^^^
LETTERS, OF LIFE.
II - ■- ■ I I "■ r^— ^
Tic: f'Ew ^•^^" •
^1 ^ ^. ^
^N FOUL
<' .»■ ■ . jyj i ■ 4» ti ^ K ' . '
lY.
Mlaon. Uiken at the age of Seventy.
New York , D Apple loa & C
LETTEBS OF LIFE.
BY
MRS. L. H. SIGOUR^'EY.
NEAV YORK :
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
443 & 445 BROADWAY.
1866.
"^
^.^>:m9Ga
ErrzKiD, icoordlng to Act of Congresa, In the year 1 566, by
D. APPLETON & CO.,
Ib Um Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern Dtetrict of New York.
TO
MRS. CAROLi:tTE WASHBUPwN,
THE CHEEI8HED FEIEND,
AT WHOSE EAEXEST SIIGGESTIOX THESE " LETTEES OF LIFE " "WEEB
COMMEXCED,
THE FINISHED WORK
18 DEDICATED, BY A FILIAL HAXD, IN MEMORY OF
THE DEPAETED.
CO
COj^TEISTTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Home and its Inhabitants, ..... 5
CHAPTER II.
Early Years, ....... 26
CHAPTER III.
My Teachers, ....... 49
CHAPTER IV.
First Grief and First Journey, . . . .74
«
CHAPTER V.
Household Employments, . . . . .97
CHAPTER VI.
Social Amusements, ...... 120
ooirrKNTf*.
• • • •
FAOl
ruAriKu VII.
AAiffTOCRACT or Tiir. Omtn Time, .... H4
CHAPTER VIII.
Wbittkn Tiiouout, . . . , .164
CHAPTICR IX.
Educational Rkmf.mokancks, ..... 186
CHAPTER X.
Love and Marriage, ...... 239
CHAPTER XI.
Domestic Lifk, .... ... 266
CHAPTER XII.
Lapse of Years, . . . • . . 292
CHAPTER XIII.
Literature, ....... 324
CHAPTER XIV.
Good-bye,
APPENDIX, 403
LETTERS OF LIFE.
LETTER I.
HOME AyrO ITS IXHABITA^TS.
Tou request of me, my dear friend, a particular
account of my own life. It is little varied by incident,
and has no materials for romance. Yet your wish
ought to be sacred to my much indebted heart; and
I believe there is no earthly pilgrimage, if faithfully
portrayed in its true lights and shadows, but might im-
part some instruction to the future traveller, and set
forth His praise, whose mercies are " new every morn-
ing, and fresh every moment."
I was born in Xorwich, Connecticut ; beautiful Nor-
wich, whose varied scenery reveals sometimes the Cale-
donian wildness, and at others the tender softness of
the vale of Tempe. The earliest pictures of Memory,
and they hang still unfaded in her gallery, are of rude
ledges of towering rock, which were to me as the Alps,
6 LETTERS OF LIFE.
and of the nibhing and j/icturesquc cascade of the Yan-
tie, creating the same class of sensations that were, in
after years, deepened to speechless awe at the thunder-
hymn of polemn, stihlime Niagara.
My t^till tarliiT recollections are of the mansion
where, near flic close of the last century, on the first
day of Septemher, 1791, I first saw the light, Tt was
among the better class of New England houses at that
time of day — spacious but not lofty, a broad hall inter-
secting it in the middle, with suits of rooms on each
side. Its court-vard was of the richest velvet turf; two
spruce trees, in their livery of dark green, stood as
sentinels at tlie gate, and alternate columns of the
fragrant eglantine and the luxuriant white rose were
trained from the basement to the eaves. Tt was en-
vironed by three large gardens,, each of which en-
chanted my childhood, and even now linger with me,
as those of the Ilesperides.
The southern one stretched out in view of the win-
dows of the parlor, where we usually sat. There were
the flowers, transposed in an old-fashioned parterre, or
knot — a diamond-shaped bed in the centre — with its
chief glory, a rich crimson peony, surrounded by others
in angles and parallelograms, whose dark mould was
sprinkled with every tint and perfume, in their season.
There flourished the amaryllis family, white and orange-
colored, the queenly damask-rose, the deep-red, the
pale-cheeked, and the sweet briar; tulips in gorgeous
HOilE AXD ITS rSTHABITAXTS. 7
and varied robes, the protean sweet-william, the as-
piring larkspur, the proud crown imperial, the snow-
drop, the narcissus, and the hyacinth, so prompt to
waken at Spring's first call, side by side with the cheer-
ful marigold, braving the frost-kiss ; pinks in profusion,
and a host of personified flowers, peeped out of their
tufted homes, like nested birds ; the beauty by night,
the ragged lady, the mourning widow, and the mottled
guinea hen. The dahlias had not then appeared with
their countless varieties, but the asters instituted a
secondary order of nobility ; coxcombs and soldiers in
green rejoiced in their gay uniform ; the borders were
enriched with shrubbery, tastefully disposed, at whose
feet ran the happy blue-bell and the bright-eyed hearts-
ease, intent with a few other lowly friends on turning
every crevice to account, and making the waste places
beautiful.
A portion of ground was allotted to such herbs as
were supposed to possess the latent power of repelling
disease. There grew the tansy, and the peppermint,
and the spearmint ; the wormwood and the rue, a
spoonful of whose expressed juice, given either as tonic
or vermifuge, was never forgotten by the mouth that
received it ; the spikenard, and the lovage, and the ele-
campane, the pungent pennyroyal, the bitter boneset,
famed for subduing colds; the aromatic thyme that
fought fevers, and the sapient sage, which seemed com-
placently satisfied with its own excellences, or bearing
8 i.mrmaB of life.
on itB rouplionrrl lip the classic question, "Cur moriatnr
homo. <lnni salis rroscit in horto?"*
A broa<l cravcl walk intersecting the garden, di-
vided the parterre from an expanse of fair, even-shorn
turf, at whose termination was a pleasant arbor, -with
its lattice-work interwoven and overshadowed by an
ancient, thickly clustering grape-vine. Grouped around
it was a copse of peach trees, the rich golden fruited,
the large crimson and white cling, the colorless autum-
nal varieties, and the more diminutive ones, whose pulp,
blood-tinted throughout, w^ere favorites for the preserv-
ing pan.
