.

I did not quite understand it, at first ; but I did after-
wards, when I saw how much she had sufiered and how ema-
ciated her body had become.

She lived but two weeks from the day she came home.

She could not bear to see any visitors. One day about
four days before she died, a woman came — a neighbor who
had known her mother well, and had known her. She wanted
to see her. I told Jane. She refused ; but the woman urged
so hard I let her go in.

I was always sorr}'^ ; Jane seemed so hurt. "Mother," she
said as soon as vre were alone, "I do beg that you will not let
another person see me. You promised you would not. How
she did stand and stare at me. I knew what she was think-
ing of."

How could I help it ? The woman would have been angry
if I had not let her gone in ; but I have always thought since
that it is wrong to annoy a person witli company when the^^
are sick and can not live and do not want to see them.

What do you think ?

"I think it very wrong," 1 said. " The sick room is no
place to gratify the idle curiosity of but indifferent friends.
The wishes of the sick person are generally, alone to be con-
sulted. It is but their most sacred right, then."

Jane's children, the two oldest, Mary and James, lived

48 MY STEP-SONS — A DISCIPLINARIAN.

with us much befoie, and after their mother's death till their
father was again married.

What was I speaking of? Oh, the Judge's four children,
that I found there when he brought me first to Siielburne. I
have spoken of the two daughters. The two youngest were
boys, Ezra, jr., and Edgar. Ezra was about twelve and Edgar
ten.

All the cliildren were always good to me and respectful
while their father lived. They would never have dared to
be any other way. The Judge, my new husband, was
a very pleasant man in his family, but a strict disciplinarian.
He aimed to do what he regarded just and right, and claimed
it from others, and no one ever dared to disobey him.

I saw him take a workman, one day, who ventured to dis-
pute him, by the seat of his pantaloons and set him over the
fence pretty quick, and tell him to be gone. How the other
workmen all laughed !

He said to me afterward, the way was to never take the
first word of impudence from any hired help, man or woman ;
but to dismiss them at once, and if any one left his service to
never take them back. It was the best lesson to the others.
He always practised it. He was social and pleasant, and
fond of talking with his men at proper times, and they all
liked him and obeyed him.

At first, 1 did not know what to do in so large a family,
especially as to wliat quantities, and what to cook for so many
men ; but the Judge said so kindly, he did not expect I would
know at first ; 1 would soon learn, he would assist me, and

SE(;OND HOUSE-KEEPING. 49

superintend the cooking till I felt competent to take charge
alone. He had had to superintend so long he knew just what
should be done. 1 took hold Avith a good will, and was soon
drilled in.

The Judge was a large gentleman-furmer. We had fre-
quently, with his help, forty in the family.

I had often as many as five girls in the house to oversee
and take charge of, with seldom more than one experienced
one at a time. My husband would go right to the dock when
we wanted help, and take one off from the boat when it came
in. He always said, in time they generally made the best help.

Oh, how I worked in his house, seeing to so much help,
and to everything from garret to cellar for thirty years!

I never thought of this recompense for it in my old age.
[She alluded heie to the keeping of her annuity in arrearage —
unpaid — when she was in need of money for daily supplies.]
But he was not to blame for it.

He, too, wore ruffled shirts. Both of my husbands never
wore any other shirts.

I had not only to make them all, hem all of the fine
cambric ruffles for bosom and w^rists, but I could never get a
girl who could iron one of them : not unlrequently the hottest
day in summer I would have to be called out into the ironing-
room to iron and plait four of these shirts at a time.

But the Judge was a good-natured husband to me, and did
not usually refuse me anything that I asked him for. To be
sure, I was careful what I asked ; and he knew I was, and

5

50 THE JUDGE LEAVES FOR WASHINGTON.

had confidence in my prudence and good management of his
house. He always generously said it, and showed it by his
actions.

I never had a separate purse, but when I came up to
Burli ngton I would buy what 1 thought was required for the
family, and would carry the bills home to him. He always set-
tled them, and never grumbled about them as some men do. He
always looked them over, as I expected he would, and some-
times he would say : "Mother, did we need so much of this ?''
But when I would say, "I got it so much cheaper by taking
this quantity, and I thought we should want it soon, and it
would save going up for it again," he was satisfied.

He wanted me to go, or would rather have had me go
to Washington witli him the Fall or Winter after we were
married ; but I had not got then to feel at home in Shelburne.
I wanted first to get to feel at home there, I told him, and he
excused me.

The truth was, I had not such a wardrobe as I would need
for Washington, and so soon after I was married, I did not
like to say anything about it. So I made my election to stay at
Shelburne, and he yielded to it, I thought, very well, and de-
parted for Washington. I was a little disappointed ; but he
wrote back so kindly to me, I was, upon the whole, very well
satisfied.

He was so solicitous I should not get lonesome in his ab-
sence ; that I should be happy in Shelburne. He urged me to
send for my iriend, Mrs. Powers, to stay with me — a widow

THE VELVET DRESS. 51

lady who often staid with her friends, and to wliom I was par-
ticularly attached — and I did.

He told me when he came home that he should never go
without me again. He had constantly repented it from the
moment he had started all the time that he was there, and all
his friends had rallied him for not bringing on his new wife
with him ; but for keeping her so jealously shut up there in
Shelburne. If there w^as anything I wanted for dress, he said,
to have it and be ready to go with him ; for he should not go
again without me.

I told him that I thought I could get along with two
expensive dresses, with what I had.

He told me to get what I pleased and give him the bill,
and be sure and be ready. I might send to New York. He
did not think 1 would order anything needless. We could
afford to look well, but could not afford to be extravagant ; but
he had got a handsome wife and he wished to have her dressed
handsomely. I ordered a black velvet from New York, and
had it made with three rows of real lace around the skirt —
white lace, such was the fashion then , white lace over black,
and black lace over white and colors. It was called an elegant
dress. There is nothing nice lace looks so well over as black
velvet.

I told him I would have a silk for the other dress, but
would wait for that and select it myself in New York, as we
went to Washington, and get it made after I got there.

He was very w^ell suited with the looks of the velvet
dress, which I put on when finished to let him see.

52 THE FULL-LENGTH MIRRORS,

He always liked to see a handsomely dressed woman, and
was never stingy with me for dress. I calculated, however, to
be prudent.

For my silk, when we passed through New York I select-
ed a silver-straw-colored satin, which I had trimmed — the
skirt, bosom and sleeves — with a handsome black real lace,
fine and soft, of a delicate pattern, a finger and a half in depth.

All the ladies at Washington particularly admired this
dress ; several came to inquire where I got the silk.

I wore this dress one evening at a party I attended. The
room was almost lined with full-length mirrors. All at once,
I was surprised to see a lady dressed just like myself. What
a handsome dress, I thought to myself. At first sight, I saw,- to
my admiration, it was exactly like mine. That is strange, 1
thought. I was pleased with it. I wondered if mine did look
as well. I never thought of the looking-glasses. I never
thought to look at her face. I only thought of the beautiful
dress, that was like mine. I thought that there was not
another so handsomely dressed lady in the room. I surveyed
her till I was ashamed to look longer and turned away. I
met her several times in the course of the evening, alwaj'-s at
a little distance off, and my eyes each time dwelt on the dress.

Only till just about as we were breaking up to come
away did I discover my mistake. I observed the lady's
figure was like my own, and I looked for the first time at her
face to see if she was handsome. I was surprised and asham-
ed of myself to think that I had been admiring myself. The
worst of all shame is to be ashamed of yourself. Fancy it

PLAYING CARDS AT WASHINGTON. 53

being so often repeated and so long kept up ! T could never
forget the full-length mirrors. [And here the dear, venerable
old lady naively laughed.] 1 had a very pleasant time at
Washington. We often had whist parties, beside dances and
other amusements, I played cards at Washiiigton with some
of the best players in the United States.

The Judge never played nor allowed cards at his house ;
but he said when one was with the Romans they might do
as the Romans did.

He used to rally me a little when we were alone about
Daniel Webster's choosing me so often as a partner at cards.
He used to say Webster was a great admirer of handsome
women.

Several of the gentlemen told my husband that Webster
said I was the most splendid woman at Washington. (That
is not to be written. I only told it to you as I would to a sis-
ter. I never made anybody in my life so much of a confident,
and if you tell of anything when I am gone that you ought
not to, I will appear to you. Two people cannot live to-
gether, so alone, so m'any years, and talk about the weather.)

My husband was a friend of Webster, and Mr. Webster
always treated the Judge with great cordiality. The Judge
was a ready talker and a good short story-teller. Webster
used to like to hear him tell stories. Gen. Pitcher, who was
then at Washington, was a friend of my husband. He had
been also a friend of my first husband. He belonged to the
State of New York.

I saw, while at Washington, somewhere on the way

54 MRS. MEECirS GARDEN.

there — in Pennsylvania, I believe — the first cedar hedge I had
ever seen. I admired it greatly, as did also Mr. Meech.
When I came home I persuaded him to let me have a cedar
hedge. He agreed, if ,T would superintend the planting. It
was the first one in Chittenden County, and, for aught 1 know,
in the State.

When I first came to Shelburne, the family lived in a low,
wooden, and unfashionable-looking liouse, to my mind ; not
the house for a Member of Congress, and a wealthy man.

All around the door were piles of rubbish ; broken wag-
ons, harrows, etc., etc. I first had the old brown house cleared
up around, and everything made tidy, and then a garden
started.

I was fond of gardening, and my husband, seeing it so,
and liking my improvements, allowed me not only one experi-
enced gardener, but an under-gardener; and days when it
rained, and all the men would not be sent out to the further
farms, he would sometimes let me have three or lour men at a
time to work in the garden, and upon the grounds aroumi the
house. The men always liked this, and were very eager and
particular to do every thing just as I liked it.

After a time we had a nice stone-house up ; and the gar-
den was generally awarded the finest in the State. Crowds of
people would drive in from Burlington and ask to see it. We
never refused any one. Bushels of flowers were picked
every Summer, out of our garden, and carried off. We never
thought anything of anybody's picking and carrying ofi" as

FRONT GROUNDS — GREEN-HOUSE. 55

many as tliey liked. There were so many tliey were never
missed ; often a bushel was picked at a time.

I took great pride in laying out my garden, and, espec-
ially, in laying out our front grounds, with a sweeping avenue
to drive up to our front door.

There was a natural cold spring that gushed out of a rock,
and made a very picturesque and lovely feature in our grounds.
It was always noticed, and admired by our visitors very much.
I planted this around with lilies. When they were in bloom
there were so many of them there, one of our gentlemen visi-
tors said, "they were like troops of girls in white dresses.''

1 never saw elsewhere such beds of fine old carnation
pinks as we had ; and roses there were more than could be
named.

1 once had over two hundred and fifty pots of choice roses
in my green-house, besides innumerable other flowers.

You see how my thumb-joints grow out ? I spoiled my
thumbs, changing my pots. I would lift them by my thumbs,
to see how they would look in another position.

I had married for a home, and 1 had a beautiful one ; and
tried always to be a good and faithful wife and mother. My
husband T respected largely, and we always lived on good,
happy terms.

I was almost worn out at times with much company and
such a large family, but I had a fine natural constitution, and
active habits always came natural to me.

My father used to say of me when a girl, that I was

56 THE STEP-BROTHERS.

worth more than any other girl he had ; for 1 would " fly
round'' and put the house in order.

I remember when I was forty years of a'ge, my birthday,
the Fall after I came there, walking up and down the walks in
the yards with Mrs. Powers, and saying to her: ''I used to
think, when I was quite young, I should be old at forty ; but I
do not know but I feel as young to-day as I ever did in my life."

Mr. Meech's children all seemed fond of DeWitt. When
he came home from school during vacations, Ezra and Edgar
were always in a strife to see which should sleep with him,
which I always left the boys to settle among themselves. De-
Witt was always perfectly willing to sleep with either, so the
contention rested between Ezra and Edgar.

Edgar would go to bed two hours before bed-time, some-
times, to secure the bed first, and, after all, Ezra would come,
and when he could not get Edgar out — at first he succeeded in
doing this — at last, Edgar got so he would not get out for him,
and then he would crowd in, three in a bed.

All was as pleasant with them as the birds in May, till
Ezra got old enough to think about money. There was never
any feeling against DeWitt in the family till he made it. I
first discovered it by accidentally hearing Ezra complaining of
it to his father — of DeWitt's being an expense to him.

I said nothing, but felt it, and wrote to the Government
through parties I knew, to see if a cadet's appointment could
not be obtained for DeWitt.

I got the appointment for him, which would have released
the Judge from incurring any expense for his education far-

SENDS DEWITT TO COLLEGE. 57

ther. I was very glad to obtain it, but the Judge did not
favor it.

He said he thought that he better go to college, as his
own boys did ; and I thought as he had engaged it, when he
made his proposition of marriage to me, and as I had depended
upon that, I would not begin to mind what Ezra might say,
but let the Judge send him, as he was amply able to, and I
had but one son for him to take care of, and he two for me to
bring up. He was both able and willing, or 1 would not
otherwise have let him : and so he paid DeWitt's college
expenses, except $100, and perhaps a little more, which his
brother sent him.

He was pretty strict with DeWitt, but I never felt too
strict, then. DeWitt, I feared, was disposed to be a little wild.
He had lived round after his father's death before my marriage
to the Judge, in so many places, it had a tendency to make a
restive boy, so I thought, and I desired for his good that he
should have a strict hand carried with him : but DeWitt never
complained of his father Meech to me, and I had perfect trust
in the integrity of my husband. I knew with his own boys
he was strict about letting them have speiiding-money or
letting them have little excursions or diversions.

When the boys wanted to go a-fishing a few days, they
would always come to me first. I would say : "Go to your
father, boys." " No, mother," they would say, "he will say
No to us ; but he would not refuse you.''

I would intercede for them, and, alter a little, I would get

58 GETTING SPENDING MONEY FOR THE BOYS.

for them whatever it was reasonable that they should have —
and I did not ask unless I thought it was reasonable.

When Ezra was going to be married, and take a little trip
afterward to Canada with his wife, the morning before, he
came to me and said : "Mother, father has only given me $20,
for my expenses. I told him it was not enough. He says it
is enough. I can never go so.''

I had to go to his father and lay the case before him, that
quite likely there was not enough, and he would be ashamed,
and we all should, if any accident happened to them, for them
not to have enough money with them ; and that he need not
be afraid to let Ezra have too much money, as he would not
spend more than was necessary ; and I got the money it was
proper for him, at least, to take.

All the spending-money DeWitt ever had was what I
could contrive to save when his father gave me any for some
personal expenses, a ten cents here and a quarter there. I
never had a separate purse, but would save up a little so, till
I got several pieces and I had a chance to send them to him,
when he was at school, as many as I could, or keep them for him
till he came home. The Judge was as strict with Ezra and
Edgar. He said it never did a boy any good to have spending
money given him ; but rather hurt, and he thought it all a bad
plan. He never had any given to him. I could not bear to
ask for DeWitt, and I never did. His own boys, it was another
thing. I could ask for them ; and though he would sometimes
put me off a little about it, he wanted the boys to like me,
and me them ; and he thought it showed that they liked me

NELSON PAYS UP HIS STEP-FATHER. 59

when they came to me instead of to him, lor what they wanted
from him, and that I liked them when I came to him for them.
He never wanted anything but perfect concord in a house.

He w^as both a close and a geiierr)us man. When De-
Witt was through college, he needed some help toward his
law studies ; but my husband thought that he had done all
that he ought to. Ezra had been talking with him, I suppose,
that he ought not to do it ; and he always had a great
opinion of Ezra's opinions : as the oldest son, and of a close,
business turn, he had a great influence over his father.

Mr. Meech never had anything to do for Nelson. The
boy could not pay his expenses while a cadet, from the Gov-
ernment allowance ; and my husband being applied to by his
Captain for a loan of $200 for him, to be held in his hands
and given when the occasion required, sent the money. But
Nelson paid it back with interest and his father signed the
receipt and sent to him for the last hundred the Spring before
he died.

I was always so glad Nelson had paid this loan up to the
last farthing. "^

But when DeWitt was in Texas, after the railroad com-
pany had burst and he had no means to get home, and wrote
to me for a loan, I did ask my husband about it. I dreaded
to, 0, how much ; for I knew the fuss Ezra would make. I
did what was the same, 1 showed my son's letter to him,

^[Corroborated by Nelson's letter to his step-father, to Judge Meech,
with the last payment, retained by JVIrs. Meech, and which I have
before me.]
/

60 THE JUDGE HELPS DEWITT HOME FROM TEXAS.

where DeWitt applied to me and offered to pledge his libra-
ry, which we both knew to be worth over $500 for the
amount needed ; and when he saw how much I was troubled,
he said he would give it, if I preferred, instead of remember-
ing him in his will ; that if he gave it, unless it was paid
back, Ezra did not think he ought to remember him in his will.

My only son and wife were in Texas, that land of yellow
fever, without means, and I was afraid they might die before
they could get home. I was very glad to take it, and never
felt so grateful to him as when he gave me the check to for-
ward to DeWitt.

Ezra "blowed" a great deal over the Texas failure, though
not in my hearing, yet I heard of it. But I had always liked
Ezra, he was so handy about the house, if I wanted any chores
to be done, to do them ; and I liked him still, and he said noth-
ing before me.

My husband, who had been confined to his room, mostly,
for a longtime, was very glad to have DeWitt come home.
The Judge was always very fond of De Witt's society, and
DeWitt was always a great deal of a nurse in a sick room ;
and always very good to stay with his father Meech. After
he arrived, his father (Meech) wanted him almost continually
in the room : and he staid, day after day, till he was tired out
a hundred times ; when he would contrive to get out of the
room and declare he could not stand it any longer. He
would hiive to go back, the Judge would call for him. I have
known him to send out for him, when he had come out to rest
a little, three times in less than half an hour. He was a great

THE HARDEST THING. 61

help in taking care of bis father that Summer after he came
home ; and till he died in the Fall.

The hardest thing I ever had to bear in my Shclburne
life, a!id what I never got over, though I never talked it over,
as it would not have done any good, and would only have
caused hard feelings between us, was the stand he took in
regard to my son in the army.

Nelson wanted to be transferred from the Southern army
to the Northern ; there was a post waiting for him at White-
hall. The Judge had his children all round him : I had not
seen my son for so long. It was, that contrary to my desires, he
should advise him not to come.

I imagined he thought perhaps if he was near home he
would be at home too much. Why so, when our house was
almost always thronged with company? Whom should we
sooner entertain than our children? I refrained from saying it ;
but I felt it.

Nelson was my favorite, I think; he was so handsome and
so manly, and my oldest son. He was much finer looking than
DeWitt: his features were more clear-cut, and he had those
blue eyes so deep they always pass for black^ — those eyes that
laugh when the rest of the face is grave or still. He resembled
more his father, and DeWitt more me. And he never was any
care or anxiety to me ; and he had such a soldier pride and
spirit, and he loved his mother and his brother so deeply.

I was so glad when my homesick boy wanted to come
North again ! I had been so afraid he would die of the yellow

6 /

62 WOUNDED — EXPECTING A LETTER.

fever while in New Orleans, I wrote myself to General Pitcher,
and obtained a permit for the transfer. I was so overjoyed
with it ! but the Judge wrote and inclosed in the same let-
ter with it — I did not know it then — that his counsel was, not
to accept it. I went on with the Judge to New York, in my
ignorance, expecting to meet him. 0, what was my disappoint-
ment when he did not come! He would not come when his
step-father advised him not ! I am sure he divined the motive.
There was always a sort of coldness between him and his
father. I never saw him again ; and when he was wounded
in his duel, how it tortured me that I could not fly, as it
were, at once to my dear boy !

I did desire at once to go to him ; but my husband said he
could not go with me. The cholera had just broken out, and
he was afraid of it : and he said if I went I would never come
back alive, I would die of the cholera ; that Nelson was re-
ported doing well, or it was so hoped; and that if he were
not to live, he would be dead before I could reach him ; and he
would, if in my place, wait for another letter. I hesitated. 0,
how I have regretted ! It seemed as though I could not wait ;
but whenever I spoke of going, all was adverse to it.

DeWitt, who was in Troy, he said, would probably go.
I hoped he would, though I knew he had no means of his own.
I tried to ask my husband— I thought I must — to send me and
DeWitt with me, if he could not go himself. I did not think
it safe for me to go alone ; but I had not the courage to press
it. I knew the money would come so hard, and I expected
every day another letter. I used to send up some one to the

THE LETTER COMES. 63

oflfice every day, three miles distant, and how I would watch
for the man to come back every night ; — and no letter ! no let-
ter ! 1 was so sure it would come every day. My husband
encouraged me that no news w^as good news ; and at last it
w^as over a month and no bad news. 1 began to hope so, when,
one day, my husband came out slowly towards me. I was in
the orchard. I saw he had an open letter, and there was a
sober look on his face. A sudden fear came to me; 1 took the
letter, 1 saw but one sentence, I gave but one shriek, and fell
to the ground as though I was dead, my husband afterward
said.

My husband was very kind to me and patient with me ;
but. Oh, how I wept for that boy ! My son ! My beautiful and
best son, cut right down ! Shot right down in the prime of
life ! And what aggravated me most, and what I have never
forgiven myself for, was that, all things to the contrary, 1 had
not gone to him, notwithstanding ; that if 1 had been with
him and nursed him with care, perhaps the fever had not set
in. How his last words : "Must 1 die and not see my moth-
er and my brother?" w^ounded my heart.

At last my husband got tired of it — my continual weep-
ing— and one day when he came in, said that it had gone
about far enough ; he hated to come into the house, it was so
like a tomb ; so I wept no more before him. But when all the
house were a-bed, I w^ould steal out behind the green-house,
or into the orchard, where I could not be heard, and cry right
out aloud till I had my fill. When 1 had suppressed it all
day, I must let it come back to me at night; I should have

64 THE BRIGHTNESS TWICE DIMMED.

died if I had not. He was all my darling, and I could not
give him up so, as others could.

But at last it came over me one day, that I might, in-
deed, weep myself to death, and it would not, as he said, do
any good ; and I must, and should, and would give it over ;
and I did. I tried to be cheerful and make others happ^^, and
I again became so. I wonder, now, how I could. But I bent
all my resolution to it, and my grief did sleep in a measure,
though life never seemed so bright to me afterward. Indeed,
it never had after my first husband's death. But I had the
happiness to have two good husbands. Seldom a woman has
such a husband as my first. Mr. Meech, in his way, was a
very good one, too ; had made life — my second married life —
far more happy than I before had believed it ever could be ;
and, but for this great sorrow, I might have called it very
happy. This twice dimmed all the brightness afterward ; yet
at times, since, I have partially forgotten, or sort of slept over
it, and been, some days, very measurably happy.

I lived with Judge Meech thirty years. The last year of
his life, there was a great deal of talk about his making his
will. Ezra had been the manager of his business for some
time, and was with him a great deal, and talked with him
much. He watched with him, also, a great deal about this
time, and I could hear him, both days and nights, talk ! talk !
— talking away to his father.

I was told by several, both in and out the house, that I
better look out for Ezra. But I had brought him up from a
boy and he had always seemed to like me. 1 had always liked

MAKING THE WILL. 65

him, and even been partial to Iiim more than to the others —
with the exception of Jane — thougli I never intended the
children should see it.

My husband said that he thought Ezra would always be
good to me ; that Ezra said he should be, and he thought he
would ; and I thought so, too, and paid no attention to the
warnings I had.

My husband several times told me that they were all talk-
ing to him about his will, and asked me what I had to say ;
how much I should be satisfied with. I told him 1 did not
wish to have anything to say about it, as I was sure that he
would know what was right better than I should ; and 1 was
confident that he would do what would be right, honorable
and kind. A few days later, he wanted to know if he left me
the homestead during my life, and what land 1 would need to
plant, and five hundred a year, would that be suflBcient ; that
Ezra thought it would, but he did not.

I was confounded a little. I said nothing at first ; but
when he pressed me, I said I should think it was rather a
small sum, if one expected tu live in the same way, or in as
good style as we had been alwa3's living ; after having been
living at the rate of about three thousand dollars a year for so
long a time ; we had lived so generously, that I was afraid I
hardly knew how to live so difierently. He did not like this
view at all, not to have me satisfied. He said that he knew
it was not enough, and that he had told Ezra it ought to be
made at least three hundred more, if not doubled, and it
should be. He expected Ezra would grumble ; but he did not

66 WHAT THE JUDGE WANTED.

care, he would not sign it unless it did right by me ; and he
should leave me the house and all that was in it, and the flow-
er-grounds, and the green-house, and so much of the best part
of the farm as I should need to raise sufficient for my table
and family. He wished me to keep a man, and a good
one, and a good woman to take care of me. He wished me to
remember this, and never to be left alone, as he did not think it
safe for a woman to live alone, or be alone at all, who lived so
near a good landing for small boats on the lake. And he,
moreover, wished to leave me enough so I could always have
some friend live with me as a companion ; that I had been a
good wife to him, and well brought up his family, and always
looked to his best interest, and he should have it right ; and
I know he fully intended it; and if Ezra bad paid over to me
my allowance according to the will, as he first made it, I
could have lived very comfortably. But he never did, and
never could be made to.

But I always liked the boys — both of them. I brought
them up, and could not help it.

I always pitied Edgar, for Ezra got the will made against
him as well as against me, or not according to his rights. He
got more of the bank stock, and more of the land, a good deal,
♦ and better land tlian Edgar did; and when Edgar joined in
the lawsuit with Ezra after his father's death, I knew it was
because Ezra compelled him to. He always would make Edgar
do as he wanted him to Edgar could not get rid of it ; so I
never blamed Edgar for it. I knew how it was, Ezra always
so tyrannized over liiin ; and Ezra, I suppose he thought, as he

READING THE WILL. 67

was the oldest son, he ought to have the most ; and, as he
always thought that he was himself a great deal smarter
than Edgar, that he ought to have more of his father's prop-
erty than his brother had ; that he wanted all the money his
father left, and could not bear to have any one else have any
of it; and the love of money was so in him, I don't know as
he could help it.

I did not like to leave Shelburne. It was a beautiful
place, my home there on the lake shore. We had an abundance
of fruit and flowers — everything always grew so well there.
I had lived there thirty years — longer than anj-where else in
the world.

When the will was read, I felt so aggrieved and disap-
pointed, I did not speak a w^ord, but I broke down and cried
like a child before them all in the room.

After the will was made, I asked my husband to see it,
but he declined, and said it was thought best that no one
should see it. [Mr. Meech died Sept. 23d, 1856 " His real
estate was appraised at one hundred and twenty-five thousand
dollars, exclusive of his personal property."] After the funeral,
I begj^ed BeWitt and Caro to stay Avith me till Spring, it was
so very lonesome to me. Ezra and Edgar were both settled
with their families in their own houses. The large house
seemed so empty and desolate, without somebod}^ beside a
servant man and woman. As DeWitthad helped take care of
his father after his return in the Spring till his death, I did not
think the boys could object to it : and as he had not yet gone

68 DEWITT NOT WANTED AT SHELBURNE.

into business, I begged liim not to, till Spring, but for them
to stay with me ; and they staid for a while, but not long.

One day, DeWitt went up to Burlington and a man told
him that he said a few days before to one of his step-brothers
whom he met in the cars, "What makes you boys act so bad
about your mother ; why don't you let her have what she
wants; she deserves it?'' and he said, "We are willing to
take care of mother, but do not want to take care of DeWitt
and his wife."

Witliin three days DeWitt found business to go into in
Burlington, and took Caro away with him and left me alone.

I tried in vain to dissuade him from taking Caro, till
Spring ; but both he and Caro were too incensed by what he
had heard to remain longer. I did not see that Mr. Meech's
sons should call it. they providing for me, when the property
was my husband's and his only. I did not see why the share
he gave me, and which every one said was small for so large
an estate, was not mine to do what I pleased with ; • and
when he, my husband, had given me a certain and fixed share,
why I had not as much right to have my son live with me and
share it with me, as the^^ had all their lives to live in their
father's house, or on him and his property. But I bore it the
best I could, and staid all that winter in that large house alone
with only a servant man and woman.

My husband had not been more than three weeks dead,
when I sent my man to the granary one day for some corn
for my hogs. The man returned, saying the corn-house was

EZRA CARIES THE KEY. 69

locked. I told him to go up to the house, [Ezra's] for the
key.

He came back and said it was not there ; Ezra had the
key ; carried it in his pocket, and he did not like to ask him
for it.

I was amused with the man, and went to Ezra for the
key myself. I had no doubt in the matter, at all, and was
never more surprised than when he refused to let me have
it, and said he had no corn for me ; that there was no more
than he wanted for himself.

"But I must have some corn for my hogs," I said.

"Then buy it !" he said.

"Then, Ezra," I said, "you will have to let me have
some money to buy it with. I have not got any money."

"You have got money enough, I guess," he said, and he
did not give me either the corn or money.

I was too hurt and too surprised to say much ; but I
went into the house and sat down and thought, what would
his father have said, could he have known this. He even re-
fused to pay my bills for mourning that I had for the funeral ;
and I had not the money at this time to do it myself. I had
not ten dollars — I think not five — by me at the time of his
father's death. Ezra had kept his father's money for a long
time before. He had been pretty close with his father about
it. His father used to complain about it to me ; because Ezra
did not let him have more money, and declare that he would
have it — especially the last Summer of his life.

The Judge wanted money to send by some one besides

70 "MY WIFE'S FARM."

Ezra to get his brandy and gin, Ezra made such a fuss about
his having it.

The Judge was a man who had never drank too much
during his life, and when he was old, and bedridden, and
weak, and needed it, and the doctor ordered it, I thought he
ought to have it. I told Ezra so ; but Ezra thought he wanted
too much, and would not get it for him — what he wanted.
For a while the Judge succeeded in getting money enough
out of Ezra to send by other iiarties to get his decanters filled;
and when the money failed, he scolded about Ezra well ;
but finally laid in with DeWitt for help. He used to say to
him : "Get some gin for me, and say nothing to Ezra about
it ;'^ "get some brandy and charge it to my estate — it is good
for it — and Ezra can't help himself;" and DeWitt would get
it for him. DeWitt, in this way, had paid out $20 for him
when he died Ezra, who was executor, refused to allow the
account. DeWitt laid it before the commissioners, and they
allowed it. There was not one of them that doubted it in the
least. They all knew Ezra.

I remained in Shelburne till Spring. It was in April, I
think, I sent out my hired man to see about ploughing my
field — the land that was in the will, as my husband first made
it, I believe — a patch of about three acres of his choicest
cultivated ground, that he always called, for more than a
year before he died, "My wife's farm ;" which was his favor-
ite field, and he was always praising and pointing it out tome
while he lived.

Ezra had a man on the ground, commencing to set out a

DECIDES TO LEAVE SHELBURNE. n

nursery. Ezra ordered my man ofl' the land, and sent me
word that "the land was his, and not a foot of it should I
have.''

Then it was that I decided upon leaving Shelburne. 1 said:
"If I am used so now, what will it be when I grow old and
helpless V I sent word to DeWitt, and he and his wife came
down. They told me of a place, the Edward Peck place on
Pearl Street, in the market. If I would rent my house there
and buy that, we would all join together and try and pay for
it. I had no money for a time, only what I obtained by
selling oft' a bed or carpet, or some piece of furniture.

I had to raise money in this v7ay to move with. We
made an auction and vendued off" the things in the house, there
that I did not expect to want in Burlington.

Caro, De Witt's wife, in her quick, taking way said : "Sell !
sell ! Don't, mother, bring up a lot of old duds ; the house is
stnall,and I have nearly enough in my rooms, there, already."
DeWitt saw to the auction, and the old things were pretty
generallj^ sold off. Many of the things went for almost noth-
ing. DeWit, said : "Let them go mother ; it would cost more
than they are worth to move them ; and we needed the funds
so much, all that we could raise. I have always regretted
two large, handsome, carved mahogany sofas that we had in
our pallor, for which we paid $80, in old times, and they
wetiL for $5 apiece ; I have wanted them both here, one for
my sitting-room and one for my dining-room. I have always
regretted I had not kept one. But Caro had a velvet set for

72 LITIGATION.

the parlor, and DeWitt said he would turn me in a sofa that
he had in his office, and they were so heavy to move.

I have seen considerable anxiety expressed since De Witt's
death about my furniture, and what belonged to the family.
But none of the family had a desire for any of their father's
things sufficiently strong to bring them to the auction. A
good many people observed it, and I thought then that they
would never have anything that I removed from Shelburne.

We prospered in Burlington beyond all my expectations.
It was pretty hard at first. 1 did not get my claims from, the
estate for over two years. There had to be a lawsuit : when
my first thousand dollars, awarded me by the arbitrators, came,
it took $400 to pay my lawyer and costs.

I could not keep back the tears when I saw that I had but
$600 left. But I sold some of the personal property to pay
the way in the house, and De Witt's wife gave music lessons
and made the first payment on the place.

1 did my part, also, by keeping my house with the strict-
est economy and curtailing for myself all expense. For thir-
teen years, I only bought myself one dress, and that was a
cheap print.

DeWitt succeeded partly to make and partly to borrow
money to make our payments before 1 got any of my annuity ;
and when 1 got that, I would turn that in for the next payment
and he would keep the family.

It was our rule, if I made the payment, he should keep
the family till the next payment; if he made it, I should keep
it.

THE PLACE PAID FOR. 73

But when he got his place in Washington it gave him a
fine salary and he soon closed up the payments. I was sur-
prised when he told me the last one was made. I could hardly
believe that we owned the place.

I only regretted that I could not afford with my small
annuity to keep a steady gardener ; so large a garden, 1 needed
one, and 1 broke down myself in my old age here.

I believe with mj' fine constitution and the longevity of
the family on the side of very old age, that I should live to see
a hundred years, if I had not overworked, because I was too
poorly off to hire and was ambitious to see the grounds look-
ing well. I think that 1 have a very good right to do what I
please with what I have earned so dearly."

Narrations of Mrs. Meech to be continued when we have
brought down the other branches in the family history, some-
what.

What drew Mrs. Meech's heart to this subject, till she
compelled us to lay aside ever} thing else, and turn in as
her amanuensis, as we did, sitting by her bedside, till she had
dictated to us, first, her "Reminiscences of Shrewsbury,"
which she took a pride in furnishing to the local history of
her bitth-town; and then of her family, and, lastly, her
own private history, which she bequeathed to me — left to
me and my discretion — was the interest she took in our his-
toriographical labors from the day we came to her, or from her
first seeing our manuscripts and proofs, and which ver}^ much
deepened as we drew into "Old Rutland County," as she

7

74 NELSON CLARK.

proudly called it, her birth-county, with most of the towns of
which — all those around Shrewsbury — she had been so famil-
iar in her young days; and, later, as Mt. Holly, Clarendon,
Rutland, Wallingford, Castleton, Brandon, Sudbury, Orwell,
Fairhaven, etc; and, in the continuation, following the branch-
es of her family down, we shall continue to give the detail or
description that came directly from her, as far as possible, in
her own words.

NELSON NAPOLEON CLARK,

Son of Asahel and Lydia (Finney) Clark, was born at his
grandfather, Nathan Finney's, Shrewsbury, Yt., in 1808. (See
page 29.) At the age of fourteen, he had the misfortune to
lose his father. His father, several times the last day of his
life, would call out: "Nelson! Nelson!" The boy going
to his bedside, he would take him earnestly by the hand, com-
mence to say something and then go off in the fever, when
Nelson, greatly moved, would withdraw his hand and retire
to the other side of the room, to be soon called back again.
Once only his father said, impressively: ''Nelson ! j^our mother
and DeWitt !" Nelson always thought that his father was
trying to give his mother and younger brother to his charge:
a charge, particularly in regard to his brother, his letters,
years afterwai'ds, glowing with brotherly affection, aud filled

GENERAL PITCHER'S LETTER. 75

with such careful advice on all occasions, well evidence how
nobly he remembered.

In the Fall of 1822, or early in the Winter of 1823, his
mother, by advice of RoUin C. Mallary, applied to General
Pitcher, a former acquaintance of her husband, then in Con-
gress, for an appointment in the Military Academy at West
Point for her son.

Letter of Gen. Pitcher to Dr. Russell Clark

Who joined Mrs. Asahel Clark in her request, and through
whom she transmitted her letter of petition.

House of Representatives, )
Feb. 26, 1823, 10 o'clock, P. M. j

Sir : — I received some days since j^ours and Mrs. A.
Clark's request in behalf of Nelson, and although I omitted
answering, I have not been unmindful of the subject, and hum-
bly trust it is not in my nature and disposition to feel indiffer-
ent to the anxious solicitations of the widow or the fatherless.
Considerations not necessary to be named, but impressively
felt, induced me without delay to adopt such a course as I
thought most likely to insure the object desired, in the pursuit
of which I had the zealous and friendly co-operation of the
Hon. Mr. Mallary, of Vermont, whose recollections of intimacy
and regard for your brother excited compassion and produced
active actions in behalf of his son.

76 PROMISED THE APPOINTMENT.

It will, I hope, be a satisfaction to yourself and Mrs.
Clark, to know that our exertions have been successful. Mr.
Calhoun is now in the House of Representatives and has this
moment informed me that he shall give Nelson the apoint-
ment, and authorized nie to inform his mother that he should
make out the warrant this week. Tell Master Nelson that
Mr. Mallary and myself have given him a good name, and
promised that he shall be a faithful and close student, and that
we rely upon his honor to keep and maintain the pledge we
have given.

Mr. Mallary joins me in feelings of condolence for the
resent heavy affliction, and begs you and Mrs. Clark to accept
our best wishes for the return of cheerfulness and composure..
Very sincerely your friend and servant,

NaTHL. PlTCHP]R.

N. B. — I did not like your irony about "influences. '^

The next link is at

West Point, September 13, 1823.
Dear Mother :

I have been waiting a long time, very impatiently, to hear
from you, but it seems to me that all of my friends think that
I am safely lodged at W. P., and if I do well, they will be my
friends still, if not, I may go to the d — 1. 1 have not received
a single lettter from Vermont.

NELSON'S FIRST LETTER. 7?

1 must have a great-coat, or cloak of some kind, for it is
getting pretty cold here, in the morning, and I have to be up
before day, pounding around out doors, and perhaps in the
rain. 1 signed the pay-rolls ^^esterday, and was $28 in debt.
You may think that was extravagant ; but, you will remember
I came here without clothes,* or any thing. All the rest of the
new cadets brought all their clothes, and money. Some brought
as much as $100. As to money, I know that is out of the
question ; but if you would let me have a great-coat, or cloak
(as cloaks are generally worn here), 1 could get along very
well until the first of January, when I shall know whether I
shall stay the remainder of my four years or not. In French,
I am marked the highest, in my section, and in Mathemat-
ics, I shall stand, I expect, about thirty from the head, which
is considered a very good standing. All I depend upon to
carry me through, in January, is my French. And I leel not
at all concerned about my failure. You need not feel con-
cerned at all.

Nelson N. Clark.

*Tlie uniform.

78 DEWITT CIARK.

DE WITT CLINTON CLARK

Was born in Granville, N. Y., Sept 2t, 1811. Soon after, his
paroits removed to Glens Falls. He was the namesake of
Governor Clinton. "What would I not give,-' said the Gov-
ernor, one day, when he was a little fellow, laying his hand on
his head, ''to see that boy when he is forty years old." He
was observing his head — seemed to be. He had a great black
head, with his thick black curls — the largest head I oversaw on
a child of his age — and great black eyes. Nelson was fair, till
his exposure in the army exercises at West Point blackened
him. DeWitt never was ; he had my complexion and eyes.
Nelson was so handsome a child, it used to make me ashamed
of DeWitt's looks. His brother had regular and fine-cut fea-
tures ; his were so large, the friends used to say he was all
nose and teeth ; but he never seemed to care anything about,
it. They could not, any of them, ever tease him. He would
look them right up in the face and laugh. He rather liked to
be called, "Your-mother's-nose-and-teeth-baby ;" and when a
boy at school, afterwards, in his letters to me, would sign him-
self so. It was always a great deal more work to take care of
him than it ever had be(Mi of N(?lson ; he was a far more rest-
less child. From a year and a half old to three, 1 do not think

A TROUBLESOME CHILD. 79

I ever saw so hard a cliild to take care of. He seemed to have
but one impulse — to dip into everything w^ithin his reach. I do
not think I could ever liave taken care of him in the world
if it had not been for Nelson. I used to tell him he must help
me. He was three years older, and was always very good to
look out for DeWitt and take care of him. He was very much
attached to him, and DeWitt paid quite as much regard to his
attentions and prohibitions as to me, and T sometimes thought
moie ; but 1 liked to have him, for it helped me. I dressed
him as I did Nelson, in white, till he was old enough to be
put into boy's clothes, and I wanted him to look neat ; I had
kept Nelson so, and always disliked so much to see a child in
mussed and soiled white ; but when I got him made fresh and
nice, if it rained, he was sure to get out into it ; and if it
didn't rain, he was into the dust all over. Missing him, and
looking out at the window, I would see him wading in a mud-
puddle, or a pool of water that stood in the road before our
door, after it rained, in his white dress that I had put on tliat
day, with a stick in his hand, w^ading in the water, striking it
and seeing it fly. Did 1 expect company, and dress him up,
he was certain, if I did not give him into Nelson's care, to get
spoiled. 1 used to sometimes say : ''Now, DeWitt, if you get
into the dirt or the water before the company comes, I shall
punish you." His father used to say : "Do not promise the boy ^
mother" — he would r,ot say it before the boy, but to me — 'for
if you do, you will certainly have to do it." And I tried to,
when I had promised him ; but he would look up so pleasantly
in my face, 1 don't think I ever hurt him very much. I never

80 PRESENTED TO GOVERKOR CLINTON.

saw a child like him. He had so much good nature that it al-
ways disarmed every one who undertook to punish him. I
never saw the least resentment in him toward me when I cor-
rected him for anything that he had done. I almost believed
with his father, that the boy could not help it, he was so rest-
less and impulsive.

I remember once when I was expecting Governor Clinton
to dinner. DeWitt was not more than two years old, then and I
wanted him to look very nice, as the Governor was coming,
and I knew his father would call his attention to his boy. I
dressed him up, gave him a particular charge and set Nelson
to take care of him. Just as the Governor and his father came,
he slipped out. My husband called to Nelson to come and
take the horse down to the stable, and we all forgot DeWitt a
few minutes. When his father, after they had come in and were
seated, after a little called for his son to present to the Gov-
ernor, a sudden fear came over me ; but it had been so short a
time, and I had given him such a charge, I trusted he was all
right. Hearing his father call for him, in he came, waddling
round from the back door, dripping from a bath he had been
taking in a pail of water that had been left on the back-door
step. The boy had taken a fancy, seeing the pail and the water
there, to plunge his head in ; and there he stood before us all,
his heavy, tangled curls filled with water, dripping all over
the clean white dress I had put upon him. 1 was very much
annoyed, and began to apologize to the Governor, who was
the master of all etiquette himself. "It is well enough/' he
interposed very politely, "well enough, madam, for a boy."

GIVES AWAY HIS MITTI:NS. 81

I sent my boy from the room to have his head wiped off and
brushed, and dry clothes put upon him. When he returned,
his big black eyes looked as shining and happy as if nothing
had happened, and he went and stood by the Governor, who
called him to him, and looked with his large full eyes riglit
into his face, and the Governor patted his head. Governor
Clinton always seemed to fancy him, and like him, and I think
that he would always have been a good friend to him had he
lived to have seen him grown up, but he died many years before.