Yet the garden at the opposite extremity of the
house was emphatically the fruit region. It was longi-
tudinally divided by a grassy terrace, and with the
exception of a few esculents, rows of graceful peas and
beans, decking their rough props with blossoms, was
directed to the varieties of fruit that a New Enjxland
climate matures : currants reached forth their rich and
pendulent strings, large gooseberries rejoiced amid their
thorny armor, over a broad domain ran the red and
white strawberry, hand in hand, like a buxom brother
giving confidence to his pale, exquisite sister. Through
the apple-boughs peered the small orb of the deep-
colored pearmain, and the full cheek of the golden
sweeting, while many lofty pear trees aristocratically
* Why need a man die, who has sage in his garden ? "
HOME AND ITS INHABITANTS. 9
"bore their varied honor thick npon them. There Tvere
the minute harvest-pear, the coveted of childhood for
its bland taste and early ripeness, the spreading bell,
notching a century on its trunk, with unbowed strength,
the delicious vergaloo, the high-flavored bennet with its
deep blush, and multitudes of the rough-coated later
pears, destined, with culinary preparation, to give va-
riety to the wintry tea-table.
Another extensive and highly cultured spot, called
the lower garden, as it was approached from the rear
of the establishment, by descending a long flight ot
wooden stairs, exulted in all manner of vegetable
wealth to enrich the domestic board. There towered
the tasselled maize, with its humbler compeer the po-
tato ; the salads swelled, the green cucumber adorned
its mound, fair squashes with their crooked spines, and
immense pumpkins commended themselves to the pas-
try-cook by their leafy banners ; the carrot and turaip,
the sallow parsnip, and the blood-red beet, revealed
their subterranean abodes ; while a large turfy mound,
rounded and entered like a tomb, the celery and the
savoy cabbage claimed as their own exclusive winter
palace.
Beyond stretched an extensive meadow, refreshed
at its extremity by a crystal streamlet, flowing on with
a pleasant murmur to the neighboring river. The do-
main comprised also a hill, where trees were sparsely
scattered, and which, gently sloping toward the house,
10 URTBM or LIFE.
had at its foot a larpo bam, wlioro tho domestic ani-
mals found aniplo acrommodations and plentiful sup-
plies. It« yard communicated by a large gate with an
area in the rear of the mansion, which was surrounded
by a little villajxe of offices. Among them were the
carriage-house, tlio woo«l-house, whose ranges of sawed
hickory were disposed with geometrical precision; the
gardener's tool-house, where eveiy thing had a place,
and was in it; the distillery, where the richer herbs
from the dispensary, and the fragrant petals of the dam-
ask-rose yielded their essence for health or luxury ; and
the poultry-house, with its glass windows and varied
compartments, where the brooding mothers and their
hoDeful offspring found systematic lodgment and a
large prosperity.
I shall hope to be forgiven for this minute descrip-
tion, which may seem dry and prosaic, but in my heart
touches chords that ring out like pleasant melodies.
Every feature of our birthplace is wont to become
beautified by time ; and I am the more desirous to pre-
serve a transcript of mine as it was, because the moods
and tenses of modern days are prone to modify or ob-
literate the idioms that memory had consecrated.
This edifice and estate, comprehending a farm in a
neighboring village, "with, other portions of land in the
vicinity, appertained to the name of Lathrop, one of
the most ancient and meritorious of the aristocratic
families of Norwich. It w^as owned by the widow of
HOME AJS^D ITS INHABITANTS. 11
Dr. Daniel Lathrop, a lady of noble bearing, cultivated
intellect, and eminent piety, the daughter of John
Talcott, Governor of Connecticut, and born in Hart-
ford, May 3, 1717. Though far advanced in years
when I first beheld her, time had not impaired either
her physical or mental system. Her tall, majestic form,
was unbowed, her step elastic, and her heart in ardent,
healthful action. My early life retains no more cher-
ished or indelible picture than her beautiful age.
Left childless, and destitute of near male relatives,
the care of my father over her affairs had become in-
dispensable ; and he, with his household, were tenants
of a part of her mansion, which was admirably ar-
rano-ed for the accommodation of two families. His
name was Ezekiel Huntley, and he was born in Frank-
lin, in the neighborhood of Norwich, April 12th, 1752.
His father, a native of Scotland, emigrated to this
country in early life, and married Miss Mary Wal-
bridge, a woman of consistent domestic loveliness and
piety. From the comforts of his home he went forth as
a colonial soldier in the war waged by our mother land
with the French and Indians. Returning from the com-
paratively successful campaign of 1760, he became a
victim of the small-pox on the way, and never more
saw the home of his affections.
His widow, my grandmother, is among the gentle,
yet strong images of my infancy, seated by the fireside
of her son, in quietness and honor.
12 LETTEIW OF LIFE.
Ever industrious, poacrful, and an example of all
Faintly virtiies was she. At the ape of neventy, not a
thread uf silver had woven itself with her lustrous
Mark hair. Then a mild chill of paralysis checked the
vital current, and gave nic the iirst picture of serene
death.
My father resembled her in liis calm spirit and
habitual diligence, as he did also in a cloudless longev-
ity. The blessing of the iil'th commandment came
upon him who had honored the lone parent, resting on
him fur protection. He became a member, in his boy-
hood, of the family of Dr. Daniel Lathrop, a man of
distinguished talents and collegiate education, matured
by foreign travel. Destined for the medical profession,
but possessing acute sensibilities, he w^as rendered so
unhappy by the sufferings of others, especially by the
necessity of performing any surgical operation, that he
commuted active practice for the business of an apothe-
cary. This allowed him frequent opportunities of giv-
ing salutary advice, especially to the poor, which grati-
fied his benevolence, and kept his scientific knowledge
from oblivion. To a competent patrimony he added a
very large fortune gathered in his mercantile depart-
ment, w^hich he expended with great liberality. He
was held in high honor, and numbered among the bene-
factors of his native city, being the first to found a
school where the common people might be instructed
HOME AND ITS IXHABITANTS. 13
gratuitously in Latin and Greek, as well as in the more
essential branches of a solid education.
In the course of his extensive business he employed
a variety of clerks, whom it was his choice to domesti-
cate under his own roof. Their moral and intellectual
habits were to him, and his estimable lady, objects of
interest. Indeed, to their conscientious minds they
were in some measure as children, for whose right prin-
ciples and good conduct they felt responsible both to
the world and to God. Perhaps they were in no in-
stance so signally baffled in these philanthropic efforts,
as by Benedict Arnold, known in his country's history
as the traitor. Being the son of a A^ddow, they re-
ceived him at rather an early age, and cherished for him
added sympathy. Strong capacities and strong faults
were soon revealed. Among the latter was barbarity to
every form of animal life. Dogs avoided him for good
reasons ; cats never flourished where he dwelt ; it was
thought that horses were none the better for his minis-
trations, unless it might be for habits of break-neck
speed and marvellous kicking and prancing. Dismem-
bered birds were found lying about the premises, of
whose state no satisfactory solution could be obtained.
The blue eggs of the robin were crushed and strewn
upon the turf, and the voice of the mourning mother
resounded amono- the branches.
" Methinks," said the kind lady in whose house he
was fostered, " her cry is ' Cruel Benedict Arnold!