I thought, when I should get him into boy's clothes, and
when he would be old enough to send to school, that my cares
would be in a great measure ended ; but they were increased
in another direction. If he found a boy without mittens, or a
tippet, he would give his, to them and come home to me with-
out. I scolded him at first ; told him not to do so again, and
gave him another pair of mittens, and another tippet ; but be-
fore the Winter, they were gone. He could never get half
through the Winter without giving his mittens or tippet away.
One Winter, he gave away his mittens three times. I tried to
argue with him ; but it was born in him. He was a clear.
Clark, in that respect. He could never bear to see anybody
else not have anything that he had. "I am not going to knit
mittens for other mothers' boys," 1 would say ; "they may knit
for their own boys." "But, ma," he would say, "Jimmy said
his mother had not got aii}^ yarn." "Let her buy it then."
"But ma," he said, "they have not got any money ; they are
poor " "And so are we." "But not so poor, ma, as they."

At last, I knit him a pair of stout, handsome mittens, and

82 GOES WITHOUT TO GIVE AWAY.

a tippet to match, and gave them to him the day school com-
menced, and said to him : "Now, DeWitt, I am going to tell
you, if you want to give these mittens away, you can do it,
but they are all the mittens that you will have this Winter ; if
you give them away, you will have to go without. "I did not
think the boy would wish to go without, or give them away,
if he did not expect to get another pair. Before the week was
out, he returned home one night, without mittens on. "De-
Witt," "I said," where are your mittens ? I was annoyed, but
determined not to scold, but to punish him, as I had told him
that I would. "I have concluded, ma," he said, "to go without.
Don't you care, and I wont." "You know," I replied, "what I
told you." "I know, ma, and I did not mean to do it ; but
poor little Johnny B — has had no mittens since school com-
menced. He looked so pale and cold, I let him wear mine
half the time, when the boys were out, before to-day ; but it
is so cold to-night, ma, you know, and, when Johnny got
ready to go home, he cried, and said his hands were cold ; and
I was afraid that he would freeze, he has so far to go." I
thought I would hear patiently all he had to say. "He has not
got any father, you know ; his father is dead, and he says his
ma is sick and can't knit him any mittens." "Your hands
will freeze," I said. "How did you come home so cold a day
without your mittens?" "I put them under my coat. I am
more stout than he, and have not so far to go. I hated to do
it ma, but I made up my mind to. I don't expect you to give
me any more, for you said you would not." I was sorry I had
told him that I would not him give any more, he showed so

AT HIS UNCLE'S. 83

good a heart. I hated to punish him so muchforhis little benev-
olence ; but, as I had promised, T let him go without mittens,
as I said he should, till ho bore it so bravely, and it grew so
cold, in the last part of the Winter, 1 let him have another
pair, but not handsome ones.

His uncle Russell was his guardian after his father's death.
He had a heart of compassion for e\'ery one, and he always
showed it toward his brother's fatherless boy. DeWitt loved
his uncle Russell, and was fond of Cousin Susan, his uncle's
daughter. Susan was a lovely girl, and made a noble woman.
DeWitt always remembered and regarded her very affection-
ately, life long.

He was from a child always deeply attached to his friends.
But he thought that his uncle's wife did not like him, and it
made him very homesick at his uncle's. The Doctor and his
wife were both of them very kind to me when I was there.
Aunt Aura, as we always called her, was a neat, earnest house-
keeper and had a large enough family of her own, I suppose
she did not want any more to take care of, and DeWitt was a
restless boy. I never blamed her, but it made it more hard
for me."

He felt his brother was being highly educated at West
Point. This made him more disgusted with his own lot and
ambitious of an education, also. He begins to wish that
he might obtain an appointment, and communicates to his
brother his dissatisfaction, with his situation and his aspira-
tions.

84 NELSON TO DEWITT.

Nelson answers :

"Dear Brother : — I received yours. It is now Saturday-
eve, and the only time which Uncle Sam is so generous as to
give us to devote to our own use and pleasure. I proceed to
answer it. I consider while you have a brother at this
place, and, as long as there are so many applications as at
present, every attempt to procure an appointment would
prove abortive. But when I have left this place, then you
may probably succeed. You ask my advice in regard to your
coming here. If you think that you can study for the space
of four years, and also, yield implicit obedience to military
government (and I can assure you it is rigid), my advice is,
persevere ; and it is also my wish, as it seems to be the only
course which you can follow. It becomes us to keep in mind
that, by perseverance, we can, in a short time, be able to
repay all the obligations which have been imposed upon us by
the death of the kindest of fathers; and remember that "an
honest man is the noblest work of God," let his occupation be
what it may. Tell me how you get along with regard to a lit-
tle pocket "kelt" now and then. My prospects tor a furlough
are now very good, and I think I shall spend the montlis of
July and August among my friends, if I can find any. But
little did we ever look lor such times as we now experience ;
and I sometimes think it was a punishment tor our thought-
lessness. If nothing unforeseen intervenes between this and
June, 1826, I shall then be able to ameliorate your condition in
some degree ; and I hope you will then have been so fortu-
nate as to procure some permanent situation, if not at

CLERKING. 85

this institution. Nothing would certainly give me more
heartfelt pleasure than to know that I had been instrumental
in removing, partially, the burden which misfortune has im-
posed upon my mother and brother. 1 want you to tell me
where my mother is at present, that 1 may Avrite to her.
There is no remedy under heaven that can be attained at

present. Give Aunt A as little trouble as possible ; but

be careful to treat her with the respect which the wife of
your uncle ought to command from 3'^ou. Give my love to
Uncle Russell and Susan.

Your ever-afiectionate brother,

N. N. Clark."

" He appealed to me," said his mother; " 1 had not
answered, not knowing what to do ; and he took it into his
own hands and left." " I had made up my mind," he after-
wards said, "that I should not stay there." His uncle, think-
ing that he had gone to me — I was Ihen at brother Levi's —
wrote to m.e. It gave us all at Shrewsbury a great scare,
and uncle Levi wrote to the postmasters at Glens Falls and
Granville, and several places, to inquire for him ; about which
he afterwards loved to tease DeVVitt, and would tell him that
he advertised a peck of rye-bran lor him. As for myself, I
never expected to see him again, alive, and I blamed myself
greatly for not having answered his letter. He was found
or heard from before a week, in a store in a neighboring town,
where he had located himself as a clerk. He was very much
pleased with his situation at first, and the man with him, and

8

86 BE WITT TO HIS MOTHER.

we concluded to let him remain. ThuB man went to New York
for goods whire he was there and left him alone, to do all the
trading and keep the books. He did so well, the man was so
pleased, he wanted him bound to him. lie wanted him bound
to him before he went to New York, and more after his return,
when he iound how the boy had kept his accounts and how
much he had traded while he had been gone. The man was a
sort of hard man, set in his way. The people did not like him to
trade with ; but they took quite a fancy to the young clerk, and
improved the opportunity to trade with him. This suited the
man, for he liked the profits ; and to make more sure of keep-
ing him he applied to his uncle to bind him to him. But about
the question of binding him, DeWitt, on first ascertaining it,
had appealed again to me.

"Granville, April 21st, 1825.
My Dear Mother : — I have been here a month. Mr.
Dayton is going to New York Monday and then I shall be all
alone here. He wants to have me bound to him and uncle is
willing ; and I am'^glad to know that he can't bind me without
your consent; and I am sure yoa will not have me bound to
any one, especially to Gains Dayton. If I cannot live in this
world. without being bound, I do not want to live. Write as
soon as you can, and 1 remain and ever shall remain 3'our
affectionate Baby,

DeWitt C. Clark,

P. S. — Give my love to the one who advertised a peck of
rye-bran for the runaway, and to all the rest, especially to

THE NICE PENMANSHIP. 87

Grandma, and take an overflowing share yourself, my dear
mother. D. C. Clark.

This is a long letter from 'Your Nose-and-teeth-Baby.' "

Very humble and good after running away. He was then
about thirteen and seven months. The penmanship, also, in
this letter is something remarkable ; the capitals and other
letters cut so clear, and bold, and handsome for a boy of his
years. Evenly, through the almost half a century that we have,
as it were, an unbroken file of his letters, the nice, unique
penmanship would never pass unobserved ; but when I place
this young letter by one written when a clerk in the Senate at
Montpelier or Washington, did I not see the date, only the
chirography, I should in my opinion say that the latter was
written at the nice period of college days, or in the morning of
professional life, and the boy's letter in more mature life, as
being an older and bolder hand, though not quite as elegant.

The anxious and widowed mother consults also her oldest
son about his brother. He advises that he remain at present
in the store, so long as he and the man can both agree to the
same without his being bound ; to that, he respectfully to his
mother, but positively says : "I shall never give my consent to
my brother being bound to any man.'^

"I hope in two or three years, if my star is willing, to be
able to do something to promote your ease and comfort. As
for DeWitt, I can never think of him without pain. I would
willingly relinquish my situation to him, were it a possible
thing. As this place seems to be the only one, and a cadet's
appointment the only means by which he may ever hope to

88 IN SCHOOL AT CASTLETOK

acquire an education, I think that an appointment for him
is very desirable. I have no doubt of his graduating here,
shoukl he get one, so as to be here during my last year. He
will be about the right age then ; and he could in the mean-
time prepare himself so well as to acquire such a standing
in his class as to do himself and his mother honor."

''The store-keeper with whom DeWitt was, insisting still
upon having him bound to him, soon made DeWitt sick of his
place. He was, also, and had been from a mere boy, very
fond of reading. He was a little too fond of novels — as for
that, always was, all his life, I always thought — he had read
when but a boy all of Sir Walter Scott's novels ; but he read
other things too, and aspired to an education, and I concluded
to put him at school in Oastleton, for the time : to please him
and to please Nelson. I entered him for the Fall term, and so
wrote Nelson."

Nelson writes to his mother :

"West Point, Sept. 24.

Write me, if you please, who DeWitt is boarding with,
and the course of study he is pursuing, and I will afford all
the little help that lays in my power. Our expenses are very
great, as we have had our uniforms changed, and which will
throw us all deeply in debt ; but little can be expected from
from me while a cadet, for we are compelled to spend our
money as directed by our commanding officers. I wish you to
tell DeWitt to write to me weekly, and as many of his letters
as it is possible for me I will answer. '^

DeWitt in Oastleton for the Winter term, 1826, after

HIS MOTHER'S LETTER. 89

spending* the vacation with his mother and friends, upon his
return, was very homesick and writes to liis mother. His
mother writes him :

''FiNNEYviLLE, January 9th, 1826.

My Dear DeWitt : — I was much relieved in my mind on
the receipt of your letter to find you had arrived safe at your
quarters. You say you are homesick. So am I, most wretch-
edly homesick, nothing but absolute necessity induces me to
stay here. Without a domestic or social interest ; without
books, meetings on the Sabbath, or society of the least inter-
est, you may well suppose me homesick, with good cause, too.
Not so with you, my dear. Entirely the reverse is your situ-
ation. Much depends on your exertions at this period of
your life, both to yourself and to your friends. And what
should be (and is, I trust) the most powerful impetus to your
ambitions is your mother's happiness, who does (though
you may not be aware of it) depend on you ; and to you, I
look for it in this world, as well as my future support; which I
can but hope, will, at some future day be your pleasure to af-
ford me. What would be the language of your dear departed
father, could we hear him speak ? But enough, my dear child ;
I can only wish you to imitate his virtues, to be all the fondest
mother could wish. When 1 go to Orwell I shall go by the
way of Castleton, if possible. Remember me in love to Mr.
Lathrop's family ; and believe me your ever-affectionate
mother, Lydia Clark."

Nelson encouraged DeWitt at Castleton meantime, by
writing frequently, or occasionally, to him.

90 THE BROTHER'S CORRESPONDENCE.

He was at Castleton for the Winter, Spring and Summer
terms, I think. The Summer vacation, he appears to have
be 11 at his uncle's, in Sandy Hill, as his brother addresses him
there :

''West Point, July 29th, 1826.

My Dear Brother : — I have delayed answering your let-
ter quite a long time, owing to a total want of news or matter,
I can attribute, also, the delay to a certain kind of feeling
always attendant on hot Aveather, which some people have
taken it into their heads to call laziness. But I cannot recon-
cile the application of the word to the above-mentioned feel-
ing, because its effects are not only exerted on the body, but
in many cases on the mind. You are no doubt quite vexed
for my not answering ere this, but you must be pacified
entirely and take my excuse. The encampment is now about
half finished, thank Providence ! and I can assure you that if
it were the last day, not one tear would be shed or one eye
cast down, but joy would radiate from eveiy eye, and Mr.
Willyss. could not find a tune whose. time would be quick
enough to take us to the barracks. Well, Dot, how do you
come on ? Are you fat and hearty ? My ears ring, or sing in
such a manner as to make me notice it, in this letter. It was
by the firing of cannon and mortars this morning. When is
mother expected at Sandy Hill, and when is Susan to be
married ? which I find, by consulting my/'oraculum" is to be

consummated in a short time. S is not a very brilliant

youth ; but he will pass in a crowd. He will not be very
popular in the corps, unless lie shakes off the greenhorn a

CORRESPONDENCE CONTINUED. 91

little, and pays a little more attention to himself in person and

in character. R is about the same in some respects, but

has more solid sense (apparently) and will probably be above
him in his class. Giv^e ray respects to Harriet and Delight.
I can't think of any other girls there whose sense and beauty
recommend that notice should betaken of them in this manner,
except our kind cousin [Susan], from whom a letter this ex-
tremely unpleasant weather would be read with pleasure.
Write whether, or not, Mr. Martingale is likely to be re-elected
this year. Where is Bill Baker ? I have a present for you
which I shall forward the first opportunit}^ that presents itself.
Do not undertake to visit this place this year, but wait until
next, and then I will bring you with me. My reasons I will
give you some other time. If those drawings have not yet
arrived to you, you will be able to get them by sending, the
first opportunity, to Troy, to Lieut. A. B. Eaton, and he will
forward them immediately.

Your ever afiectionate brother,

N. N. C."
Meantime their mother was married to Judge Meech,
not far from the time of this last letter. "DeWitt," said Mrs.
Meech, "was at once pleased with my marriage to the Judge ;
he at once took to the Judge and to his new home ; not so
Nelson. He said nothing about it, except in answer to the
letter, wrote after a time, some time in October, I think,
communicating it to him ; but I could always see it a little ;
lie was older, and prouder always than DeWitt."

02 MR. AND MRS. MEECH VISIT WEST POINT.

West Point, October 13, 1826.

My Dear Mother : — I received this morning your letter.
There has never anything occurred in our family which has
been so ver}^ difiScult.for me to reconcile to my feelings as the
sudden and quite unexpected change in your situation. But
for your happiness and prosperity I am glad. I have always
thought I was not acting the manly part in living a life of
comparative ease and happiness while you and my brother
were experiencing all the ills of a dependent life. But you
can certainly now raise no serious objections to my remaining
in the army. In fact, there is no other life which presents as
many enjoyments, and I presume you will prefer it for me. I
shall therefore make my calculations accordingly.

Your ever aftectionate son,

N. N. Clark.

"The winter of 182*7, I went to Washington with my hus-
band. On our wa}^ to Washington, we stopped at West
Point to see Nelson, I so wanted to see my son again. When
I introduced Mr. Meech to Nelson as his father, it made all
the officers smile — to see the father introduced to his large
boy, I suppose. I was a good deal taken aback. Nelson
was as much taken aback." The Judge was a man "of the
Judge Olin size." He had his own chair, made to hold him,
his own bedstead, and a wagon with a seat specially made
wide enough for him and his wife to sit side by side in.

Nelson saluted me, but he only looked at his father. He
had never it seems, happened to have heard anytliing about
his size. He looked with dumb amazement at first. There

IIAITY AT SHREWSBURY. 98

was a look in his eye I did not like. I think the Judge saw
it, but he never said anything to me about it. He saw the
officers smile, I thought and that he thought he should be
rallied about his new father. Mr, Meech was a man of very
large size ; but he was. well-formed for a large man, and I was
tall and of a good habit. I never objected to that in him, and
would rather have had him so than one inch below my stature,
or a little shrimp of a man. I always liked to see a large
man.

We arrived safely at Washington, with no accident,
except that the Judge lost his gloves ; left them, he thought,
at West Point, and I wrote Nelson about them. You can
see my boy's pique peep out a little in his letter to me,
where he says the gloves are safe in the bottom of his trunk,
and I need not be afraid of their being stolen, "for there is
not anybody at this place that would not be lost in one of
them."

"1 wrote to Uncle Levi last Christmas for the first time.
1 want very much to see the folks at Shrewsbury ; and, in
fact, I never could be as happy at any other place as there. '^

"Never so happy as at Shrewsbury,'' said his mother as
she read it the last year of her life ; "because it was his birth-
place."

94 GRADUATED — PICTURE OF NAPOLEON.

NELSON CLARK

graduated in June, 182*7, and entered the United States Army.

When I came to reside with Mrs. Meech, in 1866, upon
the wall of the dining-room, opposite the table, hung an old
picture of Napoleon on the rock at Elba, or Helena. It always
hung there ; it hangs there to-day — 18t8. There was some-
thing in the old colored lithograph that attracted me the first
time I saw it, and that always attracted me. I did not speak of
it, perhaps, for several years ; but never sat at that table with-
out observing it. One day, dining alone with Madam Meech, I
made some observations about the sturdy form of "the little
Napoleon ;'' in what a soft, melancholy air around him, he
seemed to stand looking off on the ocean. "Every one always
observed that picture,'' she answered. "It was given to Nel-
son when he graduated, on account of his name. I always
saw a resemblance in it to his form. They told him his name
was Napoleon, and to be as brave as lie was. Ilow proud he
was when he brought it home to me ! My poor boy ! I have
often thought that I would put it away out of sight, but I
could never bear to."

The Summer, I think, before the death of dear Mrs.
Meech, taking the glass from the frame one day to clean, I

TAKES THE INDIAN CHIEF TUSKINA. 95

found between the picture and back of the frame, the certifi-
cate given him when he graduated — a parchment about 24
inches by 20 — the West Point diploma.

"It was supposed to be lost," said his mother. "DeWitt
wanted it, and made a good deal of searcli for it. My poor
Nelson ! his own hands must have placed it there, more than
forty years ago !"

We have a large package of his letters to his mother and
brother, dated from "Jeflerson Barracks." At one time he
was sent with his regiment to put down the broils occuring
with the Creek Indians.

TusKiNA, THE Indian Chief. — The Augusta (Ga.) Chron-
icle, of the 21st April, says: "We are informned, by a gentle-
man, who came in the stage from New Orli^ans, that Tuskina,
the head chief of the Creek Indians, who stopped the stage a
short time past, was apprehended, at the Indian village in
which he resided, on the 13th instant, by Lieut. Clark, of the
Army, with a detachment of twenty-five men.

He was found concealed in the chimney of his house,
near the top, and made no attempt at' resistance. The sol-
diers were proceeding with him to Mobile, to deliver him into
the custody of the United States Marshal at that place, and
had proceeded about twelve miles, to the house of Mr.
Walker, at Polecat Springs, when the stage arrived there.
Tuskina was sitting in the piazza of the house — the soldiers
stationed around — and the Indians, who were rapidly coming-
in, had collected to the amount of nearly four hundred. They
were unarmed ; shook hands very affectionately with their

96 AN INDIAN SLEEPS ON HIS HEARTH.

chief as they came in, and all seemed deeply affected by his
confinement ; but he, himself, appeared quite calm and collected,
scarcely moving a muscle of his features. Our informant de-
scribes him as a noble-looking lellow, with fine, expressive
features, exceedingly. well-formed. Lieut. Clark, who appeared
a decided, firm and courageous man, declared to our inform-
ant, that he apprehended no danger from the Indians ; though
from the veneration and regard they evinced for Tuskina,
there can be little doubt that a single hint from him would
induce them to attempt a rescue ; and the guard were too
weak in number to resist it efiectually, except by shooting
him.

Tuskina stated, through an interpreter, that he greatly
regretted the course he had taken, which he had been led to by
the false representations of certain white men — that he was
not aware he was committing any aggression against the gov-
ernment, as he believed, from the statements made to him ;
that he was simply opposing the owner of the stage, and othi-r
private individuals — and that he was glad to be correctly in-
formed, as a great load was now removed from his mind."

"The Winter before," says Clark, "several Indians were
hanging around our camp. The officers and men regarded
them as spies ; but for fear of incurring the displeasure of
their tribe did not send them away. The soldiers would feed
them through the day, and drive them out of the barracks at
night.

"One very cold evening in Winter, an old Indian came into
my quarters and begged so hard to sleep on the hearth by my

pro:\[otj:d. 97

fire, I had not the heart to turn[him out. 1 thought that he came
for treachery ; but I could not do it. 1 expected he would
attempt to murder me in my sleep ; but 1 knew 1 could watch
him. He came regularly all winter after this. I watched him
three nights, and then, covinced that anyway he did not
intend any mischief, I went to sleep myself. After this the
Indians were great friends to me ; several of them would
often come together to visit me.

I alwaj's treated them with gravity ; but befriended them
whenever I could.

Tuskina t.Jd me that the Indians would have shot any
other man that might have been sent with so small a gu»rd to
take their chief ; but "the Indians no shoot Clark."

War Department, ")

Washington, 12, May, 1829. J

Sir:

You are hereby informed that the President
of the United States has promoted you to the rank of Second
Lieutenant in the Fourth Regiment of the United States Infan-
try, to take effect from the first day of July 1821, vice 2d Lt.
Thomas promoted. Should the Senate, at their next session,
advise and consent thereto, you will be commissioned accord
ingly. You will repair to Baton Rouge and there report for
duty and also by letter to the Colonel of your Regiment.

Jno. H. Eaton, Secretary of War.

For Lieut. Nelson N. Clark, 4th Infantry.

About 1829, his regiment was ordered to New Orleans to

9

98 INDUCEMENT TO STUDY LAW.

hold in check an expected insurrection of the slaves. Here
too, cool and firm in matters military, he was so judicious
with several parties of negroes, brought before him on small
offences and gave so kind and good advice to them, writes a
brother officer to Clark's brother, "He became spontaneously
as much a favorite with the blacks as the Indians. We all
say the outbreak is prevented more by Clark's popularity —
about which we rally him — than through fear of the soldiers."

"Baton Rouge, Louisiana, June I, 1829.

Dear Mother : — You will see I have once more changed
situations. I have been promoted into the 4th regiment, and
I shall probably remain in it as long as I remain in the Army.
I met, a few days since, in New Orleans with Col. Randall, of-
West Florida, who formerly practiced law in Albany. He
was a warm friend of my father's and is desirous of having
me come to study law with him. He has, since he arrived in
this country, acquired an independency, and is about retiring
from business. He says it only requires four or six months
reading to become as much of a lawyer as I could in New
York in as many years. He is a very gentlemanly man, and
his offer is so liberal that I would accept it if proper, and did
I not think I would be too ready to take advantage of a most
generous proposal. I wish to hear from you immediately on
this subject."

[His mother consulted her husband. His step-father con-
sidering it not certain that he would like the law ; and then,
would be unsettled for a time, advised that he better remain
in the army.]

AT BATON ROUGE. 99

His motlicr would rather that he had embraced the
generous ofier of a warm friend to his father, and so success-
ful a man ; but she deferred her wishes to the advice of her
husband .

"This is a most beautiful post," writes our young ofiScer.
"The quarters are large and commodious, the country presents
a picturesque appearance. The shores of the Mississippi
from this to New Orleans appear like an extensive chain of
gardens. A plantation resembles a small Northern village.
The cabins of the negroes, sometimes fifty or sixty in number,
are neatly arranged in two rows. At the head rises the man-
sion of the owner of the plantation. It is generally a low,
neat house, covering considerable ground, and surrounded
with a yard filled with china trees. At the other end of the
row, is the house of the overseer (or as we should call him
nigger-driver), a small neat building.

"It seems almost impossible this country could ever be
sickly, everything looks so beautiful and so flourishing. The
people seem to be the happiest in the world. Money is very
plenty and everything very dear. A poor subaltern of the
Army stands very little chance among the nabobs. The only
way to raise a breeze in this country, is to marry an heiress.
There are a great many rich girls to be found on the river,
but they are generally without education, and, consequently,
half the attractions are wanting. They, however, are very
pretty. Present my compliments to Mrs. and Miss Van Ness.

"Capt. Isaac Clark desires to be remembered to you all.

100 LETTER OF CAPT. ISRAEL CLARK.

He is a Vermonter, raised in Castleton and a very fine man.

He is Q. M. at this post/'

"Oct. 30; 1830.

"Our troops are removed 20 miles into the interior on
account of the epidemic that visits this place every year. I
have never been in better health. * * * * i wish the Jackson
ticket may succeed in Vermont and no where else. * * * *
Capt. Clark is well and sends his compliments, &c. I am at
present very pleasently situated. I am boarding in the family
of the Captain. His lady is a Vermont woman from Burling-
ton. Her name was Levaque."

Letter of Captain Israel Clark.

Baton Rouge, La., 16 Nov., 1830.

Dear Sir : — Yours was received yesterday. Lieut. Clark
is here. His habits are generally good. He possesses talents,
and if an opportunity presents itself, he must rise ; but at
present, the prospects of a young man in the army are not
very flattering. No matter what his talents are, he can not
rise except by regular promotion, which is very slow. The
pay of a subaltern, with the greatest ecomomy, will barely
support him in this country, if he appears like a gentleman,
which, you know, is expected and required of every member
of the army. #******^

Please present my best respects to Mrs. Meech and the
family. Yours,

"I. Clark,

"Ezra Meech, Esq , Shelburne, Vt."

Wants a transfer — ttis ]\roT[iER's letter loi

Yearning" toward the land of his birth ; h)nging' to see the
face of his mother and brother :

''Dec. 30, 1880.

"There are, at the head of Lake Champlain, at Albany, at
Rochester, and many other places in the State of New York,
recruiting stations, at whicli (either of them) it would be
much to my interest to be stationed ; particularly so at White-
hall, or Albany, At Wliitehall, my pay and emoluments would
be considerably increased ; my necessary expenses would be
much less than they are in this country ; I shall have tlie
extreme satisfaction of being among my friends, and, proba-
bly, at the expiration of two years, I should be able to afford
my brother much assistance. My mother and brother — the
one I wish to see surrounded by every comfort this life can
afford, and contribute, myself, to render her happy — the other,
I would raise, were it in my power, above every mortal head,
clear every obstruction from his path.''

It appears by the following letter, nearly a year after-
wards, what steps to take had not been decided on at home :

Letter of Mrs. Lydia C. Meech to Her Son.

Shelburxe, November, 1831.
My Dear Nelson: — Your two last letters, dated August and
September, would have been ample ^tenement for your former
neglect if you had written on a subject that only interests
me, and that is your own dear self. All other matters, I can
get from other sources; such as negro insurrections, politics,

102 SHE OFFERS TO HELP HIM.

wind and rain, etc. I do wish you would confine yourself to
such things as concern your own welfare or ill-fare ; at any rate,
such as it is. I do feel extremely anxious to know how you do
get along in this cold and selfish world, with all your embarass-
ments. Do tell me ! Tell me all ! I must know ! I feel
the greatest anxiety, you must know, without the power
to assist you ; although, I have no doubt, 1 might, in some
instances, if I knew your wants.

1 will make every exertion in my power this Winter, with
the co-operation of your father, to assist you, if you will point
out the way, and tell explicitly in what particular we can
serve you. I think you will find in General Pitcher a friend
that will be willing to serve you. He is the only one in .Con-
gress this Winter that I can think of. You must write to us
and let us know what you want, and to him on the subject ;
and I will, myself, and get your father to, also ; and I think
you can get help to almost anything within the bounds of
reason. * ^ ^ * *

I do hope you will bestir yourself if you ever get another
furlough, and try to get into some business and leave the
Army."

The anxious mother overlooks that when he was offered
an advantageous opportunity to fit himself for the law, and
had written home, the answer sent the year before.

"I do hope you wil^, for your own sake and mine, exert
yourself during this Congress, with General Pitcher, and you
will succeed — you must. Governor Cass, the present Secre-
tary of War, is a stranger to your father, as well as the rest of

SHE WRITES TO GENERAL PITCHER. 103

the new cabinet. If nothing else will do, T will write to the
President myself. It will be necessary for you to make up your
mind immediately, and commence operations. Write to me
and to General Pitcher at the same time. Now, my soldier
boy, arouse, look about you and decide upou what will serve
your interest, and be valiant and active, and feel assured that
God will crown your exertions with success. My unceasing
prayer for you shall not be wanting ; and you, I must believe,
are not insensible from whom all our favors come.

*'We are rather more gay than when you were with us ;
mix more in society — give now and then a dinner-party, etc.

"Remember me to Capt. Clark very respectfully and aftec-
tionately I shall hope to hear from you immediately on
receipt of this. God bless you, my child !

"Ever your devoted mother,

^ Lydia C. Meech. "

By the letter of General Pitcher to Mrs. Meech, on our
file of old family papers, we are confirmed in the statement
of Mrs. Meech, already given to the same effect, that she
wrote to General Pitcher in behalf of her son, and he granted,
or obtained from Major Gen. McComb, the paper of permit
for the transfer ; but put his advice at the close, not to accept,
as the chances of promotion were much better in the South-
ern Army.

His mother counted on the acceptance, however, and
wrote on the sanie sheet: "You will, I presume, avail yourself
of the privilege herein contained, the General's advice to the
contrary notwithstanding. I shall now feast upon the hope of

104 ■ A NEW STAR — ENGAGED.

seeing you in proper person before long. We think of going
to New York ; perhaps we may meet then." She had not
seen her son for two years and it was the sweetest hope of her
life : But she has told us about it. The Judge, who addressed
and sealed the letter, indorsed the advice of General Pitcher.
He made no remark upon it to disquiet his wife. She never
knew of it, till the year before her death — finding the identical
letter which bad been sent in her son's trunk to his brother,
after his death. The General had always kindl}^ kept it from
her. "Oh," said she, "I understand now why he did not
come. My boy was too proud to come when his step-father
advised him not."

And not long after, a new star appears te» have arisen
upon his horizon, tending to make him more contented, even
happy and willing to remain at his Southern post.

DeWitt wrote to his mother from Troy : "Nelson is, I pre-
sume, engaged ; I heard so from Uncle Russell, in Sandy Hill,
as we came down; and then learned it from Lt. Eaton" — of
the same regiment, who went from Troy ; home on a far-
lough — "who says there is no doubt of it. The girl is, I
understand, heiress to an extensive plantation. I wrote to
him (Nelson) last week, to know." "DeWitt's letter," said
his mother, "woke a pleasant little flutter in the Shelburne
home, especially as I had just before received a life-size
crayon portrait of a young lady from Nelson, which he had
taken with his own pencil, and sent to me with the question if
I thought that 1 would be Avilling to receive her whom it repre-
sented, as a daughter." The picture now hangs in the room

THE RIVAL OFFICER. 105

where I write, distinguished by its heavy elaborately aud
ornately dressed dark hair; is said to much resemble the
Madonna of the Sistine Chapel.

DeWitt soon writes again : "In the first place, if Nel-
son has not informed you, mother, I will ; he is engaged, if
not married already. I received a letter from him a few days
since, in which he informed me that he intended to be married
the first of the m<Mith, to a young lady, the daughter of an old
French planter, who lives opposite the barracks at Baton
Rouge. My room-mate, who is from New Orleans, knows
him, and, partially, the girl. Her name is Duplanchier, and
he says that "she is immensely rich ; that she has been a great
belle in that part of the country.".

"The Judge,'' said his mother, "could make no objec-
tion to his marrying a rich wife. I regretted that he would
probably settle there ; but, on the other hand, was pleased to
think he would doubtless soon withdraw from the army."

While waiting for wedding news, came the terrible
announcement that he had been challenged, and was wounded
in a duel ; and, a mouth later that he was dead.

As his mother has told me the story, and, as I have
gathered it from the letters, written at the time, there was
an officer in the regiment, who had fought three duels before,
and killed his man each time. He had offered himself for
marriage to Julie Duplanchier ; had been refused, and had
sworn that he would kill any man who should marry her.
He happened to be at church when the bans of marriage were
called between Lieutenant Clark and her ; and coming forth

106 THE CHALLENGE — DUEL.

in a rage, sought Clark and informed him with an oath that
if he ever entered her house again, he wonld send him a chal-
lenge within the hour. That same afternoon, Clark visited
his affianced, and when he returned at 9 o'clock that evening,
a challenge lay upon his table for 4 o'clock the next morning,
in the duelling ground.

He took up the challenge, with his sentinel met the man
who sought only for his blood, and at the third shot fell.
"He could not have done otherwise" writes a brother officer,
"without losing all prestige in the army, and having been
branded as a coward. We all deplored it, but should have
been ashamed of him as one of our officers, if he had not met
the man.''

Duels were at this time common in the Southern Army.
Not far from every garrison, a field was fenced off for them.
H any of the men or officers had any trouble with each other
they were told to go there and settle it.

It was hoped at first that he was not mortally wounded ;
but fever, set in the fourth day. In all the letters from the
garrison to the family, the name of his antagonist was with-
held. They only said of him, "the man by whom he was
shot, he has had three or four duels before, and killed his
man each time ;" to inquiries as to the cause, " it was
about the lady." It was only alter some years, that his
brother, meeting with one of the officers of his regiment, and
who had been an intimate friend of Nelson, learned the minute
and full particulars. The man was a higher officer in the
same regiment, many years his senior. Every officer of the

HIS LAST HOURS. 107

corps hat(!d him, but also feared him ; and he threatened to
challenge any man who should communicate his name to the
friends of the man that he had slain. This officer had at
times before seemed jealous of Clark's popularity, he said,
among' the officers and soldiers. The regiment, deeply mortified
as well as pained by the occurrence, had resolved to hush it
up, as far as they could. The lady to whom he was engaged,
came to the barracks as soon as he was brought in, and staid
with him and nursed him till he died. Lieutenant Wil-
kilson wrote the second day after he was wounded to his
mother. The tidings of his death came a month later, bear-
ing date July 19, 1832, in an exquisite feminine hand, signed
with the scraggy signature of Wilkinson. His mother called
my attention to its delicacy and beauty of penmanship — its
pathos in several passages, and said it was written by his
lady. A pait of the letter, in extractxi

"Daring the last twenty-four hours of his life, he was
affected with a silent delirium, or rather abstraction, and
appeared scarcely to know any one except his nurse. Pre-
viously, during my watchings and attendance at his bedside,
he would converse as much as I would suffer him ; and the
principal subject of these conversations was his mother and
family, of whom he uniformly spoke in a tone of the deepest
affection, and during his nightly delirium, the only mode of
quieting him, frequently, was to coincide with the idea which
he had imbibed, that his mother was in the city, and that she
would speedily visit him. * # * His last words were
*'Must I die and not see my mother and my brother I" He

108 BURIAL — TOMB — ORDER PUBLISHED.

met with all the kindness possible during his sickness, and
his remains were attended to the grave, as well by the officers
of the Legion, as of course by the officers and soldiers of his
own regiment, and by a long train of the most respectable and
eminent citizens of New Orleans. Every attention has been
paid as to his tomb; one being in process of erection, to bear
the following inscription : —

Here rest the Remains of
NELSON N. CLARK,
A NATIVE OF Glens Falls, N. Y.,*
And late a Lieutenant of the 4th Regiment U. S. Infantry,

WHO DIED July 11th, 1832,

AGED 24 YEARS.

Pause stranger, and pass not Hglitly by, tlie last home of one that was
all that is Honokable, Manly and Generous.

''With sentiments of the deepest sorrow, do I make this
communication.

''The officers stationed here desire me to present their
profound respects.

Fred Wilkinson,
Lt. 4th U. S. Infantry."

A copy of the order published on the occasion by the

Ma;jor commanding the regiment :

"Head Quarters 4tii Inf't.

Baton Rouge, La., July 13, 1832.
Order No. 5*"{ :

"It is with painful feelings that the commanding officer
*lt should have been Shrewsbury, Vt.

MAJOR DADE'S LETTER. 109

announces to the troops, the decease of Lt, N. N. Chirk, of
this regiment, and formerly of this command, who died at New
Orleans, on the llth, inst.

"The body of our late companion in arms was committed
to its hist home, with all the honor due to the brave, high-
minded and chivalrous soldier, while the uncommonly numer-
ous, and highly respectable procession marked the estimation
in which he was held by the citizens, of New Orleans.

"Yes, Soldiers ! Clark, young, brave, generous, highly ed-
ucated and noble, as we well know he was, has been called to
his God. As a pioneer, he has proceeded us to that dread
country from whence no traveller returns. Peace be to his
name ! He rests in honor, regretted most by those who knew
him best.

(Signed) WM. S. FOSTER,

Lt. Col. Commanding."

FROM LETTER OF MAJOR DADE TO D. W. C. CLARK :

"It gives me pain to inform you * * * I assure 3'ou, I
sincerely sympathize with his relations in their sorrow at the
event which hurried him to the grave. It should be a consolation
to them, to know that his correct deportment had acquired
for him many warm friends in the army, particulaily in the
regiment to which he belonged. They will deeply deplore his
death.

Yours, with esteem,

F. L. Dade,
Major U.S. A.''
10

no HIS SASH — HIS SWORD.

I have the short sword and netted crimson silk sash his
mother always kept, he wore that fatal morning to meet
his challenge. I found, after her death, in her private drawer,
the minutest leather pouch marked "N. N. C," which I have ;
but never have had the courage to open it but once. There
were several shot, four I believe. I knew at once they liad
ended a life, and shut them away, the murderous things !
How could she keep them, I said, and still I do. Last Win-
ter, sorting the old papers of his brother, the General, I found
in an old wallet, taken from his inner coat pocket in liis last
sickness and placed there, two grim silver pieces, wrapped
in a soiled paper, upon which was written "Taken from Nel-
son's eyes after he was dead." He had carried them over
thirty years upon his breast, everywhere — in Vermont, Texas,
in the Senate chamber, in the church.

I said to him, the summer of his death, one day — I knew
how fresh and beautiful his memory was — ''General, do you
ever pray for your father and brother?" "Every day-,'' he
said, "conditionally."

De WITT C. CLARK.

FROM THE TIME OF HIS MOTHER'S MARRIAGE TO THAT OF HIS OWN.

He appears to have been ke])t in school at Castleton and
at Hinesburgh academies, enjoying the vacations at his new
home in Shelburne from the Summer of his mother's marriage,
in 1826.

DEWITT AT CASTLETON. Ill

De WITT TO HIS MOTHER.

Castleton, July lUh, 1828.
Dear Mother:

Your letter by Mary C, I received at Orwell, Friday last.
I heard the girls were in Orwell, and being then on a review
of my week's study, and finding they would return without
my seeing them, I got leave of absence for Friday and Satur-
day to see them. The preceptor wanted to go himself very
much, but contented himself with writing a funny letter. You
are well aware, I received the cap, and like it well as also,
the shirts, which latter I was in need of, as some one or two
of my cotton ones begin to grin fearfully.

Gratid-ma is at Aunt Jackson's yet, and I endeavored
to persuade her to go up with the girls ; but she thought she
was not prepared, and had been too long from home already,
&c., and could not be prevailed on to make the attempt. She
is in very good health, as are Aunt and the babe. I shall be at
home four weeks from next Saturday — if you think I had better
come before ternr closes. You have not said a word about
college, as yet ; and I am left in ignorance of my destination,
after leaving here.

112 THE ADADEMICIAK

Mr. Smith called last night, and he spoke to me about
taking an active part in the exercises at the last day. This
morning he gave out the appointments, and allotted a poem
and a colloquy to D. C. Clark. An original poem for declama-
tion before a large Castleton audience would not bo imposed
on every body ; and then, the colloquy ! I confessed my ina-
bility to do justice to that, at least. But the Prex had more
confidence in my ability than I dare have. By giving me
the most arduous task (and of course, the most honorable) in
the exercises, he has given a testimonial that my conduct has
not been altogether "indolent and inattentive," as cer-
tain mean devils would wish to show ; for he knows I must
devote a considerable time to the business, and, by this act,
he shows in his opinion I am as able to spare it from my
studies as any one of my class, at least. I will make out my
bills, and send by the girls, if they come here, and I shall ex-
pect the money. I cannot go out of Castleton without liquid-
ating all my debts, and it can make no particular difference
with father when the money is sent. I do hope you will send
it to me, and am sure you will, if you consider how much bet-
ter a fellow feels who is enabled to discharge his debts him-
self. You know I have had no money for my own peculiar
expenditure this term — not any, and I borrowed $5 from
Oliver Hyde, and must pay it, before I leave.

I suppose you heard that Cbas. Rogers delivered the ora-
tion at the Caldwell celebration on the 4th, and Uncle Orville
the Declaration (at Sandy Hill). The young &c. of Sudbury
and Brandon took the boat and went there. Julia, Caroline,

THE RURAL STUDY. 113

and John A. |Ci)nant| were of the party. They had a bril-
liant time of it ; spoke in high terms of Charley's speechment,
and Uncle's reading. I suspect father thinks this deliglitful
weather for haying. I have heard nothing from Ncl. since
my last. Have you ? I sent you a heroic rhyme this morn-
ing ; you may think what you please of it. There was anoth-
er came out in the paper of to-day, with the signature 3^^»
which I lay claim to. I will send it on soon. 1 wish you
would answer this soon. Why can't you ? I feel ashamed to
go every mail, and the mail comes in from Shelburne every
night, and find nothing there. Now do answer this immedi-
ately. I can just as well have an answer the next night after
sending this as not, if you only sit down, mother, and answer
it. My special love to Mrs. Powers, with best love for Jane
and the Brothers. As ever, your affectionate son,

D. C. Clark."
In the early part of this term, DeWitt found a pretty wild-
wood nook in the environs, or near the village, where he made
himself a seat, as I have heard him narrate, and took his books
to study. He was very pleased with his little retreat, and
could get his lessons much better, he said, there, than in the
school-room with a crowd of boys, or shut up in his own close
and dull room, at his boarding-place. All went satisfactorily,
till a prying sort of a man in the village discovered him, idling
away his time, as it appeared to hi'n, and he, in his kind of
benevolence, took it upon himself to write and inform the
Judge what his step-son was about. The man also got two
or three others in the place talking about his going ''out-

114 GOES TO A RIDE — CONSEQUENCES.

doors" to study. DeWitt got letters from home, fully accord-
ing with the communication sent, as, also, did his teacher.
The teacher went to see the badly-reported on out-door study,
and upon seeing it, remarked he should like to stay there him-
self; and there was, to the scandal of the man Avho had
reported on it, no prohibition put on the spot.

This will sufficiently explain the boy's remarks about
''mean devils'' in his letter. He writhed a little under the
extra watchfulness exercised over him — a fatality that had
seemed to accompany his young boyhood's careless days ; that
always rather seemed to follow him life-long, more or less in
the distance, to never quite quit him ; of some person, or per-
sons, questioning every move that he ever made, or didn't
make, and imputing to it some evil that had never entered hi-s
head, much less his heart.

The borrowed five dollars, as he was at once required to
do, he accounted for, or in part ; for the borrowing act, by
an accident that had happened. One half-day, when school
did not keep, he had been invited to take a ride with two of
the students who borrowed a carriage for the purpose. As
he told them he had no money, it was agreed the ride was
free ; he was invited by the other two, and they were to pay
the hire. The carriage was overturned, broken and DeWitt
was assessed with the other two boys, to pay repairs. Oliver
Hyde offered to loan him five dollars to make it up for the
time, and told him his father, the Judge, was able to pay ior
it. The boy got a drenching letter from home. The Castle-
ton bills were not paid by him. But, said his mother, DeWitt

DKYBURGII ABBEY. 115

never said anytliing- to me about liis father's letter. He met
liimjustas pleasantly as ever. Let his father say or write what
he would to him, however DeWitt felt it at the time, he
never seemed to lay it up. He never had any malice about
him. The Judge often remarked on that, and that he liked
him for it.

Examination day came off, and the poem. ,

DRYBURGH ABBEY.

'Tvvas morn — but not the ray which falls the Summer boughs among,
When beauty walks in gladness forth, with all her light and song ;
'Twas morn- -but mist and cloud hung deep upon the lonely vale,
And shadows, like the wings of Death, were out upon the gale.

For he whose spirit woke the dust of nations into life —
That o'er the waste and l)arren earth spread ilowers,and fruitage rife —
Whose genius, like the sun, illumed the miglit}^ realms of mind —
Had fled forever from the fame, love, friendship, of mankind I

To wear a wreath in glory wrought, his spirit swept afar

Beyond the soaring wing of thought, the light of morn or star ;

To drink immortal water, free from everj^ taint of earth —

To breathe before the shrine of life, the source whence worlds had birth !

There was wailing on the earlv breeze, and darkness in the sky,
When, with sable plume, and cloak, and pall, a funeral train went b}^ ;
Methought— St. IVIary shield us well!— that other forms moved there
Than those of mortal brotherhood, the noble, young and fair !

116 DRYBURGH ABBEY.

Was it a dream ? How oft, in sleep, we ask : " Can this be true ? ."
Whilst warm imagination paints her marvels to our view ; —
Earth's glory seems a tarnished crown to that which we behold.
When dreams enchant om* sight, with things whose meanest garb is gold !

Was it a dream? Methought the "Dauntless Harold" passed me by —
The proud "Fitz- James" with martial step, and dark intrepid eye ;
That "Marmion's" haughty crest was there, a mourner for his sake;
And she — the bold, the beautiful! — sweet "Lady of the Lake ;"

The "minstrel," whose last lay was o'er, whose broken harp lay low.
And with him glorious "Waverley," with glance and step of woe ;
And "Stuart's" voice was there, as wlien, mid fate's disastrous war.
He led the wild, ambitious, proud and brave, "Vich Ian Vohr."

Next, marvelling at the sable suit, the "Dominie" stalked past,'
With "Bertram," "Julia" by his side, whose tears were flowing fast ;
"Guy Mannering," too, moved there, o'erpowered by that afflicting sight ;
And "Merrilies," as when she wept on EUangowan's height.

Solemn and grave, "Monkbarns, " appeared amidst that burial line ;
And "Ochiltree" leant o'er his staff, and mourned for "Auld langsynel"
Slow marched the gallant "Mclntyre," whilst "Lovel" mused alone ;
For once ' 'Miss Wardour's" image left that bosom's faithful throne.

With coronach and arms reversed, forth came "MacGregor's" clan —
"Red Dougal's" cry peaFd shrill and wild, "Rob Roy's" bold brow

looked wan ;
The fair "Diana" kissed her cross and blessed its sainted ray ;
And "woe is me!" the "Bailie" sighed, "that I should see this daj^!"

Next rode, in melancholy guise, in sombre vest and scarf.
Sir Edward, Laird of Ellieslaw, the far renowned "Black Dwarf ;"
Upon his left, in bonnet blue, and white locks flowing free —
The pious sculptor of the grave— stood "Old Mortality !"

DRYBURGII ABBEY. * 117

''Balfour of Barley," "Claverhouse," the "Lord of Evandale,"
And statel}^ "Lady Margaret whose woe might nought avail I
Fierce "Bothwell" on his charger black, as from the conflict won;
And pale "JIabakkuk Mucklewrath," who cried "God's will be done !"

And like a rose, a j'^oung white rose, that blooms mid wildest scenes,
Passed she, — the modest, eloquent, and virtuous "Jennie Deans ;"
And "Dumbiedikes," that silent laird with love too deep to smile, ^.
And "Eflie," with her noble friend, the good "Duke of Argyle."

With lofty brow and daring high, dark "Ravenswood" advanced,
Who on the false "Lordkeeper's" mien with eye indignant glanc'd : —
Whilst, graceful as a lovely fawn, 'neath covert close and sure.
Approached the beauty of all hearts, the "Bride of Lammermoor."

Then "Annet Lyle," the fairy queen of light and song, stepped near.
The "Knight of Ardenvohr" and he, the gifted Ilieland Seer ;
"Dalgetty," "Duncan," "Lord Monteith," and "Ranald" met my view,
The hapless "Children of the Mist," and bold "Mhich Connel Dhu !"

On swept "Bois-Guilbert," "Front-de-Bceuf," DeBracy's plume of woe;
And "Camr-de-Lion's" crest shone near the valiant "Ivanlioe :"
While soft as glides a summer cloud "Rowena" closer drew.
With beautiful "Rebecca," peerless daughter of the Jew !

Still onward, like the gathering night, advanced that funeral train.
Like billows, when the tempest sweeps across the shadowy main ;
Where'er the eager gaze might reach, in noble ranks were seen
Dark plumes and glittering mail and crest, and woman's beauteous mien !

A sound thrill'd through that length'ning host ! Methought the vault

was closed.
Where, in his glory and renown, fair Scotia's bard reposed !

118 ^ ENTERS COLLEGE.

A sound thrill'd thro' that length'ning host — and forth my vision fled !
But oh that mournful dream proved true, the minstrel Scot was dead.

The Visions of the Voice are o'er! their influence waned away
Like music o'er a summer lake at the golden close of day ;
The Vision and the Voice are o'er ! but when will be forgot
The buried Genius of Romance — the imperishable Scott ?

He entered college in his eighteenth year, first in the
Vermont University at Burlington, but was transferred to
Union College, Schenectady, at the end of his first term. Here,
he became acquainted with young men, from Troy and
Albany in particular, with whom he formed strong and life-
long friendships, making at the same time praiseworthy pro-
gress in his studies ; in the latter, being most cordially
pressed on by his elder, and ever most devoted brother.
Of the last interview of these two affectionate brothers, we
have only this short memorandum in a letter of DeWitt to

his mother :

"Union College, Jan. 19th, 1830.
My Dear Mother : — Nelson staid but a very short time

in Sandy Hill, and I believe stopped at West Point a short
time. He will be back in the Spring ; in fact, he was nearly

on the point of going on to Maine now, by virtue of an

exchange with another officer. He will, however, certainly

return in the Spring. He was as fat and hearty as a buck.

You must have fed him well, as Lieutenant Eaton renuirked.''
This was the last furlough upon which Nelson went

home to see his mother. His death, however, as we have

SHORT OF FUNDS. 119

seen, did not occur till about two years later ; and meantime,
letters passed between the brothers, and the mother and her
sons — sometimes solicitous, but always precious intercourse.
We must not, however, occupy our space with but few let-
ters of this period. Our college student, short of funds,
writes his mother : "I know you would, but cannot, help me ;
Nelson shall." We may suppose he writes his brother press-
in gly ; Nelson writes : —

"Baton Rougr, La., 30 Oct., 1830.

My Dear Brother : — You are in an awkward position, it
must be confessed ; and how to render it less so, is now our
business. You mention that you are left with but $100 to
pay your year's expenses. How much, added to that, will
be required ? I am far from being able to help you without
injury to some of my creditors ; yet I think that with the most
of them my excuse would be a good one, if I delayed a single
payment on account.

We must cut our coats from our cloth, brother — the world
expect nothing more from us. I have no doubt, that, among
your acquaintances in college, there are some that judge of a
man by his money, simply because they have it in abundance ;
and who really have no further pretentions to the character of
a gentleman than is given them by being possessed of a long
and well-filled purse. I know well that the j^oung man who
throws his money about him with a contemptuous kind of
indifference where it may fall, or what he may get in return,
has his friends; and they are numerous, because there is a
respectable majority of mankind, capable of being captivated

120 A BROTHER'S ADVICE AND HELP.

and led by the nose by such display ; and those who can, will
follow such an example until their little all shall have van-
ished, and this "ignis fatuus/' which before was so bright and
fascinating will present the aspect of a demon, grinning at a
lot of ragged fools. I have too much confidence to rank you
with idlers, fools, or spendthrifts ; yet we are sprung from a
source too generous, often, for its good ; that should make us
suspicious of ourselves. There never was one of our family
who knew the real worth ot a dollar. It is from this family
trait, we have the most to fear. I am not going to write you
a lecture, my dear brother. I will send you $100. But, my
brother, look well to the "main chance ;'^ take such a
course as your own good sense shall dictate ; be firm and res-
olute in pursuing it, and you cannot but succeed. * * *

N. N. C."

The temporary help he received from his brother was a
great comfort and gladness to him.

Perhaps the following letter to his mother may rendcT one
a little more able to account for the extra expenditures
acknowledged this year :

"Troy, December 22, 1830.

Indeed, you must come to Troy this Winter. I wish to
have you here on many, very many accounts. I should bo
very very proud, my dear mother, to present you to my
friends here ; and many of them are anxious to know you. I
wish you to see and know my Caro — for to see her and know
her is to love her, and I acknowledge to you that I am very
solicitous that you should love her. Do come down, ma. I

HE IS ENGAGED. 121

deem it quite essential that you should come. Perhaps it
might be an additional inducement for you to come if I were
to tell you I am engaged. But mind I do not tell you so.
Sister Jane is well, very well. We are to have her at Mrs.
Yonnet's during the holydays that commence this week —
with Miss Yonnet and her cousins. Sis improves. I hope
to hear from you soon. **#******

Ever your affectionate son, ^

DeWitt Clinton Clarke.''

The first time we find his name written Clarke. In
the joy of his engagement, he adds an e., prolongs his name
and, never getting tired of that engagement, ever after retained
it ; and henceforth, as he called himself, we shall call him ;
and as he is most generally known — D. W. C. Clarke. Not
long after to his mother again : —

"Now, my dear mother, I will tell you something con-
nected with me and my Caro, and your Caro. I am engaged
to her. I feel no inclination to conceal the matter from you.
I have had a very long, serious and sensible conversation
with her mother, and we now stand in a relation perfectly
intelligible. Mrs. G. confessed that she regretted that the cir-
cumstance should take place, but that her objections were
founded alone upon our age. She feared for the stability of
our mutual feelings. God knows she has little reason to
doubt mine, and she told me that she could not doubt Caro's.
She assured me that her happiness and life depended upon
me (they shall neither be lessened nor shortened on that
11

122 CARD GARDNER.

account) ; and she now treats me with the kindness and solic-
itude for my health of my own mother. She is a noble
woman, and Caro, my own dear Caro, is everything that you
can wish her to be ; and I know you will love her. I will close
this letter with one of the extracts from Caro's letter some-
time since, when we were expecting you in Troy. She says :
'And your mother, too, DeWitt, I anticipate partly with
pleasure and partly with fear the time when I shall
become acquainted with her. 0, I know I shall love her
dearly, very dearly. How can I help loving your mother ?
But I fear she will have to call into action every spark of
benevolence, before she can love such a wayward, petted
creature as I am. You have taught me to love and fear your
mother ; and I am so anxious that she shall love me, that I
sometimes wish that she may never see me ; but, dearest, I
will try and render myself deserving of her love, that she
may not think me unworthy the affection of her dear DeWitt.'
This is the girl ; and for this I love her. 0, that you could
know her ! She is universally beloved.

As ever, your very affectionate son,

DeWitt Clinton Clarke.' '
Caro Gardner was a beautiful young creature at eighteen
■ — twenty, his star, his rose, his ideal angel — the lamp set
in the window for him, drawing him up to her house in the
city where she dwelt. It was called a fortunate engagement
for our young student, for she was a reputed heiress, well-con-
nected, a girl ot acknowledged merit, pronounced on every
hand charmingly unique in all her characteristics.

HOW 1831 FOCTND HIM. 123

But to court a girl who moved in the first society in the
city, to maintain an acknowledged engagement and not lose
favor with her Troy and New York city friends, uncles,
aunts and cousins, was most too heavy an undertaking again
for young Clarke's limited purse. The beginning of the year
1831, found him involved, somewhat, the best he could make
of it. He hoped, under the circumstances, and, as he had
avowed his engagement, it might, however, be considered
more favorably than otherwise it might ; and he saw things so
bright before him, might he but once conclude his course and
possess his jewel.

It was not looked upon in Shelburne as he had quite flat-
tered himself to expect. What a peep into family hearts and
secrets this letter of forty-seven years and seven months ago,
that lies before me now ! I will not transcribe it, now ; but
the manner in which the expenditures of this collegiate edu-
cation have been paraded and falsified in the public courts, I
do regard not only justify the referring to it here, and thus ;
but so exaggerated and great a wrong done the honor of
one so open and forgiving, whatever his other human faults,
demand it from the hand that attempts to write his record — and
that with the facts lying alongside, that cannot be disputed.

A sufficient extract — from this statement, at the time —
to show what the indebtedness which his gray-headed step-
brother has rounded up to twenty thousand, really was.

The indebtedness of the now-silent man, but whose let-
ters sent and received, and bills rendered in at the time,

124 "HIS COLLEGE DEBTS."

place the heretofore-disputed point beyond question. I now
quote :

"Union College, 1th Dec, 1830.
You say I must be in debt. I am utterly at a loss how
you can draw such an inference. I accounted for the expend-
iture of $390, and that is within $10 of what I received. Do
you want any closer itemization ? I send them again :
for my affairs at Troy ; $54 to New York, same occasion ;
clothes ; $59 college bills up to last term ; $53, board ; $9.50»
books ; $19.77, commencement and society, $10, coal; and
$80.46 at Troy, this last Fall. I am told not to look for any
further help,'^

He was, at this period, cut adrift from any more support
at home. He had still eighty dollars in his wallet, left of
what his brother had kindly sent him this year ; but the col-
lege bill to pay for his last term, when he met with another ac-
cident, or fate, reeking under which, he writes his mother. In
joy or sorrow, hope or disappointment, he was ever a con-
stant correspondent to his mother.

"Troy, 25th Feb , 1831.
"Never have I felt the loss of my father so much as dur-
ing the past year. The older I grow, strange as it may seem,
the more deeply do I feel the bitterness of the stroke which
deprived me of his counsel aiid aid in life ^before me — the
more certain do I become of the desolation of my prospects.
Eight years have elapsed since his death. I have never fully
realized the loss till now. The consciousness comes with mel-
ancholy emphasis upon me, that it will reqiure more than I

THE ^rORBID LETTER, 125

can expect to do, to place myself where I should liave been,
had 1 not been deprived of him. I fear the hour which sank
him in the grave, will, ultimately, prove to have been the axe
at the root of my success in life. God grant it may not ! The
prospect of yet three years study ere I can be suffered to
commence in my own behalf, looks dreary and dubious in the
extreme. You may, perhaps, think I am not doing right in troub-
ling you with my troubles, when I must be so well aware of your
great anxiety, joined with your perfect inability to assist me.
It is the very consciousness of this which suffers me to write ;
for you will be aware it is not with the hope of receiving any
assistance ; consequently the only natural cause remains — the
natural instinctive impulse of a son to unburden his mind to
his mother ; to tell her what he would die ere he would com-
mit to the ears of the world. * * * I am left at the very
commencement of the study of my profession, without the
prospect of being able to reach an admission, without being
encumbered with debts which would inevitably ruin me in life.
My ambition has been to attain and support my dear and la-
mented father's reputation ; and to that have all of my
actions and exertions been directed, with a prospect of suc-
cess which wants but the means of support to constitute it a
moral certainty. But of late, enough has been said and done,
to add to my own conceptions and knowledge of my poverty,
to overthrow the energies of a stronger mind than mine. For
my sake, my dear mother, do not tell me any more that I am
"to look for no more assistance from home" — to know it is
quite sufficient, and I know it too well. I shall never ask it.

126 LOOSES HIS WALLET.

God knows, my dear mother, I appreciate your anxieties fot
me, and your wishes ; that it is out of your power to assist
me. Of late when I hear my father spoken of it, agitates me
excessively ; I feel faint, there is a tendency of blood to the
brain. * * * I have not written you before, owing to a
loss that I met ; and with the hope that I should not be
obliged to speak of it, and not wishing to write to you and not
mention it. But before I received your last, I lost my pocket,
wallet — or my pocket was picked of it — containing four
twenty-dollar bills. I hoped to find it. I advertised it in all
the papers here for some time ; but it is irrecoverably gone,
unable as I am to lose it. I cannot reproach myself, as I un-
doubtedly shall be reproached with culpable carelessness. It
was money I had, that afternoon, taken out of thebank of Troy ;
and I missed my wallet when I that evening felt for it to put
the money in my trunk. But I will say no more ; it is gone,
and I am again almost penniless ; but, thank God, not friend-
less. 1 would speak of a subject in which I know you take a
deep interest ; but I dare not write on this subject.

The dear girl ! Caroline always desires her love to you.
Sister (Jane) is quite well. Love to my brothers.

Affectionately, your son,

D.W.C.C."
"It was not believed by some his money was stolen. Said
his mother : "I never had reason to think otherwise, and
never did."

The just-given letter is the only morbid one in the hun-
dreds before me ; the only truly morbid one from his pen I

TELLS NELSON HIS LOSS. 127

liaA'e ever seen. I could not resist the inclination to give it
quite at length. It is rather pleasant to see he did once
in his life become so subjugate to the spirit that dwells among
the dark clouds and mists, as to write to that "dear mother"
in a melancholy strain.

DeWitt communicates to Nelson the loss of his wallet.
Nelson answers : — ^

"My Dear Brother: — Robbery, Love, Rascality and what
else has seized upon your hair, I don't know ; but this
much 1 know, at least I think, you are unnecessarily alarmed.
Why don't you send me an exact account of what you are
indebted and what you will require ? I can help you some,
yea, considerably. I will send you one hundred dollars as
soon as the first of May, and probably I can furnish you with
another hundred by the first of July. Cheer up ! My means
are extremely limited. This money I consider as a loan to
you. I will strain every nerve to assist you, but you must
curtail your expenses as much as possible Avoid all places
of amusement, such as balls, circuses, etc., etc. Be with
your books as an escape, or frankly own to any prying, inquis-
tive fool of your acquaintance, that your finances are running
low, and request them to cease from importuning you. Take
a stand and keep it. We must oftentimes deny ourselves to
avert danger. You have, I must confess, gone rather blindly
to work, yet keep on, and should any man presume to impute
dishonorable motives to you, why d — n the rascal, whip him,
and crush at one blow anything injurious to your character as

128 NELSON COMES TO HIS HELP.

a gentleman. Your motives must not be even doubtfuL There
must be nothing upon which suspicion can fasten. It is only
the guilty in such cases who suffer Justice may mistake her
object and live under the delusion for a short time, but truth
and honor will eventually prevail and give redress.

I am really very sorry that I cannot send you some monoy
now ; but the appropriation made by Congress for the year
'31 for the Army has not yet been received. A.s soon as it
comes, I will make you a remittance of fifty or a hundred
dollars, and so on till the end of the chapter. If anything
should occur of a disagreeable nature, let me know it ; and
be very particular to let nothing remain unexplained to Caro. I
suppose that you have told her that you are poor, etc. ? If you
have not, you have done wrong. See that everj^thing of this
kind is done. The only way for us to live and be poor, is to be
proud — do as we please with our money ; allow no man's
folly to affect us otherwise than to produce a feeling of con-
tempt ; make it a point of honor to wear home-manufactured
stuffs ; and, if we please, wear a wool hat. Remember me
affectionately to Miss G. Tell her not to spoil you.
Your ever affectionate brother,

Nelson N. Clark,

U, S. A.''

Nelson did not forget to send the hundred dollars that he
knew his brother would look so anxiously for in May. He
had never, from the first, been willing that his brother should
be educated by his step-father. The Winter after his mother's
second marriage, she having intimated in a letter to Nelson,

HE STUDIES LAW. 129

as it appears, that she hoped DeWitt would have a collegiate
education, he replied :

"Advantages here are much greater than at college; pro-
fessors are better, the form of government is preferable, it is
unchangeable and faithfully enforced. lie can better learn here
how 'to discipline self.' As for his going through college, a
charity scholar, I had rather see him a blacksmith ; and will
never give my consent. Mr. Meech cannot, of course, be
expected to send him to college, and I sincerely hope the sub-
ject has not been even hinted to him."

Mrs. Meech has told me, that Nelson said, the last time
he was at home, that if he lived. Judge Meech would be paid
back every dollar he had paid out for the education of DeWitt.
He never liked any one's doing anything for any one, and
then flinging it in their face, or the face of any of their
friends.

There was never any passage between them ; but they
rather avoided each other. The Judge was a very observing
man. He said to me, he supposed that he did not like to see
his mother married, but that he did not care about that ; but
that he liked DeWitt a thousand times the best."

HE STUDIES LAW,

After leaving college, in the office of Judge Davis, at Troy
and with his uncle, Orville Clark, at Sandy Hill, and attended
the law school at Albany one year.

130 ANNOUNCES HIS MARRIAGE.

Their mother — DeWitt's and Nelson's — states in her nar-
rations, that Nelson helped DeWitt $100 toward his collegiate
education. She may not have known, or may have forgotten,
that he also encouraged him to undertake, and helped him in,
his law studies ; all found in the letters between the brothers.

Troy, March 9th, 1832.

My Dear Mother : — You will be surprised, I presume,
to learn that I am still in Troy. You may prepare yourself
for a still further surprise. I am to be married about the first
of May. In about eight or nine weeks, just about the time
when everything about home, your garden, the lake, and all
wdll be most beautiful, you must sweep the hearth and pre-
pare to welcome your son and daughter. What time will you
and Father Meech be going to Baltimore ? You will both, of
course, be here on the occasion above referred to ; and so,
also, will Sister Jane. My dear mother, I am about taking
a very important and responsible step in life. But I am thor-
oughly convinced and advised that it is the best one 1 can
take. Considered in any point of view, there seems to exist no
important objection. The only circumstance which can afford
ground for objection, in any shape, is the fact that I am not
yet admitted to the bar. But as this is merel}^ a matter of
personal individual feeling, and involves no sacrifice, but of
my own opinions in regard to the compromising of dignity
or independence to being a student (all fallacy, I am per-
suaded) it can have no great effect. At any rate, has no
comparative weight in my mind, as an objection, and my
mind alone has a right to be influenced by it.

TALKS OF HIS APPROACHING MARRIAGE. 131

Can you realize or appreciate the idea that, in the
course of a few weeks, I shall be an old married man ? It
sounds very queer to me. I hardly think that I feel the
whole weight of the fact. However, of one thing I am
quite certain, the contemplation of the matter does not make
me unhappy — at least not very unhapp}^ — and it is not the
least adjutant of my gratification, to feel that you love Caro,
and that she loves you very dearly, and that you and Father
Meech appro\ e the step I am about to take. You do not know,
my dear mother, how well Caro loves you, and how deserv-
ing, how all deserving, she is of your love. She talks of you
very often and of Father Meech, and fears you do not, or will
not, love her. You do love her, and will love her better when
you know her better. Mrs. Gardner's health, the doctor
thinks, is improving — but very slowly. We hope, and expect
now, that she will live some time longer. It depends mainly,
however, upon the effect of the Spring months upon her,
which is still considered very doubtful. 1 have written to
Nelson, some four weeks since, and expect of course, that he
will be on here about the last of April, or the first of May.
Do you not think he will come ? Is there anything to
prevent it ? I told him he must be here. I am studying in
Gen. Davis's and Mr. Gould's office again, and boarding at
Mrs. Yonnet's. I shall visit Shelburne in the course of about
six weeks, to see Father Meech on business. I wish, of
course, to receive all the assistance which will be necessary,
as a loan. I presume he will not object to this. I do not
wish that he should assist me any more out of pocket, and I

132 CARD'S FAMILY AND FRIENDS.

shall soon be in the way of being able to repay him for what
I may get from him in the course of six weeks. [He did
want a little money to be married with !] "I will only say, in
answer to some inquiries in your letter, that Mrs. G. does not
oppose the match in the least. And Caro's brothers are very
clever, good-hearted young fellows. I like them very much.
The older one has opened an extensive trade in the grocery
line — wines, teas etc., etc., wholesale ; the younger is on
the farm — he has just returned from a three-years' voyage at
sea, where he has been as a common sailor. I was in Albany
yesterday and learned, what 1 never knew before, that Gov.
Throop's wife and the Register of the State's wife (Mrs. Por-
ter,) are cousins of Caro's. I was at Governor Throop's and
was treated by the Governor, in the executive chamber, and
by Mrs. T., at her house, very politely. I attended a small
party at the Register's on Tuesday evening, very small and
select. I have received a card inviting me to attend a large
party at Governor Throop's on Tuesday evening next ; and
yesterday, while I was at the Governor's, Mrs. T., did me
the politeness to say, "Now Mr. Clarke, you had better remain
in Albany till after Tuesday, for if you go back to Troy I fear
you will not come down again." Mrs. Throop thinks very
highly of Caro. ........ You will perceive the necessity that

exists of my having my wardrobe (never too extensive)
improved. Mr. H. Vail is to be one of the delegates to the
Baltimore convention, from this State. He is anxious to
obtain the appointment since 1 told him Father Meech is going.
He knows him very well. I suppose you have heard that

INVITATION TO HIS WEDDING. 183

Uncle Orvillc is appointed, by Governor and Senate, Brigadier
General. My good friend, Counsellor Gould, recommends him-
self with much esteem, to your remembrance. Mrs. Yonnet,
Mrs. Patterson, Mrs. G., and all who know you, desire much
love. Write to me immediately, my dear mother, and tell me
what you think of the new arrangement.

Ever, your affectionate son,

DeWitt.

P. S. — I suppose Sister Jane is still at Chambly. Char-
lotte Temple is to be one of Caro's bridesmaids. We are to
have five or six couple to officiate, bridesmen and maids. Nel-
son to be one. ^I will write to Jane soon. Love to the boys."

"Troy, April 19th, 1832.

My Dear Mother : — I can now give you information on
the subject which you know must engross a good part of all our
interest and solicitude. I was surprised, I will confess, that
father Meech should advise that our marriage should be con-
summated before you should come. Would you, on any
account, consent that it should take place unsanctified by the
presence of my parents ? Dear mother, I did not tell Caro or
Mrs. Gardner you could not be present; but, that on account
of the inconvenience it would occasion father to be so long
from home at this season of the year, it would be necessary to
defer it till the 1 6th of May, when you would all be present.
(Jane is first bridesmaid.) No consideration could reconcile
me to the thought of your, father's or sister's, absence. Mrs.
Gardner expects it, as a matter, of course ; and Caro would
12

184 THEY DO NOT GO.

be much grieved if yon were not here. We have calculated
you will leave home on Monday, the 14th of May ; reach Troy
on the eve of the 15th ; the eve of the 16th, you will spend
with us ; on the 17th father can proceed with Mr. Vail and
others to Baltimore, while vou and sister will wait till the
18th, when we will go to New York together. Do you not
think all this smacks of strong sense and propriety ? We do.
Your visit to Troy is anticipated by many friends with much
pleasure. We intend to make you very happy. You will
write to me and let me know that these arrangements will
meet with your approbation. Caro wrote to sister a few days

since I have received a letter from Nelson lately. He

cannot be on.''

One da}^, the Summer after the General's death, Mrs.
Meech was looking over some of his letters, and showed me
this, or the one before this ; the names of bridesmaids it was
that attracted my notice, and I began to question her more
about the wedding. ^'I do not know," she said. ''Do not
know ! you were there ?" "No." "Not to DeWitt's wed-
ding ! your only son's wedding?" "The Judge never liked
large weddings, he said. He would not go, and I would not
go alone." "I don't see why he should not have gone," I
remarked, "for he must have known how you wanted to go."
"Well, one thing, he said, it would cost a great deal ; if he
went they would expect a great deal of him, and he thought
it all foolishness."

He was very well suited with DeWitt's mariiage. It was
talked that Caro's portion of her father's estate would be

WEDDING VERSES. 135

twenty thousand dollars. She never got over twelve thou-
sand ; but it was so-talked, and he liked it,and thought a great
deal more of DeWitt after his marriage ; and when he came
to see his wife, he liked her very much. She was so lively
and entertaining, and always manifested such a thorough anx-
iety for De Witt's welfare, the Judge fully appreciated her,
and said DeWitt could not in the whole world have got a better
wife. lie always said DeWitt, in his marriage, had done a
ffreat deal better than Ezra had.

The wedding came off — Episcopal marriage service, in
the church of the Kev. Dr. Butler, of Troy. The wedding-
song was written.

Presented by a Friend, the 16th of May, 1832.

The lily wreathe, in whiteness, •

The Rose's loveliest hue, —
Each blossom in its brightness, v

That drinks the heaven's clear dew ;

Yes, cull Spring's choicest treasures,

A garland to entwine,
And pour in generous measure.

The pledge of ruby wine.

To-night we banish sorrow

From these we've joined in heart, —

As happy dawn each moriow, —
As calm each eve depart."

136 TO THE OLD PASTOR.

We have a suspicion it was the friend most interested in
this happy ceremony, who wrote this — his lad3^'s epithala-
mium. It stands in — not an album, but — a book for pressed
flowers and pretty bits of steel engravings.

In the same, ''Caro Gardner's book,'' here is a tribute,
later, from her pen — '' To The Old Pastor :"

'Tis many years since first he dwelt

Amid us here,
And lovingly we think of him,

Our pastor dear.

I love to think how pleasantly,

In childhood's days,
He looked upon, and smiled to see

Our little plays.

When e'er we met my name he asked,

And smoothed my brow,
And when I smiled, "Yes, yes," he said,

"I know you now."

His hand upon my finger placed

The marriage ring,
And, when he blessed me, fondly said,

"Dear, dear, young thing!"

Again, in the pretty flower-and-picture scrap-book, of this
period, we find, under an engraving of one of the scenes in
one of Scott's novels:

HEARS OF HIS BROTHER'S DUEL. 137

Wha lives at Abbotsford?

Sir Walter Scott.

Wha ought to be a Lord ?

Sir Walter Scott.

Wha writes the books that sell,
But the secret winna tell,
That a body kens sae well ? ^

Sir Walter Scott.

Wha's the poor poet's friend ?
Sir Walter Scott.

^ Wha can all parties blend ?

Sir Walter Scott.

Wha has done everything
That anj^ gude could bring,
To his countr}^ or king?

Sir Walter Scott.

D.W.C.C.

May 16, 1832, to Dec. 4, 1837.

They were married the 16th of the beautiful month of
May ; and had scarce returned from the wedding journey,
and visit among the bride's relatives in New York, when
the first knell of Nelson's duel struck on their ear. The first
^-reat impulse of DeWitt was to fly to his brother — but they
had hastened home upon the summons that Mrs. Gardner,

138 LETTER AFTER HIS BROTHER'S DEATH.

Caro's mother, was dangerously sick. She still continued so,
and the young wife, tortured with the fear of losing her mother
during his absence, and with fear for her husband, doubtless,
il he went into the land of the epidemic, then prevailing, wept,
lamented, and refused to let him go, and neither would Mrs.
Gardner consent to let him go and leave her and Caro. He
hesitated, but could not relinquish the conviction of his
brotherly duty and the impulse of his own affection till his
new, scarcely a month wedded wife, always delicate, over-
borne by the sickness of her mother, and her fears for her
husband, herself fell sick, and implored him to stay by her.
She soothed him by assuring him that his mother would cer-
tainly go to his brother ; and he had not the least idea but
that she would. She did not go ; and he too, as did his
mother, regretted it to his last days. I heard him speak of
it the last Summer of his life.

Letter of DeWitt to His Mother,

UPON RECEIVING THE ACCOUNT OF HIS BROTHER'S DEATH.

Troy, 9 Aug., 1832.
My Dear Mother : — Until the receipt of sister's letter
of the 5th inst., I have been totally unable to bring my mind
to grasp the full reality of my only and dear brother's death.
The melancholy, the heart-rending, the terrible accuracy of
detail, which Lt. Wilkinson's letter contains, has had its full
efl'ect upon my heart ; and, great God ! I now fec^l the full mis-

HIS BITTER REFLECTION. 139

ery. Thy inscrutable judgment was calculated to inflict. I
feel that my brother is dead, and that I shall no more, in this
life, see him, and welcome him to my heart. I sit and think,
and feel the bitter couviction stealing upon me by degrees,
until, sometimes, I feel my whole soul filled with an accumu-
lated mass of miseries, and my eyes opened wide to view the
whole extent of my loss. My dearest mother, I cannot think
calmly, for any length of time, about my poor brother, and,
perhaps, it is w^isely so regulated that I do not get much
opportunity lor undisturbed reflection. I sometimes feel that
no power on earth shall prevent my conceived resolution of
proceeding immediately to New Orleans, to offer the last trib-
ute I may offer to the last memory of my dearest brother, upon
the last spot on earth he can call his home — his grave. And
even now, while I write, I cannot but feel that I shall never be
satisfied till I do go down, to bless and thank his friends and
brother officers, for their kind and affectionate attendance
upon his last hours ; and to regulate his affairs. He was my
brother — my only brother ; and he died alone, far from all
whose love he had a right to claim, and whose names were the
most frequently, and the last, upon his dying lips. His love,
for us breathed upon his expiring breath, and burned brightly
in his affectionate heart while it continued to beat — and no one
of us with him! 0! how bitter, to me, is the reflection,
that, had I started immediately for New Orleans, on the
receipt of Wilkinson's letter, I might have been with him a
fortnight before he died ! I might have shown him how much
I loved him, and lightened the affliction of all of us by the

140 MOURNS FOR HIS BROTHER.

reflection that he breathed his last on the bosom of his
brother. I don't believe he ever knew how well I loved him.
I never was a punctual correspondent, and he has not known
how my heart has condemned me for neglecting to write to
one it loved so well. But he is gone ! and we are left to mourn
— and oh ! how bitterly I do mourn ! I can't reconcile
myself. 1 know it's wrong ; but, "grief for the dead, not
Virtue can reprove." I cannot satisfy myself that I ought not
to go to New Orleans. It seems to me to be the only consola-
tion I can procure, to perform a pilgrimage to his grave — a
sort of expiation for my neglect of him, I must go! I can-
not abandon the idea. He was all that is generous, noble and
manly in poor humnn nature — with a heart ever warm and
affectionate, which all the rough buffetings of an ungrateful
world (of which it received a full share generously dealt out)
could not harden, nor wean from its exalted honor and mild
and endearing virtue — witness how his friends loved him.
Lt. Eaton told his father (I had it from the old gentleman)
that "he loved Nel Clarke better than any man on earth."

I received no communication from New Orleans ; I know
nothing of his affairs ; but I feel it is due to his memory that
I should be present, and do all in my power to arrange them.
I will make any sacrific^e to do so. 1 wrote to Wilkinson about
the 10th of August. I shall hear from him, no doubt, soon

I can say nothing more now. We think — Caro and I — of
going to live at Sandy Hill till I conclude my studies, if not
longer. Uncle 0. is very anxious that I should do so, and
makes me very advantageous offers. Nothing but Mrs. G/s

PRACTICING LAW AT HANDY HILL. 141

feelings will prevent our adopting this plan. My dear sister
will excuse my neglig'ence, and knowwhy I have not written.
Make her assured of my continued affection. Let me hear
from you immediately, and I will write again.

With the sincerest affection, my dearest mother.

Your son,

DeWitt.

Sept. 14th, DeWitt writes about his Uncle Orville's wish-
ing him to come and go into partnership with him ; that his
friends in Troy, to whom he has communicated the induce-
ments, advise him to embrace the offer.

"1 can but think the change will please yoa, my dear
mother ; a conviction that it would do so, has operated decid-
edly in making me conclude to go. We shall visit Shelburne
before we settle quietly down in Sandy Hill. You may expect
to see us in the course of a fortnight.'^

"12 Mar., 1832.

Saturday I dined at Mr. Patterson's [Oaro's Aunt's], with
the most-abused Albany Regency, in the person of Governor
Marcy, Mrs. Secretary Flaggand Mr. Comptroller Wright,
together with a Mr. Earle, a member of General Jackson's
family, beside a number of the good Republicans of Troy.
Our Governor was in the utmost good humor After din-
ner we adjourned to Waterford, to call on and congratulate
Mr. Cameron on his triumph."

''Sandy Hill, March 12, 1833.

Dear Mother . — We have been in Troy the past three
weeks. The business which called me was the portioning of

143 PIlACTICma LAW IN TROY.

Cavo's father's estate between her brothers, Charles and
Townsend, and herself. Townsend has the mansion house on
the hill and 100 acres of the land ; Charles, his portion of
the farm and city property ; Caro a fine farm of nearly 200

acres, the house in town and the Vergennes property

You complain to me, my dear mother, that I spoke nothing to
you of our dear Nelson in my last. I know I did not ;
but it was not that I did not think of it. Indeed, I studied to
avoid it, for your sake and for my own. I did not mean that
you should hear that I had his effects in Sandy Hill till this
Spring, and regretted that Caro wrote to Jane anything about
it, because I knew it would occasion only anxiety on your part,
and that I could not get the things to you until Spring."

DeWitt's wiie never had a sister and was unhappy in her
brothers. The two Gardner boys, losing their father young,
with a prospective fortune, indulgent mother and weak guar-
dian, grew up unrestrained and dissipated. One of them
managed after the division to embezzle, and waste a consid-
erable portion of Caro's share.

4

PRACTICING LAW IN TROY.

A New-year's letter to his mother, in which it is seen he
is engaged in the practice of his profession in the city of Troy,
at this period :

MiDDLEBURY, Jan. 1st, 1834.

My Dearest Mother: — I wish you many very happy
New-years. I am here yet, you will observe, and you will

IN ^riDDLEBURY FOR HIS TROY CLIENTS. 143

also wonder, perhaps, why I have not again visited you. If
I could have known how my business would keep me I should
most certainly have remained at Shelburne one or two days
more, perhaps. But I have been expecting to leave every suc-
ceeding day since Friday last, and some new aspect would
present itself in my negotiations, which would keep me over.
I had resigned almost entirely all hopes of obtaining anything
from Mr. Johnson for my clients, that should be any reason-
able proportion to their demands, until Monday, when as a
sort of forlorn hope we told him that unless he secured to us
40 cents on the dollar, we should file a bill in chancery, and
procure an injunction, staying the sale of his property under
the execution in favor of his son, till we could investigate the
validity of the son's claims. I have no doubt, myself, that
there has been some fraudulent and collusive dealings between
the father and son, but I doubt more whether \^e could be
able to elucidate it sufSciently to invalidate the judg-
ment given by the former to the latter. However, the
prospect of a long chancery suit had no charms for neighbor
Johnson, and he has concluded to secure our claim as we pro-
pose, which is better than our Troy clients expected. I drew
notes yesterday to be signed by his securities, and shall leave
for Troy this afternoon, leaving the business to be consum-
mated by Mr. Starr. I have transacted this business in a
way to give satisfaction to my clients, and to sustain the con-
fidence they saw fit to repose in me. I am sure that 1 have
not neglected any means that could sustain their interest. I
should be most happy to spend New Year's day with you.

144 THE PICTURE-TABLE.

The visit I made you last week was but a meagre affair, and

but just enough to leave me quite unsatisfied. But I must

return to Troy. My office has now been closed for ten days,

and I am anxious that it should be opened again as speedily

as possible. It is not impossible that I may be despatched

into this vicinity again before Spring. If so, you will of

course see me. I shall expect you to visit Troy this Winter ;

do. I want you to see how pleasantly we are situated. Again

a very happy New Year's to all, and God bless you, my dear

mother.

As ever, very affectionately, your son,

DeWitt C. C. '
P. S. — Tell my dear sister Jane that I shall see to her
interests immediately.

From a letter postmarked Troy, without date :
''I have a fine quantity of engravings for you. I bought
a pair of very elegant screen-handles for you in Albany. When
Mr. Lovely comes, we shall have an abundance to send you.
Caro sends some of them. I will put a 'D.' on my presenta-
tions. You will find some of the engravings worthy elegant
frames ; and you need them around your rooms. "Washing-
ton's Crossing," "Bonaparte's Entry into Paris," "The Young
Bonaparte in the Cradle," and some others, are exceedingly
fine. Then there are three very beautiful colored lithographic
engravings. "Painting," and "Sculpture," would be very
pretty for the centre of your table, and I am told they are
quite a-la-mode. I will fix them as they should be put on."
Mrs. Meech was very much engaged in getting up a

REMOVES TO BRANDON. 145

"picture-table," at this time, for her Shelburne parlor. It is
pleasant to run across this old allusion to it in her son's let-
ters, now that they are. both dead, and Caro, also. Mrs. M.
has told me what an interest she took in it, how handsome it
was, how she wrote to DeWitt about it, what a choice lot of
pictures he sent her for it, and how artistically he arranged and
numbered them all as they should be put on the table. "But,"
undoubtedly, Caro helped him in that," she said ; "she had
such an eye for any such thing, and so had he ; and Caro sent
part of the pictures." When she removed from Shelburne,
she gave it to Emeline, Mrs. Wm. Quinlan, whom she
brought up from a young girl, and who was married from her
house, and for whom she aways entertained a very kindly
regard.

Mr. Clarke appears to have practiced in his profession for
a time longer, and then to have moved on to the beautiful
farm that had been given to his wife from her father's estate,
about two miles from the the city of Troy. But, some time in
the Fall of 1837, attracted by the reports of the profits realized,
being realized, and to be realized, in the Iron Company
Works of the Conants in Brandon, he was drawn away from
his Troy farm to engage in this Iron Co.'s business. John A.
Conant, the then leading man of the .firm, at Brandon, had
married the cousin of Mr. Clarke — Caroline Ilolton, daugh-
ter by a first marriage, of Mrs. Jackson, sister to Mrs. Meech,
Clarke's mother.

Cousin Caroline Conant's family, Aunt Jackson and her
13

146 THE BRANDON JOURNALS.

family, Cousin Ellen, Cousin Jenny, Cousin John Jackson,
all belonged to Brandon. To live among whom, and to make
money with the successful Conants, was too strong an induce-
ment to be withstood. He abandons farming, and goes to
Brandon to make a trial of it, before finally committing him-
self to it, leaving his wife with her mother, in Troy.

Of this period I have a minute journal, with carefully-
prepared thermometrical tables for every day in the year. I
only regret our material for this little volume is so much, I
cannot give entire, instead of but eliminated pages.

THE BRANDON JOURNALS.

1831 AND 1838.

Brandon, Monday, Dec. 4th, 1837. Warm for the season ;
no frost in the ground ; no snow on it. Twenty-seven years
old, and as yet nothing done 1 Heaven forgive me, I have
been dawdling all my life, and in good faith, I should take that
place among men which my years at least entitle or require
me to hold. I will try, as Col. Miller said, when asked if he
could carry a British battery which was doing terrible execu-
tion among the American troops at Lundy's Lane ; and he

did it This day I have commenced a sort of probation

business in this place. If it shall prove agreeable to all par-
ties, at the end of a few weeks I shall come into the Company

as a stockholder I will not be rejected on account of

ignorance or inattention to the business I am about. I met
with cordiality from J. A. C. The other members of the

AN INSPECTOR OF CASTING. 147

Company I have not seen yet. The duty assigned to me is,
I am informed, a temporary one. It is one, at any rate, which
effectually secures me from the common lot of men, with
regard to the promised "peck ot dirt." One week will help
me to that ! The casting is done two or three times a day,
and my business is to inspect and keep an account of the
multifarious work which, at such castings come from the
flasks of some twenty moulders. The business is important
for a beginner. It is as it were the substratum of the whole.
By it, one becomes acquainted with stoves and other castings
in detail, which is the surest way to learn, in order to com-
prehend the aggregate. Wrote to Caro. Have'nt heard
from her yet — ten days since I left Troy. I wish she were
here.