14 LETTmS OF LIFF.
cru4:l /}< rirJirf Jr?i'>ld f^' At whicli t ho boy secretly
laughed.
It wns rnstoinary, in those days of republican sim-
plicity, for merchants' clerks, who were received into
the househoM of tho mnstrr, to take part in a variety
of services for the comfort of the family. Conformably
to this custom, Benedict was sometimes despatched to
a mill at the distance of about two miles, carrying, on
tho horse that he rode, bags of Indian corn to be trans-
muted into meal. There, while waiting, he amazed the
miller with sundry fantastic tricks. Sometimes his
affrighted eyes would descry the urchin clinging to a
spoke of the great mill-wheel in its revolutions, now
submerged and anon flying through the air for his
amusement, heeding no remonstrance, and enjoying the
terror of the honest man, who in his objurgations was
wont to style him an " imj) of the Evil One."
In this reckless daring and deficiency of moral sen-
sibility, might be traced the elements of that character
which afterwards, with equal hardihood, could lead his
soldiers through perils in the wilderness, or aim a trai-
tor's blow at the heart of his endangered country.
My father had several books of elementary science
in his possession, among which I particularly recollect
a Dilworth's Grammar and an Arithmetic, which bore
in multifarious j^laces the sobriquet of Benedict Ar-
nold, scrawled heedlessly and often with blots through
the middle of mathematical problems or examples of
HOME A^'D ITS IXHAEITA^'TS. 16
syntax. Sometimes they T^ere accompanied with un-
symmetrical and hideous drawings. Possibly the boys
mio;ht have used the books in common, or rather in sue-
cession, during their school culture. Yet it must have
required some courage thus to deface books which the
JSTew England mind was trained to revere, both from
scarcity and a sense of their value ; and to persevere
wilfully in such courses, in days when scholastic disci-
pline was wont to make itself both felt and remem-
bered. I can well recollect with what veneration and
clean hands I was instructed to approach our few, half-
sainted volumes, and with what horror I regarded any
child whose book disclosed the guilt of a dog's ear or a
missing leaf.
My father, like his compeer, or, more properly, his
predecessor, was also called to take part in the battles
of his native land. He joined the first regiment that
was raised in that portion of Connecticut, and marched
with them to Boston, ere the Declaration of Indepen-
dence had been promulgated. They passed their first
night in the neighborhood of the lion-hearted Putnam,
at Brooklyn, Conn., who had then but newly left his
plough in the unfinished furrow, and rushed onward to
stand by his country, till her struggle for existence
should end in liberty and glory.
I may not here command sjDace to particularize the
events that connected my blessed father with the perils
and victories of the Revolution. They took place long
16 LETTERS OF LIFE.
before my birth ; Imt I liave heard tlioir recital, seated
on his knee, and my heart now kindles at their memory
as a trumpet-cry.
One recital of those warlike gatherings made a
strong impression on my infantine imairination, proba-
bly because it was coupled with home scenery. In the
autumn of 1781, the inhabitants of Norwich beheld
their whole southern horizon wrapped in the strange,
flickering redness of a distant flame. Thundering
sounds were on the air, like the cannon's death-peal.
There was a quick mustering of the men of war.
Boys who had never seen service, besought their
troubled mothers for leave to gird on the harness, and
go where danger called. In hot haste, and wdth as
much of military order as the occasion would admit,
horse and foot sped on to the point of danger.
No rail-train in those days rapidly conveyed tidings,
no telegraph bore them on the lightning's wing ; but
the fleetest leader of the cavalry, gaining a command-
ing ascent, announced that New London, our neighbor
city, was in flames. From van to rear passed the
mournful sound, " New London is in flames ! " Indig-
nation sat on every face. Their beautiful seaport !
The favorite and finest harbor of Connecticut ! Every
individual thought of some acquaintance or friend left
houseless, if, indeed, among the living. They hurried
to meet the foe. The fourteen miles that divided Nor-
wich from New London was achieved as on eagle's
HOME AXD ITS INHABITANTS. 17
wings. But they came too late. Too late for defence !
Too late for vengeance !
Smoking ruins and homeless people were on every
side. The helpless sick had been removed to fields and
gardens, and sobbing children clung to their bewil-
dered mothers. Those who had been nurtured in
wealth knew not where to turn for bread. Their holy
and beautiful temple, where they had worshipped God,
was in ashes. And Benedict Arnold had done it. Re-
turning from a predatory excursion on the shores of
Virginia, he had made this visit to his native State.
Here were old friends with whom he had held early
intercourse. By them he was recognized, seated on his
horse, and giving orders. He even ventured to take
some refreshment in the house of a former acquaint-
ance, but bade the flames enwrap the roof as he rose
from the table. He expressed a wish that it were pos-
sible to reach IN'orwich, that he might there burn at
least the abode in which he was born. Instinct, how-
ever, protected him from this exposure, doubtless assur-
ing him that the beautiful region which gave him birth
would feel it its duty to provide him a grave.
But it was on the opposite side of the river that the
most fearful carnage marked his career. There, Fort
Griswold, Avhich had been taken by sudden siege, after
such brave resistance that the traitor general was
blamed by his adopted realm for the large loss of
j officers and soldiers, became the scene of reckless de-
18 LKTTERS OF LIFE.
vaatation. Anii«l ]»ileH of slain, destroyed by hnrhar-
OU9 butcbcrv after tliey liad surrendered, soucrht dis-
traded women and cluMren, rleansincr many dead and
distorted faces from tlie corrugated blood ere they
could discern a feature of the husband or the father,
the brother or the son, over "vvhom they should mourn
wliile life lasted. And Jjcnedict Arnold had done it.
He was seen to point with his ^flittering sword, and
say, " Soldiers, to your duty ! "
Ah, stern duty of pitiless war! executed, as we
trust, sometimes with compunction, otherwise man
would be a fiend. Came there not, in future years,
some lingering cry of these wndow^s and orphans into
the heart of that bold, bad man, when, bowed with
age, he felt in a foreign land the loneliness, neglect,
and loathinc: which are wont to overtake the traitor ?
"We cannot say. Fain would we hojoe that such re-
morse was there as led to penitence and God's forgive-
ness.
Details like these were softened by my father, and
not dwelt upon with the stern delight of a soldier. He
was not a man of w^ar in his heart, though duty led him
to defend his home and hearthstone, and the altars of his
native land. He was of a singularly mild nature and
unassuming manners. Perseverance in well-doing, re-
gardless of applause or ambition, and a disciplined,
' trustful, most affectionate spirit, were among the ele-
ments of his character. I never remember seeing him,
HOME AND ITS INHABITANTS. 19
throughout his long life, excited with anger, or hearing
him utter a hasty or unkind word. Patience, that true
courage of virtue, was eminently his own ; and at the
close of his pilgrimage he was styled, by one well
qualified to judge, " the man without an enemy."