Thursday, tth Uncommonly fine weather for the

season ; warm. I like the furnace-men — the moulders ; they
are in the main intelligent, active men — Yankees — with their
shrewdness and good sense ; strong in their attachments and dis-
likes ; and the one about as easil}'' secured as the other. For some
people it is more easy to secure their dislike. There is a
way to get along with them, and, in my opinion, it is well
worth the while to secure their regard and respect. Business
comes easier and easier. I begin to think something of
myself.

8th. warm and sunny A.M. : — Snow squalls, quite cold
P. M. The truth undeniably is that, even to a person of desul-

148 NOT SENTIMENTAL.

tory habits, business if attended to soon becomes a pleasure.
But it is only when closely attended to. Bad habits don't
leave of themselves ; they must be driven off, expelled and
eradicated, by good. [After a review of his first week's
work, two, close, large journal-pages on ''poor Shelley" the
poet.] But this is pretty matter for the journal of an i7^on-
monger. Let this come to light, and I am done for. Senti-
ment and stoves are not compatible, I will admit ; neither
are melting essays and melting iron. So, though I by no
means intend to admit that I could not go on in this same edi-
fying strain, yet, like some who do get into that unflattering
dilemma, I will give in my ^'coetera desunt.'' In truth, how-
ever, I believe I do not run to sentimentalities. I am some-
what too warm an admirer of the **ws comica.^^ Sentiment"
and I were born under different planetary influences ; and as
in the case of honest master Slender's attachment to Mistress
Anne Page, " there was not much love between us at the be-
ginning, and it hath pleased Heaven to diminish it on better
acquaintance." So now, as the almanacs say, "look for quite
a spell of weather."

In this quiet little village, I am really in want of incident
to eke out a daily journal, and what wonder if I sometimes
"run emptyings, "(expressive but inelegant). I don't think 1 had
better abandon the practice on this account. A man that talks
all the time, and says all he knows (as somebody has had the
impudence to say before me) must sometimes talk nonsense.
It is "human nater's heart," as Miss. Packard's sentimental
servant-maid would say ; and there is no avoiding human

INCIDENTS WON'T HAPPEN— PATRIOTS. 149

nater. Wliat, then, must be m^'- case, who am hold and firmly
bound by an implicit contract between me and myself, to "set
in a note-book" every night the Tnemorahilia of the past day,
when half the time there are no memorabilia worth the notice
of a Boswell in a week ? I can't write of matters pertaining,
to business, merely, for then my pages would soon run to "dit-
tos," (as variety is not "the spice of business), and such dit-
tos would be "cabbage-heads," in sober earnest. I can't
write of incidents, for incidents won't do me the kindness to
happen, and the Reverend Dean Swift has preoccupied the
vantage-ground of lying. I can't write news, for news ainH
news when it gets away up into Vermont ; and so the amount
of it is, I can't write nothin\ Good-night !

11th, Snow ! snow ! snow ! — moderately — 6 or t inches.
The times are all in joint, and everything seems to run on
smoothly, without jarring — except, to be sure, Canada
times. The Patriots, as they please to denominate themselves,
work slowly — very slowly — being, as they are, four-fifths of
the population of Lower Canada. They are not like our fore-
fathers of our Revolution. They possess not a tithe of their
intelligence and indomitable resolution. The truth is, the
"habitans^' are amazingly ignorant and unfit for self-govern-
ment. Where is the declaration of their rights and grievan-
ces ? I have seen nothing of it. I suspect our sympathy is
more with the words "liberty," "patriotism," etc., etc., than
with those who use them in Canada.

150 THE OLD GRENADIER.

12th. Liglit snow, pleasant, tliermometer, 9, P. M., 28*^ ,

1 am too much fatigued to write anything to-night. Very dull,
except in business, which is prosperous. I feel myself
exceedingly interested in an old man, who works about the
furnace, who was formerly a British soldier, and served under
Wellington in his Peninsular campaign ; was in Spain under
Dalrymple, when Wellington was merely Lieut. Sir Arthur
Wellesley ; was in most of the great battles in that war, which
added so many laurels to the British name ; at Torres
Vechas, Salamanca, siege of Badajos ; at Vittoria, where he
was very severely wounded, receiving a musket-ball in the
thigh, which fractured the bones, and lodged there, and
remains to this day. Li consequence of the wound, he was
obliged to leave the service, as one of his legs is shorter than
the other, the knee-joint stiff, and he unsoldiered in all
respects. He must have been a fine-looking soldier — 6 feet

2 inches before he received his wound at Vittoria, and
straight. He was a model of a grenadier, I doubt not ; and
fought under the greatest captain of the age (excepting one),
in some of the great battles of the "Peninsula ;" and, now,
alas ! he is a poor brasher of iron. He fought till, alas ! he
was totally disabled, and was then cast off, and thrown *'as a
loathsome weed away !" To what tremendous vicissitudes are
we liable in this life ! The victor at Vittoria a poor brusher
of iron in Brandon, Vt. ! — Eheu !

13th. The name of the old man (he is nearly 60, and,
but for his lameness, a very hale, hearty man) is Welch ;

A PATRIOTIC IRON-MONGER. 151

Uucle Purdy, tliey call him. I am surprised at the extent my
feelii'gs carry me when I look at him. I can hardly see him
halt by without feeling my heart rising to mj^ throat. Poor
iellow ! with him Othello's occupation's gone, sure enough,
and, instead of the "pride and pomp and circumstance of glo-
rious war," he drugs out his weary life in daily humble toil,
ioi- his daily subsistence ! Would that I was able to give thee,
Uncle Purdy, a "canty hearth where cronies meet," where
thou niight have naught to do for the remnant of thy war-
broken days, but "fight thy battles o'er again, and prepare
for that better land, where wars and rumors shall forever
cease."

14th. I am tired : — I like to feel tired now-a-days,
because I stand a chance to have attended better than usual to
my business. I have seen the Canadian Patriots' Declaration
of rights. It has the real "When-in-the-course-of-human-
events" commencement ; and really sets forth a bill of griev-
ances which might give a man cause to go out of his way a
little to seek a rebellion. I strongly incline to think that the
British Dominion in Canada is at an end ; and that the Patriots
will achieve their independence ; and so close with a remark
worthy a patriotic iron-monger : ''What a market will he
"opened for stoves! "Gude forgie me I"

December 16th. Alternately cloudy and clear — hazy, 10
P. M. ; look out for a storm, as the almanacs say. "Received
a dear long letter fi'om my own dear Caro. It is worth a week

152 TOO COLD TO WRITE — CRITICISES COLERIDGE.

of toil and fatigue to be so well rewarded Saturday night. I
have toiled and I feel an increasing attachment for business.
Wrote to my dear mother this P. M. I mean to write to her
every Saturday. God bless and long preserve her ! I owe
her a debt of love, gratitude and affection which I can never
pay.

18th. Rain A. M. and snow ; P. M., sploshy !

It is not sufficiently cold to induce me to make a fire ; and
it is not sufficiently warm to induce me to sit up to scribble in
this "variorum ;''so, in the dilemma, the journal suffers. Which
is the gainer or loser in this state of the case ? I incline to
think I am the gainer,

I save the labor of writing, and avoid the risk of
writing what, ''dyiug, I might wish to blot.'' "Swans sing
before they die ; it were no bad thing, did certain persons die
before they sing," said the amiable and innocent-hearted
Coleridge — a man of prodigious learning and ability ; .some-
what conceited ; but not the conceit of petty and superfici^d
minds, but that which may spring from the consciousness of
the possession of vast philosophical and perceptive powers.
He declared, with consummate naivete, that, if he could be
spared to the world, he could and would furnish it with a per-
fect system of moral and ethical philosophy !

Mr. Pierpoint's brother died in Rutland, yesterday, of the
prevailing typhus fever.

19th. Very windy, last night ; snow flurries all day.

THE PATRIOTS xVGAIN. 153

Received a letter from Aunt Orplia yesterday; answered it. I
am more and more convinced that habits (however in-
timately they enter into our conformation of body and
mind) are not such Gibraltars to overcome, after all. A brig-
ade of energy, led on by Brig. -Gen. Firmness, V7\\\ put to utter
confusion and flight an entire division of bad habits, headed
by Maj -Gen. Apollyon, in person— and if there is not a neat ,
allegorical figure, then I am no judge of rhetoric. And I can
well apprehend that a man's chief delight may come to be in
the active and arduous puisuit of business ; and that not by
any means solely from the propulsion of prospective pecuni-
ary profits. — Apt alliteration's artful aid," has seduced me to
spoil the sentence and almost the sense.

20th. Cloudy all day ; excellent sleighing. ,

The Patriots in Upper Canada have commenced hostili-
ties against the British Government. I have been informed
th.'ir leader, Mr. McKenzie (for whose apprehension a
reward of $4000 is offered) is a man of very limited capacity.
I do not believe it. All the agitators are able men. They
must be so. Men will sooner follow a scoundrel than a fool.
Leaders must, at least, have that mental energy and moral
courage which are essential elements of greatness of mind.
O'Connell shows consummate skill and ability in keeping Ire-
land ready for rebellion, by measures not obnoxious to the
penalties of the law. He is, unquestionably, the Prince of
Agitators. He has, too, the co-operation and assistance of
able co-adjutors Papiueau, in Lower Canada, is almost alone in

154 WRITES HIS WIFE IN BUSINESS HOURS.

the power of moral strength. His name, however, is a "tower
of strength." Brown, the commander of the insurgent forces,
I suspect, is nothing above a shrewd, cunning Yankee ;
with some skill, perhaps, to execute, but no (or small) ability
to plan or combine. McKenzie, in the upper Province, has
more moral and mental force ; and, verily, he needs more. IJis
followers need to be convinced — Papineau's merely to be com-
manded.

21st. Cloudy, A. M.; clear and sunny, P. M.

"Pleasure that comes unlooked-for, is thrice-welcome,'^
says Mr. Rogers, in his beautiful poem, "Italy " It is so,
indeed. I received, most unexpectedly, an excellent letter,
this evening, after I returned to the counting-room, from one
I love. Not getting it as usual on going to tea, I looked for
nothing till to-morrow evening ; and, in consequence, the
pleasure was thrice-welcome. I sat down and answered the
letter without delay — although I thereby employed time that
was due in the discharge of business duties. But we are all
selfish, more or less, and the selnshness that springs from the
affections likes not to be controlled, and delights in having
sacrifices made on its altar.

What a motley agglomeration of topics, does and must
a diary like this present! It is literall}'^ a transcript of first
thoughts, and, consequently, the main chances are, that one
will say a great many absurd things, and utter a deal of false
philosophy (if he dabbles at all in the latter commodity), in
the course of an astonishingly short time.

THE HAPPIEST DUTY. 155

22nd. This day tlie furnace was "blown out," etc., the
fire was extinguished, the water-gate shut, the blast termina-
ted. The blast has lasted day and night, upward of five
months ; and its stopping has given some thirty men a holi-
day. I am very fatigued.

23rd. Occupied laboriously all day, settling with the fur-
nace men ; this "toil and trouble" is a damper on the reflec-
tive faculties. I feel not the slightest disposition to think,
or to write, to-night. "The iron tongue of midnight hath
toll'd twelve," and it is high time that laborers were in bed.
Blessings on the man that invented sleep. "It covers one all
over like a cloke," said the sapient and renowned Sancho Panza.
The "invention" is enjoyed most generally without a spirit of
thankfulness to the inventor. Every man seems to sleep, as
the Kentuckian fought, "on his own hook."

24th. Finished a letter to C .. It is the happiest duty
I have to perform. When will the "re-union" supercede the
necessity of its discharge ?

December 25th. Mild and clear ; hazy ; prepare for rain.

I wish you a Merry Christmas ! The holidays have com-
menced. They are honored by no kind of observance ; "pass

by as the idle wind which I regard not." Letter from

General Orville Clarke. He was in Burlington on his way to

Canada, where he has made some large purchases Letter

from my friend. Councillor Gould

156 REFRESHING DAILIES — THE MOTHER'S LETTER.

27th. The pot-furnace began to make iron to-day. Burnt
my cap and the skirt of my coat — alpha and omega. "Misfor-
tunes do never come single, His plain." Burnt cap-a-pie.

28th. Nothing in the mail this evening. The Troy
morning mail of the 25th reached this place this morning.
The distance is about 70 miles. It is the only paper I have
have received this v^eek. These daily papers are ver^y refresh-
ing, very.

29th. A letter from my dear mother this morning ; the
first from her since I have been here. It lightened my cares
all day.

30th. No letters ; wrote to my mother and Mrs. Gard-
ner. "If the human mind be left to lie waste it will, like
any other wilderness, produce innumerable weeds. If the
desires and affections of our nature are not cultivated for use-
ful and benevolent purposes, they will produce fruits as mon-
strous as unpalatable. ''Home, or, the Iron Rule ; by Miss or
Mrs. Stickney — an excellent book.

31st. Not well to-day ; did not go to church ;
intend to read one additional chapter, at least, in the
Bible, in consequence, [four close pages ; natural last-day
of-the-year reflections — good ; must omit,] Kind letter from
my dearest, this evening, and finished a long one in reply.
Heaven bless and protect her. She is everything that may

AUNT ORPHxV'S LETTER. 157

become a woman. Would I were with her ! Good night to
183T.

January 1st., 1838 : — Cloudy — misty — little snow.

Received a letter from my dear Aunt Orpha [his father's
sister — mother to Mrs. Ezra Meech, Mrs. Wm. H. Barker]
As a New-Years' gift, I could not have received a more accept-,
able one from her ; inasmuch as it assures me of her contin-
ued affection and regard. Not that this was a matter about
which 1 had any doubt ; but this matter of being dear to our
friends, is one wherein we feel a sort of vanity which leads us
to delight in being repeatedly assured of it. It administers a
''holy joy" to be assured there are those in the world blind to
our faults and wide-awake to our merits ; who, on the former,
lets the tear which pities human weakness fall, and oa the
latter, bestows the exaggerating smile of partial love. How
beautiful is affection, that looks not to worldly gain and only
desires the happiness and well-being of its object !

[DeWitt was always a great favorite with his Aunt
Orpha, said his mother.]

Jan. 2d. Another New Year's day is past ! I am really
sorry so little notice is taken of that holiday in Vermont. I
think the practice of calling on one's friends New Year's day
and reciprocating the compliments of the year, an exceed-
ingly good and wholesome one. It is the offspring of our
affections, which are not prodigal ot their children in this
14

158 MASSACRE BY THE ROYALISTS.

cold world of ours. I should lament to see tbe practice grow-
ing into desuetude where it now prevails. Here, I presume,
it was never a custom. How small a portion of time the mass
of mankind bestow on the cultivation of their social affec-
tions, on the cultivation of the spirit of brotherly love I What
sort of enjoyment selfish people — purely selfish — can take in
this miserable world, I cannot comprehend.

8d. Darwin came in this morning, from Middlebury, on
his way to Finneyville [Aunt Orpha's son, his cousin]. I think
I love my friends very dearly; and I thank God, who has
given me a heart to take more delight in the indulgence of the
affections than in any other concern whatever.

4th. Darwin went this morning. An atrocious outrage
committed on American citizens near Buffalo, by a party of
Royalists ; steamboat attacked in the night ; crew and pas-
sengers mostly butchered ; boat set on fire and sent over the
falls of Niagara. These are the rumors which reached here
this evening. If but a part is true, the fate of the British
domain is settled in America, just as sure, in my opinion, as
there is a sun above us. The sympathy in favor of the Patriot
cause is spreading. Such an outrage as this reported one
near Buffalo will benefit the Canadian "Fils de la Liberie/'
incalculably ; if not positively, by increasing our sympathy
for them : yet negatively, by embittering our hatred and
indignation towards their oppressors. The efiect will be
the same.

HOMESICK. 159

Januaiy 5th. It has been April for the last two or three
days ; to-day has taken a summerset into the middle of May.
Until noon, the weather was as mild and pleasant as a May
morning. We had no occasion for fires till towards night,
after it had rained some time. We sat all the fore part of the
day with doors open and windows raised ; and this, for the
5th of January in the 44th degree of north latitude, is some-,
thing uncommon, to say the least of it.

Nothing in the mail ! These daily papers are such a com-
fort ! I have received five during the last fifteen days ; and
now and then get a paper, three or four days after its date.
If I knew of any respectable newspaper printed once a fort-
night, in Florida, I believe I would subscribe for it. Then I
should not be disappointed if I never got a paper ; now, I am
three times a week, at least. Nearly a week since I heard
from my own heart's home. "Watched water never boils."

January 6th. No letters. I am a little homesick. Mr.
Green, from Troy, called to see me this evening. I was very
glad ; I had a long chut anent Troy and Trojans. Quite gay
there this Winter. I wish I had got a letter from the pleasant
city this morning. I think I should feel less homesick if I had.
It will be a week to-morrow since I received a letter from my

dearest Received from 1. J. Merritt, the Rev. Mr. Potter's

lecture on ''Tastes and Habits," delivered before the Young
Menis Association of Troy. 1 look for a feast of reason in
the perusal. 1 have been too busy to-day even to glance at .
it ; and am too much fatigued to-night to enjoy anything but

160 DEATH OF A FRIEND.

a comforishle substratum of feathers ] so ban soir. ''Do I not
love thee, Emma ?" said the noble Swiss to his wife." Wrote
to my dear mother.

7th. No letter ! As I am disappointed, I will go to
bed.

9th. Pleasant weather. A lonj^ letter from dear Garo.
She C(>mmnnicatHS the intelligence of the deith of my friend
Judge Randolph, of Mississippi. Poor fellow ! It is but
seven years since I stood by his side as one of his grooms-
men in St. Paul's, Troy, while Dr. Butler married tiim to Miss
Vail ; and since that time his life has been happy and pros-
perous. He was an excellent-hearted man, generous to a
fault, and abounding in true Southern spirit and pride, impa-
tient of control, but led and persuaded as easily as a child.
He has gone suddenly, in the prime and flower of manhood, to
''the undiscovered country ;" while his star was in the ascend-
ant it has suddenly shot down below the horizon.

"Green be the turf above thee,

Friend of my better days !
None knew thee but to love thee,

None named thee but to praise."

11th. Bound to the ledger ! Perplexing to the brain
and fatiguing to the body ; more so to me than a much more
active out-door employment. However, "not the good of
Geesar, but the welfare of Rome."

REVIVAL — FIRE COMPANY — PATRIOTS. 161

12th. I have done my business, so far as business is con-
cerned. I have tried, at any rate. Success, they may say
what they will, cannot be commanded, though we can, by
our conduct, render defeat no reproach, and that is next to
success in value.

14th. A letter from my dear mother ; answered it. She
writes there is a revival in progress in Shelburne, and Ezra
and Cynthia and Cousin Sophia are awakened I May God
accomplish the good work begun ! I confess myself one of those
who question the utility of what are denominated revivals ;
yet may we not hope that much good may spring from this ?

18th. Mild as May ; sunshine; wind West.
Nothing to say. Mind running to waste, I am fearful.
Hope I shall be able to leave for Troy before a great while.

*4

Would I had got another letter this evening. Murray's trial.

10th. Rain and hail till noon; P. M., nearly three
inches of snow ; clear,. 9, P. M.

Commenced a project for organizing an efficient fire com-
pany here. I have met with good success ; twenty-five
or thirty very efiective men can easily be organized ; and then
let fires look out, or they will be put out.

21st. Sunshine and clouds; signs of snow.
News that the Patriot forces on Navy Island have dis-
persed ! The days of chivalry have gone, indeed !

162 A MEMBER OP THE BRANDON IRON CO.

Made out a table of ther mo metrical observations for week
ending, for The Telegraph, last night ; and now to bed. Fin-
ished the book of Genesis last night.

22d. No news from Troy. Went to Mr. Hyatt's to partake
of an oyster supper ; saw several new faces ; Mrs. Ingraham ;
Mrs Simpson and Mrs. John Conant, the elder ; all quite
elderly ladies ; spent the evening very pleasantly. Would
that she, the idol of my heart, had been there !

23d. Cousin Caroline had a little tea-party, this evening,
composed mostly of the persons I met last evening. No let-
ter from my dear wife. I expected it pretty confidently.
"Hope deferred V I do not permit it to be of that description
that *'maketh the heart sick.^' There is no occasion for it.

25th. A good letter from Troy. Thanks !

2'Ith. Concluded my arrangements with the Messrs.
Conants for the purchase of an interest in the Brandon Iron
Co. 1 am to have one hundred shares, which, at its nominal
value of $100 per share, makes my interest $10,000. $45 on
each share, or 45 per centum of the whole is paid in.

30th. Clear, sharp weather. Quite a sore throat, to-
night ; made an application of a tincture of lobelia and vine-
gar. Shade of Thompson I — if this father of Thompsonism is
defunct, and Lord deliver us if he is incarnate ! My neck

TIIOMSONIAN EXPERIENCE— VERY HOMESICK. 1G3

burns as if I had bathed it in a ladle of melted iron. Patients
must be inured to endure an uncommonly high temperature
who are so lucky as to survive the Thompsonian ''course.''
To them Topliet must be divested of half its terrors, so far as
physical suffering is concerned. Now for ginger-tea, another
charming little febrifudge, and then to bed !

31st. A letter from my own "heart's home !" She is in
Albany again. Did not go to the counting-room this evening.
My sore-throat malady was proof against the applications last
night, though it is more than I can say for my skin ; that was
beautifully excoriated. Mais courage mcs braves ! The paper
which cime to-night informed me of the death of Mr. Kidder
of the Troy House ; another sacrifice on the unhallowed altar
of intemperance. How doubly does the drunkard perisl} !

Feb. 1st. A letter from my friend, "the Councillor. '^
Wrote to my own dear wife. When shall I see her ? I am
gettiug very homesick. ''Le bon temps viendra/' however.

2d. Cousin Ann Dana, as we learn by a letter to-night, is
about to marry again. "A triumph of Hope over Experience,"
as that old cynic, Dr Johnson, pronounced second marriages.
Well, may hope's bright coloring be able to abide the power-
ful test of experience, in her case. But I doubt. Nous verronSj
the gentleman is a German [Schaffer], a bachelor of mature
age, and she is a widow — lajeune veuve — with a "tocher'^ —
suspicious; as Mr.Pry would say, "mysterious circumstances."

164 OVERTURNED — VISITS TROY.

5th. Cousin Sophia arrived this morning in the stige
about an hour before Mr. and Mrs. Conant left for Boston ; as
Cousin Sophia had not announced her coming, Cousin Caro-
line did not feel obliged to remain at home. Question : Is it
best to announce or not announce "to be or not to be," as Will
Shakspeare says ? Cousin John Jackson arrived this evening
in the stage, and sits by me at this present writing. He is to
be my "compagnon de nuit.'' So good-bye to my diary.

7th. Went over to Sudbury, about 9 P. M., to exer-
cise a kind of fatherly care over a couple of Misses
cousins, Sophia and Ellen, who went this afternoon to attend
a ball. [Mrs. Sophia L. Freeman, of Chicago, and Mrs. Ellen
H. Palmer, of Boston.] Miss Ellen is about fourteen, aiid
rather too young to attend a Yankee ball, which usually con-
tinues from the middle of the afternoon till sunrise the suc-
ceeding morning. Aunt Jackson seemed anxious that I should
go. We reached home again quite early, after having exper-
ienced a harmless ovitum of the vehicle in which we rode.

20th. There was an uncommonly brilliant and beautiful
exhibition of the aurora horealis this morning. W^rote Ira J.
Merritt, of Troy.

25th. Wrote to my dear mother. To-morrow I leave
here for Troy, Providence permitting.

Brandon, April 3d. Blustering, cold, stormy, snow.

PURCHASES A HOME. 165

Arrived here about 6 P. M. from Troy by way of Fin-
neyville, after an absence of five weeks and one day. I have
had a very pleasant visit home ; I have seen my dearest and
best ; made two hearts happy ; and so 1 return to my busi-
ness cheerlully.

6th. One of the workmen at the ore-beds (Barney
Carr) w.is terribly hurt this morning by the falling of the
earth upon him. [Died the 8th.]

14th. Adam Freeman arrived this evening. He goes
into the store as head of that department of the Brandon
Iron Company, with the intention of becoming a stockholder.
Wrote to my dearest mother.

*

18th. Concluded a bargain with Mr, Dickerman for the
purchase of his house and lot, for the sum of $856.50.

19th. Engaged Mr. Walton to paint my house ; wrote
to my dearest wife. Asahel Finney, my cousin, arrived. He
comes to attend the "Vermont Literarv and Scientific Institu-
tion !" Phoebus, what a name !

April 26th. Wrote a letter yesterday, in behalf and m
nomine of Father Meech, to Henry Clay, the "heir pre-
sumptive" to the throne of the "Roman." Ileigho ! I wish
She were here.

166 IRON CO. STOCK — PREPARING HIS HOME.

2Tth. Father Meech left for home again. Settled
entirely my business affairs with Messrs. Conant. I have
scrip of seventy shares of the capital stock of the company.

«

28th. Procured some trees and set out in front of my

lot I am exceedingly gratified by the near approach of

the time when I shall be settled in a home of my own.

There is magic in the name of home ; thousands of household
virtues and comforts circle round it, and invest it with a
charm and a holy spell [a close, large page and a third in pane-
gyric of a home].

30th. Wrote to my good little friend. Cannon.
Freeman received a letter from Shelbarne ! What's in the
wind? I am as busy '"'as a hen with one chicken,'' preparing
my house for the reception of its mistress. Would she were
here to assist me ! I fear her garden will not astonish her. I
have no fancy for a garden, though my mother has a passion
for such pursuits. I have been captivated by a Gardner, but
am unable to love a garden enough to work in it or about it.
What a vile pun ! I had better gone to bed ten minutes ago.
Oh, my ! We have had an exhibition of the aurora borealis for
two evenings — quite respectable, for Vermont.

May 5th. Wrote to my dear mother. Put some boxes
around my trees. I am afraid the wind will tumble them
down, trees and all.

A WHITE DAY. 1G7

9th. Put twenty-two scions into my apple trees.

16th. Sixth anniversary of my wedding-day. Would
that my own dear wife was with me to-day ! "Is she not the
light of my eyes ?''

19th. Furnace is put i"n blast for smelting, this morning.
Blast put on about noon. Work thickens.

24th. A white day! My dear wife arrived from Troy,
well and happy.

31st. A letter from Xxxx X. Xxxx, begging for some-
thing to help him to his daily bread. He is in complete des-
titution. "How are the mighty fallen'' to a petty borrower!
PU try to send him

Sunday, 3d. Heard, at Mr. Thomas's church, a Methodist
sermon from a Methodist parson, by whom I was instructed
that "mortification" is one of the "ingredients" of 'repent-
ance ;'*' i. e. a man must feel mortified that he has so con-
ducted himself as to lose his immortal soul. It reminds me of
the boy who, when asked how he felt when his mother died,
replied, that he never felt so ashamed in all his life.

4th. My dear wifey left for Shelburne, to be absent a few
days. God grant her a safe and happy return. Oar commu-
nity is considerably excited by the drowning of a young Mr.

168 SUMMER — VISITORS - BIRTHDAY.

Smith in the creek, while bathing, about a mile from the vil-
lage. His body was not recovered till some two or three
hours after he sunk. I went to the bottom twice. His poor
father was on the raft from which I dove, and perfectly com-
posed till the remains of his son were brought to the surface,
when his fortitude foi'sook him.

Sept. 18th. Occurred an annular eclipse of the sun. The
sky was so covered with clouds, we, in this vicinity, got no
satisfactory view of the splendid phenomenon. It was not,
strictly speaking, an annular eclipse, as the sun did not dis-
play a luminous ring around the entire circumference, but,
rather, a crescent. We have had an uncommonly long and
pleasant Summer. That mysterious personage, "the oldest
inhabitant" has never seen the fellow of it. Mother Gardner
and my own dear mother, sister Jane, Mrs. Ross and children,
and Mrs. Gould, from Essex County, Cousin Sophia, and oth-
ers, have made us visits, and made time pass very pleasantly,
this charming Summer. We have, also, spent a* couple of
weeks with my dear mother at Shelburne, with much satisfac-
tion, where my cousins, Caro Conant, and John Jackson and
Mr. Freeman are now.

Sept. 21th. My birthday; my Aunt, Mrs Finney, arrived
here on her way to Shelburne. Cousin John G., and Caro
and Freeman, took tea with us.

29th. Went with Mr. Ormsbee to Blake & Hammond's
furnace.

LAMENTS THE PRESENT LITERATURE. l(jl)

30th. Attended Mr. Thomas's church ; Mrs. Wifey
addicted to stories and rhymes.

October 1st. No time to write. My diary is dwindling

down. I am sorry for it, and can I help it ? It is the

age of superficies. A man commences author before out of
swaddling-clothes. The time has been, when there was not a
tithe of the high-sounding pretension of the present day,
when the vantage-ground of literature was occupied by those
who could maintain it ; by men whose minds were clothed
with the choicest panoply of Minerva's armor ; by men whose
gaze had become accustomed to "the bright countenance of
truth, which gave them a serenity and depth and dignity of
intellectual expression before which the puny pigmies who
would intrude upon the domain of right reason, "fled as fr^m
the sword of the avenger '' Mais tout cela est change. Would it

were otherwise We are fallen on evil times. There are

a few giants, it is true ; the rest send out the merest "paper
bullets of the brain,'' which hit not the mark at which they
are aimed, or, if they do, hurtless break against its surface.
"The time has been, that when the wits were gone the man
would die, and there was an end ; but now they rise again,
with twenty mortal murders on their heads."

October 9th. The reading society met at our house ;
adjourned about 10 P. M., since which time till this,
two o'clock A. M., 1 have been engaged on a railroad bill, to
15

170 READING IZAAK WALTON.

be sent to-morrow (this) morning, for the approbation of the
Legislature. Thinking sleep a thing not to be despised, after
all, I bid myself good night, and go to join the innumerable
devotees of the sleepy old Somnus. "Sleep is matter," some
minute philosopher has contended. I must remark that I am
not just now prepared to contend that it is wimaterial. Indeed,
1 am clearly of opinion that no man would dispute its mater-
iality, who should deprive himself of it for a couple of nights

and days.

"Hey, diddle! diddle!
The cat's in the fiddle,"
Wliere she maketh a deal of a clatter ;
So I'll go to bed,
With a very clear head.
Having argufied sleep to be matter."

Sunday, 21st. A. M., attended Mr. Thomas's church.
P. M., read quaint, excellent, philosophical, pious old Izaak
Walton, the prince of anglers. What a world of quiet
thought and contemplative musing is scattered through that
little volume ! I mean never to go a-fishing without it. How
delightfully would his benevolent mind infuse itself through
mine, some warm day in June, beneath the grateful shade of
some noble tree in some rich meadow, while some leaping
stream should tumble away from beneath my feet. Commend me
to Izaak Walton ! me, one of his followers in the piscatorial art.
He was the most philosophic of anglers, and the most angling
of philosophers.

LEFT ALONE AGAIN. 171

Sunday, Oct. 28th. Snow on the mountains ; attended
Mr. Thomas's church in the A. M., and Mr. Curtis's in the P.
M. In the latter, heard a sermon by an old schoolmate, Rev.
James Meacham, and a very good sermon, too. Cousin Asahel
Finney has come to board with us.

29th. Aunt Orpha arrived in the stage from Shelburne,
and my dearest wife left for Troy. 1 have two good aunts in
my house ; Aunt Jackson and Aunt Finney ; yet I leel the
"aching void'' she has left, my little wifey. I am lonely and
disspirited, and wish her back. It is the first time she has
left me since we went to house-keeping ; and I could not
imagine that she should take away with her everything which
makes my home happy, and "a home." God grant her a safe
and pleasant journey, and visit to her mother and friends, and
a happy restoration to me, *'her own heart's home !" I am
sorry I consented to let her go ; she will have a tedious cold ride
all night, going and returning. Sheisadear good wifey ! Wrote
to Darwin ; received a newspaper from John Jackson. We know
not how happy our home is, till the elements which composed
it are dissolved. "A wiser and a sadder man, I'll rise to-mor-
row morn," as the poor "wedding guest" did in the "Ancient
Mariner." These little trials ought to be useful to us, in teach-
ing us our dependencies and our weaknesses. I envy no man
who professes to be wholly "independent." There is a
delight in sharing our cares and our pleasures with a loved
one at which the stoic may smile and the cynic sneer, but which
is born of Heaven. The man without sympathy is the altar

172 DISLIKES KEEPING HOUSE ALONE.

without the fire ; the divine form ani proportions of our
nature but marble, the work of Prometheus inanimate

30th. This keeping- house without my dear wife is con-
siderably dull and unsatisfying. I do not get reconciled to it.
The "primum mobile^' of comfort and enjoyment, is wanting;
and though under the administration of my excellent aunts,
my household affairs move smoothly on, there is yet a great
deal wanting to make home, home. I feel somehow as if I
were a boarder, instead of "lord of all I survey." The domes-
tic virtues may be successfully practised ; for aught that I can
see, well enough as things are, but the domestic affections are
bereft of their aim and object, so that the harmony between
the virtues and the affections, which is so important to a well-
adjusted system of home-enjoyment, is disturbed. I am very
well situated for a bachelor, and very ill for a married man ;
so comforting myself that I am as comfortable as I have any
claim to be in my present circumstances, I will go to bed.

Saturday, Nov. 3rd. Another week is numbered with our
yesterdays. My dear wife has been absent almost a week,
and in little longer than another, she will. Providence permit-
ting, be with me again. I hope she is enjoying herself among
her friends, ''to the top of her bent." If I did not believe
she is, I am sure I should be more impatient of her absence ;
and, though I should not, like Portia, "swallow fire," yet I
should grow restive and unhappy, "splenetic and rash I"
"Mais le bons temps viendra.^^

NEIGHBORS TAKING CHEESE WITH HIM. 173

Sunday, 4th. Attended Mr. Thomas's church, A. M.
Wrote to my dear Caro. Cousin Ellen, Aurora, Jenny and
Asahel surround the table, busy as bees, doing nothing.

Nov. Tth. I have made up my mind that I have the pleas-
ant^st home in the wide world, and if my dear C. were here,
just now, I should be perfectly cojitent. Everything is so
very comfortable about my little cottage of a house, and I am
so blessed in a dear, good wile, that I were a grumbler indeed,
if I did not leel this.

8th. Rain hard all day. Mr. and Mrs. Farrington and
Mrs. Prentiss took cheese with us, and spent the evening, and
the piano, dumb and musicless, made one sad. If she who
knows so well how to waken its tones were here, how much
more pleasant it would have been ! Is she thinking of her
deserted home to-night ? God bless her !

lOth. Half a dozen more newspapers from divers
friends in Troy, containing the glorious results of the election
in New York, the 5th, 6th and Ith insts. I trust in heaven
the news may be fully confirmed !

Sunday, 11th. Did not attend church — headache. Wrote
to sister Jane. I broke a wish-bone with little Jenny this
evening, to learn how "the fates" had ordered about my seeing
my dear wife on Tuesday. My wish was denied, and I am really
annoyed about it. "Thy fear is father, Harry, to the

174 A DOUBLE WHITE DAY.

thought." I mean to write a chapter on omens, one of
these days. We are influenced by them more tlian we are
willing to admit, even to ourselves. If Caro does not come
on Tuesday , I shall lay it to the ivish-bone — the /bw;Z thing, as
it is I

12th. Letters from friend George Gould, Tuttle, Bel-
cher and Burton, Troy. A brother of Mr. Gould (John W.G.)
died at sea, fifteen dpys out from Rio de Janero, on the 1st
ultimo. I was quite well acquainted with him. He was an
excellent young man, of good talents and considerable repu-
tation as a writer, and the author of several very spirited and
graphic stories and sketches.

13th. A very acceptable and dear letter from my own.
I am a good deal disappointed that she did not come, this morn-
ing, though I have been cheating myself by thinking that I
did not expect her. Society meeting at Mrs. Parker's — dull
enough ; good coffee, however.

14th. My dear little wife arrived at 11 o'clock. Received
a letter from my dear mother. A double white day !

22d. My poor journal draws to a point — "point-no-point."
I have an object in condensing just now. On the fourth of
December it will be just one year since my first entry was
made, and I am holding on to bring the ends together, and to
have my next book commence Dec 4th.

1839—1841. ' 175

2Hh. Asabel left for home. Attended the society
meeting at Dea. Button's. My friend, Tom Vail married a few
days since and has gone to Europe in the Great Western.

4th. A letter from my dear mother ; also from Aunt
Orpha, and mother Gardner. Attended the society at Mr.
Kingsley's. Transferred to a new book. "A long good
night to Marmion."

BOOK SEC0ND.-1839-1841.

Jan. 2d, 1839. I was naughty and cross to-day ; felt bet-
ter after" dinner when the wrinkles were stretched out. Dined
at J. A. Conant's with some friends. A very nice dinner, and
neatly 'served. Dinner! dinner! 0, thou restorer of peace
and tranquillity ! How it smooths the asperity of temper !
(Entry by Mrs. C. in behalf of her naughty husband.)

14th, Brandon Library Society organized. Selected
one of the "Prudentiol Committee." Twenty-three or four
peisons subscribed the constitution. ''Tall oaks from little
acorns grow."

ITth. Attended a donation party at 'Elder Thomas's

18th March. My pretending to keep a journal is about
as much a farce as ''keeping the journaV^ has been made by
the sapient Senate of the United States.

176 EARLY SPRING — WIFE GONE AGAIN.

28th. Sent Izaak Walton to Friend Cannon, and the
14th vol. Shakspere to Mr. Gates, Troy. Completed the sale
of the Iron Co.'s boat Neshobe,

Apr 3d. Lilac-buds almost bursting out.

7th. My poppergrasR, sown in hot-bed day-before-yester-
day, begins to prick ground. This is rapid vegetation.

May 1st. Set out my trees — maples and mountain ash
— very much to the improvement of my demesne. Had a few
radishes, product of my hot-bed, for tea, just 26 days from the
time the seed was put in the ground !

May 2d. Planted corn, peas, etc. Set out firs.

1839. 11th May. Iron Co. had a meeting (for 6th March,
last), and made dividend; elected oflBcers, etc. A. M. Free-
man becomes one of us. I was elected clerk again.

13th. My dear wife left for Troy, this P. M. ^'Gude
keep me !'' I am so fully bereft ! To be gone a fortnight I
Planted the large elm at the N. E. corner of my "front.''

14th, A rainy, disagreeable day I My dear wife riding
in an uncomfortable coach ; at home, blue times I

16th. Heard, this afternoon, that the stage, in which my
dearest wife and Freeman were, was overturned on Oak Hill,

STAGE OVERTURNED— MAN KILLED. 17 7

and one of the passengers, Mr. Justin Kellogg, of Troy,
almost instintly killed. The other passengers, through the
mercy of a kind Providence, escaped entirely unhurt. My
poor wife must have been terribly shocked. Letter from
Freeman, this evening. He says : ^'Caro and I are unhurt.''
Thank God ! "There is a Divinity that shapes our ends, rough
hew them as we will."

24th. Wrote to my good friend, the Quaker. (L J. M.)
It is the "noon of night," and I must to bed. Four
hours will bring the gray dawn — the time when "... .jocund
Day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain's top ;" and we have
as beautiful a mountain-top in this ilk, for the early -rising
gentleman to stand tip-toe on, as a man could desire.

Sunday, 26th. Went to the "Upper Furnace," to attend
Episcopal service. Rev. Dr. Mason preached. I should have
enjoyed the ride and beautiful day much better, had my dear
wife been with me. She attends church to-day, I presume, in
Troy, and we were making the responses in the beautiful ser-
vice something together, I doubt not, though so far apart.
On Tuesday or Wednesday, I trust, I shall welcome her
home again. Everything is so pleasant about our little home
that I endure her absence but so-so-ish.

29th. Wednesday, quarter-past noon, when I had aban-
doned the idea of having my dear wifey for this day ; had
given myself several airs of a grieved man, driving off ennui

^

178 HAPPY ARRIVAL — HIS MOTHER'S BOQUET.

by arranging a part of my library, Aunt Jackson ran into the
room exclaiming : "they've come ! they've come !" In half a
moment more I had m}^ darling little wifey home again, safe
and sound.

"Pleasure that comes unlooked-for is thrice-welcome." So
sang Sam Rogers, and so say I.

30th. Sister Jane and her husband made us a short visit
from Middlebury. They dined and took tea, when they
returned to M.

Monday, June 3d. Freeman returned from Shelburne,
bringing a very nice boquet from my dear mother's beautilul
garden. He is to be married the 20th inst.

4th. Tuesday. June training in Vermont. Went a-fish-
ing with Mr. Briggs, et at, and"killed" about a coupleof hun-
dred trout.

June 21. Cloudy day. Rain, last night; raining hard
at 10:30 o'clock, P. M. Wind, N. N. W.

Arrived this evening from Shelburne, whither we went on
Tuesday last, to be present at the marriage of my cousin,
Miss Hodges, to my special friend, A. M. Freeman. They
were married, yesterday evening, by the Rev. Mr. Prindle,
and we all returned this evening.

25th. Father Meech arrived, on his way to the Whig
State Convention, at Woodstock.

AT WOODSTOCK AND RUTLAND CONVENTIONS. 179

26th. Father M., J.A.C., E.N.Briggs, Esq., T.D. Ham-
mond, and myself, left for Woodstock. We travelled for
40 miles, through an exceedingly picturesque and beautiful
country : arrived about 0, P.M. John A. Couant and myself
called for a short time at Dr. Power's — amiable and agreeable
people. Thursday, the convention met — a very large and
respectable one it was, comprising some 800 or 1,000 dele,
gates. I was appointed one of the secretaries.

28th. Left Woodstock this morning, and rode 18 miles,
to Sherburne, to breakfast, in constant company with a "right-
down old Connecticut drizzle-drozzle." This P. M., my dear
wife received a lettter from her mother, informing her of the
death of good old "Mammy Nan," Caro's old nurse and faith-
ful attendant. Father Meech and Warner left in the stage, for
Middlebury.

July 2d. Applied to, to make an address on the 4th.
Declined.

8th. Went to Goshen pond, trouting. Caught one.

Friday, 12th July. Attended the Whig County Conven-
tion, at Rutland. Was secretary, and was appointed one of
the County Committee (of three members), for the ensuing
year. A very large convention ; the court-house filled.

16th. Mother Gardner arrived, about 10 o'clock, P. M.
Wifey and I had got about ready to go to the Upper Fur-

180 SEES HENRY CLAY AT BURLINGTON.

nace (Mr. Blake's) to attend Episcopal service by the Right
Rev. Bishop Ilopkins. We went, and heard a very beautiful
discourse. The Bishop administered the rite of confirmation
to five persons.

20th. Went to Chittenden with Mr. Briggs, on a trout-
ing excursion. We "bagged" some two hundred.

24th July. Freeman and Cousin Sophia arrived, after an
absence of four weeks. Glad to see them. Received a bun-
dle from an unknown hand, containing a nice grass-cloth coat
for warm weather. Transplanted my celery. Sowed aspar-
agus.

25th. Letter from Mr. Gates, Troy, with list of books
for Brandon Library Association.

Thursday, August 8th. Returned this evening from Bur-
lington, where I had the pleasure of seeing Henry Clay. His
reception by the inhabitants of Burlington and its vicinity
was enthusiastic, and was a cordial welcome to the Green
Mountain State. He arrived in Burlington, on Tuesday even-
ing, and was introduced by Mr. Adams [Hon. Chas.] to the
large assembly, whom he briefly and pertinently addressed
from the portico of Mr. Howard's hotel. On Wednesday, he
attended the college commencement exercises ; dined with
the corporation, and attended a crowded levee at Mr. Hick-
ok's ; leaving in the evening at ten o'clock, for Ticonderoga.

CANDIDATE FOR REPRESENTATIVE. 181

19th. Took tea at Aunt Jackson's ; listened to a concert
of the Woodstock Band in the evening ; received a line (wiley
and I) from Sister Jane, inviting us to visit her in Middlebury
to-morrow ; put the furnace in blast at five o'clock this A. M.

21st. Very hot; "v^eathercock nested east" N. E. Went
"a-gipsying" to Spring pond, where we pic-nicked our dinner.
There were twenty-two of us.

24th. Mr. Secretary Forsyth passed through our village
from the North. I.g<jt a glimpse of the "great man." Mr.
Palmer, of Pittsford, delivered a very excellent and philoso-
phical lecture on the defects and their remedies, of our com-
mon schotJs, at the Congregational church. The meeting
appointed a committee to investigate and take steps to
improve (etc.) Messrs. Briggs, Meacham, Ilyatt, Murray,
Warren and myself, committee.

26th. My dear wife had a tea-party. Citizens met to
nominate a candidate for representative in the assembly. I
had the highest number of the votes, but lacking a few bal-
lots of a majority ; no choice ; to meet again.

29th. Another caucus ; no choice. I was ahead when
we adjourned.

Tuesday, September 3d. Warm, beautiful day. Tea-
party at Deacon Button's. Election day in our town, where
16

18S MADE A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.

we have a clear Whig majority of 250, a thorough going Loco-
foco elected by 28 majority, in consequence of local divisions.
The Whigs had three candidates.

9th. Had a spat with J. A. C. Wonder which came off
'^second hest?^^

13th. Attended a lecture on phrenology; "bah ! bother !''
as Corporal Bunting says.

10th. Attended the anniversary meeting of the State
Baptist Education Society, and heard an exceedingly able
address on ministerial education, by Rev. Mr. Hotchkiss ;
spent the evening at J. A. C.'s. Mrs. Clark-e wrote to Cousin
Jane Gardner.

16th. Appointed Justice of the Peace. Esq. Clarke
with a vengeance ! I will be a terror to evil-doers. Wont I !

23rd. Letter from Mr. Tater ; "Phoebus ! what a name !"
(From Troy.)

December 1st. Assisted Mr. J. A. C. to celebrate in a
quiet way the anniversary of his 39th birthday.

March 22nd, 1840. More than three months to bring up,
Christmas dinner with my dear old grandma at Shrewsbury,
and divers uncles, aunts and cousins

ELEVATED TO THE EDITORIAL CHAIR. 183

26th. Received a letter apprising me that my domi-
cile had been invaded in my absence, by my good friend, L.
G. B. Cannon of Troy ; reached Brandon same evening, when
I had the great satisfaction of finding Cannon comfortably at
home in my cottage. He remained till Monday, the 30th,
making me a most agreeable and delightful visit, when he
left lor the North on Tuesday, 31st Same day, Freeman and
Sophia, and Mrs, C, left for Shelburne ; January 1st.,
attended Whig convention at Burlington ; met Cannon again ;
brought him back with us to Judge Meech's to a late dinner.

February 4th. I am returned to Brandon, safe and sound,
and here have been ever since ; quiet as a growing pumpkin.
Freeman left us on Monday, for New York, where he
goes to take his brother's premises in a store ; sorry to have
him remove from Brandon.

Elected February 4th, President of Brandon Literary
Association ; and somewhere about the 1st inst., promoted to
the prodigious elevation of the editorial chair of the Rutland
and Addison County Whig ! These gradual advances have
brought me to a remarkable pitch of terrene glory and emolu'
ment. Received a letter from Adam last evening, apprising
us of the birth of a daughter to his house, which remarkable
event occurred on the 16th inst., at about the hour of sunrise.
Brother Ezra had an heir born to his ''house," not long since,
but of that event I was not officially apprised.

General 0. Clarke and family arrived in town the 14th,
and staid till the 18th. Sister Jane Warner, and Mrs. Wood,

184 SECRETARY OF THE VERMONT SENATE.

from Middlebury, visited us on the 13th, and returned the
14th.

March 15th, 1841. Another spasm ! These Epimenides

slumbers are very refreshing And then to omit such a

year as the one "that's awa' !" A year abounding in great
processes and great results politically, at least. The busiest
year of my whole life. Well, let it go ; it will be remembered
and I have helped to make it memorable; in the political annals.
Early in the Spring was held our Salisbury Convention,
whereat I made the first speech I ever made. The last of
April, Caro and I, in company with Mr. and Mrs. J. A. C,
visited Baltimore, and attended the great Young Men's
National Convention. Caro and I went to Washington, for
three or four days ; spent four or five days in New York ;
reached home the last of May. In July, my friend Cannon
came up and we, with Freeman, whom we encountered in
Shelburne, went to Chataugua Lake on a fishing excursion ;
had a noble time of it, surrounded by the everlasting solitude
of undisturbed nature. In October, visited Montpelier on
the opening of the Legislature, and was elected Secretary of
the Senate for the year ensuing ; short session of some three
weeks. Voted for old Tip, Nov. 1, 1840.

March 4th, 1841. William Henry Harrison inaugurated
President for four years. Laus Deo !

16th. Governor Jennison was in town to-day ; last even-

f

LAST DAY OF THE BRANDON IRON CO. 185

ing came Rev. Mr. Perry to our hut, with divers and sundry
others, to practise psalmody, etc.

Sunday, 25th. Anderson Dana dined with us and spent
the evening. Paper from Cousin EUon. What a mounstrously
eventful life ! I've a mind to steal a sheep to give it some ani-
mation !

29th. A foot of snow fallen. The robins must be dis-
gusted, Mais couraye ! the sun will put a stopper on such
proceedings to-morrow. But then the mud ! — Oh, what was
mud made for ?

30th. Extraordinarily cold ! Yerily, March goes out
like a lion, this time, shaking his hyperborean mane.

31st. Another very cold night and day. Day for the elec-
tion of a board of censors. Only some 40 votes cast in Brandon ;
all but one or two for Whigs. It is an idle and useless fea-
ture in our State Constitution, and ought to be abolished. This
is the last day of the existence of the Brandon Iron Com-
pany.

April 1. Snow disappearing as rapidly it came Spring
coquetting with Winter, the young jade ! 0, inimitable
Charles Lamb ! Who can read thy rhapsody without longing
to play the fool, and to philosophize there-anent ? In which
latter, one may play the bigger fool of the two. Charles Lamb,
thou wert the jewel of a man, drunk or sober — and so wa*thy
sister.

186 HEARS OF HARRISON'S DEATH.

2d. Rain steadily, nearlj^ all day.

Watch the snow,
And see it go !

Wrote to Judge Meech and Dr. Heineberg.

6th. Spring does not hurry herself. Last year, my
cucumbers were up on the 29th of March. This year, with
every disposition to have my hot bed going, I am prevented
as yet, by the frost.

Tth. By the stage, this evening, we receive the
shocking intelligence of the death of Gen. Harrison. A Prov-
idence, as it appears to my feeble judgment, fraught with ca-
lamity to this great nation. I was never more shocked in my
life, and now cannot force the full belief upon my mind, that
General Harrison is no more.

9th. Good Friday. Letters ; intelligence of the in-
creased illness of Caro's mother. We leave for Troy, to-mor-
row,

19th. Remained a week in Troy ; returned to-day ; left
my dear wife with her mother.

26th. The lilac-buds are opening rapidly ; another week
will clothe mother earth in the green garniture of Spring. It
shall be welcome. Letter from wifey ; her mother remains
very ill. .

THE COLD SPRING. 187

oOth. It snew wi'th tolerable uniformity, till about two
or three o'clock, P. M., when it subsided into a cold, driving
raiu, with the stiff North wind, which is prevailing, unabated
— 9, P. M. Such a Spring as this has been, thus far, is with-
out a parallel in the history of "the Seasons."

May 1st. May Day has been a sort of codicil to the last
day of April. Rain most of the forenoon. Cold, damp,
unpleasant all day. The sun, however, made a "golden sit."
Received notice of my appointment as Postmaster, by last
night's mail,

2d. Fierce storm of wind and rain, at 5, P. M. Snow,
wliich has continued, with little abatement, nearly all night
(2, P. M), progresses — "Winter in the lap of Spring."

3d, When shall I have my own little ''winsome wee
thing," with me again, is a question I am asking myself
daily, and it is yet far from solution. She cannot, and I can-
not wish her to, leave her mother during her illness. Her
presence and care is very essential to her mother's comfort
and happiness while she is so ill ; and I hope I appreciate
the full force of a mother's claim upon her only child,
under such circumstances. What can ever repay a mother's
love and care and sacrifices on our behalf ? and how little do
our mothers require of us in return !

5th. A pleasantzs7i day. The best word I can speak

188 BECOMES A POSTMASTER.

for it, to wit, dull, cloudy and portentous of raiu A. M.,
and a sort of spasmodic attempt at clear weather, P. M.
Spring has got no foothold yet.

6th. Tired of writing of foul weather ! What can a
fellow do ! It has rained steadily all day, and is at it, this
ten P. M. No comfort without, and my domestic comfort far
off.

Tth. Rather pleasanter weather. Examination at the
Vermont Literary and Scientific Institution. (How it thun-
ders in the index !) Attended an hour this P. M., and heard
it asserted, inter alia, that dividing the denominator of a
fraction has the effect to decrease the value of the fraction ;
may be it does ; but it was not so when I was young, a "long
time ago." In the evening, an "exhibition" was exhibited.
•The youth who spoke the "salualio latina^' was pleased to
address the trustees of the aforesaid institution,^ who knew
about as much of Latin as a fresh-water clnm does, of hydro-
dynamics, as ^'optissimipatr^es !^' which s'did patres, all uncon-
scious, "grinned and bore it." " OpHssimi patres !^' "Give
me an ounce of civet good apothecary."

10th. Damp, drizzling, disagreeable, raw day ! A
nice list of attractive adjectives ! The weather is stereo-
typed, and one sliould have a form of words to describe it.
Took possession of the postoffice this morning ; busy as a
bee all day. Mr. Bisbee was bworn in my assistant, P. M.

DISCOURAGING WEATII?:il. 189

11th. Damp, drizzling, disagreeable, dirty day ; said in
no spirit of fault-finding, but because it really is so. It has
rained or "drozzled" all day long, and raining now, ten P. M.
I do not see how by any ordinary process of evaporation,
water enough could get into the sky to produce so much
rainy weather in a whole year. I guess it must rain up and
down at the same time. My peas are up ; wrote to Gastleton
Statesman.

Wednesday, May 12th. The days, so far as the weather
is concerned, are something like the good old clergyman's
division of his discourse into three heads : '^thQ first is obvi-
ous, the second is like the first, and the third is like the two for-
mer ^ The weather in this merry month of May, Tuesday, was
like the day before; and to-day like the two former. The sun
has., however, looked out from among the sorrowing clouds,
like a spoiled beauty out of her casement upon sloppy
weather ; and like the aforesaid beauty, he has seemed to
retire from the prospect discouraged. I have just received a
letter from my dearest wife. Poor girl how anxious and dis-
tressed she is by the continued illness of her dear mother, of
whose recovery she is beginning to despair. I feel it almost
my duty to go to Troy at once.

13th. Rainy and shining, sort of pleasant when it didn't
rain. A letter from my dearest mother ; answer to-mor-
row. Also, from Walton, Montpelier ; present from Mr.
Blake of a number of choice scions, for engrafting ; dined at

190 MARRIAGE ANNIVERSARY ALONE.

C. W. Conant's, Minnie and I [daughter of General Orville
Clark, at school in Brandon ; a great favorite of Mr. and Mrs.

D. W. C. Clarke]. Planted plum trees. Postoffice papered
by Higgins.

Friday, May 14;th. National Fast Bay. Weather like
the event the day was set apart to commemorate — gloomy
and calamitous. Attended service at the Congregational
church. Heard a very excellent (mostly) discourse from
Prof. Smith, of Mid. Coll. The day has been very appropri-
ately celebrated in our quiet village.

May 16th. Very beautiful A. M. Nine years ago, this
day, I was married. Nine years ! How rapidly they have
passed ! and my dearest wife is away from me attending
upon her poor sick mother. I know 1 love her better as time
passes away, and may I be enabled to render myself more and
more worthy of her love !

Time that weakens others' vows,
But makes our own more dear.

Finished the letter commenced" to her last night.
Received divers invitations to dinner, which 1 declined 1
wish she were with me. It is four weeks since I left her in
Troy, and how many more must elapse ?

11th. Letters from W. H. Fondey, Albany, and J. 1.
Andrews. Wrote to my dear mother, Mr. Andrews, and.

COLD, MILDER, CLOUDY-SPRING ARRIVES. 191

also, Judge Phelps. Set the remainder of my scions, and
planted some ash trees. My yard looks beautifully, rude as it
is ; and so my darling wife will think.

18th. It is too late for this Spring to do anything
in the expectation of retrieving its character. To-day we
have had specimens of every kind of weather which has shone
or frowned upon us since the vernal equinox — cold, milder,
cloudy, clear, rain, sprinkle, and, if it did not snow, it wasn't
because it has not been cold enough. The poor sheep, I heard
a farmer say, to-day, are in want. They cannot complain, and
don't know why they do not get their accustomed provender.
How happy and wise is he, who, under all the allotments of
this life, regards that Providence as uniformly merciful and
just ! How miserable and foolish he who repines !

May 19th, 1841. Very cold. Snowed a little on the
mountains East of us. Excellent letter from my dearest wife.
Her mother is more comJortable. Wrote to Judge Phelps,
to Mercury Paper, Mass. ; also, to Brother Jonathan paper, for
Eugene Conant. By-the-way, it is clear and mild this even-
ing— rain or snow to-morrow.

May 20th. lo triumphe I Spring has come I A very beauti-
ful day has dawned and set upon us. Rose at 5 o'clock, and
accompanied Mr. Bird and his juvenile school on a ramble in
the woods and over the hills, for the early Spring flowers. We
found the anemone, the trillium or wake-robin, the mittella

192 LOVELY WEATHER.

and the sweet violet, wbich seemed rejoicing in the
unwonted warmth of the genial sun. We rambled about till
8 o'clock, and returned home to breakfast. Mr. Palmer,
of Pittsfield; delivered an address to the singers of Mr. Bird's
school this afternoon ; and with rambling, and the singing by
the school, and address, the day has been very pleasantly, and,
I trust, not unprofitably spent.

22d. Rode out to Mr. Blake's, and brought home some
beautiful violets.

23d. The grass and the leaves and the flowers leap for
joy. Last night it rained violently, with lightning and thun-
der, as I am credibly informed, for I am not much apt to be
disturbed after I have once commenced to sleep for the night.
Rained in beautiful, warm showers, till about 11 o'clock, this
A. M., when it broke away, and the weather has been inex-
pressibly fine. The kingdom of vegetation is waxing vigor-
ous and effective. Nothing can exceeed, to the mind of
ordinary sensibility, the loveliness of a lovely day, at this sea-
son of the year. Received a beautiful pair of slippers from
ma chere wifey. Went to Mr. Blake's, to attend their service,
at 5, P. M. 0, how I wish dear Caro were here, this lovely
weather ! Spring would be lovelier still I

2tth. The earth is beautiful, "and only man is vile."
Puttered about home, the most of the day, endeavoring to
render home the pleasautest place in the world (as it is) lor

PREPARING HIS ORATION. VMl

my own dear Caro. When will she return to me ? Her dear
mother, I trust, is a-mending, and she may come ere long.
Transplanted divers grape-vines.

June 1st. A fair opening day of summer. A letter
from my dear mother ; sent a letter to Caro. June training ;
magnificent display ! Falstaft" never saw a Yankee militia
training, or he would not have spoken so slightingly of his
ragrnuffin corps. "March through Coventry with them ? Why
I wouldn't be seen with them in the woods."

10th. Warm, very; nothing to say. I am so lonely;
commenced preparing an oration for the fourth prox.

12th. At the postoffice all day, my assistant having
taken a tramp to the mountains ; wrote a foot or so on my
oration.

I5th. Warm ; heavy shower, last night, which has
rejoiced the old mother earth, and caused her to clothe herself
in the dress which "suits her complexion best."

23rd. A young man was drowned while bathing, this
evening, in the Creek, precisely where young Mr. Smith was
three years ago. Truly "in the midst of life, we are in death !"
Dear Caro writes me that my friend. Dr. Larned, is at the
point of death.
17

194 HOME LETTERS.

June 24th, Letter from my dearest Caro, and also from
my friend Cannon, who is to be married about 1st prox. ;
wrote to Col. Paine. I hope to see my dearest wife to-mor-
row.

26th. About one-half past four P. M., no wife having
arrived, I left for Castleton, designing to proceed to Troy.
About three miles out of the village, I met my dearest
wifey on her way from Castleton ! So I am "at home" once
more. Received a letter this morning from my dearest
mother, and one from Judge Meech.

HOME LETTERS, FROM 1840 TO 1850.

Brandon, May 28, 1840.

My Dearest Mother : — It really seems an age since I have
heard from, or written to you. For a fortnight before I left
for Baltimore, I was kept at Rutland, as a juror. During the
time I was gone, till I returned to Troy, I wrote to nobody.
I was dwelling in such a state of constant political animation,
I found myself unable to write, even to my paper. You can
form no idea of the magnificent Convention of Whigs, assem-
bled at Baltimore, from any account, seen in the newspapers.
I am unable to convey my impressions. As Mr. Clay remarked
in his speech, it was such a convention as the world never
before saw — so many young, intelligent, ardent and active

AT THE BALTIMORE CONVENTION. 195

men, from every State and every Territory in the Confederacy
The eflfect must be prodigious. If I had any doubts in
regard to the election of General Harrison before I went, they
are now entirely removed.

I had the pleasure of seeing and conversing with Mr.
Clay several times, while in Washington. He is full of ardor
and enthusiasm and confidence, as well as Mr. Webster, Mr.
Preston, and others. Mr. Clay desired to be very kindly
remembered to you, and to Father Meech ; and said he hoped
to see you on to the inauguration of the General. I called on
Gen. Van Ness, but he was not in. Caro and I were both in
the Senate for three or four hours, during the great debate on
the report of Secretary Woodbury, in reference to the expend-
itures of the Government during the last fifteen years. It was
a great treat for us, you may be assured.

But I am writing you a regular political letter. I shall
leave Caro to give you some description of our pleasant trip.
We returned to Brandon, day before yesterday, since which I
have had to devote every moment to furnish matter for our
paper. My article on our Rutland County Convention, next
Wednesday, is thought to be a good one. It was written very
rapidly.

I intend to be at Burlington, at the State Convention, in
June, and LeGrand will be with us. He will be here about
the 20th. Mrs. Randolph returned with us, to spend a few
weeks, and I wish to have her visit Shelburne before she
returns, so you must call on her, you know, according to
ettiket. Why will you not come down, next week i* Let me

196 KEY TO FAMILY NAMES.

hear from you by Sunday's mail, and believe me my dear
mother, as most affectionately,

Your son, Dot.

P. S. — Toss and Adam are well, and will be in Vermont
some time in June.

2d p. S. — Sophia's little girl is really and truly an
uncommonly fine and sweet and pretty child. How are Ez.
and Tinny, and how is the baby ?

[Mrs. Meech thus explained to me the pet-names almost
invariably used in these old letters, often in the diary ; and
which, when one has the key to them, add not a little
to the piquancy of tlie familiar discourse. ''DeWitt was
called 'Dot,' from a boy, because he was so black. He was
just like a great black dot." ''Of ink '/" ''Yes, of ink."
"Cynthia, we called 'Tinny,' because she was so small. She
was always short, and she was quite pretty when a girl.
Sophia we all called 'Toss,' she was alw^ays so independent,
and had such a fling about her. Ezra, we never called any-
thing else but 'Ez', at first, and, as he grew older in his ways,
and was always looking after business and family affairs, and
we wanted to treat him more venerably, we called him 'old
Ez.' It was all in good nature, and he never objected to it ;
nor any of the others, to their names. Edgar was called 'Ed,'
Cousin Darwin, Cynthia's brother, 'Dode,' etc,"

Brandon, Feb. 3, 1841.

My Dear Mother : — We made up our minds. Aunt
Jackson, Caro and I, to start this morning for Shelburne, and
find all the horses are engaged to transport the children, of one

WHAT FATHER i\rEECH IN WASHINGTON SAYS. 197

size and another, of this ilk, to Mr. ITydo's, in Sudbury, to
attend a ball which is to be danced there this evening ; and
the}^ (the children and the horses) will not be back again
much before to-morrow noon. We must postpone our visit till
next Wednesday, when, should the sleighing c-ontinue, and
Providence permit, we will be "down upon you." I feel very
sorry. I am fearful the snow will cheat us <t gain, Warner is here
to-day, having come down to attend a convention of bank men.
He says you are expected in Middlebury, as soon as sleigh-
ing is good enough. You would not come so far with-
out visiting Brandon, and we would certainly let you take
some of us back again, if you come before we go.

I have received a letter from Father Meech. He seems
to be enjoying himself. 1 have written to him twice since he
left. He says he might obtain for me a clerkship, whicfi
would be worth ten or twelve hundred dollars, but plainly
intimates his opinion to be averse to m}^ accepting such an
affair. He saj's I should be obliged to be there at all times,
and at the beck of the head. "No fishing, no hunting,'' etc.,
etc. I can do better by staying in good old Vermont, and shall
not leave it, unless for a very sufficient inducement. A clerkship
in one of the Departments at Washington is certainly not
such an inducement. It would furnish nothing more than a
bare living, for which I should have to work rather too man-
fully.

The Iron Company failed. I have heard the General
say that he lost all he paid in, and all his liard labor there, —
the hardest of his life, in that hot furnace-room. I have heard

198 WRITING TO HIS MOTHER.

his mother complain of it. She never felt right toward the
Conants' for the way it was managed. Nor did the Judge, said
she, wlio had advised the investment and partnership. There
was where De Witt lost a large portion of what came to him
from his wife. Ilis Brandon friends had it.''

He sought for other business ; April 1841, was appointed
Post Master at Brandon, and practiced law there for a short
time in the office of E. N. Briggs Esq., as a partner.

May llth, while his wife is in Troy, he writes his mother :
"I am lonesome of being alone.

I really wish you would come down and spend a few
days with me. I should like your advice about Caro's part
of the garden. I know as little about flower-gardens as a
Hottentot, to my shame

Aunt Jackson commences house-keeping this week. She
invites me to come and board with her ; but I couldn't give
up my pleasant little place for the palace of a prince. It
looks very pleasant, about these days, and has the double

attraction of being home We are going to succeed in

building our church. They promise us four or five hundred

from Troy." In answer to being accused of helping

promote Sophia's marriage : "Poor cousin Toss, beginning to
be restless. You may rest assured I shall meddle no more with
match-making. 1 am no more enamored with my experience in
the business than you are. I shall interfere with such heavenly
arrangements no more. If you come, bring me something
from your garden, if it is not too late. I hope you will drop

HIS POLITICS LOOKED AFTER. 199

me a line very often, now it can be transmitted so "economi-
cally." How is the Judge ? Mr. Briggs wishes to have that
trouting excursion before long, tell him.

Ever, my dearest mother,

Your affectionate Dot.
P. S. — I congratulate you on your stationery. Your
letter paper is beautiful, and what it should be in Judge
Meech's house.''

Stephen H. Parkhurst was sworn in as assistant post-
master, August 18th, 1841. He, the Brandon P. M., was very
much engaged in politics about this time. How his post-
office and his politics harmonized for him, may be best seen
by the following corresponderjce between the General Post-
office Department at Washington, and the Brandon postoffice.

"Post Office Department,
Appointment Office,
13 August, 1842.

DeWitt C. Clark, Esq., P. M., Brandon, Rutland Co., Vt. : —

Sir : — I am directed by the Postmaster-General to enquire
whether he is correctly infoimed that you offered the following
resolutions, at a political convention, recently held in Ver-
mont, viz :

" Hesolved, That we bestowed but a timid confidence upon
John Tyler, in the beginning, atid that this confidence has
marvclously decreasf.d, upon better acquaintance ; that from
his calamitious accession to the Presidency, to the present

200 HE ANSWERS THE INQUIRY.

time, his ofiScial course has beei) distinguished by inconsist-
ency of conduct, instability of purpose, and imbecility of
mind.

Resolved, That the alteration of the constitution bv a mod-
ification of the veto power, so as to protect the people from its
abominable abuse in the hands of John Tyler, or any other
misguided man, whether exhibited in the sensibility of a
paraded conscience, or in the less questionable form of Execu-
tive resentments," etc., etc.

An early answer is desired.

Very respectfully, etc.,

Ph. C. Fuller, 2d Asst. P. M.

Troy, N. Y. Aug. 30, 1842.
The Hon. Ph. C, Fuller, 2d Ass'tP. M. Gen'l, Washington: —

Sir : — I have just received, at this city, whither it was
forwarded, in my absence from Brandon, your letter of the
13th instant, from which I learn that the Postmaster-General
has directed you to enquire whether or not I "offered'' certain
resolutions, therein specified, at a "convention recently held
in Vermont."

Presuming that the solicitude of the Postmaster-General
arises from the connection which these resolutions are supposed
to have with my fitness to discharge the duties of the office of
a Deputy Postmaster, I take great pleasure in giving an im-
mediate reply to your letter. Referring him, therefore, to my
quarterly return, and my quarterly payment, to the department,
and to the judgment of m^' fellow-townsmen, for information

IIE ANSWERS THE INQUIRY. 201

touching my qualifications, in what may be considered less
important particulars, 1 h ve to request you to inform the
Postmaster-General that Idid "offev^^ the first of the two res-
olutions specified, and it was adopted by acclamation by the
largest Whig State Convention which has assembled in Ver-
mont since the memorable campaign of 1840.

The second resolution, set forth in your letter, I did not
"oifer." It is very unintelligible, and pointless, and 1 may be
permitted to express my surprise that the Postmaster-General
should attribute it to the same pen that wrote the first, which
was thought to be rather perspicuous and explicit. It affords
me great satisfaction, however, to believe that I can gratify
the Postmaster-General by tracing it to its origin, though,
like certain other Whig adventurers who have accidentally
reached Washington, it has become wonderfully changed and
disguised. If the Postmaster-General will take the trouble to
again cast his eye over the series of resolutions adopted by
the last Whig State Convention of the State of Vermont (in
which he unquestionably found the fii^st of the two specified
in your letter,) he will observe, that, after a preamble, setting
forth, among other things, "that the great Whig party had
fallen into a condition of partial confusion and disorganization
in consequence of the extraordinary and unexpected weak-
ness and duplicity" of John Tyler, upo)i whom, with the
most generous enthusiasm, they had bestowed their confi-
dence and their votes, and setting forth, also, the propriety,
growing out of that condition of partial disorganization, of a
re-assertion of the great principles of the party which he had

203 ANSWER TO THE INQUIRY CONTINUED.

contemned and trampled upon. The first resolution, in that
series, declares that, "in again entering the field of political
controversy, we do so in support of the following principles
and aims." Then follows, the Postmaster-General will
observe, an enumeration, under eleven distinct heads, of the
great principles of the Whig party ; the triumphant adoption
of which by the people in 1840 resulted in the accession of
the lamented Harrison, and the lamented accession of Tyler.
The Tth or 8th of these specifications, modified in its phraseol-
ogy, perhaps, by words subsequent to 1840, is, as nearly as I
can recollect, as follows : We contend for "an alteration of the
Constitution by which the Veto Power may be so modified,
that the people shall be protected from its abominable abuse
in the hands of a misguided ambition, whether exhibited" in
the sensibility of a paraded conscience, or in the less-question-
able form of Executive resentment, '^ This, it is observable,
differs from the second resolution communicated in your letter,
in the important particular of saying nothing about "John
Tyler, or any other misguided man," unless it be an inference,
which may be more or less violent, as the Postmaster-General
or others may regard it. It does, however, bear a kind of
family resemblance to the piece of ambiguity which you have
been directed to communicate to me as a "resolution ;" and,
if I am correct in supposing it to be identical, in the intention
of the Postmaster-General, with that "resolution," you will
have the goodness to inform him that I did "ofi'er" it, also, at
the same time, and that its adoption by the Convention was

HE LOSES HIS POSTOFFICE. 203

marked by the same cordiality, and unanimity which charac-
terized their reception of the former.

If, however, I am mistaken in supposing the "speciGca-
tion" above set forth, to be the same, in the intention of the
Postmaster-General, with the second resolution contained in
your letter, 1 deem it but just to disclaim all desire to take any
benefit, either by reason of my attempt to identify them, or of
any supposed s'milarity of sentiment between them.

I trust I have thus succeeded in consigning to the Post-
master-General the inf)rmation desired in a manner that will
appear to justif}'' the confidence reposed in me by the Hon.
Francis Granger, in sending to me, in the Spring of 1841,
my commisssion as Deputy Postmaster of Brandon, Rutland
County, Vt.

Very respectfully, etc, etc.,

D. W. C. Clark.

Said the General, speaking of it : "I lost my postoffice
quicker than you could say spat. But I did not lose anything
by it with my party. They said I should have a better office
than that. I published both letters, and both letters only
made me friends. I got the office of Quartermaster-General
of the State for that little miserable old postoflSce.''

He either received his appointment as Q. M. Gen. in the
Fall of 1842, or the Spring of 1843. I suppose I have, but have
mislaid his paper of appointment, I have accounts of his acting
in that capacity at Rutland, May 11, 1848.

204 APPOINTED Q. M. GEN. OF THE STATE.

It was from this office he received his title of General,
which fitted so handsomely to his personal appearance, it
was accorded very generally after (as the General would say
if he held my pen), as long as he lived.

lie had got, in the popular thought, the right name — fitting
his form, head, face, eyes, carriage of person and address.
The General was six feet, two inches ; full, not too full,
military shoulders and arms, step like an army officer. He
used to say, nobody could ever keep step with him except
his mother ; he could never learn his wife to. The first time
I ever saw Mrs. Meech, it was in church with her son at old
Saint Mary's, as the congregation arose upon their feet to
leave the church. I was struck by her resemblance to her
son, in height, figure and features ; I knew her at once by it.
Seldom anything impresses me as instantly and strongly, as
their resemblance ; it was so marked. I have said of her
resemblance to him, instead of his to her : as having before
seen him, it so impressed me. She had the same -carriage
and step, ready, springy, self-exultant. When we walked
in-armed, she and I, as we always did to church, often about
the grounds. "Now keep step !'' she would say. "I
never liked to walk with any one but De Witt," He was
was always De Witt to her, of course, his mother. "We
could always keep step together." Of the lightness and
quickness of her movements, I remember an instance when
she was over eighty years of age, Dr. Carpenter, Senior,
had been called to see her ; not feeling usually well early in
the morning, she had sent in for him. The doctor, who has

ANNECDOTE OF ^IKS. MEECH. 205

too large a practice to always come quickly when sent for, did
not appear before well into the forenoon ; and she had got over
her bad feelings and out into her sitting-room, and was put-
tering with some little household care. She was standing by
the stove ; I think she was doing a little dabble of lace-wash.
"I must not let the Doctor catch me at work," she said, when
she commenced ; "I should be ashamed to have the Doctor
find me at work, when I had sent for him. He would not
think I had been sick.'^ She was adjusting her dish to warm
the water, and did not hear the Doctor's step on the piazza.
She caught a glimpse of him as he opened the hall door,
when she whirled, and with as elastic a step as a woman in
her prime, sought shelter in her adjoining room Not
too soon for the hale, quick Doctor. How the old Doctor
laughed ! "She whirled on her heel like a giil of sixteen,"
said he ; " what would I not give to be assured that, at the
age of eighty years, I could step as quick as that." The visit
passed off pleasantly ; she rallied the Doctor on being so long
in coming that his patients had time to get well ; and he
thought it a good thing, as she escaped having any medicine
to take.

This must have been before the General's death, as her
favoritism some little time before fell upon the young Doctor,
the son of the old Doctor ; and he was steadily her physician
lor over the last four years of her life. I think she was about
eighty-one or two, at the time,
18

206 ABOUT HIS Q. M. BUSINESS.

Brandon, Jan. 4, 1843.
My Dear Mother : — I deserve to be whipped for not
having written to you before ; I think I may safely say I have
been at work, night and day, since the close of the session
of the Legislature ; most of the time in my militaiy office. I
found more to do in it than anticipated ; and mean to execute
my public duties in such a manner as to reflect no discredit
on my appointment. I have had nearly a thousand dollars in
small accounts against the State to examine and pay, during
the past month, and to file the documents belonging to my
office, which I received in a condition of most terrific loose-
ness, and want of system. You may perceive I have not
been "idling away" my time. I had a great mind to step up
to Shelburne when I was at Vergennes, some three weeks
since. I went thither with Mr. Rich, my predecessor, to
receive the State arms and other public property. If the
sleighing had not been so bad, I should have passed one night
with you. However, we intend to visit you during the Win-
ter. Caro has to take particular care of herself, as she is dis-
posed to cough ; but if she does not take any hard colds this
Winter, as I mean she shall not, if I can prevent it, I am in
in hopes she will come out as bright as a robin in the Spring.
But how comes on your green-house ? I beg your par-
don I ought to have said conservatory. Didn't I serve you
a pretty trick, about Thanksgiving-day ? Governor Paine '
promised to visit you with me the day after Thanksgiving, if
I should remain with him in Burlington that day. But 1 was

MRS. CLARKE WRITES MRS. MEECII. 207

anxious to get borne, and having no business to detain me,
came oif.

I perceive that "E, Meech is one of the managers of the
ball at Hyde's. I presume it can't be the Judge, but must be
Edgar, if he proposes to attend, I hope he will come to my
house the day before, and start thence."

Mrs. Clarke writes Mrs. Meech :

Brandon, Jan. 13, 1843.
Dear Mother : —

I returned from Northfield,last night, where I went with
Mr. and Mrs. Paine, a little more than a week ago. Some two
or three weeks since, we received a letter from the Governor,
saying he would bring the ladies here to visit us. When they
came, I was alone. I had let my girl go to make a visit at Mid"
dlebury, and one day I had Mr., Mrs. and Miss Paine, Sena-
tor Cutts, and Mrs. Geo. Hodges, of Rutland, here to dine,
and had nobody to help me but my little Fanny. As you may
think, I had to fly about, but I got my dinner and it went off,
you cannot think how nice ; and everybody wondered how I
could get on so well. I had a delightful visit from them, and
we rode about, visited and frolicked, until we were all tired
out ; and then I returned with them to Northfield, and De-
Witt came for me on Tuesday, as he had business in Mont-
pelier on Wednesday. We returned yesterday. DeWitt
heard in Montpelier that you were not well. I did not believe
it, or we should have heard it ; but write, and let us know
how 3^ou are. I hope it was all an idle story. I have been
to Rutland to make a visit since I came from Shelburne. You

208 THE GENERAL WRITES WITH HIS WIFE.

will see that I have been a great gad-about. Mr. and Mrs.
John A. were very kind and polite to our friends, and did
what they could to make it pleasant, for which I was much
obliged to them. They invited us there to dine, and gave us

quite a nice dinner I am to leave the greater part of

this sheet for DeWitt, so I must stop my scribbling when I
have told you that I love you dearly, and wish to hear from
you very much. I hope you are very well ; how does your
green-house flourish ? My camelia has two flowers on it, and
my orange tree has a bud on it ; and that is all I can boast, as
my plants were frozen while I was at Shelburne, and killed
every geranium I had. The first opportunity I have, I am going
to Shelburne to get some more. Did those plants live that I
got for you of Mrs. Cottrill ? How is Father Meech ? Give
my love to all, Ezra and Cynthia and Ed and Melinda.

Your afiectionate daughter,

Card E. T. Clarke.
My Dearest Mother : — Caro leaves me a part of her
sheet, in order, I conclude, to save postage. But it is so long
since I have written, that I tell her we might afford the pos-
tage of two letters Having the whole charge of allowing

and paying all the military expenses of the St ate, gives me
more occupation than I can afford to devote to the business,

and I shall be compelled to resign

My law business and military business united, call for
more incessant attention than 1 can manage ; and I must
relieve myself from the latter.

1 went to Montpelier to meet the State Committee, and

MRS. CL/VIiKE WRITES AGAIN. 209

as you may see the address to "The Whigs of Vermont,"
which they put forth, I may as well tell you that it was
drawn up by your boy. I mention this to induce you to read itt
as it will probably appear in all the Whig papers in the State.
The committee were polite enough to think it tolerably' good,
though it was written at one sitting, off-hand. Call Ezra's
attention to its suggestions, and say to him that he must get
up a meeting in Shelburne on the 22d, and form a Whig club.
I suppose, now, that I shall have occasion to visit Burlington
early in February. I hope so, at any rate. Let me hear from
you very soon, my dearest mother.

Faithfully and affectionately, your son,

D.W.C.C.
Brandon, April 29, 1845. Mrs. Clarke writes :
My Dear Mother : — I am more than half a mind to go to
New York. I have received a letter from Henrietta Fondey,
urging me to visit her ; and Adam wrote, the other day, that
he would be happy to have us come and visit them, when they
get to house-keeping. William Dana will go to New York
before a great while, and I might go with him, only I do so
hate to go without DeWitt. What do you think of going
down this Spring ? Would you not like to go with me to
visit Sophia ? If we were only rich, now, Dot and I could go
and take a little jaunt together, and it would be so pleasant ;
but I never half enjoy anything away from him.

I wish I could go up to Shelburne for a few daj^s ; if we
had a horse I would. I have more than a half a mind to pro-
pose to Mrs. Blake or Abby — she has returned home, a

210 RAILROAD BUSINESS IN BOSTON.

beautiful girl of seventeen, beautiful as a rose-bud — to go
and take me up to Shelbuvne. I wish you would think you
could go to New York, this Spring ; would you not like to ?

Levi Jackson arrived here this morning with his wife.
They say her father is rich, and she is an only daughter ; has
one brother ; and that he has done well. Time will tell all
these things. Sometimes the fairest beginnings terminate in
disappointments. I am sure I hope not, in this case ; for all
their sakes. I wish we lived nearer to you — say Burlington :
I think it might promote your happiness and ours to be together
the little time we remain in this world. Do write to me, if you
can spare time from your garden. I have not forgotten my
box, tell Johnny White.

Dot has not yet come home, or he would send some
message. I cannot brag about my flowers, after your beauti-
ful roses ; but I have a splendid cactus shining out, and sev^-
eral rose-trees in bloom. I wish I could get hold of j^ours :

I am, dear mother,, as ever,

Your much-attached daughter, Card.

1845. Item in his cash-book for that year :

*'In Boston, at the Tremont House, from the last of May
to October 3d, say 128 days, on business for the Rutland and
Burlington Railroad, allowed $5 a day, expenses paid ; bal-
ance to me, $514.53."

"Idling away his time,'' talked among some of the dear
cousins and cousin-husbands, a little "jealous," as his mother
said, of his social popularity, and his political popularity.
He made this Summer in Boston the acquaintance and friend

BUYri THE FREE PRESS— ESTABLISHES THE DAILY. 211

ship of such men as Abbot Lawrence and others ; lived
comfortably at the Tremont ; paid his bills, and had the half
of a thousand left clean, in four months.

April, 1846, the General bought out The Free Press, at
Burlington, of H. B. Stacy, became its editor and owner,
and removed to this place. His pen mixed the ingredients
that make a happ^'' and popular editor. The little locals, acci-
dents and incidents, he had peculiarly the agreeable art to
handle in a way that amused everybody, and offended no one.

April, 1848, he projected and started a daily paper, in
connection with his Weekly "Burlington Free Press,' ^ which
he entitled the "Daily Free PressJ' It was the first daily
paper established in Vermont, and which, as well as the weekly
paper, has continued without interruption to the present time.

Says Mr. Benedict (Hon. G. Grenville) in the notice of
his death : "We announce, with sincere sorrow, the death of

our townsman and editnrial brother General Clarke was

a man of note. lie held many offices of responsibility and

importance lie was Quartermaster of the State, from

which he received his iamiliar title of General. He was
Secretary of the Vermont Senate for eleven years, from 1840
to 1851 ; and was Executive clerk of the U. S. Senate nine
years He was a member of the State Constitutional Conven-
tion of 1857, and was Secretary of that body. He was a
Presidential Elector of this State in 1860. He was elected a
member of the Board of School Commissioners in this City,
at the last election. He was elected Secretary of the recent
Vermont Constitutional Convention of 18T0, and his last pub-

212 LETTER OF FRIENDSHIP.^

lie duty was the preparation of the journal of that body for
the press, aud the supervision of its publication. General
Clarke was a sparkling writer, both in prose and verse, and
an influential editor.

''He gave earnest and effective support in the columns of
his paper to Zachary Taylor, and to Winfield Scott, in the
campaigns of 1848 and 1852. But while he maintained many
a newspaper controversy, and always with spirit, he never
retained malice, and one of his most distinguishing traits
was his uniform kindness to all mankind, and his genialty of
disposition. Few men had a wider acquaintance, both with
the men of his own State — for though not born in Vermont,
he was of Vermont parentage, and a Vermonter through and
through — and among the public men of the country ; and
few will be remembered more kindly, or mourned more sin-
cerely, than he, by all who knew him.''

Home letters, we said, in our caption ; we add one of
friendship, pertaining to this period, the General preserved
more than thirty years, he liked so cordially and heartily the
man who wrote it :

"Woodstock,. Tuesday, Aug. 10, 1847.
My Very Dear Clarke :

I must write you to-night — can't put it off any longer.
Should have written before, but knew that last week you
would be so busy with commencement, paper and matters born
or grown old in your absence, that a letter from me would
be as much out of place as a flower in k town-meeting. I
want to write, and be read in a quiet hour : such hours as

THE LETTER CONTINUED. 213

had comfort about them for us, when we were together ; and
stay by us after Mt. Holly dared to separate us. Of what sort
of consequence is a letter written in the street, or one read in
the street? None. You can't get good out of it, any more
than out of a sign-board over a grocery. Don't you ever pre"
•sume to write me, or read me, in public hours, or in public
places. Just as sure as you send me a letter born so vulgarly
I will put it into the pot, and boil it as a vegetable, for the
next grassy dinner. But you don't need counsel of this kind.
Neither do I. We both know that we can really meet and
mingle, only up in the blue ether. And we know each other
so well, that nothing would constrain us to talk to each other,
or write, when we were not in the spirit. I don't say these
words on paper to you, to-night, because I owe you a letter,
and ought to write you ; but because I can't help — can't
keep away from you. Must write.

'The theme shall start and struggle in thy breast,

Like to a spirit in its tomb at rising,

"Rending the stones and crying, Resurrection ! '

I've been wondering, to-night, how we, who have been
actually so little together, should know each other so well.
Somehow, we never took one another on trial, but, from the
first, have been quite at home together — never stopped to
deliberate how far it would do to hazard intimacy ; but have
grown right up together,' solid.