After peace and liberty had been vouchsafed to his
beloved country, and she had taken her seat among the
nations, he married a lovely creature, to whom he had
been long affianced. Lydia Howard was his earliest
love, but the unsettled state of the land had been un-
favorable to " marrying and giving in marriage." Her
health, also, was delicate, and they waited, with the
hope that it might be more confirmed ere she assumed
the responsibilities of a housekeeper. But pulmonary
disease in our Northern climate exacts, like the Mino-
taur, its ten-ible tribute from the fair and young, defy-
ing both the sword of Theseus and the clue of Ariadne.
Not a year of life, after her nuptials, was meted out to
this gentle being. Just before the thick fall of the
rustling leaves, and while the forests were rich with the
later tints of autumn, she went to the land that hath
no decay, leaning calmly on the Redeemer whom she
loved.
The desolated husband passed several years of
lonely mourning, and then garnered up his heart in a
new trust. Sophia Wentworth was beautiful and
attractive, fourteen years younger than himself, and of
a family which, though limited in pecuniary resources.
20 LBTTBM OF LIFE.
ptrotoliod its pedigree back llironph the royal and tory
governors of New Hampshire, to the gifted Earl of
Strafford, the liapless friend of Charles I. She pos-
sessed intellect of no common order, rapid pcrceptionB,
stronrr retentive powers, facility of seizing knowledge
almost by intuition, and a command of language com-
prising somewhat of histrionic force. Her mind, but
little disciplined by education, sprang to its results
without intermediate toil, and in its flights of fancy
and originality of thought revealed the true impulses
of genius.
By this fair young mother I was received with a joy
that remembered not the anguish which for three days
and nights had threatened to terminate her life; and by
my father, usually grave beyond his years, wdth an
amazement of delight and gratitude. Their first gift
to me was the name of the early-smitten consort, con-
secrated by the baptismal water from the hand of the
Rev. Dr. Joseph Strong, in the church of the old town,
under the gray cliffs, ere the second week of my infant
pilgrimage was comjoleted. Such was the custom of
tliose days. Before the moon had filled her horn,
which, perchance, hung its faintest crescent over the
cradle, the new babe must be presented to the priest,
in the great congregation. During the early periods
of colonial existence it was thought ^^I'oper that the
day of its birtb should be also that of its baptism. A
venerable friend, whose advent was during the coldest
fj\l
HOME AXD ITS IXHABITAXTS. 21
part of a very severe winter, and who has recently died
at the age of almost ninety, assured me that she was
not spared by her parents, but borne out to the house
of public worship a few hours after her first appearance,
which chanced to be on Sunday. Her father being the
minister, it was deemed that any abatement of the
strictest requisition would be singularly improper ; but
tempering the zeal of piety with the solicitude of love,
she was enveloped in a white satin bag, elaborately tied
around the tiny neck, and preserved as an heirloom in
the family.
This extreme primitive usage did not permit the
mother the j^rivilege of dedicating, in person, her off-
spring at the hallowed font. My father presented his
own little waif to the good pastor for the blessed rite,
accompanied by the nurse and a faithful servant woman.
The latter, after the frost of fourscore had settled upon
her, was fond of relating the scene, with its minutest
circumstances, as one of some note in her annals. I,
too, must speak of her ; for in her line of life she was
an example worthy of comment and imitation.
Faithful Lucy Calkins ! Methinks I see her now, in
the costume of early days, a neat calico short wrapper,
and in winter one of green baize, with shining black
skirt and blue checked apron. There would she be,
churning butter of golden hue, or drawing from a large
brick oven the most delicate bread, or feeding her flock
of poultry, or, perchance, lecturing the waiter-boy, who
22 LETTERS OF LIFE.
miglit have neglrotod his cluty, slio Imving, cspocially
OD the Inttcr occasion, not a melodious voice or a fasci-
natinc ])liysiognomy. Most trntliful war she. I doubt
whether she ever concealed a fact, and she was seldom
iruilty f)f mollifying it. She had a strong temper but a
kind heart. One of ray earliest recollections at enter-
ing her kitchen, was earnestly looking in her face to see
if she was pleasant. If she was, nothing could exceed
my joy. If she was not — and children are great casu-
ists in such matters — I usually made good my retreat,
laying hands upon nothing.
A remarkable person was she for persevenng dili-
gence and consistency of conduct. Only at two ser-
vice-places had she lived during a life which extended
to more than fourscore, save the one where her child-
hood was nurtured until she reached the age of eighteen.
For more than forty years after the breaking up of the
family at Norwich, she resided in the household of
Daniel "Wads worth, Esq., at Hartford, first as an
active housekeeper, then as a superintendent of other
servants ; and lastly, seated quietly in the corner, and
appealed to for the benefits of her experience, she rest-
ed from her labors in peace and goodwill. Excellent
gowTis she now wore, and nice caps ; nor would the
delicate hand of the mistress neglect to arrange her
apparel when she walked slowly to the house of God,
wherein was her delight, or aid her into the family car-
riage when she occasionally went to pass the day with
HOME AND ITS IXHABITAXTS. 23
an early friend. Respect to her virtues was paid by
those whom she had so long and so faithfully serv^ed.
Great kindness of heart had she for sickness and sor-
row; and to claims of charity, and especially those
from her own poor relatives, her liberality was free and
untiring. By prudence in preserving the surplus of her
wages, she had secured an independence, and, after the
death of the beloved benefactors under whose roof
for almost half a century she had dwelt, returned to
beautiful ^NTorwich, to be solaced by the nursing care of
her kindred.
There she was provided and attended like any lady
of the land ; for she lived upon the income of her own
money, and was a devisor by will and testament of
legacy and donation. There I sometimes saw her, in
great comfort, sleeping in a large apartment hung with
pictures, and the small bed of a nursing relative near
her own, lest she might want aid in the night.
When I saw her for the last time, shortly before her
death, she was on the verge of her eighty-fifth year.
I had heard that she mourned after me, and wondered
why I so neglected to call, thinking, in her brokenness
of mind, that I was still a neighbor. TVhen I told her
that I had come by the railroad forty miles since din-
ner, and ere tea-time should return home, making eighty
miles in all on purpose to see her, she seemed bewil-
dered. Intellectual memory slumbered, but the mem-
ory of the heart was wakeful.
24 LnrSRB OF LIFE.
" It is her voice,'' she said ; " yes, her voice — the
baby that I held when she was christened."
Then T touched Pome of the chords of early days,
and they vibrated truly and lovingly. Sunlic^ht came
again over tlint wintry face. The Book of God was
dear to her, and the Saviour who had led her with his
flock many years beside the still waters.