Well, I don't know as I care a thing about the how it
was done. J, It is done; and I love you! — love to be with
you, have been with you, and hope to be again.

214 A. M. FROM THE U. V. M.

That off-hand trip and sojourn of ours together commenced
three weeks ago this morning, at 20 minutes of six. Is'nt it
worth remembering ? It was an extempore affair, from begin-
ning to end. But yet it hangs about me now,nike a cloud
around a mountain, and I am saturated with the memory of it.
Don't believe you value it, as much as I do. It was a mere
matter of malice aforethought, with you ; had business in it,
for you. But I went off like a squib, all of a sudden, and went
every way ; was indifferent as a guide-board. It is glori-
ous to care for naught ! When shall we meet again ? At
Montpelier, I trust. But when shall we go somewhere
together again ? You did wrong in not taking me with you
into those New York woods. I never will forgive you for
that, it was so heedless to forget me.

Have you been well since we parted ? I know you were
well last week, or you couldn't have written so good an article
on commencement. It was a grand one. That's right. Help
that college on. They A. M.d you. That's good. Let the
college mark its friends.

I am mortified at the result of your County Convention !
Who on earth are your nominees ? Never heard of such men
before, and have lived in Chittenden County four years. Of
course, nothing can be said now. But I guess you let the
matter go by default. Ours a year ago, went as it did, by
positive wickedness. Anyway it makes me sick.

But don't you let your secretaryship slip out of your
hands ; make up your mind to occupy that chair. I have

LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 215

heard nothing and seen the same, pointing to that matter, since
we went together like Ruth and Naomi.

Be firm ; one constant clement of luck
Is genuine, old Teutonic pluck.

If I can do anything for you, enlighten me. If I hear any-
thing, you sh;dl hear it also. We must room together.

Perhaps I shall be in Burlington during next month. I
want to go there

Now my dear lellow, write me. I know yon will, and you
will tell a great many things to interest me, if you tell all
that has happened to you since the morning after the evening
when I looked upon the million-ya,rd excavation at the won-
derful Jewell brook. Make another excavation in P 1

D , Jr., will you ? And now and forever believe you have

a good friend in Fred Billings.

Will you ? Good bye.

Extracts From Letters to His Wife

WHILE AT MONTPELIER.

MoNTPELiER, Oct. 20, 1847.
To MY OWN Dearest Wifey : — As my room-mate has gone
to a party at Mr. Upham's, this evening, I will commence a
letter to you. I was urgently invited to join "the goy and fes-
tive scene," but was compelled to decline on account of pi^ess-
ing engagements. I don't believe I shall ever study the "fine
art" at Mr. Upham's again You must not write such

216 SUNDAY EVENING IN MONTPELIER.

long letters ; sit so long over your ''nice little writing-desk'^
you talk about. The doctor has forbidden it ; write me shorter
letters and oftener. I will promise to write longer ones. I
love you too well, and am too anxious about your health, not
to feel a sort of pain, at the first glance, that you have been
stooping too long over your writing. Believe me, there is no
price at which 1 would purchase a pang for you, or a throb of
pain. You will not think me mean, will you, because I
write so much on this subject. If you do, I will kiss the
thought out of your mind and heart ; but remember, dearest,
you can not get well again so long as you neglect the
means. You must neither write nor sew much, if any ; and
you cannot deny that you are quite too apt to seize upon the
interval when you feel comparatively well, to make yourself
comparatively ill, by really hard work ; and this is the big-
gest bone of contention between us ; yes, the only one — so
pardon me and love me, if I continue to preach while you

continue to sin Remember, without you I am nothing,

poor aifair as you may think I am at the best.

Sunday evening. 1 have been to church all day, and sit-
ting in Judge Redfield's seat The Mr. Shelton. from New
York, whom Mr. Manser has as his substitute while he is
attending the General Convention, is a very able man, and I

like to hear him both read and preach Indeed, I have

not been, nor shall I go to any dances or parties while I am
here. I have called at Mr. Langdon's (George's), and taken
tea at Colonel Jewett's, and think 1 can now be at liberty to
attend exclusively to my own matters.

TO HIS WIFE IN SIIELBURNE. 217

To his wife while at Shelburne :

My paper gives me a g-ood deal of anxiety. If this rush
of people is to continue, I shall make poor headway prepar-
ing editorials for it. My secretaryship, paper and military
affairs, certainly present me with a tolerably formidable array
of business demands upon my time, though 1 do not mean
that any, or all of them, shall divert me one moment from
you ; considerations of my own personal comfort will prevent
their doing it, if nothing else would.

I should be "mad with you," my dearest, if you should
not go to Troy, if you leel well enough. If I ever save
money by abridging your comfort or happiness, 1 trust in
heaven it w^iil do me no good. I believe it would be of ser-
vice to you to take the excursion, if you had a proper and
good escort, and I Avant you to do it ; and you could make
Ed's, good nature subservient to both. You and mother must
not disquiet yourselves about my affairs. I shall not fail to be
able to make my arrangements so as to meet my payments. I
am sure my expenditures are not extravagant, and certainly
the income of my office, due now, is very considerably more
than everything I owe. If with this and a constantly-increas-
ing business, as you know, I cannot get along, I ought to give
up. Do you go to Troy and Albany, my best-beloved wife, if
you feel the slightest wish to. You can make a nice long visit
(long enough) before I shall get back, and it will benefit you.

I was grieved, as I am sure you will be, to learn that
Captain Henry is again ordered to Mexico. Mr, Bradley,
19

218 TO HIS WIFE IN WHITEHALL.

who is now in my room, and who has just arrived, says he is
ordered to be there by the first of November or December
(probably the last). Poor Mrs. Henry ! I am sorry, very
sorry for her. Mr. Bradley says he is coming to Burlington,
to arrange his afiairs, and is then going oif. I hope he will
find time to run over here for a day. Give my love to my
dearest mother, and tell her I am quite a good boy. Since I
commenced writing, there have been in the room, at one time
Mr. Bradley, Mr. Catlin, of Orwell, Mr. Chandler, Mr. Foot,
Mr. Upham, and Major Hodges ! I hope, however, I have
written something that will prove to you how dear you are to
your own hubby. D.

To his wife in Whitehall, on her excursion :
October 27th. His "wilted flower'' is conceding more
than the facts warrant, that the person alluded to was ever a
flower. She is well enough, possibly, for a wife for the man
who owns her, but would bore the heart out of any man who
has a heart. Oh ! if there is anything that must be a hell on
earth, it is for a person of intellect and feeling to be tied to
an empty-headed wife, or husband ! I am delighted, my own
darling, that you find yourself comfortable. Father Meech
arrived this evening, and I think we have got everybody here.
The discussion before the Bridge committee will commence
to-morrow, and will continue for a week or more. It will be
a discussion of great interest. Governor Paine and Mr. Fel.
ton, and many other friends of the Bridge are here.

Governor Paine sends his love to you. He has gone to
Northficld to-night. He gave me a pressing invitation to accom-

CROWD AT THE LEGISLATURE. 219

pany him, which I declined in your favor. You ask me if he
is cool towards me ? Not in the least ; thougli I think my
paper, this week, as I told him, will "rile him" a little. He is
a man of too good sense to quarrel with his friends for diifer-
ence of opinion. As the wicked Byron makes Gabriel say to
Lucifer, in the "Vision of Judgment :" "Our difierences are
political, not personal," My own blessed wifey. Take care,
do take care of yourself ; remember how precious you are to
your hubby. A kiss to you on every page.

If I am flirting with anybody here, it must be with
Fred Billings or Judge Follett. Take care of yourself, madam !
I have puffed the Phoenix Hotel, in Whitehall, and that is
probably one of the reasons why the landlord was so kind to
you. I will assuredly remember it of him, however.

Oct. 29th.

I have a good deal of work to do, and no good place to
do it in. I have not been able to be by myself, alone, since
the Session commenced, unless I waited till the crowd had
gone off to bed.

The unusually large assemblage of people here do not get
away yet.

Father Meech is here, and will remain several days, to
give his testimony before the Bridge Committee.

The weather has been absolutely delightful for some days,
and it makes my heart glad on your account. I do pray you
may find yourself greatly benefitted by your excursion.

I suppose Mr. Shafter, and perhaps Col. Jewett, will be
provoked with me, this evening. They give a party, calling

220 DON'T GO TO PARTIES.

it a small one, but from what I can learn I imagine it will be
a near approach to a jam- 1 told Shafter and the Colonel this
morning that I spould be occupied and hardly thought I should
be able to be there. The truth is, I have been to none of their
parties, and don't mean to go. and that is the whole of it.

The Governor (Paine) has just been to ask me togo with
him, but I have sent him off, something loth, without me. I
told him I preferred to remain at home, and write to you, and
edit my paper. He sends his love to you. Caroline has not
returned; and probably will not, this Winter, and there is
no body else here, or likely to be here, that I care a farthing
for.

I have to write so much, just now, with my journal and
my paper, that I almost shudder at the sight and thought of
pen, ink and paper. I send you an extra Free Press that you
may see how much extra I have done this week. By the way,
Mr. Hodges and Judge FoUett sent for two hundred extra copies
of the paper for circulation among the members to enlighten
them on the subject of the canal and bridging the lake.

They are in the middle of the Bridge fight, and it prom-
ises to last all the week. I hope the Legislature will adjourn
by week after next. From the work marked out, it does not
look very probable. But the members begin to get restless
after about four weeks' session, and rarely protract it more
than a week beyond that time.

You will see in the Free Press quite a touching account
of the wearing-out of a miserable felon, who died in our State
Prison. If any of your friends are anti-punishment folks, I

THE BRIDGE CONTROVERSr. 221

hope ihoy will try their hands at pointing out the humanity,
and mercy, and justice, as illustrated by this case.

You will see that we are attempting to give Powers, the
sculptor, a commission from our Legislature. I hope, and
more than half believe, we shall succeed, thougli from the
character of our legislators, in the mass, it would be rather
singular if we should. Mr. Marsh is going before the Com-
mittee, I am told, to persuade them to make a favorable
report. I don't hear any thing from Burlington, excepting
from Mr. Stacy, who saj^s all things go on well and prosper-
ously. In his last, he says : "We are all well and hardly
crowded with new advertisements, new subscribers, and job
work."

I wish you would ask Adam if it is likely I shall ever get
the money I sent to Mr. Patterson, the Anglo-American man ?
He died, 1 perceive, a few days ago, and I suppose he was
poor, very. Good night, my best-beloved.

Friday, Nov. 5th. Just from the Senate chamber, dear-
est wife3^ for the purpose of lying down and trying to get
asleep. But, it occurs me, I shall sleep more sweetly, and
derive more benefit from it, if I first write you a few lines, I
have taken cold, and am so hoarse I am of very little use in the
Senate chamber, and Mr. Hodges sent me to my room. You
know I seldom take cold, and when 1 do, it seems as though
the interesting visitor was determined to make the warmth of
his greeting atone for its infrequency. The controversy
about the bridge across the lake is approaching its crisis,
and the efibrts of those who favor and oppose the project have

222 FIGHTING THE WATCHMAN FOR THE BRIDGE.

correspondingly increased. On Tuesday evening, after the
duties of the day, and I could get my room to myself, I set
myself about a leading article for my paper, in reply to the
Watchman here. I wrote till a quarter before three in the
morning, completing eleven pages of manuscript. 1 was
obliged to do it — the copy must go by the morning's mail, or
it would be too late. I was careless about keeping my room
warm, and took cold. On Wednesday evening, it was deemed
that an article must be written for the little daily Journal
here, to be published yesterday, to do away with some of the
injurious rigmarole of the advocates of the bridge with which
that sheet was filled for the special benefit of the Legislature.
I was again made the conscript ; and wrote till two o'clock
yesterday morning, and completed that article. Yesterday
and to-day, I can scarcely speak aloud. I have no sore throat,
but feel exhausted ; more from mere want of sleep, I think,
than anything else. I shall be well again, I doubt not, in a
day or two. I send you the little Journal too, to show you
both how I worked on Wednesday evening, and how the
editor walked into me. Bailing, dear wifey, I shall now lie

down and try to get a couple of hours' sleep I am most

happy, to hear your cough is decreasing. If Mrs. TyrelFs
doctor will send 3'ou back cured, she may keep you a little
while for pa}^ ; and that is oflering a great deal, I can tell her.
You are better, I am certain, from the tone and tenor of your
letters. I am almost persuaded it is not necessary for me to
repeat, in this letter to you, to be prudent. I think, however,
it is far better to err on the right side, even at the risk of

A SESSION OF MUCH EXCITEMENT. 223

boring you, so T will keep up my caution. Do you love

me ? I want to see you more than I ever did in my life.

Do I always say so when we are separated r' I do see you
every day and every hour, however ; for I think I never was
able to call before me every feature of your face, and your
whole sweet person, so vividly as I have been able to do
all this session. Perhaps it is because I have had so much
brain-work to perform, that I have an unnatural vividness and
distinctness of ideal perception. My head has been certainly
at fever-heat ever since I have been here. The great pro-
jects that have given life and excitement, and strong feelings
to the session, the bridge, the Burlington banks, and one or
two others, are yet undecided ; and the gentlemen who are
here to advocate them and oppose them out of the legislature,
and who came on at the very opening of the session, are yet
here. Judge Follett, Mr. Linsley, Harry Bradley, Governor
Paine, Mr. Hayward, Governor Smith, Mr. Brainerd, Mr.
Smalley, Mr. Pomeroy, Mr. Adams, Mr. Harwell, and a mul-
titude of others are yet here, and will remain during all the
coming week, probably. I never saw so much excitement
and diplomacy and manoeuvering. The Governor (Paine)
and I keep quite clear of personalities. We have had but
one brief interview, and that even looked squally. We
were both equally decided and opposed for a minute ; but I

laughed in his face and we gave it up like wise men

Thanks for your kind and excellent letters to me. They rest
me, when I am weary and worn. The lines you inclosed read
better than they sounded ; and that you know is good praise.

224 TO MRS. C. IN NEW YORK OR TROY.

When I get home, so that I can revise the proof myself, I
I shall put it in my paper. You didn't give me permission to
do it, but I shall take it. I am so provoked this minute ! Mr,
Kellogg and Mr, Barber have just come in, and accepted my
invitation to them to sit down, though they kindly permit me
to go on writing. It ruffles my feathers ; 1 don't love to
write to you when I am in a crowd ; and I wish they would
clear out,

[The bridge debate, so often here referred to, was the ques-
tion of the State helping to build a bridge over Lake ChaiTi-
plain between the Island of South Hero and Milton, upon the
main land. I have not the statistics of the bridge by me now —
several miles across ; built on a natural sand-bar in the lake.
I passed over it once ; as I remember it, should say it was a
wonder to me at the time, and the longest bridge I ever passed
over.]

I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to learn you

are getting better I do not ask for anything else

But, darling, in our rooms, and in my ofiice, in^the street, and

in the cares of business, I always love you What shall

I do when I get back to our rooms this week ! It will be
dreary and gloomy enough without you, the paradise without
the peri. But, my own dear Caro, if you are receiving benefit,
remain where 3^ou are, and I will come down to New York
and see you, and bless Mrs. Tyrrill for keeping you. But
your last note informs me you are probably now in Troy.
Troy is no better for you than Burlington. Your excellent
relations there will smother you with kindness and love. If

AWFULr.Y DISMAL AT MONTPELIER. 235

you are there, come home I Only write when you shall start,
remember, and give me sufficient notice and I will meet you
in Whitehall. I will be there to welcome you to my inner
heart and take you home in it.

Everybody has gone away from Montpelier, and it is
awfully dismal here, if I had any time to realize it. Fred [Hough-
ton, Geo. F.] is asleep. He told me to give his love to you,
before he went to bed, and so did the Major before he went
away to his room. But what is their love, after all, desirable
as it may be, to the deep and true aifection that I send from
my heart of hearts, to you, my own dear lovely wife. Good
night. Always your own D.

Montpelier, Sunday evening, Nov. 14, 184Y.

My Blessed Wifey : — I have been writing all the even-
ing ; it is now eleven o'clock. I am tired, tired, with every-
thing here, now, almost, except Mr. and Mrs. Goo. Langdon.
I really love them both ; they are so hospitable and kind, and
appear so admirably adapted to each other. I have been no-
where else excepting there, but the one tea-drinking with Mr.
and Mrs. Shafter and the Colonel, in the early part of the
session. Mr. and Mrs. Upham I see now and then at the
Capitol, and Annette. They wonder how I am so occupied that
I cannot visit or call on them. I tell them the bridge has

employed all my leisure time

Burlington, June 3, 1848.

Mrs. Elzey concludes not to inclose a note, but wait till
after the wedding, and give you a graphic account I

226 COUSIN ANN FROM GERMANY.

saw Miss Hall, the bride, in the street, yesterday, with Mary
Phelps and Mary Hatch, and they were all so sorry, appar-
ently, that you are not to be present on the great occasion.
Never mind ; as Mrs. Elzy says, you will be quite as happy
and run quite as little risk of getting cold, and making ^^our-

self sick in New York T suppose you have learned that

Cousin Ann and Charles and Mr. Schaffer have arrived. Th< y
were on the boat with Edgar, yesterday, and must have passed
you and mother on the way between Fort Edward and Troy.
Cousin Anne, Edgar says, is as well and beautiful as ever, and
Charlie has got to be a monstrous tall fellow. (;ousin Caro,
Jenny, John A. and John Jackson all met there at the Orwell
Landing, and such takings-on, Ed. says, were never seen !
I am right glad Cousin Ann has come to live among us. -She
has seen so much of the world, and has profited so well by
what she has seen, that her influence in Brandon cannot fail
to be good. It will be nice to visit her, you and I, some time,
won't it ?

When Mr. and Mrs. Elzy go off to New York, 1 don't
readily perceive what I shall do ! The new arrival adds
nothing (exactly) to our social strength, and you know Miss
T. F. is a leelle too sublime for mere earthly creatures. Gov-
ernor Paine passed through town last evening. He was com-
ing to see you, he said. Caroline, he thinks, is in New York.
Give my best love to my dear mother, and do you both, my
own darling Caro, come back in much better health, and I
wnll be patient in my loneliness.

HE REGRETS PARTING WITH CLAY. 227

June 8th. Dear wifey : Mr. and Mrs. Elzy leave for
New York on the 20th inst. They have urged me hard to go
with them and surprise you and mother, and I should be glad,
glad to run away from this toil for a week and do so, but I
can't. We are in momentary expectation of getting the nom-
ination of the Whig Convention, and it is altogether out of
the question for me to be away from my post for the succeed-
ing few days.

The business in my office seems to accumulate, and every
moment that our presses are free from the papers, they are
busy with jobs...... I have written as f^st as my fingers

would let me, and only care if I shall have succeeded in giving
you a moment's happiness. I shall write again Sunday ; Love
to your aunt and cousins, to Adam and Sophia, and you and
mother take good care of yourselves.

Do you know how precious you both are ? Your own, D^

June llth. Told Stephen (Parkhurst) to send you my
Friday's paper, in which I had an article on Old Zack's nomi-
nation, and Mr. Clay's rejection, which I believe you will
like (if it is not too "iDrolix^^ you little impudence !) The}' say
here that it is very well — though it was certainly written
currente calamo, the very afternoon, and printed the afternoon
that we got the news — part of it being in type before the
whole was written. It is, assuredly, nothing particular as
a composition, but may be better sense than is usual for me.
I think Gen. Taylor (joined with so admirable a nomination
as that of Mr. Fillmore) will go with us, after the first dis-
appointment has subsided, with enthusiasm, though it gives

228 GOSSIPING TO HIS WIFE.

me a sore pang to know that we now part with Mr. Clay, the
gallant, the noble, and the true, forever.

The canvass will be laborious and exciting, however, and
I wish I could leave my post for a week or two, and join you
in New York, or on your way home, to recruit myself. But
I can't, I have enough for two men to do all the time.

Mr. Elzy will tell you all the Burlington gossip. I should
make poor work relating it. Mrs. Kobinson and Mrs. Ed
Peck have given parties. Mrs. C. P. Peck gives a smasher,
on Tuesday. I send you her card (which, by the way, was
printed in my office), of which she has issued some three
hundred.

MoNTPELiER, Oct. 18, 1848.

The multiplicity of my duties is very easily exaggerated
into an excuse for declining all manner of invitations, as I
certainly do. Mr. Houghton has gone, this evening, to a
wedding which I have declined to attend, though I am quite
well acquainted with the bridegroom, brother of our librarian,
who, with Mr. Houghton and others, were solicitous I should
go. It occurred to me you would like it better if I should
decline and I am a great deal happier to remain in my room try-
ing amid the interruptions to write something that will make
both of us, you and me, happy. Judge Phelps sits reading
the paper by my side, and Mr. Foot and Mr. Catlin have just
come in. But I tell them I am .writing to you, and they
excuse me, and permit me to go on. Casper Hopkins has
been here, boring me for an hour, though 1 declined an invita-
tion from Judge Williams iu his presence, to go to his room.

THE bp:isnington cannon there. 229

Some people never take hints, though one would think Bishop
Hopkins's children might !

After taking good care of yourself, remember and pray
and hope for me. The folks here are laughing at my notice
of Prince John Van Buren. Did you see iti*

October 22d. Judge Phelps left for home yesterday. He
made our room his headquarters, to see his friends. I believe
I have told you that I never saw the Judge looking better, in
good health and spirits. He asked if I had heard from you
very often, and appeared rather to pride himself on being a
favorite with you. We have, at length, got under way in the
Legislature. Our estimable "Free Soil" opponents have done
everything that their small-potato ingenuity could suggest, to
obstruct the organization of a Whig State Government for
Vermont ; but they have been signally defeated, and all the
delay and expense, (a marked thi)ig with Vermonters), rests
with them. The Whigs have elected their whole State ticket,
and were never stronger, firmer, or in better heart than they
are now. The cannon taken from the British at the Battle
of Bennington, by John Stark, in 1777, have just been restored
to this State by Congress, and are now in the State House.
The Vermont Historical Society were to have their annual
meeting with addresses, etc., last Wednesday evening.
The orators for the occasion were Mr. Houghton (Fred,) and
a Rev. Mr. Butler ; learning that their addresses were closely
connected with the history of these cannon — Mr. Houghton's
being on the life of Colonel Warner, and Mr. Butler's on the
80

280 CELEBRATION OVER THE CANNON.

Battle of Bennington itself— we persuaded them to give up
their Society celebration, and I drew a resolution directing
the Secretary of the Senate, and the Clerk of the House, to
invite these gentlemen to address the members of the two
Houses, on topics connected with the restoration of these
interesting trophies. The addresses were delivered on Friday
evening, in the hall of the House of Representatives, and were
exceedingly interesting. The cannon were dismounted and
placed on a table in the area in front of the Speaker's chair.
They are brass pieces, and the minute and animated details of
Mr. Butler's address and description of the famous battle on
our own soil, wherein they were captured from the British
under Colonel Baum, invested them with an interest, that
evinced itself in frequent and hearty expressions of applause
from the crowded audience. Mr. Houghton's address was a
capital one, though less directly connected with the lions of
the evening, the cannon. I am sure you would have enjoyed
the address and the scene, and would have thought better of
Yankees than you do, you know !

Mr. Houghton desires to be very kindly remembered to
you. He has, of course, received his appointment as Secre-
tary of Civil and Military affairs, from Governor Coolidge,
and pretends to think he is under considerable obligation to
me for it, though I think the Governor would have been a fool
not to appoint him before any of the other applicants.

October 25th. I have never known, precisely, such a
state of things, during the eight years that 1 liave been here.
After nearly two weeks but little more progress in the busi-

SENATOR NOT ELECTED— CANNOT ADJOURN. 281

ness of the session has been made than usually within the
first four days, and the great question of the day — the election
of a Senator — has not yet advanced the first step. It is con-
ceded, now, that we cannot adjourn till after the Presidential
election, November 7th. It was supposed, when we first
assembled, that we should all go home to vote. I think the
adjournment will not take place before the middle of Novem-
ber. Can I wait so long, my dearest Caro, before seeing you ?
When I am tired and worn out, as I am to-night, with writ-
ing and gossiping visitors, I turn to you — sleeping and wak-
ing— as my wife, my counsellor, my best friend, everything
and everybody I see here only increasing my satisfaction, and
m}^ pride, in my own dear wife. You are so immeasurably
superior, my dearest, to the mass of your sex — who are per-
sonally vain, afiected, unnatural (though the difference in the
last two adjectives is a slight one, there is a difterence) that
I am so thankful, and proud of you, in the comparison,
that it raises my own self-respect.

Don't sit up after you ought to be in bed and sleeping,
to write to me ; I would rather you would go without your
dinner. You do not feel sleepy, and think you can spend an
hour writing to me, a thousand times, when you ought to be
recruiting yourself by sleeping. Will you think of this '/

Mr. Huughton desired me to return his most grateful
acknowledgments for your kind remembrance. He is a gen-
tleman, I think, in the best sense of the word, and respects
me the more, because he knows I love and honor you. 1 talk

232 • THE STATE COMMITTEES ADDRESS.

with him about''my own darling wifey, because I like him, and
want him to know how accurately I estimate you.

Give my love to all our friends, in both cities. Write to
the kind Mrs. Elzey, and tell her we will try and meet her at
"Old Point Comfort" next summer — if "Old Zach" should be
elected. What does Col. Patterson say, by the way, about
the prospects of Gen. Taylor ? Mr. Marsh, who was here a
couple of days ago, inquired very kindly after you, as did
Judge Kellogg to-day. Love me as your own D.

Shall I send you any more money ?

MoNTPELiER, Oct. 28, 1848.
Saturday, P. M.

If you could look in upon me, look into my eyes and
my heart, you would rejoice and be "glad and make glad,
like the blessed sun. But the opportunity for such thoughts
here, my own dearest, are few and far between, emphatically.
It is worse "noise and confusion" generally, about Montpelier
than usual, this fall. The Presidential election, so near at
hand, makes men's minds feverish and restless. Do you get
the daily Free Press ? If so, you will have seen a short
address "to the Whigs of Vermont," a few days ago, issued
by the State committee. Harry Bradley came into my room
on Monday morning last, and said the State committee had
resolved on issuing a brief address, that shouldn't cover more
space than one page of paper, and that it must be put forth
forthwith ; and I must write it. Imploring to be excused, (you
know I am "prolix"), feeling how much harder work it is to
write a short address than a long one, in a hurry, I resisted

HELPING A JNIAN WRITE HIS ADDRESS. 233

as long as I could, and then consented — (as usual, you
will say, Mrs. meanness !) I commenced it in my room, and
finished it alter the Senate was called to order, partly in the
Senate chamber and partly in my office, so that it was sent
to my paper the same afternoon. They say ("ow c^iY'^) it is
good. I leave it to you to say. It has been copied into the
city papers, I perceive. But, I am boring you, I suppose,
my little friend, with these mean politics, in which you take
small interest. Whatever interests me, however, or engages
my mind, or enlists my efforts I always inflict upon you ; and
you must bear it.

I am very sanguine and savage, you know, in my politi-
cal opinions, and you mistake this ardency of conviction for a
feeling that engages me, and takes my thoughts and heart away
from you. You cannot make a more grievous mistake ! But the
gentleman, Mr. Kidder, (a Senator,) for whom I have been
waiting for the last half hour, has come in and I must leave
you till to-morrow. With his permission, I will tell you what
he is here for. You remember the sword I procured, under the
Governor's direction, for the son of Colonel Ransom. This
Mr. Kidder is a very nice loco-foco, whom Governor Eaton selec-
ted to make the presentation. He is a tolerably good lawyer, and
a very "clever fellow," but has nothing of the savoir fairs
which qualifies him to get up an address for such an ocasion.
Will you believe that he has selected me as his confidant for the
occasion ; a warm political opponent, — and is here to
have me assist him, as I very cordially engaged to do, in get-
ting up the affair ! I shall help him — nothing more. And

234 GOV. PAINE'S MESSAGE TO MRS. CLARKE.

when the address appears in the Free Press, don't lay it all to
me, though my finger, will be in several passages. Good
night, my own. I will dream of you, I did last night.
, Sunday, P. M. I am going to send by a messenger whom
Governor Paine is about despatching to Burlington. You
will receive it one day earlier. The Governor's reading the
newspaper by my side, with his spectacles on his nose, and
on my asking him what message I shall send to you for him,
he answers : *'Give my love to her ; you know I always send
her my love." But, said I, Governor, let me tell her something
new — she knows you like her. "Well, then," says he, "tell
her to come and see my railroad I" Would you not rather
come and see me, my own dear wifey !

Kellogg and Hannah Foster are to be married within a
fortnight, and are going immediately to the West ! She has
caught the young gentleman fairly ! And I hope he will
never see cause to be sorry for it. Miss Foster passed through
Montpelier on Thursday last, on her way to Boston, to ask
her mamma. I did not see her. Mr. Shafter informed me.
the morning after, with the extraordinary intelligence, that
the marriage was a "fixed fact," Kellogg left here this morn-
ing for Burlington, returns in the course of a week, and goes
to Boston or Roxbury, where the ceremony is to take place.
Ah!

The Burlington Rough and Ready Glee Club, seventeen
young men, with Mr. Nichols as leader, and Sammy Moore for
pianist, gave a Concert (political) here on Friday evening.

GOV. PAINE'S RAILROAD EXCURSION. 235

It was really very good ; among whom were Louis and Fred
Follett.

Governor Paine and Mr. Bradley are in my room, talking
on a new railroad project, which is very entertaining to us of
course. Mr. Houghton says he has been writing to his
"Ladye love," and desires to be specially remembered to you.
He is a good fellow, and a gentleman, and that, you and I
both like. My blessed darling, always believe me, your own.

MoNTPELiER, Nov. 5, 1848—9 o'clock P. M.
My own Dear Dearest Wifey :

An hour ago I returned from Northfield, from the excur-
sion on the Central Railroad, yesterday. We left Montpelier —
the Governor, and about 200 members of the Legislature, Sec-
retary of State, and other dignitaries — a few minutes after
seven o'clock, yesterday morning, and at half-past nine left
Northfield, in a special train for Lebanon, 53 miles — the whole
length of the Central road, now opened. In two hours, ten
minutes, we found ourselves at Lebanon. We remained a
little more than an hour, undergoing the hospitality of Mr.
Campbell, — the great Bridge-Making Engineer, who built the
bridge across the Hudson at Troy — and arrived at Northfield,
again, a little after three o'clock, P. M., having travelled from
Montpelier about 116 miles.

No persons were admitted to the special train provided
by the Governor for this Legislative excursion, excepting spec-
ially invited; and very few special invitations were extend-
ed. Ex-Governor Eaton, Professor Benedict, Mr. Brainerd of
St. AlbanS; Mr. Upham, and a few others. There were

236 RAILROAD EXCURSION CONTINUED.

about 250 on the train, and probably, two-tliirds of them had
never before seen a raib'oad. This class of legislators (?) was
very inquisitive about the whole matter, asking a thousand
questions that a well-informed boy might as well have ansr
wered. But my own, dear, blessed Caro, I am not going to
bore you with an account of yesterday's proceedings, after
your dear letter. I only want to tell you about my participa-
tion in the excursion : In the cars between Northfield and
Bethel, I wrote off a song for the occasion, which, for its local
allusions and hits, was received with great good feeling, and
which Mr. Houghton, Mr. Shaffer and I had to sing, tolerably
often, before we got back again. I really don't think it
worthy of publishing abroad. But Fred Houghton made a
copy which will probably appear in the Tuesday's Boston
Atlas. I say this to you, my own sweet wifey, to invoke your
charity for me, and my vanity, or good nature in consenting
to have it printed. But I did, and "there is the end on't."

Caroline is now on a visit to the Governor's. She spoke
of you very affectionately, this morning, and said if you were
at home, she should go to Burlington before leaving again for
Boston. She desired me, the morning before she left, to give
her best love to you. She wanted to go with us on our excur-
sion over the road, but as there were no other ladies on the
train, she declined.

After dinner, last evening, it was so dark and rainy, that
we gave up going. Govenor Coolidge, Professor Benedict
Fred Houghton, myself and two others, remained in Northfield,
hoping to get to Montpelier this morning in season to attend

RAILROAD LETTER CONCLUDED. 237

church — a duty that I rarely omit to do, as I know you will
bear me witness. It rained steadily and copiously', as 3^ou will
remember, all da3'' to-day ; and about tea time, the word came
from the Governor that we ought to go homeward, and we start-
ed, amid all manner of rain and flood, and reached my own good
room, an hour or two ago. I enjoyed myself a thousand times
better, yesterday, and wrote my jingling rhymes a thousand
times easier (I know I did), for having your letter with me,
and reading it in the cars. I feel in my heart of hearts, that
you have always been the dearest, truest, best wife in the
world. It is twelve o'clock, and George Fred lies asleep, and
slightly snoring near me. I believe I have told you I like Mr.
Houghton. He is a clean, gentlemanly, intelligent Episcopal
man ; and that perhaps, is enough.

A resolution for the final adjournment has already been
introduced, but it lies, in cool indifference upon the table. I
hope they may adjourn early next week. I am sick of Mont-
pelier, and want to get to "my own heart's home." Mr. Up-
ham was re-elected Senator, and gave a legislative male levee
day before yesterday. I went to it for a short time, for ap-
pearances, with Mr. Chandler. Mr. Catlin, Gov. Coolidge, and
Fred. .. -Good night, my best and dearest Caro. I have run
over the whole of my paper almost, without knowing it. Love
to all and believe me to be your own, dear, darling hubby,
always, D.

238 GENERAL CLAKKE'S RAILROAD SONG.

THE RAILROAD SONG.

WRITTEN BY GENERAL CLARKE ABOARD THE CARS BETWEEN

NOTRHFIELD AND BETHEL.

Tune — "Deaeest Mae."

We took an early start today,

And braved a rough old ride,
To reach the place where Paine, they say,

Wins people to his side ;
The iron-horse was breathing gas

In the "sequestered vale,"
And every one ambitious was
To ride upon a rail I

Hurrah ! Hurrah !
For Governor Paixe, the Rail-er!
He builds his road o'er rocks and hills,
And goes for General Taylor !

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah !

If it don't beat all natur' !
To see the "wisdom and the virtu' "

Of our great Legislatur'
A riding through the hills and vales.

From Northfield to the river.
On Governor Paine's new-fashioned rails !

I never ! did you ever ?

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! &c.

THE RAILROAD SONG. 239

I tell you what it is, old boys,

This ride we are not loth in,
Especially when we do the thing

Free gratis and for nothin' !
And when, besides, the dinner comes

On just such terms again,
I'd like to know who will not sing,

Hurrah for Governor Paine !

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! &c.

I wish to introduce a bill —

I offer it quite huml)ly.
And move its passage through these cars,

By this 'ere J'int Assembly : —
Section 1, provides that Paine

Shall have the right to go
With his old Railroad where he will ;

He'll do it whether or no !

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! &c.

The 2d section has a clause,

As sharp as any cat's,
That when old Belknap comes along,

We'll raise our cotton hats, —
Because he has a rough old way

In that old pate, 'tis said,
Of doing things when he takes hold ;
They call it "going ahead 1"

Hurrah! Hurrah !
For Belknai', high and low !
He goes ahead because you see,
He's got a head to go !

240 THE RAILROAD SONG.

In section 3, it is declared,

That that 'ere long man, Moore,
Who straddles this old iron horse,

And brings us through secure,
Shall be the Chief old Engineer,

By special legislation.
Of this 'ere J'int Assembly here, —
As ZACH shall of the nation !
Hurrah ! Hurrah !
Let's make the echoes roar !
Though other roads are safe enough,
The Central Road is Mooee !

In section 4, it is set down,

That 'mong these mountain ridges.
The name of Campbell shall resound :

The Hero of the Bridges !
And that the man to carry out

A project very mighty.
And show that "it is bound to go,"
Is that 'ere same old "Old White y !"
Hurrah ! Hurrah !
Let's keep the chorus humming !

For word has passed along the line-
That same old "Campbell's coming!"

As an amendment to the bill

It's moved to add a section.
Which has a tendency to raise

A rather sad reflection : —
It is that Governor Paine do seek —

(Why what's the man about ?)
To keep the family on earth —

The race must not run out J

THE RAILROAD SONG. 241

Hurrah I Hurrah!
For Paine the hachvlor /
The wonder groweth every daj',
What he's unmarried for !

Amendment 2d is proposed : —

Tt is to make provision
That shall our thanks to Campbell show,

With vert/ nice precision.
He has a head that's great to plan,

A will that never flinches ;
We wish 3^ou'd find a bigger man
Than Campbell, of his inches.

Hurrah ! Hurrah !
For "Whitej^" brave and true !
His heart goes fitly with his head —
So say I — what say you ?

Now, if the President will rise

And put the thing to vote,
I'd like to know your sentiments

Upon this bill I've wrote ;
And so. to end the matter well.

Before we take a glass,
I hope you all will answer "Aye !"
And let the old bill pass.

Hurrah ! Hurrah !
Please put this vote again ;
All you who are affirmative,
Hurrah for Governor Paine I
21

242 THE RAILROAD SONG.

I think I may delare the vote,

I'll do it if 3^ou will,
And now announce to this J'int House,

The passage of the bill ;
It is before the Governor —

We care for no Veto—
If Governor Paine won't sign the act,

Our CooLiDGE will, we know !

Hurrah! Hurrah! &c.

It now is moved that we adjourn.

And in the usual w^ay ;
For plain it is, at this late hour,
We break up "without day;"

And when we reach our homes again,
We'll tell the wondrous tale,

How Paine has rode this J'int
Assembly on a rail !

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! &c.

As for the title of our bill.

It is decreed to be : —
"And act to lighten public cares,

And aid festivity."
So now farewell to Governor Paine,

To Belknap, Campbell, Moore !
This J'int Assembly is dissolved :

'Twas liquor fied before !

Farewell ! Farewell !

Nov. Hli. We have had another funeral in the House
of Representatives ! Another summons has been sent in
among the busy schemers, the ambitious politicians, and the

LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 243

heedless time-servers who congregate about the Capitol. A
representative from Orleans County, a Mr. Emerson, died yes-
terday morning, after an ilhiess of a few days ; and again have
both Houses resolved that they receive the painful intelligence
with "deep sensibility," and that they and their officers will
wear crape during the remainder of the session. I wear on
my left arm the badge of mourning ; twice ordered there
within a week. Oh ! my own best beloved, how vain and
empty are all the cares and the pursuits of the grave Legisla-
ture, when tested by a standard which is raised upon a tomb.
How much better are the affections of this short life ; how
much more worthy of our care and solicitude, than honors and
rewards.

Dearest Caro, you don't know how purely I love you —
how I love the very hem of your garment. When I look
about me, and see what miserable pretexts draw others away
from the hearts that love them, and the homes that they ought
to make glad, I am proud of you, my glorious wifey ; you are
as superior to the great mass of women in the real graces, my
sweet wifey, as 3'ou are in elet'ation of principle and senti-
ment. I know you will not charge me with attempting to
flatter you. We know each other too well, do we not ? I
love to speak to you from the warmth of my heart, and you
must permit me to do it. Take my praise, my own dearest,
as though you knew you deserved it ; and all I ask, is that you
will kiss me with all your heart, and with your eyes, for appre-
ciating you.

244 LAST SUNDAY EVENIISG OF THE SESSION.

I trust in Heaven old Zack is elected to-day. You are
where the fever is the highest ; write me about it.

Nov. 9th. Old Zack is elected ! Glorious news ! You
will rejoice with me. I never felt better in my life.

Nov. 10th. Since I commenced this letter, Gov. Cool-
idge has come into our room, and he and Mr. Ormsbee and
Fred are gossiping together. I obtained the Governor's per-
mission to continue my letter, as I told him it is to you, and
that I wished to get to you the earliest intelligence of the
approaching adjournment. Gov. Coolidge is mighty formal
and courtly, though a good, clever fellow at bottom.

November 12th. This is the last of my Sunday evenings
in Montpelier, my own dearest wifey, for a long time, and I
trust forever. I shall pass it in writing to you. Mr. Hongh-
ton has just gone out, and I have driven away two visitors
who have entered my room since his departure, by simply
speaking civilly to them, and keeping on with my writing.
The first was Mr. Smalley, of Burlington, and the last Mr.
Ormsbee, of Rutland, both of whom resisted my invitation to
a chair, and both of whom have left me within the past two
minutes. I hope nobody else will come in, though I write
in dreadful apprehension of a visit from the Lieutenant-Gov-
ernor, and one or two Senators, who are my near neighbors
here. I shall see you soon. I wish to hold you to my heart,
and kiss your lips and eyes once more.

If I can complete what remains for me to do here
after the adjournment, so as to reach Albany or Troy
on Saturday evening, I believe I shall attempt it. Gov-

LAST SUNDAY EVENING LETTER. y^^ 245

um «^

fcrnor Paine sa3'S be willjgo with me to Boston, and if I can
start on Thursday, so as to have one [day there to see Mr,
Rice and Mr. Ilovve and Mr. Henshaw, about my claim on
the Rutland Railroad Company, of which they are directors.
If you do not see me on Saturday evening, you may conclude
that I went hence directly to Burlington. I wish very much,
however, to see and talk with these Boston gentlemen, Mr.
Rice especially, Avho .is one of the best of them. I received
a letter from him a day or two ago. I inclose it, that you
may see just the kind heart of the man. He has always over-
estimated the value of my exertions in behalf of the rail-
road in 1845, though not half so much as our excellent friend
and cousin in Brandon has always under-rated them. Since
I wrote the foregoing, darling wifey, 1 have been hopelessly
interrupted by the presence of visitors for two hours, and it
is half after ten. I shall finish my letter in quiet, for Mr.
Houghton has gone to bed — telling me, by the way, to say to
you, that he has made the necessary memorandums, so as
to be able to give you a very accuiate account of my multitu-
dinous misdeeds. There is nothing, my own dearest, however,
for him to make a plausible story of. There has been no
gaiety here, during the session ; no parties excepting the
large one at Mrs. Upham's which I did not attend (and which
Houghton says was stupid), and nothing to relieve Montpelier
from the reputation of being the loneliest village in New
England. 1 ought, of course, to except the famous railroad
excursion of the Legislature over Governor Paine's road, a
week ago, of which you may have seen a flaming account.