I knew that I should see her no more in this life, for
the mark of the Better Land was upon her. That I
remember her still with tenderness, is but a fitting trib-
ute to one who, in honesty of purpose and consistent
goodness, was a model for that class of persons on
whose aid the comfort of domestic life so essentially
depends. Often, when, like my sister housekeepers of
this section of our Union, I have been annoyed by the
habits of those whom we call helps^ and who are some-
times hindrances — annoyed by their want of principle,
their pretending to understand what they never knew,
their leaving suddenly after having been laboriously
instructed, or staying when confidence had ceased, my
thoughts have recurred to the efiiciency, the integrity
of this relic of the olden time, in whom the hearts of
those whom she served safely trusted.
Humble, venerable friend, farewell. " Faithful over
a few things," we believe that thou hast entered " into
the joy of thy Lord."
LETTER n.
EARLY TEAES.
As I look back to the opening vista of life, a sense
of quiet happiness steals over me. It is like the reflec-
tion of that softest beam which a vernal morninor wins
from the sun while he yet lingers in his bed, when the
mists catch a rose-tint as they steal away, and the dews
and unopened buds praise the Lord.
I have been told that my infancy was healthful,
though apparently delicate, and that I was in haste to
take hold of the faculty of speech. TVords of my
utterinsT when nine and ten months old were oft re-
peated to me ; and though I suppose them to have
been simply imitated articulations, the friends who re-
corded them in memory were tenacious of them as
proofs of rapidly-unfolding perception and precocious
intellect. I was favorably situated to be accounted
marvellous, having no little competitor, and falling
principally into the company of those somewhat ad--
/ vanced in life, who welcomed me as a curiosity, and
had full leisure to note all my doings. My father was
26 I.ETTKBS OF LIFE.
ajiproaeliiii!^ tlio crr.ivo aijc of forty wlion lie welcomed
Lis only child. One of my first recollections is of
hiding my face in liis hosoni, and of how hright were the
knittincj-needlcs of his acred mother, Avho sat near with
a lovincr smile,
I was very happy in the gardens, when old enough
to wander there. No nurse at my heels watched and
restrained me, or wondered what I was about when I
talked long with the flowers. My fair mother tied on
my little sun-honnet and mittens, and welcomed and
lulled me to rest when I came wearied into the house.
I remember with what wondering reverence I gazed
at the tall purple lilacs and white snowballs ; my own
most familiar acquaintance among the flower-people
being the violets and blue-bells and lupines in my allot-
ted plat of ground. Great delight had I also in watch-
ing the growth of the ripening fruits, and admiring His
goodness who deepened the color in the orb of the
berry and the downy cheek of the peach, and changed
hard, green pin-heads into the full, fragrant grape
cluster. Frequent visits I made to the arbor, covered
by the mantling vine, and, spreading on its benches
large leaves of the lilac which I was permitted to
gather, drew on them, with a pin, the forms of such
objects as met my view or floated in my fancy. Those
green surfaces, deeply indented by my simple graver
with birds, or nests, or winged creatures having neither
name nor symmetry, or exhibiting patterns for wrought
EAELT YEARS. 27
ruffles such as I had seen ladies embroider, are as vivid
in memory as if laid on the table where I now write.
Sibylline leaves, on which the httle happy heart dej^ict-
ed the semblance of its own imaginings, they unfold
their scrolls to me, bringing back the perfume of
the abundant fruits and rich blossoms that breathed
around.
I had but few j^laythiugs, and those of the simplest
kind. More were not coveted, having no companion
with whom to enjoy or divide them. In those early
days of the republic our merchant vessels did not swell
their freight with the toys of Germany and France.
Dolls that opened their eyes, moved their joints, and
moaned, were unknown, and might have been deemed
the work of necromancy. I never possessed any save
those of household manufacture, and they were not
eminently distinguished by fine proportions or elegant
costume. My best one had a face of cambric, black
pin-heads for eyes, half-circles drawn with a pen for
eyebrows, lips of a slip of vermilion silk, curled flax
for tresses, and handless arms pinned submissively over
her stomach. The doll-srenus were not at all essential
to my happiness. They were of the most consequence
when, marshalled in the character of pupils, I installed
myself as their teacher. Then I talked much and long
to them, reproving their faults, stimulating them to
excellence, and enforcing a variety of moral obliga-
tions.
28 LETTERS or i,it't:.
Tlic ))la}liouso, to wliich I resorted Avlien satiated
with ruiMl rinuMes, or when hud weather forbade it,
was a spacious garret covering the wliolc upper story
of tlie mansion. In one corner w'as a heavy, old-fash-
ioned carved beaufet, upon whose curving shelves I
displayed my toys so as to make tlie best appearance,
and arranged my dolls according to their degrees of
aristocracy. A spirit of order, and love of having
every thing in its place, grew W'ith this exercise.
Immense trunks were in that garret. Untold treas-
ures I supposed them to contain ; but rummaging was
in those days forbidden to children. One of them was
open and empty, and lined with sheets of printed
hymns. I stretched myself within its walls, and
perused those hymns, being able to read at three years
old. Afterwards, I grieve to say that I made use of
that hiding-place for a more questionable purpose.
Finding a borrowed copy of the " Mysteries of Udol-
pho " in the house, and perceiving that it was seques-
trated from childish hands, I watched for intervals when
it might be abstracted unobserved, and, taking refuge
in my trunk, like the cynic in his tub, revelled among
the tragic scenes of Mrs. Ratcliffe ; finding, however,
no terror so formidable as an aj)proaching footstep,
when, hiding the volume, I leaped lightly from my
cavernous study) It was the first surreptitious satisfac-
tion, and not partaken without remorse. Yet the fas-
EARLY YEARS. 29
cinatious of that fearful fiction-book seemed to me too
strong to be resisted.
Two immense stacks of chimneys passed through
this garret to their outlet in the roof, where was also a
scuttle-door attained by a flight of stairs, whither I
mounted and j^eered out when ambition so moved. In
one of those chimneys was a closet, where the ropes
and pulleys of the great roasting-jack hissed and sput-
tered when put in motion by the fires below. I remem-
ber, on one occasion, opening the door of that dark
enclosure, and saying to a little girl who had come up
stairs with me that " Jack lived there." At the sound
of the clamor within, her eves enlaro-ed, and, fleet as a
deer, she fled from the house. My shouts of explana-
tion were unheeded. The joke lost me a playmate for
that day. On reflection, it seemed a wicked invention,
at which my conscience was troubled.
This capacious apartment also contained remnants
and vestiges of my father's military life. Much time
did I spend among these. The stories that I liad heard of
battles while seated on the paternal knee, gave life and
voice to every relic. Pouches of shot, and bullets, and
flints, and the large twisted powder-horns, were in-
tensely interesting to me.
I did not feel inclined, like Desdemona, to " weep at
what a soldier sufiers," but forthwith girded myself
with the bright brass-hilted sword, and put my tiny
hands upon the cumbrous pistols, and toiled in vain
30 T.mTERS OF LIFE.
to lift tlio l(niE:-l)arr('llr(l ami exceedingly heavy gun,
talking with each ahont liunkcr Hill, and Yorktown,
an«l Washington, till I half fancied that I had listened
to the war-thunder of battle, and looked upon the god-
like form of the Pater Patria?.
The domestic animals I considered friends. With
their different lineaments of character I acquainted my-
self, and, being early accustomed t^ see them well fed
and kindly cared for, have never been able through life
to lay aside an earnest desire for quadruped welfare,
and an almost morbid distress at their discomfort or
oppression.
A large black horse, of mild temperament, two
noble cows, in dark red coats, with graceful horns, a
flock of poultry, crowing, brooding, or peeping, all in
different deo-rees awakened interest and reorard. But
my chief intimacy was with the feline race. Pussy
was always so pliant, so companionable, so pleased
with attentions, and prompt in her way to reciprocate
them. I studied cat-nature like a philosopher. I be-
lieved that the w^orld had never done justice to its
capacities, and that a fostering tenderness would elicit
new powers ; whereuj^on I made a cat my favorite and
prime minister.
It sat in my laj), and gambolled by my side, and
stretched itself upon my bed, and was to me as a sister.
I took charge of its diet, that it might be fed at stated ^
times, and with fitting aliment. When the maid had
EAELY YEAES. 31
done milking, I was permitted to fill a cup for my
protegee with my own hand, from the creamy udder.
Large and fat grew my cat-people, with a lustrous vel-
vet fur, and I exulted in their suj)eriority. They gave
heed to my words, for I talked much to them, and at
my bidding rose upon their hind legs, taking my be-
neficent hand gently in their paws, and rubbing their
heads lovingly upon it. I took pride in this and a few
other accomplishments, arguing fervently in favor of the
race, if any denounced it as selfish, fawning, or hypo-
critical.
One of my great pleasures, at the close of a sum-
mer's day, was to amass two piles of fresh green cab-
bage leaves, which I was myself permitted to break in
the garden, and lay at the milking places for the two
cows when they should come home from the pasture.
I rejoiced to see them hastening toward their expected
honne-boiLche^ and munching it with a perfect content,
while their fragrant revenue rapidly filled the pails.
On one or two occasions I was permitted to walk to
their pasture, at the distance of half a mile or more,
with our very respectable servant-boy, who went to in-
vite them home for the night. Then and there I first
beheld the maocnificent lobelia cardinalis. TVanderino-
to a secluded, moist spot of earth, I found it in the full
/ blossom of its queenly beauty. I had never heard men-
tion of such a flower. The thrill of rapture with Avhich
I gazed upon it is felt to this day. I had no rest till I
32 LETTKIIS OF LIFE.
possessed myself of llie treasure. That it was the
wrong season for transplanting, was nothing to me. I
had no botanieal knowledge, but the glorious flower was
to me as a living soul. The next year there came up in
its place a sorry tuft of grass.
Not disjoined from utility were the pleasures of
waking life. Sports and reveries were much confined
to my great, paradisaical garret, and the sound of rain
upon its ample roof imparted a perfect sense of security
and bliss. Every falling drop seemed to strike a sweet
wind-harp, moving the whole soul to melody. But
when in the parlor with older people, I was fain to imi-
tate their employments, and encouraged to do so. I
early plied the needle, and at the age of six was am-
bitious to execute the plainer j^arts upon my father's
shirts, which were made by my gentle-hearted grand-
mother. More than this, the fabric itself was in part
the work of her industrious hands, for she loved to draw
forth and twist the fine silken threads of flax ; and the
quiet sound of her wheel was to my young ear a lulling
melody. In those days the cheap manufactures from
the southern cotton-plant by the aid of machinery, were
unknown, and almost every thrifty family in the smaller
towns of New England spun within its own bounds
the more durable linens that were essential to its com-
fort. I think it was the same serene and kind relative
who taught me to ply the knitting-needles. Of this I
am not absolutely certain, scarcely being able to remem-
EAELY YEARS. 33
ber the time when I did not know their use ; and as a
friend of mine, who very early entered the state of
matrimony, replied to some chronological question,
" She came into the world married^'' sol cannot affirm,
from any positive recollection, that I did not come into
it knitting. The employment has always been pleasant
to me, as more friendly to meditation than the needle,
and requiring less abstract attention. Through life I
have found it economical and agreeable to knit stock-
ings for myself, my family, and friends. To produce
twenty pair annually, after I became a housekeej)er,
and had more feet to cover, was no uncommon circum-
stance, for it agreeably employed those fragments of
time which might otherwise have been lost, and was
likewise a form of charity peculiarly acceptable to the
poor, in our cold and variable climate.
Asking to be forgiven for this episode in favor of
an almost obsolete occupation among ladies, I return to
my happy childhood. Nothing was so entirely fasci-
nating as to be permitted to aid my father in the horti-
cultural pursuits which he so practically understood.
Believing it for my health to be much in the open air,
and loving ever to have me by his side, I was encour-
aged to drop the peas in their long-drawn furrows, and
\ de2:)0sit the golden maize in its hillock-bed. So, the fair
i blossoms of one, and the tasselled sheath of the other,
, were watched by me through all their stages, as devel-
) opments in which I had a right to be interested. I was
S4 LETTERS OF LIFE.
called to liold \hv younpj saplincj steadily, while he
transplanted it, and wlieii it became a tree it was my
friend. T understood not why such sweet sensations
flowed from these simple employments. I had never
learned Avhy horticulture seemed to cause fresh blos-
soms to spring up in the heart's new soil. I knew not
that health and cheerfulness walked with it, hand in
hand. lie knew, who made it the occupation of un-
fallcn man in his Eden innocence. lie knew, who so
mysteriously conjoined the welfare of flesh and spirit,
and placed the being that bore His own image in a
" garden, to dress and to keep it."
The bounds of our own home domain to my child-
ish mind seemed spacious, and suflicient for every satis-
faction. I cannot recollect ever passing its outer gates
without liberty, or having a wish to do so. To roam
at will from garden to garden, to run at full speed
through the alleys, to recline W'lien w^earied in some
shaded recess, or to seat myself with a book, on a mow
of hay in the large, lofty barn, w^here the quiet cows
ruminated over their fragrant food, gave variety and
fulness of delight to the liberal periods allotted for out-
of-door rambling. I shall probably earn the contempt
of bolder spirits, when I say that ambition never moved
me to trariQScend these limits, or to thirst after other
joys.