246 SUNDAY EVENING LETTER CONTINUED.

with vei'ses to match, in the Boston Atlas of last Thursday.
Mr. Houghton, without consulting me, quoted me in eloquent
terms as the author of the impromptu song, which is spread
over a column of the Atlas, so I have got my name up as an
improvisatore ! The song does not, really, read so ill, as con-
sidering that the allusions and hits it contains are local
in their interest and association, as I very firmly believed and
told the Governor and Caroline, it would. But let it go, and
let me come back to you, my own beloved Caro. You don't know
how I wish to see you. I am perplexed to conclude whether
you are in Albany, Troy, or New York. I hope that you will
not return without visiting New York. I want you to see
Doctor Cook, even though you are, thank God, better of that
cough and ugly pain [Neuraliga, from which she was much
of a sufferer many years.] If you would but realize how
inexpressibly dear you are to me, and how solicitous I am,
you would be very careful of yourself lor my sake. But you
are a cruel little meanness, and iconH be prudent ! If to
believe that I love you with all my heart will add to the
motives you ought to have for being careful, I beseech you,
my dear love, to believe it in your heart of hearts ! I thank
yoU; dear Caro, for what you say in your last dear letter, I know
we are happier, and love e ich other better, and that we ought
to be happier than any of the married people you see about
you. I love you, my sweet wife, with all the fresh-
ness and a hundred times the strength of our early
love, when life was all rose-colored before us, and when
I was far more frivolous and less worthy 3^our blessed

LOVES TO WKITE HER SUNDAY EVENING. 247

attachment (tliat has been my guide and rich Messing) than
I am now. I rarely r<'ad my chapter in the Psalms without
finding something that comforts as well as reproaches me,
and, I hope, my own dearest, that makes me better. I never
open ray prayer-book without feeling my heart, my best affec-
tions, warm to you ; and I feel so much better in connecting
your darling name and person with every thing good 1 read. I
love to write to you on Sunday evening. I always feel the
better for it. It harmonizes with my highest idea of ''keep-
ing the Sabbath,'' for I am sure I can have no better external
employment than in making you happy. This is the fourth
letter I have written you within the week ; last Tuesday,
Tuesday evening, Friday evening and now. I am afraid, ever
dearest love, that I am better to you than you deserve. I
expected a letter from you last evening quite confidently, and
was disappointed when my little page of the Senate (whom
I sent to the ofiice after nine o'clock) returned with nothing
for me but a newspaper. B^^ the way, I believe I have told
you that 1 got the place of page, or messenger, in the Senate
for Mr. Hicks's son, James. He is a very nice boy, and I
love him. Last evening we had an evening session, and shall
till the adjournment. It adds prodigiously to my labors.
Yesterday (as you know, I have always adhered to my deter-
mination to stick to my seat till I had my journal up) I was
in my chair, writing almost incessantly, from two in the after-
noon till quarter to eleven at night. I was completely worn
out. Good night, my dear, dear Caro ; love me and take the
kiss I send you as warm from my lips and my heart, and come

248 A NEW ELEMENT INTRODUCED.

t

to my arms soon, if I do not go to yours. Write me a line to
Burlington, on receiving this, and one to the Tremont House,
Boston, if you can get it there on Friday evening.

My dearest Caro, all your own, D.

MONTPELIER, N'ov. 4, 1849.

My very Dear Wifey — My Dearest and Best :

I will not try to disguise from you the anxiety I feel as
the time approaches when I have promised to visit Father
McElroy, in Boston. In the very centre and whirlpool of so
many cares, distractions and perplexities ; I hardly know,
half the time, what to think of myself, and nothing consoles
me like reading blessed St. Francis, and your dear letters. I
try to omit no opportunity to watch myself, and do not and
will not omit any exercises, daily, that I regard as not to be
omitted. In one way or another, I have resolved : I will per-
form such and such acts of devotion. And it is really remark-
able how ej'sily we can find time and opportunity for them,
when we once determine to. But, dearest, I am afraid I am
not fit to appear before Father McElroy. I know you will say
I am much more fit to appear before him, than before God.
But you know what I mean. I have always, as you will bear
witness, my own dear Caro, had a peculiar degree of reverence
lor religion, and special horror of an unfaithful profession of it.
It is this (unworthy, doubtless) feeling that leads me (much
more since I have begun to realize something of the divine
beauty and authority of the Holy Catholic Church) to shrink
from doing anything to compromise either my own concep-
tions of what I ought to be, or the supreme diguity and exce 1

HE 1IES0LVE8 TO BE BAPTIZED. 249

lence I ascribe to the Sacraments of the Church. Do not im-
agine, my dearest and best, that I have a moment's hesitation
as to my duty, nor a moment's doubt about going forward to
attempt to perform it. I am a thousand times more resolved
than ever to be baptized, as soon as I get liberated from this
post of labor ; and perhaps, after all, I ought to be thankful,
instead of distressed, that I feel a thousand times less worthy
than ever of the approbation of the church — much as I may
need her counsel and directions. I verily believe, my own
sweetest wife, that it was a special providence that led me to
ask and you to consent to my taking from you the very de-
lightful "Introduction" of St. Francis — is'nt it ? Several of my
acquaintances who have accidentally seen it, or to whom T have
read passages, and the preface, have been perfectly delighted
with it. Such things are for good. A*s good Father McElroy
says : "Nothing happens by chance." (Judge Phelps has this
moment come in, while I was mending my pen, and so I will
surrender till he goes out.) Since I have written the forego-
ing parenthesis, I am honored by the accession to my list of
visitors of Mr. Harry Bradley, Mr. Pierpont, the Lieut.-Gov-
ernor, Mr. Woodbridge, Mr. Smalley, and Mr. Houghton's
father. Three of them are now talking beside me; the rest
have departed. Only think of it ! What an opportunity for
talking with you, my own beloved wifey, quietly and alone,
and in such a temper as I wish to talk. I cannot, and there is
no use in attempting it. The particular conversation, just
now, in my room, is with the chairman of the Bank Commit-
tee in regard to a speculation in stock, which I have not list

250 PR03IISES TO BE A BETTER HUSBAND.

tened to sufficiently to understand, but which is quite animat-
ed enough to completely distract me. I can only say, I love
you, and pray God and the Blessed Virgin Mother, and all the
saints to bless and preserve you. Dearest, you love me, and
I know you will pray for me.

I was sorry not to be able to write you by Stephen, yes-
terday, but I had engaged, before he came, on Friday morn-
ing, to go to Northfield, with Judge Williams, Mr. Senator
Holbrook and others, on railroad matters (which I need not
take time to explain) and could not wait. I had barely time
to talk with him as long as I wished to. He informed me that
you had gone to Montreal, and might be back to-morrow. He
also told me you are quite well and look well, and for this I
am very thankful and happy .

I will be a better 'hubby, I trust, than I have ever been.
There is a wide margin for improvement, at any rate ! God
bless and keep you, and remember how dearly I love you.

Your own, D.

P. S. — If I was not absolutely confused with such jargon
as "brokerage in Boston," exchange,'^ "pay back/' "trans-
fers," "risks," &c., &c., which gives me a lively notion of the
trouble at Babel, I should like to write you like a dear and
loving husband ; as it is, since I wrote the first page and a
half I have been writing to you like a broker, though I love
you like a lover! and as I see no reason to anticipate any
alleviation of my burden of friends, I give it up. Good-night,
and God bless you again ; I can't kiss the paper, but I kiss
you. J).

WHAT MRS. MEECH SAID ABOUT IT. 251

Mrs. Clarke had, a short time previous to this letter, unit-
ed with the Catholic church. Said Mrs. Meech, in relation to
this change in the religious sentiments of her son and his wife:
"Caro was the first to become a Catholic. DeWitt and his
wife, and Charles Austin and his wife, of Albany, w^ere great
friends. They used to visit back and forth. Caro always
preferred staying with Mrs. Austin, when in Albany, to stay-
ing with Sophia, and DeWitt and Mr. Austin were like broth-
ers together. Mr. Austin, who had become a Catholic, in-
duced Mrs. Clarke, who was down there on a visit, to read
some Catholic books. She became a Catholic ; and after she
became one, never rested day or night till she made him one,
too.'' "She made him ?" I inquired. "The same thing. She
made him read, and he could not read and not become one — ^^no
one could ; and Caro loved her husband too well to ever be
willing to have him divided from her in any one thing.
DeWitt first read to please her, as he afterwards told me, when
he became interested himself and convinced ; and for a good
many years I thought and used to say that he was a great deal
' more of a Catholic than his wife — had more faith. She was a
very good woman ^ but she had to grow into it more. From
the first, ever after he was baptized, he seemed to believe it
most entirely, in all its practices, and all. Caro, ever after
she went to Texas, though, was very earnest. When she was
left alone so much there, so lar from home, she turned very
sincerely to her religion. She wrote me very earnest and
beautiful letters. I saw a great diflerence. She was naturally
a great society woman. She was made for it and shone

252 WHAT MRS. MEECH SAID ABOUT IT CONTINUED.

in it, and there was never anything I ever envied her so
much as her gift in conversation. How many times I
wished I could converse as well as she did ! She was
so sensible and so quick had such a gift of repartee. One
thing that DeWitt was more of a Catholic in, at first,
than his wife, was in his love for the Blessed Virgin. She
believed in and accepted all that the church required ; but I
don't think she had any special devotion to her at first, as
DeWitt had. She used to say she did not love her as DeWitt
did. I don't think she ever did, or not till after she went to
Texas. DeWitt was from the first captivated with her. He
used to say to me how often : 'Mother, what is a church with-
out a mother ?" He used to boast that his friends all accused
him of Mariolatry, and his eyes would glow when he would tell
of it. I think he liked to be accused of it : that he regarded
it an honor, so much was he attached to her. Caro told me
once when she had been away with him, and came home, on
the boat, at dinner, she was choked in eating and came near
being strangled ; and the first thing she knew or heard was
DeWitt whispering in her ear, "Pray to the Blessed Virgin !
"Pray to the Blessed Virgin !" and she laughed when she
told me of it." 1 remarked : "Perhaps she wanted you to see
how good a Catholic he was, as he had become one later than
herself and you thought that she had assisted in the matter."
"Yes, and she was amused, too, with it, that the first thing,
when she was choking nearly lo death, he should think of
the Blessed Virgin." In whom we ardently believe, in
the moment of danger we call on first, I said. "I know,"

THE GENERAL WRITES HIS MOTHER. 253

she said. "I think Caro was always proud of his being so
good a Catholic — but she laughed when she told me of it.''
"And what do you think of the Blessed Mother," I said.
"I never had any difficulty about her," she instantly replied ;
"she was made for her vocation." "And Saint Joseph ?"
"The same ; he was made for his, too. They two were made
difterent, I always thought, than any other man or woman, as
they were made for a different vocation from what any other
man or woman ever had — better and greater. I never had any
trouble about either of them. I never had any difficulty about
Blessed Mary ; I never thought she could be made any too
good to be the mother of Jesus Christ."

MoNTPELiER, Nov. 14, 1849.
I really think I have never been so completely Over-
whelmed with cares and perplexities, as I have been during
the session just now past. Ezra was here for two days, and
could give you some idea of the condition of my room, and
of its fitness, either for reflection or any other occupation that
requires "peace and quiet." As it was when he was here, it
has been almost constantly till to-day ; though I have not all
the time been obliged to share my bed with another. The
attendance of those having business in which they were inter-
ested before the Legislature, has been unusually large, and
they have remained unusually long. It is only last Saturday
that the great railroad controversy was adjusted, and ever
smce the Legislature has been overrun with people who were
after banks ; so that, in short, this has been anything but a
22

254 TELLS HER HIS RELIGIOUS INTENTION.

pleasant session for me The members have pretty much

gone, and the old house is as "still as a mountain/ and
though I have got work enough to do up at the State House,
I thought I could do it better, perhaps, if I first dropped a
line to you.

The thing that most troubled me, my dearest mother, and
kept me balancing between my duty, as I understood it, and
my feelings, was the certainty that the important step that
my dear Caro had resolved on taking, would inflict pain and
regret upon your heart, and distress Father Meech ; and I
think you will yourself admit, my dear mother, that the very
fact that I could bring myself to the point, alter my frequent
and strong, though unjust, denunciation of the Catholic church,
is a pretty good evidence of the sincerity of my convictions,
at least. You have learned, doubtless, from dear Caro, that I
have been honestly examining the claims of the Catholic
church for some months past, and that the strength and con-
clusiveness of the facts and arguments on which those claims
appear to be founded, astonished while they convinced me.
You know, my dear mother, that I have never been baptized.
I have been quite resolved, for more than a year past, that this
is a great duty that no man ought to neglect. I assure you, I
have been deterred from performing it by the painfullest feel-
ing of distrust, as to the church in which it should be done.
I have seen nothing but divisions and uncharitable dissensions
in every denomination of Protestants the Episcopal — cer-
tainly, no less than others and nowhere does there seem to
be unity or peace — the unity of — settled and established

THE KEASONS HE GIVES FOR HIS FAITH. 255

faith, and the peace which springs from cheerful obedience
and charity. When I found (as I assure you, my dear mother,
everybody will find who looks fairly and without pre-judging)
that every thing that is urged against the Catholic church,
which makes the Protestant world denounce and reject it, is
absolutely not true, and that within her walls are the great
unities which are the finest test of truth, together with the
peace and faith which are themselves a part of the Divinity.
When I read the elementary works which the Catholic church
has promulgated, and studied the beautiful system of worship
that she has maintained for so many centuries, unchanged
and unshaken amid the terrible convulsions that have unset-
tled and broken np every thing else ; when I listened to her
calm yet unhesitating voice of authority, and began to com-
prehend the plain and simple and lovely, though almost uni-
versally neglected and despised relation that must exist
between authority and obedience, and to feel (as I assure you,
my dearest mother, I do feel) the satisf^nng beauty of obeying
the authority that is commissioned to teach ; and above all
when I confessed to m^^self my absolute and unquestionable
inability to decide for myself questions that have, through
the perversity of men's hearts and the wise folly of their heads,
so long "disturbed the peace" of a part of the world, at least,
I was glad to find shelter where controversy, at any rate is at
rest, and where the wisdom of man is accounted of little worth.
I love the Catholic church for her peace and unity. I obey her,
from my conviction of her sublimely-conferred right to my
obedience. 1 love her for her boundless faith, hope and charity.

256 FIRST COMMUNION CERTIFICATES.

I obey her in humble reverence for Him who promised to be
with those who are her teachers to the end of the world. I
hope, my dearest mother, my heart is better. I know my
understanding is convinced. I know I love you better than I
ever did, and I trust you will find reason to be happy in what
may now appear to you an affliction.

Ever, my dear mother.

Your afiVctionate son, DeWitt.'^

Since the death of all the family, I have louiid the baptis-
mal certificates of Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, rolled and laid away
together — found after they have gone to their account.
Opening the first :

"Caroline E. T. Clarke. I made my first Communion,
Nov. 2d, 1849.

The body of my Lord preserve my soul to life everlast-
ing !

I received Confirmation, Oct. 10th, 1849.

Confirm, 0 God, what thou hast wrought in me.

John Bernard, B'p of Boston. '^

The second, as the above certificate, signed, "Matthew D.
W. C. Clarke, dated Nov. 25, 1849, for his baptism and con-
firmation."

Being at Rutland on his military business the anniver-
sary-day of their marriage, the General writes his wife :

Rutland, May 16, 1850.

My Dear Wife : — I wish I could kiss your cheek, this
morning, and persuade you that I love you better on this
anniversary-day than I ever did before. I know I do, notwith-

ANNIVERSARY LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 257

standing' yon may too often have apparent reason to think I

am not as kind and forgiving as I used to be. My darling

wife, you must not think so ! Try to believe what is true ;

that since we became ^oor Catholics, we are and aim to be

much better Christians, and are more worthy of each other.

I know, and very often deeply regret it, that I am not as

thoughtful of you, and forbearing towards you, as I ought to

be ; but, dearest, you will, 1 am sure, do me the justice to

believe that I am compelled, oftentimes, to be thinking of

other cares and perplexities of ^business, and sometimes my

inconsiderateness arises from that. I love you with a better

love than I ever felt before ! I take the very siucerest and

highest pleasure, my own Caro, on this day, of asking you to

forgive all my unkindness and negligence, and to assure you

that I mean, hereafter, to be more thoughtful of both you and

myself] and so, as I mean to, I write it, so that you will

receive it before you sleep. This is all, dearest, that I care

to say.

Always your' own, D.

MONTPELIER, Oct. 10, 1850.

It is half-past two o'clock. I have just finished a long
letter to my paper, but cannot go to bed without sajnng a
word to you, before I go, that you may know that I love you,
pray for you, and ask your prayer for me, dearest Caro. I
will never come hither again. I have so announced to every-
body. I am now in earnest. A real sacrifice it is. I am
laboring to get completely out of debt, and to make you
happy. I shall do it ! My Good Angel and the Blessed Virgin

358 TO HIS WIFE WHEN SHE IS SICK.

will help me, and your prayers, my dearest, will be a thousand
times better than mine.

I was elected Secretary this P. M. I have scarcely been
out of the State House since my arrival here. Have made no
calls, and shall make none. Just imagine how excessively
busy I must be. More than half the Senate have ordered my
paper for the session, and I am informed that the House will
do the same. I implored them not to do it, for it subjects me
to the necessity of writing constantly. See in the paper of
to-morrow what I have written and I had to write con-
stantly to-night since 10 o'clock, when my room was finally
vacated by my good visitors. Gov. Pierpont, Mr. Briggs, Lt.
Gov. Converse, and others ! I hope to get a line from you
before you go. I hope mother will go with you.

I inclose a note for Mr. Stetson, of the Astor House,
should you go to New York before I join you.

Good-night, wifey. I will say an Ave for you. I know
you have said one for me, already, this evening. I have felt
it. Take care of 3'our health. Love me as I love you, and
God bless and protect us both ! D.

On hearing that his wife, in New York, has been sick ;

Oct. 18, 1850.

When I think of you, the very dearest and best of wives,
racked with pain, and without me, I am distressed beyond
what I dare to express. I feel an almost irresistible influence
to fly to you ! Nobody can comfort you as I can, and nobody
ought to, bad as I always am.

I do not go to bed at night, nor rise in the moriiiug, with-

SUNDAY LETTER FROM HOME. 259

out rememberijig- you in ni}'- prayers. Remember me, dear
Caro, thus, for I most need it,

Oct. 27tli. At home over Sunday :

I met Father O'Callig-han, yesterday, and he enquired
after you and the picture. Good Father O'Callighan would
like to see the picture over his very handsome altar, which,
by the way, is finished, and looks exceedingly well. It is
marble, and the mouldings about the panels gilded. The old
gentleman is ever so proud of it. Mother is quite well, but
will not, I fear, go down to join you. Has Sophia written for
her ! I cannot now tell when the Legislature will adjourn. I
hope, however, next week. I will give you the earliest infor-
mation of it, so that you can "dress up'' for me.

October 24th. Governor Paine has invited the two
Houses to go to Rouses Point, on Saturday next, and a large
proportion of the members, with the Governor, will go. We
leave Montpelier early on Saturday morning and return to
Montpelier the same evening. I shall probably stop at Bur-
lington, on my return, over Sunday, as I am needed there
all the time, in my office. I have no editor there but Stephen,
and have to work, here, like a galley-slave. You will notice
from Uncle Ap's Weekly i^ree Press, how I make "the pen" do
execution.

I want to see you more than ever ; and hope you are
half-crazy to see me ! I received a long letter from Nat, from
Baltimore, this evening. Shall write to him at New York.
He and Maria [Mr. and Mrs. Tucker] are having the nicest
time among the good Catholics of that Catholic city. I wish

260 SUNDAY LETTER FROM MONTPELIER.

you could have gone with them. Perhnps you may meet them
at New York on their way homeward. You must go to the
Astor. Mr, Stetson will be happy to be civil to you. Pray
for me, dear love, and God and the Blessed Mother preserve
and protect you, for Your own Ilubby.

Nov. 3d.
I attended mass at Montpelier, on Friday morning (All
Saints'), stealing quietly away from my seat in the Senate
Chamber for that purpose. The poor Catholics assembled
looked on me with surprise, as I knelt among them, and
declined the oifer of a "better place." I rather like, you
know, to kneel right among the most humble and God knows
1 belong there. Mass was celebrated in the new church the
Catholics are finishing off (it was formerly the Court House),
within a dozen rods of the State House. The interior is
wholly unfinished, and was worse than Father O'Callighan's
church, when it was in its worst stage of repairs. But it did
seem to me, m^'- dearest and sweetest, like worshiping God
"in his holy temple'' — how much more like true worship than
anything that ever impressed my heart, even in the pretty
chapel of the Holy Cross, with the ambitious imitations of
Rev. Mr. Ricker, in Troy. Don't you remember how we were
di^awn to that chapel ? It was nothing but its closer outward
conformity to the blessed Catholic church, though we did not
then know it !

Montpelier, Nov. 10.
You better not leave for home, my dearest, before next -
Saturday. 1 don't want you to get home before me — )iow

RESIGNS THE SECRETARYSHIP. 261

mind me. You may start on Saturday morning and T will be
at the boat, and, you will believe, receive you with an open
heart and open arms ; and will kiss you, if you wish me to
on the boat. We will have the house warm, cheerful, comfort-
able and homelike, and you shall find it happier for you. If
you get home bi'fore me, you will be sick when I come, but I
will not consent to it. If you do not have time to writ:?, tele-
graph me when to meet you at the boat. Now don't fail. It
appears to me that I would "not fail to receive you at the
wharf for anything."

Give my love to all and ask Adam and Toss to come and
see us. Go and see them ; and get up in the morning and go
to early mass, and show them you think of anything but
being ashamed of your religion. Good night. God bless you,
my dearest love, and our Blessed Mother protect and love you.

Always your own, D.

In.Senate, Oct. 15, 1850.

The following preamble and resolution were presented
by Mr. Marvin, and unaminously adopted,

Sam'l M. Conant, Secretary.

Whereas, The former Secretary of the Senate of this
State, General D. W C. Clarke, having served this body in
that capacity for the last eleven years, and having now volun-
tarily retired fiom the station w^hich he has so long accept-
ably occupied ; therefore

Resolved, That, in consideration of his protracted term
of service, and of the ability, kindness and courtesy with
which he has uniformly discharged the duties of his oflSce, an

263 NARRATIVE OF MRS. MEECH CONTENUED.

expression of our approbation is justly merited ; and we cor-
dially assure him of the high estimation in which we hold the
eminent qualities which have distinguished him as an officer
and a gentleman, during the entire period of his official con-
nection with us ; and request that he will bear with him in his
retirement our ardent wishes for his present and future hap-
piness and prosperity.

Office of Secretary of the Senate, )

MONTPELIER, Oct. 15, 1851. J

General D. W. C. Clarke,

Dear Sir : — 1 have the honor to transmit to you a copy of
a preamble and resolution, this day adopted by a unanimous
vote of the Senate of the State of Vermont.

Permit me to add an expression of the gratification .with
which I perform the pleasing duty allotted to me by the Sen-
ate, of communicating to you the accompanying testimonial
of their confidence and regard.

I remain, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

Sam'l M. Conant, Secretary of Senate.

Narrations of Mrs. Meech, Continued.

There is one thing more 1 want to give an account of
myself, that is, about my belonging to so many churches. 1
have been always sort of ashamed of it, 1 never thought it
looked well for a person to keep changing from one church to
another ; and I want to tell, myself, how 1 became a Catholic.

PROPOSES TO MAKE A CIIllISTIAN PROFESSION. 368

Soon after my first husband, Mr. Clark, died, desiring the
consoUitions of religion, I proposed to unite with some church.
I first procured an Episcopaliau prayer-book and their articles
of faith. I looked them over a-id liked this church better
than the doctrines and worship of any other church, I then
knew ; but there was no Episcopal church in the place, nor
near me, as for that, and I did not see how I could be directly
benefitted by a church so far away from me.

About this time there was a Presbyterian Church formed
at Glens Falls. 1 did not at first feel drawn particularly to
unite with it. It was not quite the church I wanted ; but, as
the only choice seemed to be between that and the Metho-
dists, and of the two I preferred the Presbyterian, for the
greater decorum in thijir ministers and their worship, and
encouraged by several of my friends who had united with
this church, I went to one of their meetings for propounding
members, and one of my friends proposed me.

The deacons, and perhaps others, I think, were an exam-
ining-committee in such cases, and asked the candidates such
questions as they deemed proper to '^prove their fitness for
membership.

One iavorite question in those days, was to inquire of the
candidates, if in their conviction they hud come to the point
that they were so completely resigned as to be just as willing
to be damned as to be saved, if that was the will of God, If
the candidate said Yes, it put the finishing touch of a true and
certain conversion on that experience ; if the answer happened
to be a reluctantly honest No, they sometimes took them — I

264 AFRAID OF THE PROPOUNDING BOARD.

think, they generally did, if they were respectable candidates
— but it diminished the glory of their conversion a great deal.
Many would smile around — sometimes the minister. The
good deacon would shake his head a little doubtfully, and
exhort to such a one entire conformity ; that it should be
sought for till found : that he saw signs of grace, however
in the soul before him. It had not attained to the perfect
standard, but undoubtedly was striving to, and he thought it
might, and would be dangerous to that soul not to receive it
into the church, and help it along ; and it was, certainly,
more honest and praiseworthy to say no, than to profess to
have attained to what it had not, as yet, attained to.

I was afraid they would ask me this test question. I told
some of my friends so, and deferred for a time being proposed
on account of it ; and then I feared I had not such a conversion
as they would approve. I could not fix on any time when there
had, to my knowledge, been any sudden change in me, such as
believers, in that day, usually talked of having experienced. I
had no experience to relate, only that I had, for some time
before my husband's death, thought that I would like to be a
Christian, and belong to a Christian church, and that the feel-
ing had deepened and become more permanent since his
death. My friends, who kindly persuaded me, said that was
enough.

They did not ask me the great test question ; but one old
deacon, who had heard of my great grief for my husband,
looking right sharp at me, asked if I was reconciled yet to the

BEFORE THE PROPOUNDING BOARD. 265

death of my husband. It came over me so — so harshly — all
my loss rushed so before me, I burst right into tears, and only
sobbed aloud.

The minister came to my rescue. He said to me, kindly:
"You need not answer ;" and to the deacon, quickly, and
almost sharply : "You have no right to ask such a question.
It is not in human reason to be expected, after such a loss as
she has had, aid so soon. It is enough that she has come to us
for the consolations of religion.''

1 was not asked any more hard questions. I remained in
this church till some time alter I married Judge Meech,

lie said, before we were married, when I spoke to him
about it, he was a Methodist, but th.it he would just as soon I
should remain in my church, il I preferred it.

After I came to Shelburne, the Judge said he thought it
would be more pleasant, at least, for him, if I should attend
church with him ; but if I had rather attend my own, he would
send me every Sunday. The carriage and a driver were at
my request, ready. 1 went to the Congregational meeting,
which church is about the same as the Presbyterian, and
where I preferred to go, two or three times, alone. 1 think it
was the third time that I went alone, I made up my mind to
give it up. It was so far to go, and alone, and coming Win-
ter. It was already so cold, the last time I went.

I had a true repulsion to going to the Methodist meet-
ings, but I would try and overcome it, or endure it, for the
sake of going with my husband and the family ; his family
23

266 URGED TO BECOME A METHODIST.

all went with him at that time to the Methodist meeting. My
husband was much pleased with my decision. After a time
I got to like going there very well ; though I never liked the
Methodists as well as the Presbyterians or Congregationalists.

After a while different members of the church began to
tease me to unite with the class ; but I held off from that.
Both the members and the clergy urged it with me. I had
got so I liked very well to attend their meetings, as a specta-
tor, but I knew every one of the members of their church
were expected to speak in their class-meetings, and pray at
their prayer-meetings. I did not want to do this. I never
had any kind of gift for that kind of thing, and after I became
a Methodist 1 never wanted to do it. I always shrank from
it. A great many of the Methodist women like to — are proud
of it, to talk and pray ; I thought so then. I knew so, and I
have always thought so ; though I did not see how they could
be — never could see.

My husband said that he should not urge me, but he
thought it would be pleasant, all round, if I felt so I could ;
he should be very glad to have me, and it would be very satis-
factory to the church : that they and the minister were at
him all the time about it.

One day our new minister came to see us. He was a
pretty smart preacher ; and he was a very pleasant talker. I
liked him more than I ever had any of them before ; I mean
the ministers. He began to talk to me about joining them.
He talked round very carefully at first. I told him in the
course of the conversation, perhaps I would in time ; that I

. HOW THEY GOT HER. 267

had thought of it, but had not quite decided, or was not
quite ready.

What do you think, the very next Sunday, at the class-
meeting, at which I remained, as one of the women persuaded
me to do, when the preacher read over the names of several
who wished to unite with the class, for the class to vote on,
he read out my name the very first among them. 1 was so
surprised and indignant — done as it was without my consent
— that 1 spoke right out loud and said I never gave my name,
and arose to my feet to protest against it ; but a woman beside
me, a good woman of the class, that I liked very well, pulled
me back on the seat and said : "It is done ! It is done !
and you can't help it. It is all right and you will like it.
Keep still, do — and don't say any thing. You shall not say a
word ! The whole church are so glad. It would disappoint
them all so ; and your husband so."

At the thought of my husband, I sank back and let it go.
They gave me a very hearty welcome. After the meeting
was over, the women all crowded round me, many of the men,
too, and exulted over it so much, I concluded to let it go.

I was provoked with the minister for having taken the
advantage of me, and with myself for having said anything
encouraging to him about it. I always thought and said.,
that I was stolen into the Methodist church ; but I let it go,
and after a time I came to like them very well. They are a
great people to make a great deal of a rich member.

Sometimes I was gratified with the deference shown to
us and sometimes I was not. We had the ministers there a

268 CRITICISES THE MINISTERS' FAMILIES.

a great deal, till I got pretty sick of it, sometimes. It always
did make me sick to see a minister with a baby dangling on his
knee, on one knee, and another none too large to be a baby on
the other knee ; and two or three other young children all
crying pa ! pa !

It always disgusted me, their having so many children to
drag round from place to place. Their wives were often
weakly and overworked, and sometimes only silly women
that could not talk on anything except the Methodist religion,
and to "brother and sister" every one ; and they got to think
with their husbands that they had a right to live on the people,
round from house to house. Poor things ! they had not much
to live on besides ; but I did not want them so much, and my
husband used to get pretty tired of it, I could see sometimes ;
though he never said anything to anybody about it as I know of,
but me. He used to own it to me ; but he pittied them, as he
said ; they were not given enough to live on by the church ;
and he was a very hospitable man ; and they always were
very flattering to him, and praised him very much.

[I cannot pass on and not remark, I think Mrs. Meech
was a little severe in her estimate of the wives of the Metho-
dist ministers. I regarded them in my younger days, and
have never, in that respect, changed my opinion, as, often
being women of more than common talent, and not unfrequently
of very pleasing talent for their position — several such women
live in my memory. But Mrs. Meech had a decided aversion
to clerical-wives and ministers' children, and I never heard

HER METHODIST EXPERIENCE. 269

her speak of them in milder terms, in the many times I have
heard her speak on this point.]

I never made any headway in talking in class-meetings
or in the prayer-meetings, but I got along with it. Once I got
very happy in their meetings. It came upon me all at once,
as some one was eloquently and efifectively preaching. I wept
and wept, but I was filled with happiness. I did not know
what it was.

"Why,'' said one of the women to me, "You have got
'the power,' and you ought to tell of it, and so praise God V

I did not choose to speak publicly of it, but I did go home
praising God, I felt my heart burn with love for God, and the
name of Jesus made my heart thrill for a long time ; then it
went ofi". I suppose it was because I was worldly, and I could
never get it back.

The Methodists have a way to get what they call "the
power'' — though I always thought a good deal of it in their
meetings was made — but they don't seem to have or know
any way to keep the love of God when they get it.

I felt bad at times after it was gone. I used to feel sober
at times, for many years, and to fear that I had committed the
"unpardonable sin." Some way, I did not know how, or when
or what it was ; but that I must, probably, so have done, and
that that was the reason why I could never any more get back
the eeuBible love of God, as I had once felt it.

When I came to Burlington to live, I would have liked
to have gone right back to the Congregational church ; but
before this I had begun to think that I might some time

270 KETURNS TO THE CONGREGATIONALISTS.

become a Catholic, and that if I did, it would be better to
remain where I was, meantime, than to make any more
changes first.

But at length the Methodist church was divided here,
and after that — indeed they did in dividing — they got into
such a wrangle with each other, that more than ever I was
ashamed of them and tired of their meetings.

I belonged to the Pine Street division, on account of my
location, and because I got set oflf there. I think I would have
liked better the other division. The Pine Street, division
had all the element that gets ''the power,'' and the other
division had the more sober, and, as I thought, sensible part
of the old church. The walking in the Winter, from my house
to the Pine Street chapel — or great, square, ill-shaped house in
which they held their meetings — was another objection. It
was always so much farther than to the White Street Congre-
gational church, and oftentimes, that Winter, the streets were
so muddy and bad.

I thought I should be better suited if I went only to
the White Street church, which was near to me, and where
most of the ladies in Burlington, whose society I most cared
for, belonged. So I dropped the Methodists and joined the
White Street Congregational church, where 1 was much bet-
ter pleased. I always preferred their greater staidness and
dignity.

I felt quite satisfied and happy for a time, or I should,
only that I felt all the time that I had not done quite right,
either by myself or my children ; that if I made any change

WHEN FIRST BELIEVED IN CATHOLICITY. 271

and united with any other church, it should be with the Cath-
olic church, which I had been long convinced was the jirat
GhrUfian cJiurch ever established in the world, and ahead of
all the other churches in its claims. But I had not the cour-
age nor tlie heart to relinquish the pleasant society of ladies
in ihe Congregational church, to which I was so much
attached. But 1 ought to have done it then. By my indecis-
ion then, and binding myself with another and so strong a
tie, I only m.ido it harder for myself afterwards, and more
deeply incurred the blame of those I wished so much to
always retain as choice and intimate friends. I had the light
but not the grace — the light to see the path, but lacked the
grace to step into it.

I first knew something of the Catholic religion before
ever my son, DeWitt, and his wife became Catholics.

Soon after, Orpha, brother Levi's wife, was a widow, we
got hold of some Catholic books (Orpha and I), and read them.
We read up the subject quite deeply, and we both believed it,
and thought of becoming Catholics. We talked much
together about it, and that somewhat to the annoyance of our
friends ; though they did not take us to be so much in earnest
as we were. We talked freely of it when together, before
them — or some of them — and would argue it with them and
defend it — with Mrs. Jackson, my sister, for one, who dis-
liked very much to hear us speak of it.

Orpha thought that we could be Catholics privately —
believe in and live up to the religion — and proposed to me that
we should.

272 HOW SHE CAME TO GIVE IT UP.

I told her I did not see how it could be possible to prac-
tice the religion away from any church, where we could sel-
dom or never go to one. And so we rather concluded to wait
— at the time we so talked — and if ever we lived in a place
where there was a Catholic church, then we would decide. But
our hearts were so in it, we kept talking about it everywhere
among our family friends, in season and out of season, till one
day, brother Orville, who had listened to us for some time,
said to me, aside, very seriously, while very kindly, very
decidedly : ^^ If I were in your place, sister Lydia, I would give
up this thing, and never speak of it again. I think it has gone
plenty far enough.^' Orville Clark was a man of great mind,
my beloved dead husband's brother. He had always been very
kind and handsome in all our acquaintance to me. His
advice had so much influence with me, I never mentioned the
subject again from that day for years and years afterwards, till
after my children had become Catholics.

Orpha afterwards joined the Methodists — became a raving
Methodist, and died a Methodist ; but she was more in earnest
about it at first than I was, for she thought we could practice
it alone by ourselves away from any church. I never thought
that. I always thought it impracticable. I have often thought
that the reason no more grace — felt grace and sweetness — was
given to me in my Catholic life at first, was a punishment to
me for slighting the great grace of Gi)d when first made
known to me ; that I ought to have taken measures when I .
first believed the truth to have embraced it, for all what any or
all persons might have said.

MRS. CLARKE URGES IT WITH HER. 273

For several years after Caro and DeWitt became Catholics,
they used to talk with me about their religion, and about my
embracing it. When once they were settled in it, they were
not slow to find out my predilections. Caro was first to make
the discovery and obtain any admissions from me, and she
was especially earnest in the desire that I might know and
embrace the faith she so ardently believed in and loved. And
I once told Caro, partly to put the subject off, then, and partly
because I thought I might, that I could not do anything about
it while Mr. Meech lived, he was so violently opposed to the
religion, but, as he was so many years older than myself, and
not of so good health, and the probability was that I should
outlive him, if it should be so, then, I thought that I might
become one.

She said no more to me till after Mr, Meech died ; but
then she soon began again. I suppose she thought in my great
trials that fell upon me then, it would support and comfort me.
She Said so, and I believed that she thought so, and so could
not help, in her enthusiastic nature, urging it upon me, or
reminding me of it, and of what I had before said.

I had enough other trials to meet, then. I told her, that
everybody in Shelburne I ever knew or cared for, would
become so bitter to me if I should become a Catholic, I was
sure I could not live in Shelburne and be one ; but if I ever
went away from Shelburne to live, if I ever came to Burling-
ton, I thought I should become one. She desisted from say-
ing anything more to me about it while I remained at Shel-

274 SHE FINDS HERSELF NOT READY.

burne. She knew how it was there. She waited ; but
after I came to Burlington she did not forget it.

I knew she would not, and I had thought it all over She
did not say anything to me for a long time. The lt»ng<^r it
was delayed the more I dreaded it. Not thit I did not believe
in it. I believed in it sufficiently to make me unhappy^ and
to feel unsettled and some unsafe where I was.

Ever after Orpha and I had looked it up together, I had
believed the Catholic church to be the primitive church
founded by Jesus Christ, and I had never found any proof any-
where of His ever having repudiated it. I had put it off, too,
only till I should come where there was Catholic worship
established and a Catholic church.

When I came, I had found myself not ready. The chief
trouble with me was, I felt by the act I should largely lose
my old friends. They were all so attentive to me, it did not
seem possible for me to do anything that would cut them off
from me.

I understood, by their extra attention, that they were
afraid my Catholic children might draw me to them, and they
were seeking by it to bind me to them. I was not displeased
with it. It was always natural in me to like attention. I do
not know who does not ; though it is more so in some than in
others — a great deal more so, I think. Sometimes, they
(not all of them, but some of them) displeased me by saying
ugly things about the Catholics to me. I have two near neigh-
bors that used to do this — say awful ugly things. I did not
think it was being polite to me, who had two Catholic chil-

HER DIFFICULTIES CONTINUED. 275

dren ; but I saw by it what T should have to meet, and I
shrank veiy much from it.

I had always lived in society so much, how could I do
without it ; so, when Caro asked me one day to go up to some
little devotion that she and DeWitt were going to have in
their room — it was one stormy Sunday, when she and 1 did
not go out to church — I refused. She alluded to my promise.
I said, Caro, do not ever ask me again. I have made up my
mind that I can never and shall never do anything about it.
She went back to the chamber alone. She did not answer me.
I was rather sorry, then, that I had not at least gone up. The
more I reflected on it; I thought that she was ofiended with
me, and felt that 1 had deceived her. She never spoke to me
about it afterwards, and I concluded that she was offended
with me, and I told my friends so, some of whom, at least,
were not backward to encourage me in my belief.

A coldness seemed to grow between us. I fretted over it,
but she never spoke to me again on the subject of religion. I
was not satisfied at all that she took me so at my word ; but
I would not make any advances ; the coldness only seemed to
increase, little by little ; though I could never bear to have her
away from me as she used sometimes to bo to visit and several
winters to stay with her husband in Washington. She was
very pleasing and talented, and I think a very good and thor-
ough Catholic. She could do almost everything alittle better than
anybody else ; and I was always very proud and fond of her,
as I had never had any daughter. I was pleased when De-
Witt was married with some one to call daughter. She seemed

276 DE WITT'S LETTERS TO HER.

more reserved ever after. It pained me. She had always
been very affectionate to me. I missed it very much an
laid considerable blame upon her, for which I have since been
sorry, especially since she died ; and the longer I live, the
more so.

The Winter before she died, DeWitt had a hand and fin-
ger that troubled him very much. The physicians could not
help it. They could only allay the pain lor a time by iujeoting
morphine into the veins For months he was in such agony at
night with that hand he would walk tlie floor for hours.

When it was at its worst, he would not go to his cham-
ber, but spend the night in my sitting-room on the sola and
on the floor. My room was off from the sitting-room, and I
would hear him walking the floor ior hours. It got well of a
sudden. He said, when inquired about it, or when any ot his
friends did, "the Blessed Mother has cured it for me." It is
certain, he suffered long and severely with it, and it was sud-
denly well ; and he seemed to have got with it a great increase
of faith for himself and a zeal for my conversion. And when
he got to Washington — he was on his way there when all the
pain left his hand in one night, and it was very bad when he
started — he wrote me and I was surprised with the ardor he
showed for his religion in his letter. I was delighted to see
him in so good a way. I wanted my child to be good and a
most sincere Christian whether I was or not.

I wrote him so, and his zeal only overflowed for me. He
had never written me such letters before, as all that Winter
and Spring before Caro died, and they moved me very much.

SHE REACHES A DECISION. 277

It affected me the more, as he had generally left the field him-
self to Caro to occupy, or at least mostly had, ft>r a long time.
I began to reflect that I had no such zeal for my religion as he
manifested for his, and that I never had. I wished I could
have, but I certainly had not, and knew no way to get it. I
regretted now very deeply that I had ever united with a
church here after coming from Shelburne especially that I liad
taken the last step to remove from the Methodist int<j the
Congregational church, I said, 1 ought at least to have staid
with the Methodists where I was, till I went into the Catholic
church, if I were going in. I feared what the people might
say about my belonging to so many churches, I could not
come to any rest or decision, till shocked and thoroughly
pained by Caro's sudden death.

When I looked on her dead and remembered my old prom-
ise and encouragement to her — when I saw DeWitt's great
sorrow for the death of his wife and thought how it would
help comfort him, my heart inclined to make the sacrifice.

Very soon after the funeral, I opened the subject with
him. I did it so early to hasten to console him ; and also
because I was afraid of myself, lest I might not do it if I put it
off. I told him as we were now but two, but two of us left,
and that as I knew he could never believe the Protestant relig-
ion and come to me, and I could believe the Catholic religion —
"and come to me mother,'^ he joyfully ended it, "you will ?" I
said yes ; for it seems a pity when there are but two of us
that we should be divided.
24

278 FOR A PREPARATORY TIME.

I wanted to impress him a little that it was for his sake
I came. "Of course I should not have united with the Catho-
lic church if T had not believed in it. What do you suppose,
you goose ?" This was to a little inquiry of mine upon the
above and the dissent that it left a wrong impression. "If he
didn't find any fault with it, you needn't." He said : "Lay it
all to me, mother, I do not care to what you lay it to. and you
only come. I am only proud of the honor." And he never
blamed me for doing it, and always seemed proud of having it
said. There was another reason I had, too, in my own heart,
and that influenced me a good deal. I had a strong love lor
the world, and only for the world. I knew I loved society,
pleasant worldly society, too much ; that with my family cares
it engrossed all my time, and all my thoughts I felt that I
was growing old, and ought to have a little preparatory time,
that I needed it before I went to another world, and I did not
see any way that 1 could get it if I remained where I was and
as I was. I reflected that if I united with the Catholic church,
I should probably be left more to myself, and have more time
for reflection, and that some of this love of the world would
die out if I was severed more from it. And that was one great
thing that I became a Catholic for, to get rid of the world
more, and to have a time for preparation. I did not want to
die so worldly, and I was fully convinced I should never be
any better where I was, that was the reason at the bottom of
my heart. Caro died, the 23d of May, and I was baptized the
4th of June. I did not wish to wait when I had decided to
take the step, lest 1 should lose the grace of the sacrifice

MRS. FREEMAN'S AKKIVAL. 279

I shrank from going to the church to be baptized. It s(;emed
to me the people would be all staring at me, but I supposed
at first I would have to. DeWitt said there was no need of
my going to the church ; the baptism was for me alone. I
was very glad to be spared this, as I was a great coward.

The morning I was baptized, DeWitt got a carriage and I
went with him for Mrs. Hoyt. I wanted her for my sponsor.
I was baptized, and made my first communion three days
after ; and I think I should have got along very well, after a
little, if I had not had such a great trial come upon me, and if
I had not been such a coward. But I dreaded to have it
known and talked about so much ; and all I dreaded came
true, and more.