Not unfrequently I shared pleasant drives in our
domestic equipage, a spacious, low English chaise,
EARLY YEARS. 35
drawn by a clumsy black horse, whose mild temper and
obesity were never disturbed by sound of whip, or am-
bition of precedence. Xo desire of prancinj^, and no
want of worldly comfort, ruffled his declining days.
To me his proportions seemed elephantine, and being
once elevated to his back, in the arms of a woman ser-
vant, think I_ still remember impressions of terror at
the dizzy height and the length of his head, which, to
my infantine eyes, seemed enormous. By aid of this
majestic personage I became in some measure familiar
with the sweetly varied scenery in the vicinity ; and
though too young to appreciate the full force of its at-
tractions, yet came there forth from its beauty a silent,
secret influence, moulding the heart to happiness, and
love of the beneficent Creator.
The diet allotted to children in those days was ju-
dicious, and remarkably simple. Well fermented and
thoroughly baked bread of the mingled Indian and rye
meal, and rich, creamy milk, were among its j^rominent
elements. I never tasted any bread so sweet as those
large loaves, made in capacious iron basins. Light
wheaten biscuits, delicious gold-colored butter, always
made in the family, custards, puddings, delicate pastry,
succulent vegetables and fruits, gave sufficient variety
of condiment to the repasts allotted us. The extreme
regularity and early hours for meals — twelve being al-
ways the time for dinner — obviated in a great measure
/ the necessity of intermediates, and saved that perpetual
36 LETTERS OF LIFE.
eating into wliich some littlr ones fall, until the diges-
tive jn)\vci*s arc ini])air(Ml in their incipient action. If
Fpnrt, or rxrrriso in llic garden, led mo to desire re-
freshment between the regular meals, a piece of brown
l)read was given me without butter, and I was content.
Candies and confectionery were strangers to us primi-
tive people. The stomach, that keystone of this mys-
terious frame, not being unduly stimulated, no morbid
tastes were formed, and no undue admixture of saccha-
rine or oleaginous matter caused effciTescence and dis-
ease. The name of dyspepsia, with its offspring,
stretching out like the line of Banquo, I never heard in
early years. Spices were untasted, unless it might be
a little nutmeg in the sauce of our nice puddings, which
I still counted as a foe, because it " bit my tongue."
When seated at the table I was never asked whether I
liked or disliked aught that appeared there. It never
occurred to me whether I did or not. I never doubted
but what I should be fed " with food convenient for
me." I was helped to w^hat was deemed proper, and
there was never any necessity, like poor Oliver Twist,
to ask for more. It did not appear to me, from aught
that I saw or heard, that the pleasure of eating was one
of the main ends of existence. The advantages arising
from early unpampered aj)petites, have remained with
me ; for in various sicknesses to vrhich I have been sub-
jected, the stomach, and the nervous tissues dependent
upon it, have seldom sympathized, and the integrity of
EAKLT YEAES. 37
the digestive organs usually given a substratum on which
to build the recovered action of the system. Would
that parents, in modern times, would more frequently
consent to confer similar gifts upon their children.
My costume was simple, and unconstrained by any
ligature to impede free circulation. Stays, corsets, or
frames of whalebone, I never wore. Frocks low in the
neck, and with short sleeves, were used both winter
and summer. Houses had neither furnaces nor grates
for coal, and churches had no means of being warmed,
yet I cannot recollect suffering inconvenience from cold.
Thick shoes and stockings were deemed essential, and
great care was taken that I should never go with wet
feet. Clear, abundant Avood fires, sparkled in every
chimney, and I was always directed, in cold seasons, to
sit with my feet near them until thoroughly warmed,
before retiring; for the nigjht.
A dress of white muslin, with a broad sash of pink
or blue, was my highest style of decoration. There
was no added ornament, save thickly clustering curls,
lot the gift of nature, but the production of my moth-
er's untiring care and skill. This adornment, with
scrupulous neatness, was all that she desired for her
larling. The care of my teeth she reserved to herself,
md made it no sinecure. Their pearly whiteness
seemed sometimes to excite her vanity, and it was a
proportionably keen disappointment to her that the
second set should make their appearance of rather too
38 LETTERS OF LIFE.
large a size, and palpably uneven. My daily ablutions,
as well as the stated and more thorough weekly bath-
ings, she personally superintended. With equal grati-
tude I may respond to the filial ascription of Cowper :
" The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd
With her own hand, till fresh they shone, and glow'd."
From the age of three I was put to sleep in a cham-
ber by myself. There was no person in the family to
whom it was convenient or fitting to be either my guard
or comj^anion. I was always attended to my pillow by
maternal love, and then left alone, sometimes ere the
last rays of the summer sun had entirely forsaken the
landscape. I felt no fear ; false stories had never been
told to frighten me ; there was nothing to be afraid of.
" Our Father in Heaven," to whom the last words of clos-
ing day were said, seemed near, and I fell asleep as on
His protecting arm. It might have been in some meas-
ure owing to this nightly solitude, that Thought so early
became my friend. In the intervals not given to sleep
it talked with me. So delightful were its visits, that
waited for and wooed it, and was displeased if slumber
invaded or superseded the communion. For it some
times brought me harmonies, and thrilled me to strangt
delight with rhythmical words. I believe the following'|
was among its first gifts. Memory has from the earliest
childhood kept it in her casket :
EAKLT TEAKS. 39
" Oh king of kings ! who dwell'st among
Angelic heralds, hear my song.
Inexplicable are Thy ways,
Eternal ought to be Thy praise."
A new nightly visitant came with Thought, and sat in
judgment on my couplets. It was Criticism. She
measured the lines, and put them to her ear, like a
pitch-j^ipe ; and with regard to this specimen, suggested
that in the second line " tono^ue " would make a more
accurate rhyme to " among," than the word I had
chosen. I examined her decision, but adhered to my
original selection. Whereupon Criticism arose and
departed, and I went to sleep.
The echo of consenting and euphonious words al-
lured me to these little exercises in composition more
than any poetic impulse or original idea. Attention to
style, and the import of classical words, were advanced
habitudes of mind for such infantine years. They prin-
cipally arose from the character of the authors with
whom I became familiar. There were literally no chil-
dren's books attainable by me ; and as reading became,
almost in babyhood, a necessity of existence, I was
thrown upon a rather severe selection of standard au-
thors. Young, with his sententious " IS'ight Thoughts,"
initiated me into the poetry of my native language ;
Addison's " Spectator," and Goldsmith's " Yicar of
Wakefield," were the most amusing volumes in the li-
brary. Yet so much had I been inured to the measured
40 LETTERS OF LIFE.
(li;^iiity, and even Rolcmnity of literature, that not com-
prelieiiding concealer! wil, or delicate irony, I thouj^lit
Sir Roger de Coverly and the Rev. ]\Ir. Primrose rather
silly and sinij)le personages. That acute political satire,
" Chrysal, or the Adventures of a Guinea," I perused
with some interest, but little edification, from ignorance
of the local history of England at the period of which
it treats. Harvey's " Reflections among the Tombs,"
and Gesner's " Death of Abel," supplied the imagina-
tion with pleasant food. Whatever was plaintive I
considered eloquent, and graduated my admiration of
literature by its power to draw tears. Bishop Sher-
lock's " Six Sermons on Death," were my models for
theolo2:ical writins^, thouojh " South and Seed " were
diligently perused. The largest volume in my father's
possession was a heavy folio of more than eight hun-
dred pages, containing the works of the Rev. Matthew
Henry, Discourses, Essays, Tracts, and Biographies. I
believe it was the size of the book alone, that inspii'ed
my ambition to master its contents. Yet in patiently
bending over those pages, instinct with piety and bap-
tized by prayer, methought a secret influence sometimes
stole over me, moving to lowliness and the love of God.