I had been but four days a Catholic, when Sophia came
to spend the Summer with me. [Her niece, Mrs. Freeman.]
I knew how she hated Catholics ; what a bitter sectarian she
always was. My heart leaped both with joy and with fear
when she came. It had been a long time since I had seen
her, and I had always loved Sophia very much, and had been
very tender of her for her dead mother's sake ; though
Sophia was more like her father than my side of the house, I
always thought. But she had lived with me much, and had
always seemed near to me, and she had always seemed to
think a great deal of me. I told Malinda [Miss M. M. Col-
bath, who was with her at this time] not to tell her. I
thought I would break it as carefully as I could to her, at first,
but Malinda said something before two hours that Soffie took
the hint from, and burst out : "Oh, Aunt, you ain't a

280 THE EFFORT TO BREAK IT UP.

Catholic !'' I said : "Yes, I am, Soffie.'' She laid it straight
all on to DeWitt, and to soothe her I let it go so. I knew De-
Witt would not care, and if he did he was able to defend him-
self, but I knew he wouldn't. Nothing ever softened her so
much, or any of my friends, as when they put it on to him,
for me to let it rest there. SoflBe was terribly enraged with
DeWitt, and determined at once to break it up. She did
not say anything to DeWitt about it — she knew better: but she
set herself at once at work to get me back again into the Con-
gregational church. She only talked with me herself, at first,
and then she went out and enlisted others, as far as she could,
to come in and help her — to call on me and to speak to me
about it, and urge it, as far as they might be able, with me.

I told her from the first, and last, however unhappy I
might be made, I should never change back.

She made a great deal of unhappiness for me that Sum-
mer, trying to turn me back herself, and inducing others to
come in to try.

I was so distracted by her, I was not able to make any
Christian progress, or take any rest. All that I could do was
to stand and fight. I was determined only on one thing, never
to go back !

But I was so stirred up, and was so watched, I shrank
from making any further religious eff'orts while she was with
me, only to go to church occasionally, when I felt able, and
had anybody to go with me. It was hard for me to go alone
and not know any one, hardly, there, and at my time of life,
I always went when DeWitt was here to go with me, as he

THE EFFOUT CONTINUED. 281

was part of the time — yes, the most of the time. But lie
went away some, and then Suffie would pitch in to make me
go with her. I have known her to stand half an hour after she
had tied her bonnet-strings, and urge and tease me to go with
her. She said it was all iollj^, its being against the ruh' of any
church ; and she seemed so determined to carry this point,
that, thinking it could not hurt me, that I should never
believe any different for it, if I did go, I went and asked the
Bishop if I could not go with Sophia while she was here. I
told him how she urged me, and would not go with me to
church.

The Bishop said he could not give me that leave, that he
thought I better go to my own church. This enraged Soffie
more than ever. She railed about the bishops and priests
and DeWitt, and all Catholics. DeWitt, when he went away,
asked the Misses Hoyt to call and go to church with me, and
they did, several times. Mrs. Hoyt never called to see me
but once that Summer. I felt hurt that she came no more, for
I thought that she would come in often after I became a Cath-
olic.

DeWitt excused it in her, by saying that she had a large
family, seldom went from home, and that she knew I had my
niece with me, and Malinda'and him, the most of the time. I
was dissatisfied with it, but I did not wonder. Sothe hated to see
any of my Catholic friends come in so bad, and always con-
trived in some way to make it so disagreeable for them and
for me, that I was not surprised that she or any of the others
should avoid it. And then she made it so disagreeable for me,

282 MRS. FREEMAN DECIDES TO LEAVE.

after any of them had called on me and left, by her remarks
upon them and upon all Catholics and my religion, that I was
twice afflicted. I wanted to see them — it only made me want
to — all the time, and yet, almost dreaded to see one come
into the house. I was especially afraid to see a Priest come
in, or any of the Sisters, as they were her especial aversion. T
almost felt like running, myself, if I saw one come on to the
piazza, as she did invariably see them, and looking through
the windows: "There is one of those priests ;" "there is one
of those nuns/' she would say,'' I don't want to see them !''
and in disgust and displeasure would quit the room,

I have sent for her to come in and be introduced to the
Sisters, but she would not.

She staid with me four months, and made me perfectly
wretched, but I never went to church with her. I told her I
should not disobey the Bishop, and she would not go with me
to my church, lohen there was no law in her church against it,
and as I was the oldest, and she my guest and niece, I did
not think T should go with her. I believe at last I wouldn't if
the Bishop had permitted.

Soffie at length decided, about the time that DeWitt must
return to Washington, to go to her sister Evelyn, in Buffalo.
Her sister has no children and is wealthy. There were only
two of them, sisters. They had two mothers, but one father.
There are also several half-brothers, all well-oft\

I longed to be rid of the persecution I was undergoing
in my own house, but I shrank very much from being left
alone for the Winter. At my time of life, with only a servant

MRS. MEECn URGES HER TO REMAIN. 283

gill, with my bronchial diflSculty which had afllicted me Win-
ters for a number of years, it looked very disheartening to
me ; and rather than be left alone, and hoping I might yet
make Soffie more mild to me, and unwilling to give her up
so, in such a state toward me, I told her how lonesome I
would be, and begged her to stay with me. At first, I only
invited her, at last.. I implored her ; but she would not agree,
unless I would promise to go back to the Congregational church.
I would not be bought. I told her, I could not change, but
begged her to stay. I did not ask her to change for me.

She said Evelyn could make her much more comforta-
ble than I could, and that it was her duty and her privilege to
go where she could have the most done for her. I thought this
very hard in her, after all that I had done for her for years.

In her young days, I had taken her in, because she could
not live with her step-mother, at the solicitation of her father,
who came to me and besought me to ; and for nine years I had
furnished her a home, helped to dress her and took her into
company. I felt doubly hurt that when notwithstanding all
her violent treatment to me, on account of my religion, I had
implored her to stay with me, for Caro was dead, that she
should thus refuse me. She did not seem to think herself
under the least obligations to me. I knew that she was
always very high-toned. I never saw any one but her, who
could so demand everything they wanted of their relations, as
their right, as she always could ; but this was a little more
than I had ever looked for, and it touched me to the quick,
and pained me excessively. I urged her, but she was as

284 MRS. FREEMAN DEPARTS.

hard as a stone. Go she would. I asked her to write
often, and let me know how she was. She has only written
to me once, when 1 sent her a little box of ribbons and laces
that had been Caro's, as she had expressed a great desire for
some of Caro's things, — and such a short and curt note I
But, I had given her up before. I gave her up that iall alter
Caro died, when she left me. I said to her when she said to
me Evelyn would do more for her than I could, and made that
as a reason for going, if you will stay, S( ffie, you shall have
a home with me as long as I live, and I will do all 1 can for
you ; but DeWitt was not dead then, and as she did not see any-
thing to stay for, she would not stay for me ; would not con-
sent to, unless I would promise to leave the Catholic church,
I said. It doesn't seem that I could give you up, Soffie, but then
if that is your condition, you must go ; and she went with-
out any softening toward me. Soffie might have been where
you are now," said she, addressing me, ''had she not left me
then ; but when she left me then, I gave her up. And a good
Providence sent you to me. I have always called it such. I
have always told you so, and all my friends, the same ; that
you were a perfect God-send to me. I have always felt and
openly manifested my preference for you, and it is that which
makes all my friends so jealous of you. I have told them that
you came to me at Christmas, and that you were the best
Christmas gift I ever had ; and lastly I wish to record it here,
and to call you my Christmas gift from God, for which I have
always thanked God.

HER CHRISTMAS GIFT. 285

Our dear mother, here she declined to say more — simply
adding : "1 have no more to say, myself. The rest— what may
be proper to say — I leave to you, whom I would rather have
write it than any other one.''

Our dear mother, she left it to be conclu led by us. But
I will not give the dear and touching account — those last
eight years of her life^ — until I have brought down the life of
the General and his wife to this time. We will briefly remark
if there are any parts of the narrations of Mrs. Meech we
would under other circumstances than these by which we are
surrounded, feel, perhaps, at liberty to restrict a little, or more
at liberty to do so, it would be some of her piquent remarks
about the Methodists, a large and respectable denomination,
against whom we feel no personsl ill-will But do not think
it well under the existing state of things to make any omis-
sions in the dictated narrations. To her if any extenuation be
called for, it is a considerable one, that her ever being a Meth
odist was rather a compulsatory thing to her. But as to her
charity — personal, individual charity, charity toward all her
separated brethren, of every Christian persuasion — I never
saw it greater in any individual than in her. Her faith in the
good faith of others was always large. In their innocent,
"invincible ignorance," as her excuses for them always ren-
dered it.

She spread the full mantle of Christian benevolence over
all the religious prejudices of others, most handsomely , and if
the same charitable return was ever due to any one, it is from
others to her.

286 LETTER OF GOVERNOR PAINE.

Political Correspondence of 1848 and 1849.

In Relation to His Obtaining the Office and Situation of
Executive Clerk of the United States Senate.

Of these letters, which we will give as they were
received, in order of date, Governor Paine first writes :

Northfield, Dec. 16, 1848.

Dear Gen : — I have yours about the Clerkship. I would
try it, and get it. I am ready to do what I can. The best
way for that, is for you to come here, and tell me what to do,
and how to do it — write. The next best way is to write me
what to do — but come. My wits are in this railroad so much
that it takes me sometime to concentrate them upon important
matters elsewhere.

I can do it yet, if I try ; but if I can find some other per-
sons to use (and certainly, if better,) I do so, I sponge.

I shall go to Washington in Feb'y — is that too late ? I
will sign all the letters you will write, or will write them, if I
needs must.

I have a sister in Burlington. Give my love to her, and
to your wife.

I may go to Boston the last of next week — have got

news from there. Truly,

Charles Paine.

LETTER OF SENATOR FOOTE. 287

Senator Foote writes :

Rutland, December 13tli, 1848.

Dear Clarke : — Your confidential letter of the lltli inst.,
came duly to^hand. I will most cheerfully do anything in my
power to aid ^''ou in attaining the object of your solicitation.
The claims of Vermont are undeniable ; but whether she will
receive any other more substantial than words kindly spoken,
remains to be seen. Your personal claims in consideration of
your efficient services in the late canvass, in addition to long
experience in the peculiar duties of a clerk, and to present
qualifications of the highest order, must be conceded.
There will be one, and I might say, only one, obstacle in your
way. I name it that you may weigh it, and learn from Mr.
Marsh and other friends whether it will be likely to be an
insuperable one or not. Mr Winthrop, I take it for granted,
will be selected to the speakership. In that event, the House,
I fear, will hardly consent that its two chief officers, speaker
and clerk, shall both be taken from New England.

I kn)w full well, that mere locality is entitled to little
consideration in the selections of their officers, but I know
too, at the same time, that it has a controling influence there.
You will fi.id this the only serious impediment in your
way. And I do not mean to say but this may be overcome.
The present clerk will not be continued. He proves to be a
failure. The South and West will have abundance of candi-
dates, some fit, and many unfit, for the place, and their claims
will be pressed against any candidate from New England, on the
ground that we already have the Speaker, and however little

288 LETTER OF ABBOTT LAWRENCE.

importance we way attach to such a consideration, it will,
nevertheless, be urged with eflect. I have witnessed it too
often to be mistaken about it.

But should a new Speaker be selected, and from the
South or West, I would warrant your success for the smallest
premium imaginable.

At all events, I hope you will go to Washington this
Winter. You will find it agreeable to be there on many
accounts ; you will like to make the acquaintance of ''old
Zack," and many others there. I shall be most happy to com-
mend your claims and qualifications to any of my friends
among the members. The game is worth an effort. You may
succeed. / know you ought to have it. And I am with you
for one in the name of Vermont, to insist that you shall have it.

1 am yet undetermined whether or not to go to Washing-
ton. If I go, it will be mostly to try to help some of my
friends a little ; as I expect nothing and ask nothing for
myself. If it shall be in my way to do anything under God's
heaven's for you, Clark, it is always at your command. Major
Hodges will commend your application, so will any Whig in
Vermont. Ever truly yours,

Solomon FootL

The kindly millionaire, of Boston, writes:

Boston, Dec. 18th, 1848.

My Dear Sir : — I have your lavor of the 11th, and in
reply beg leave to state that I am entirely uncommitted in
regard to anything connected with the forthcoming Adminis-
tration of the general Government. I have not the slightest

LETTER OF SOLOMON FOOTE. 289

knowledge of the expectations of the present incumbent of
the office you have mentioned, nor of the wishes of those gen-
tlemen through whose influence he was placed there. Yet 1
am quite ready to do anything in my power to serve you ;
and, in case you call upon me, on your way to Washington, I
should be happy to furnish you with letters to the leading men
of the House of Representatives, I think you can better
ascertain your chances of success in Washington, than any-
where this side of it.

Your own and other delegations from New England
would have great influence, and with that ol New York,
would, doubtless, settle the question. 1 should be very happy
to see you, and remain. Very respectfully yours,

Abbott Lawrence.
To Gen. D.W.C. Clarke, Burlington.

Senator Solomon Foote writes again :

Rutland, December 24, 1848.

Dear Clarke : — It will be of the first importance to you
to secure the aid of a few leading gentlemen, members of
the House, from the South and West. Senators can do but
little comparatively in reference to this appointment.

I will with pleasure, write to a few personal friends there,
such as Toombs and Stephens, of Georgia, Barringer and
Clerigman, of North Carolina, Booth and Pendleton, of Vir-
ginia, Gentry and Crozier, of Tennessee, Vinton and Schenck,
of Ohio, and C. R. Smith, of Lidiana. If you can secure
the aid of these, or one-half of them, the thing is settled.
25

290 LETTER OF GOVERNOR COOLIDGE.

There is no obstacle in your way, but the one I suggested,
and that not an insurmountable one.

In the distribution of the party patronage, Itrusttht
Vermont, the truest, firmest, most steadfast Whig State in the
Union, is not to be entirely overlooked ; that it will at least be
allowed the clerkship, if it asks for it, and presents a candi-
date worthy and fit for the place. I have not seen Judge
Follett, but you will do well to get the recommendation of the
electors, the State committee, all the Whigs of the present
State Senate, if not too much trouble ; all our Whig members
of Congress, our Government and State officers generally;
and I feel quite confident such an application, backed in such
a way, cannot be resisted.

I shall go to Washington if I possibly can leave home,
and if I go, it will be mainly for the purpose of insisting that
Vermont shall have some notice, that she shall have somewhat
of her due.

We have stronger claims than any other State in the
Union, and they must be regarded.

Yours truly,

S. FOOTE.

Governor Coolidge writes :

Windsor, Dec. 30, 1848.
D. W. C. Clarke, Esq. : —

Dear Sir : — Having heard that you will be presented to
the House of Representatives, in the next Congress, as a can-
didate for the office of Clerk of that body, and most cordially
concurring with your other friends in the wish that the

J.ETTKK OF GOVEKNOK COOLIDGK. 291

endeavors made to place you intliat position may prove success-
ful, I take pleasure in proffering the contribution to that
object of such aid as may be derived from any declaration of
of mine in your favor.

I have known you for some years, as Secretary of the
Senate of this State, and have had ample means of learning
your qualities and your qualifications, through the daily per-
sonal and oJiicial intercourse maintained by us during the ses-
sions of our Legislature. For talents, taste, energy and
address, in executing the duties of that office, you are, in my
view, entitled to high estimation, and as well in respect of
many other grounds of commendation (to mention which, here,
might savor of adultation), as of those above-mentioned. I
deem you eminently fitted to perform the services of the sta-
tion proposed for you, with honor to yourself and satisfaction
to the public.

It is almost superfluous to remark, that this paper is
designedly written for exhibition as a testimonial. Should you
desire to use it as such, you are at full liberty to do so. I add
that any further aid in my power to render, in respect of your
attainment to the office in question, is at your command.

With much regard, I am,

Your obedient servant,

Carlos Coolidge.
Mr. Clarke : —

Dear Sir : — I have held back the accompanying letter
for a couple of days, by reason of vexatious doubts and
fears concerning its acceptableness or sufficiency. Indeed,

292 FROM ALL THE ^\HIGS OF THE SENATE.

I am not aufait in this branch of social diplomancy. My
wish is to serve you ; therefore, I frankly say, if you have the
least preference for a difierent form, or if you prefer that it
bear relation to the third personal pronoun, instead of the sec-
ond, just let me know it. In this thing- there is no caput.
Our good President-elect makes no Clerks for the house. So
I write to you, and it now seems quite as well to be thus
addressed. I assumed you didn't want a schoolmaster's rec-
ommendation,

Moreover, I have been already embarassed by one appli-
cation (for another office), for a letter to Gen. Taylor. On
consideration I decided that I would not, in any case, address
the old gentleman, or any other functuary, in the way of
beseeching, on the ground that I might be justly charged with
availing myself of some (possible) official influence, and
thereby become obnoxious. Perhaps my notion is fastidious
— you will judge — and I know you will judge in kindness.

Have no reserve. Tell me if I can improve the letter,
missive, and wherein, and I'll try again.

Truly yours, C. C.

To THE Whig Delegation in Congress from the State of Ver-
mont : —

The undersigned, embracing all the Whig members of
the Senate of the State of Vermont, respectfully recommend
their present Secretary, General D. W. C. Clarke, of Burling-
ton, as a person eminently qualified to fill the office of
Clerk of the House of Representatives in the Congress of the
United States.

FROM ALL THE WIIIGS OF THE SENATE. 203

General Clarke has, for the past nine years, filled the
office of Secretary of the Senate of Vermont, and has, during
the entire period, discharged its duties in such a manner as to
merit and meet, without exception, the unqualified approba-
tion of every Senator. We feel warranted, indeed, in saying
that his ability and fidelity as a recording officer of a legisla-
tive body, and his intimate and thorough acquaintance with
parliamentary forms and usages, have rarely, if ever, been
surpassed.

The grounds, on which we urge the appointment of Gen-
eral Clarke, are, first his entire competency for the post in
question, and, secondly, we present him as the candidate of
Vermont ; the only State in the Union that has never faltered
in her Whig faith, and never had an office of any magnitude
of the General Government. Contented with the credit of
never having been successfully assailed in a single depart-
ment of her government by her political opponents, she has
not sought to enhance her fame by knocking for place or pat-
ronage at the doors of the national capitol. She now pre-
sents, for the first time, and with entire unanimity, one of her
citizens, and earnestly but respectfully urges his appointment
with entire confidence that no Whig will disregard her claims.

Lucius P. Beeman, ) o , r

T> T-r f Senators ot

KUFUS Hamilton, >- t;, i i- n

T TT Ti i Franklin Co.

J. H. IJUBBARD, )

From ex-Governor Royce and Hon. Ililand Hall, ex-Mem-
ber of Congress. The letter written by Gov, Hall :

294 STEPHEN ROYCE AKD HILANJT HALL.

To THE Whig Delegation in Congress, from the State of
Vermont : —

The undersigned, learning that Gen. D. W. C. Clarke, of
Burlington, may posibly be a candidate for the office of
Clerk of the House of Representatives, in the Congress of the
United States, take pleasure in saying that, as an officer of a
legislative body, his ability, fidelity and urbanity, and his
intimate acquaintance with parliamentary iorms and usuages
are rarely equalled and seldom surpassed.

Gen'l Clark's election to the post of Clerk v^ould aflford
great satisfaction to the Whigs of Vermont — a State which
has never yet faltered in her political faith, and whose sons
have never enjoyed offices of magnitude under the general
Government. Stephen Royce, -

HiLAND Hall

Foote again :

Rutland, Jan. 2d, 1849.

Dear Clarke : — Since my letter to you, I have received a
letter from Mr. Marsh in which he informs me that he is
desirous of the mission at Berlin ; or if he cannot obtain that

the charge at Rome I do not think his appointment

will in the least degree, interfere with or prejudice your appli-
cation. There are six Cabinet ministers, seven full Foreign
ministers, and thirteen half missions or charges, besides that
the mission to Cliina and Constantinople, at six thousand
dollars each. Vermont is entitled to at least one of these,
aside from all considerations connected with the House
appointments.

LETTER OF SOLOMON FOOTE. 295

1 have no doubt you would find it greatly to your advan-
tage to visit Washington this Winter. A few leading mem-
bers from different sections of the country will divide the
question of the Clerkship.

When a new Cleik is to be elected, there are multitudes
of applicants. The respective parties make their next nomina-
tion in Ciiucus, as you are aware. The candidates are usually
strangers to a large proportion of the members, and he who
has the most extensive personal acquaintance, has a decided
advantage, as we generally prefer a friend and acquaintance
to a stranger. You can, and I know you would in a very
short time, make many friends who would be of important ser-
vice to you if not, in fact, ensure the election to you. Besides,
I presume most of our boys will be there, such as P. Baxter, A.
P. Lyman, and others, who will all take hold in earnest for
you. And there is no other way of securing success, in
such things but to be in earnest about it.

Ever thine,

Solomon Foote.

From his cousin, Darwin Finney, in Pennsylvania :

Meadville. Jan'y 2, 1849.

Dear DeWitt : — I received, a few days since, your let-
ter, enclosing your very "funny record of a funny time." If
the time was as funny as the record, a right jolly old time
you must have had of it, a-riding that "ere-jint assembly on
a rail." I have but one exception to take to the record, which
is to the term "liquorified !" in the last verse. It is a term,
at best, of doubtful import, and never appeared ad pios usus,

296 LETTER OF DARWIN A. FINNEY.

and in the connection carries the imputation that on the occa-
sion the assembled "wisdom and virtue/'of the un-setting star
were drunk. Alas ! shall it no more be said that the Star hath
neYer paled its ray ? But as a Son of Temperance, and the
Star that never sets, I repel the insinuation ; and move, the next
General Assembly of Wisdom and Virtue, do strike the obnox-
ious word from the bill.

In your application for the Clerkship, you are right in
supposing that I will do anything in my power in furtherence
of your claims. I don't know that I can render any very
essential assistance, but 1 may be able to do something. The
member from this district, of the present Congress, is a very
especial friend and acquaintance of mine, and we "office"
together in the study of law. I can, prossibly, do something
through him. His name is John W. Farrelly. The member
elect from this district to the next Congress, I think, is
himself a Vermonter. (J. W. Howe.) He is, at least, a
New England man. He is also an acquaintance, and a very
clever man, and he knows that I contributed not a little to his
election last Fall. I have no doubt he would be favorably dis-
posed to your claims. Thaddeus Stevens, the member elect
from Lancaster county, the "old guard" — Old Thad, the ter-
roi of locofocoism, and one of Pennsylvania's best orators
and statesmen — he, too, is a Vermonter by birth, and has a
New England home, and a New England heart. If he can be
got to go for you, he is a host in himself, and the balance of
the Pa. members will early come in. I am not personally
acquainted with him, but I have no doubt he would take

FR0:M ex GOVEKNOll EATON. 21)7

especial pleasure in doing honor to the State of his nativity. I
would take the liberty of writing him for you by virtue of the
interest of a common nativity, and that affection which all
Vermonters bear to the Fatherland. I would push the matter
if I were you, by all means. With the inHuence such as you
mention, you cannot fail of success in the Clerkship, or some-
thing better. I will enter you, and do anything you may sug-
gest or think proper, that is in my power. I will write to
Farrelly about you. If you go on in Feb'y, let me know.

Give my love to Caro, and the folks at Shelburne, when
you see them next.

Yours, affectionately, D. A. Finney.

The letter addressed to whom it may concern :

To WHOM IT MAY CoNCERN I

Having, for three years acted as President of the Senate
of this State, while D. W. C. Clarke, Esq., was officiating as
Secretary of that body, I had ample opportunity to become
acquainted with his capabilities, skill and fidelity in the per-
formance of Clerkship duties. And I am prepared to say
that to my view, his correct scholarship, and his literary
taste, his knowledge of parliamentary methods of business
and just appreciation of the duties and proprieties of the
office which he held, together with his fidelity, promptness,
and general aptitude for the business of a recording oflScer,
evinced in the uniform accuracy and neatness of his records,
presented such a combination of qualifications for the place
he filled, as is rarely equalled, and scarcely could be sur-
passed.

298 ERASTUS FAIRBANKS-THADL)EU8 STEVENS.

In short, I can say freely and strongly, that I believe it
would be diflScnltto jQnd a man whose past could give a better
guarantee that he was "capable," and would be "faithful," in
discharging the duties of any trust similar to that which he
has held in this State for the last eight or nine years.

Horace Eaton.
Enosburgh, Vt., Jan. 4th, 1849.
From Hon. Erastus Fairbanks :

St. Johnsbury, Jan. 13, 1849.
D. W. C. Clarke, Esq.: —

Dear Sir : — I am this day in receipt of your favor of the
11th, and in accordance with your request, have addressed a
letter to Mr. Stevens. I have felt much pleasure in saying to
Mr. Stevens that Gen. Clarke is a gentleman qualified b}^ long
experience for the office ; of gentlemanly appearance, good

address, and possessing a heavy voice

I may be at Burlington next week, and if so, shall meet
you. Meantime, believe me

Truly yours, E Fairbanks.

P. S.: — Address Hon, Thaddeus Stevens, Lancaster,
Pennsylvania.

Hon. Thaddeus Stevens to Governor Fairbanks :

Lancaster, Jan. 20th., 1819.
Dear Sir : — It will give me great pleasure to ai'l your
friend General Clarke, in the matter you write ot, if in my
power. With great respect,

Your obedient servant,

Thaddeus Stevens.

LETTER OF DA.YTD :\r. CAMP. 209

E. Fairbanks Esq.

January 30, 1849.
D. W. C. Clarke Esq.

Dear Sir : — I have much pleasure in sending you this
from Mr. Stevens. I think you may rely on the assistance of
"old Thad."

Truly yours,

E. Fairbanks.

Ex-Gov, Camp writes :
Hon. William Hebard, William Henry and George P.
Marsh, Representatives in the Thirty-first Congress of the
United States, from the State of Vermont :

Gentlemen : — I deem it a duty, as well as a pleasure to
express to you my opinion of the fitness of D. W". C Clarke,
Esq., for the office of Clerk of the House of Representatives.
I have enjoyed some favorable opportunities for becoming
acquainted with his qualifications. For four sessions I have
been present in the Senate of Vermont, when he officiated as
Secretary. He is skilled in the art of penmanship, and though
sufficiently rapid in manner, does not sacrifice the higher
and more useful qualities of legibility and accuracy. His
knowledge of parlimentary practice is extensive, and he has
an ituitive sagacity, enabling him readily and promptly to
apprehend the precise fact to be entered upon the journal, and
his cultivated intellect and refined literary taste, secures the
best Words and the happiest manner of accomplishing the
work.

1 know very well that the office of Clerk of the House

300 LETTER OF DAVID M. CAMP.

of Representatives of the United States differs . in many
respects from that of Secretary of the Vermont Senate. To
the former appertain many duties and responsibilities
unknown to the latter ; yet the general resemblance is such,
when the facilities for discharging their several and respect-
ive duties are considered, that we readily arrive at the conclu_
sion that he who has succeeded in one will not be likely to
fail in the other.

I need not refer to Mr. Clarke's familiarity with the
political topics of the day, and the principles of our Govern-
ment, his acquaintance with general, scientific and political
literature, or his interesting companionable qualities, as these
can hardly have escaped your observation. Though they are
not necessary to the office in question, yet they will not be
overlooked in the choice of one w^ith whom we are to be
placed in the relation of an associate and fellow-laborer in
the arduous duties of legislation.

With much respect, I am, gentlemen,

Your obliged friend, and very humble servant,

D. M. Camp.
Derby, January, 1849.

Letters from Senator CoUamer, Hebard of Chelsea, Keyes
of Highgate, Marcy of Bennington, Vermont Electorial College,
prominent citizens of Vermont, etc., etc., follow, for which
we have not the space now.

THE WILL OF MRS. MEECII. ^Oi

The Will of Mrs. Lydia C. Meech

Was made four years before her death and some two years
before the time she gave the narrations in this volume.
This will, Mrs. Meech made according to mutual views and
wishes of herself and her son, who was her only lineal heir.
To the heirs of Judge Meech, there could be no reversion
from her estate, as she had been given an annuity. It would
only have gone, had there been no will (or in event of break-
ing the will), to the collaterals on Mrs. Meech's side, to be
divided among some twenty claimants. Of these, after Mrs.
Freeman, who claims to be one branch, there are two chief
branches : the Finney branch, the children of her brother
Levi, and the Jackson branch, the children of her sister;
as to the Finney branch, Levi, her brother, had succeeded to
the old Finney stand after the death of his father. From the
considerable estate left by her father, Mrs. Meech has often
pointed out to me the single thing she received, a looking-
glass, cost $10, which Levi gave to her, hearing she complained
of not having had any of her father's property. William H.
Barker, who married Caroline, daughter of Levi, owned the
old tavern-house and farm at Shrewsbury, and Mrs. Meech to
the last year of her life said that Barker and his family had
property in that old homestead that belonged to her. ' The
Jackson branch : Levi Jackson, living in Canada, not with
bis lawful wife, she did not wish any of her property, to go
36

SOa THE WILL OF MRS. MEECH.

to him. Two others of this family of her sister Jackson had
died, leaving no children, larg-e estates and wills, without any
bequest to her. When she had asked one or two of these
contestors of her will, twice at least, for some little keepsake,
only, from her dead niece's (their sister's) parlor mantle-piece
or table, she had been both times told "there was nothing
left.'^

By the sole suggestion and invitation of Mrs. Meech,
I first came to her house, where I paid my board till after the
death of her son. The General, who was at Washington, was
not consulted about it, or any of her neighbors. She was a
woman who preferred to hold her place at the helm of her
own household, and so did till about the last vear of her lite.
Physically and mentally she was younger by ten years
than any other woman I ever saw. I came but for the
Winter, thinking to go in May to a situation offered in
Indiana. The eight years T lived with Mrs. Meech, little by
little I devoted to her my time ; my first thought was for her,
and at length my most assiduous whole care. From the first
she determined, I am fully persuaded, to detain me if possi-
ble with her the remainder of her life, and regarded and
treated me as her child. I had buried my own mother but a
short time before I came to her. She put her arms around me
and took her place. She said of herself she did, and I felt it;
and she became dear as almost my own mother to me ; and
when her only son and heir died, and she made her will in the
second month after, she simply sustained the position she had
taken with and toward me. She never asked my opinion as

tup: will of .mks. mepx'il :}03

to how or wlien it better bo done, or who should do itr; rIio
did not inform me that she thought to make it the day that
she did, and took the occasion to do so wlien she had arranged
to have me out of the house on other business for her — the
adjustment of lier son's estate matters with the administra-
tor during the evening. I never asked Mrs. Meech for a
dollar from her purse while 1 lived with her ; and never had
one. I loaned her money almost continuously after her son's
death, paid taxes for her, etc. 1 would not infer that I did not
expect Mrs. Meech would do something for me. I had reason,
as Judge Pierpoint said in our court, to expect that Mrs. Meech
would do something for me, and something handsome, I knew
that she loved me better than any one beside, that she had
elected me to stay with her till the close of her life ; and that
she looked forward to a good old age ; her mother having, as
she often remarked, lived to see ninety years ; and 1 never
made any doubt but that she would do something that she at
least would feel was generous, but what it was, I never knew
till the will was probated. Her predilection the first day we
visited together drew me to her — rare and beautiful old lady —
and when she had got me into her home she held me so jeal-
ously, the warmth of her partiality ripened my affections very
ripe for her. Most certainly from the day the General died,
who made me promise before he died that I would never
leave his mother, when she was thus left in her old age so
desolate, the sacred, precious attachment but deepened be-
tween us, and neither of us would from that day have con-
sented to sep[irati(3n during her life.

804 THE CONTEST OF THE WILL.

September 29th, 18*74, she died The evening before a
message was brought me, from Mr. Phelps who had her will —
the most eminent lawyer in our City and in the State — for me
to let him know wh(in she died. I was so overborne, I did not
remember to notify Mr. Phelps till the seventh day after.

When he called, he simply told me I was largely inter-
ested in the will, he was the lawyer of the will, and I was the
executrix, and that it was my moral and legal duty to see that
it was carried out. As soon as the will was filed it was contest-
ed. Ezra Meech, that step-son, who had so much to do in
defrauding her of her widow's rights, headed the contestors.
To the honor of Edgar Meech, the younger son of Judge
Meech, he and his family come into court to sustain the will.

In a word, Ezra Meech and wife had been at animosity
with Mrs. Meech for more than forty years; their children were
born and bred up in it. Edgar Meech and wife, to our knowl-
edge, for eight years before Mrs. Meech's death, visited at
the house with the frequency and cordiality that might be
claimed and expected at a mother's house. The shadow of
Ezra Meech never fell on his step-mother's floor but twice in
those last eight years— once long enough for a dinner, ready
when he entered (brought by compulsion in by the General),
but nut long enough to sit for three minutes, or one, with his
step-mother, after dinner, when urged. The second time — -the
Winter after the death of the General — being at the door with
a sleigh for his wife and daughter, who had called, Mrs.
Meech, asking why Ezra did not come in, and sending his
wife out for him, his wife, returning with his excuse, Mrs.

THE CONTEST OF THE WILL. 305

Meech, not fancying to be refused, sent out for him tlie sec-
ond time ; the second time refused, slie sent tlie third time,
when he was at length brought in by his wife, but declined a
seat ; nervously walked the room, possibly two minutes, eye-
ing her sharply ; passed out, and never entered within her
doors again — she lived over three years after — till he came
the day of the funeral, as it seemed, to certify himself she was
dead, and to look immediately after the will. No sooner was
he gone that time brought in by his wife, than Mrs. Meech
said : "He looked at me with the eyes of a lynx. He was
looking to see how much longer I would live. What have I
ever done to Ezra that he should look at me so ?"

Mrs. Ezra Meech came oftener. Her calls, or short visits,
averaged once a year; those of a part of her children, about
the same. Whenever any of them called and went out, we
felt as if an inspector of police had been in.

The contest is brought on the grounds of incompetency
to make a will and undue influence — the undue influence aim-
ing only at me. This is no place to review our contestant
testimony. It is too long a ring to uncoil now.

If we were to put our pen into a little ink and move
it over a few sheets of paper, we could give a pretty clear
elucidation of the testimony of every one of that collateral
coil — to a dot — the exaggerations, additions and suppressions.
The will passed through Probate Court, safe, honored, sus
tained. It has met two trials in the (/onnty Court, of ten and
twelve days, growing stronger in the last, in the court-room
opinion and in the public opinion.

306 THE CONTEST OF THE WILL.

All testimony brouglit on the point of undue influence
was cast out at each trial by the Judge, the Assistant Judges
concurring, before the case was sent to the jury. The ruling
of the court was strong for us both times. The contestants
brouglit (in the first trial) sixteen witnesses, thirteen of whom
were claimants, five belonging to the family of Ezra Meech —
all Protestants against a Catholic will ; we had twenty wit-
nesses for the will ; including the family physician, a Proiest-
ant ; of the two JVleech families, one, that of Edgar ; and as
many Protestant witnesses as Catholics ; and not one of the
twenty a claimant. And what did the will give us ? Her
homestead in Burlington, house and grounds (only put by
the assessors at $12,000, four years since, landed property
having depreciated a third or more since) and what wa^ in- the
house — total. She had nothing more to give. What one
would hardly regard too much, as a simple remuneration
for eight of the best professional years of life, or twelve if we
add the four years already consumed, as the executrix of the
will in defending it. The property the will gives to us unre-
strictedly to the last dollar during life ; but in case of our
death, her church is the successor to whatever, if anything,
may be left ; and that is what the lawyer of the contestors
puts his lever against — that Catholic church, the possibility it
may receive some little benefit from this will by and by. The
Bishop and the church have not advanced any claims in the
court, or paid one dollar for its defence. 1 have paid the
taxes and taken care of it these four years past, pretty much,
one would think, as 1 should if it were on both sides, that of

THE CONTEST OF THE WU.L. 307

myself and tliat of the church, regarded as mine. I don't
believe the Bishop thinks if I win at the next trial, that after
paying the debts of the estate, and our lawyers there would
be enough worldly goods left to be dangerous to my soul.

At our first trial, the first day, our most cautious lawyer
said to me : "T don't like the looks of the jury ;" "an awful
weak looking jury ; and almost" all young men who never sat
on a case before." He was right ; they were captured right
up by the foxy flattery of the contestors lawyer. He made
himself a "bo}'" with them, and swooped "the boys" up witii
him. They went nine against to three for the will. At the
last trial the jur}^ were more solid men : the mighty master of
surmise with all his scrupulous or unscrupulous indefatigable-
ness, before or during the Sunday adjournment, won but three
men. The jury stood nine for the will.

I record with pleasure, I am informed, that the nine
jurymen, who stood for the will, were not only good, substan-
tial men, but were all members of the Congregational church,
while the three who voted like " for eifj tiers ■' had never
been christianized by membership with any church. Could
this will be tried by a vote of the citizens of this city, county,
or State, I would trust to the law-abiding instincts of the peo-
ple.

Said a prominent Methodist gentleman of this city, before
our last trial : "I would rather see ever}'' dollar of that prop-
erty thrown into the fire than a dollar of it go to the Catholic
church ; but I would rather give three hundred dollars in gold
than to see that will broken — the statute succumb — the dig-

808 THE CONTEST OF THE WILL.

nity and strength of the law in Vermont broken down. I
may want to make a will, by and by.''

We would not have chosen this bitter contest, but, bless-
ings on her beautiful memory, her beautiful love, her beautifal
justice, who put her will in our hand, we may not know any
easy discouragement. Let the giant of dark surmise lead on
the darker ring of plotters ;' let the battle rage in the old
court-room ! It is the grander day when some thunder-storms
journey through the heavens, casting off lightning in their
progress. "Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not go
unpunished ;" and the day will come when all this illegal and
legal fighting will be at a lasting end. Everlasting rest offers
time enough for rest.

We leave the court-room to our lawyers — the able Phelps,
the lawyer of the will ; the practical Hard, the old lawyer of
the house ; the careful Shaw ; the learned Roberts — they to
their profession, and we to ours. While they stand like four
pillars in that arena south, north, cast, west (Justice has a
square platform ; we wanted four lawyers, so as to have one
at each corner), we may devote ourself a little to our pen, in
various ways, as may seem expedient and profitable.

Yes, our Will rests upon the centre of the platform, where
the Lady of Equity sits with her scales. Phelps holds the
East upon the stage of Justice, where the sun rises ; Hard,
the strong North — place of the North wind ; Shaw, the mild
South, come in from gathering testimony, from the gardens of
truth ; Poberts, the West, pleasant place of the setting sun,
altera stormy da3^ "And that collateral I'ing ?" Occupy a

THE COMPILEirS LETTKK. 309

little pit below the platform — below its lowest base — have
Dever been able to drag that long coil up upon that platform.
"And the captain?" He is down there with them. Don't you
see him stirring up his pit continually ? "He is the lawyer of
the collaterals ?" Certain. That name of beauty and bigness
I have been jealous to save. "You don't want to rob the
future ?" Of such an original jewel ? No ! He works so
hard I am afraid he will get sick, poor man, in trying to
strengthen the bad links in that extensive weak chain. I have
just a mind to lean a little over that pit for a moment, and
whisper to him not to work so hard. "Have a self-care, 0
indefatigable Captain, this case has several times, you know,
made you sick ; you may be sicker yet !" At the sound of my
voice — look, friends ! at the sound of my voice — at just the
most artless movement of our pen, how that collateral coil
starts up ! and there is a sound like the eleven rattles, when
surprised in the grass, of some monster rattle-snake. But
have a care, 0 "harpies," upon the wills of the dead, "There^s
one among ye taking notes, and, faith, heHl print them !^^

The Compiler's Letter to Her Readers.

August 24, 1878.
One day, the past month, we decided upon a memorial
volume for this dear family. It always seems as if we had
had two families. Our father's, gone now, and this gone now,

310 THE COMPILER'S LETTER.

ourself left tlie last membar of it in the old house here ;
but where the dead who owned it, and lived in it before, wished
us to be left. We think of this when we wake at midnight,
and are tranquil, and sleep again with the peaceful conscious-
ness it imparts. Should the dead sometimes in spirit walk
their old rooms, it is as they desired and still wish. They
would only guard us, we know. But for this we could not
have lived here the many days and nights we have, alone,
since dear Mrs. Meech died.

We entered press with copy for but 56 pages, the first
page being printed July 26 ult. It will all be printed in just a
month — would be to-day, two days less than the month, but
that we must have to-day (Saturday, 24th), to write up this
form in, despite the protest of our printers — who must rest
over till Monday, 26th.

It is largely a compilation, or it could not have been
done, made and printed in a month — though to sort, read, par-
agraph, select from a thousand letters is no light task — and we
mention the brevity of time in which it has been done, as
some palliation for any paragraph or letter that might better,
perhaps, have been omitted, and might have been, upon more
mature reflection.

We regret the break in our compilation here : Our next
papers — three to four years in Texas — the pioneer railroad
exploring company of Governor Paine and the Clarkes ; two
journals, one by Mr. Clarke, from a man's objects and points of
view ; one by Mrs. Clarke, from a woman's point of feeling and
experience. We had intended, also, to give extracts from his

THE COMPiLEK'S LETTER 311

Washington letters for nine years ; the campaign songs for
every president of his party, from Harrison to Grant ; from
the many pages of prose and verse of Mrs. Chirke to liave
plucked an occasional bright or pleasing leaf. But our print-
ers think we can run only this form. We agree with them.
Within about three weeks of tlie doors of the Chittenden
County Court with another expected trial of the contested
will of Mrs. Meech, it is about time to lay by the \>en and pre-
pare for the reception of the common foe of this family, this
book and me. After the court, when a happy end may have
been reached, or at worst another time of suspension in the
will-warfare, we may put the bright and sombre Texan jour-
nals in bindings, with the otlier papers named, and including
that period of her life, dear Mrs. Meech left to us to write —
that closing eight years ; the part of her life with Miss Hem-
enway, and of Miss Hemenway's life with her — the four years
before her son's death, the four after — that last period of an
accumulation of experiences to her, dear old mother, and to
the writer ; and to which, should we lack at all for material,
might be added any little elucidations of testimony in the
public trials of this assaulted will, any "little things they did
not tell/' it might be preferable or pardonable, we belong so
completely to our whole State and people, to Vermonters
everywhere, have so belonged for so many years, and may for
a time longer, to give a careful and true account of, to be
issued in another similar volume, should the reception of this
modest volume now given, encourage us to so do.

313 THE COMPILER'S LETTER.

The friends of Mrs. Meech are mostly in the grave, and
many of the friends of General Clarke and wife, also. But
if their old Albany, Troy, New York and Boston friends, that
yet live, the General's old familiar friends at Montpelier yet
left, his Washington friends, and numerous friends among the
ever by him ardently-esteemed clergy of the church, of which
he rejoiced from the day he entered to that of his death, in
being a member of ; and lastly, but not least, all his old friends
of Burlington, the city of his home and his grave, almost
fully, if not equally so. among both Protestants and Catholics ;
if the fourth of all these, may welcome a memorial, thus of
him^ our very limited edition (we had not the funds to publish
a large one now, and this is done, just n(~)W, to help along
with our court expenses,) and not stereotyped, will be soon
taken up.

Meantime, any persons holding letters or papers, espec-
ially humorous poems of the General, that it would be desira-
ble to include in a secondary volume, are specially invited to
send them in to me, or copies of them ; I near my limits —
Mes cheres ames, a la^ present, adieu.

Miss Hemenway.

iliiilililliirilliljlllilllliillliilililiillllllliiilllllililllliilijllllllllililllj