The sanctity of the Sabbath, as I saw it observed by
those whom I most loved and respected, had an efficienc
and salutary power upon the forming character. Thero
was under our roof no young or light-minded person to
tempt me to " think my own thoughts, or speak raj^
EAELT YEAKS. 41
own words," on that consecrated day. "Remember,
and keep it holy," was the sound in my heart, at its
earliest dawn. How quiet was every thing around in
that rural home, and what serene sobriety sat on every
face ! I often rode to our temple of worship, over-
shadowed by steep, dark cliffs, which to my solemnized
eyes were as Sinai, whence the law was given.
Within these hallowed walls every thing seemed
most sacred. Words could not express the reverence
with which I listened to the deep, and rather monoto-
nously intoned voice of the pastor. Of those who oc-
casionally exchanged with him I took great note, by
way of comparison and contrast. Some of them, me-
thought, exhibited the mild graces of the sage who
drank the hemlock, and in others I traced the linea-
ments of the lamenting and reproving prophet, when
he exclaimed, "The crown is fallen from our head — woe
unto us ! for we have sinned."
The closing home-exercise of Sunday was the repe-
tition of the whole of the " Assembly of Divines' Cate-
chism." It was my father's province to ask me the
questions, to which I replied scrupulously in the words
of the book, adding the scriptural proofs. From such
an elaborate body of divinity it could scarcely be ex-
pected that much gain would accrue to the understand-
ing, at so immature a period. Some advantage might
be derived by memory, which being strong did not
particularly need it, or some weight added to the habit
42 LETTERS OF LIFE.
of implicit obedience, which was the soul of our nur-
ture in those primitive times. As I recited standing, a
sensation of weariness occasionally stole over my limbs,
so that I always felt relief at the interrogation, " What
is effectual calling ? " which I fancied was somewhere
near the middle, or at least a kind of vantage-ground,
from whence, as from Pisgah, the close of the pilgrim-
age might be contemplated, as "those fields of lign-aloes
which the Lord had planted." I have heard, some ex-
cellent old people say, that the foundation of their re-
ligion was the same long catechism, and that when dis-
ease induced wakefulness, a silent repetition of it to
themselves was a decided comfort. I confess my ina-
bility to lay claim to either of these results ; and hav-
ing never been so fortunate as to derive from it either
improvement in piety or consolation in pain, have ab-
stained from requiring it of any who have come under
my care for education.
Truly happy was my childhood, fed on dews of love,
yet guarded from the evils of indulgence by habits of
industry, order, and obedience, which my parents
wisely inculcated. Their wishes I never gainsaid;
indeed, the idea of having any will opposed to theirs,
or separate from it, never entered my imagination.
Perfect content, and acquiescence with my lot, were the
earliest gifts of life. Yet the cream of all my happi-
ness was a loving intercourse with venerable age.
I have already mentioned that under the pleasantl
\ . i
EAELY TEAES. 43
roof of Madam Lathrop we existed as a separate
household, yet more closely entwined by the inter-
course of every passing year. Having lost in one
week, and ere the age of thirty, her thi-ee beautiful
and promising boys, whose places were never supplied,
the yearning tenderness of a heart which had continued
to flow out toward the children of others, concentrated
itself on the little one born in her house. No cast of
character could be predicated that would more sain
briously and permanently have influenced the unfolding
mind and heart. Dignified in person, Avith the com-
manding yet courteous manner of the old school, her
powerful intellect was strengthened by familiarity with
the best authors, and association with the most distin-
guished men of the country. Fulness of benevolence,
and a pervading piety, melted the pride of position andc
wealth, and made her the loving disciple of the Saviour,
in whom she early believed.
To my eye she was the model of perfect beauty,
for I beheld her throus^h a heart that was all her own.
It made no difierence that almost fourscore years had
passed over her ere I saw the light :
" For yet no boasted grace or symmetry
I Of form or feature — not the bloom of youth
Or blaze of beauty, ever could awake
Within my soul such joy, as when I gaz'd
On that lov'd eye. Nor could the boasted pomp
Of eloquence that seizes on the brain
44 LEITEIIS OP LIFE.
Of young enthusiasm, emulate the theme
So meekly flowing from those aged lips,
To point the way to heaven." *
In her spacious 2^3,rlor, seated in licr cushioned
chair, by the side of a brightly blazing wood fire, she
might often be seen, her knitting bag hanging near,
and a book 02:>en before her, the spectacles, perchance,
thrown back upon her noble brow, for a pause of
thought. Her sole companion might be a slender
child, with an unusually fair complexion, climbing by
the aid of a high, straight-backed chair, to the upper
alcove of an old-fashioned dark mahogany bookcase,
to discover if haply some stray volume had eluded
previous explorations.
" Lydia, come here."
Whereupon the tiny personage descends with un-
common velocity, and ensconces herself in a tiny green
arm-chair, at her feet, ready for any wish that should
be expressed.
" Read me these two pages of Young's ' JSTight
Thoughts,' my dear, and be sure to pronounce every
word slowly and distinctly."
Let no child think this was a hardship. To please
one so respected and beloved, or to win her smile of
approbation, was sufficient happiness. Sometimes the
call would be, not to read aloud, but to sing. Her
* Moral Pieces in Verse and Prose.
EARLT YEARS. 45
voice, which was in conversation an echo of the soul's
harmony, was powerful in music, which she had been
taught scientifically when a child. Many were the
pieces in which I was instructed to accompany her,
sacred, patriotic, or pathetic. Sometimes she would
' onor me by enumerating quite a catalogue, and al-
lowing me to choose.
" My child, shall it be ' Pompey's Ghost to his ^ife
Cornelia,' or ' While Shepherds watched their Flocks
by Night,' or ' The poor, distracted Lady,' or ' In-
dulgent Parents, dear,' or ' Solitude ? ' " The last-
named one was often my selection ; the sweet tune and
the flowing words of the lyric are still fresh in
memory, though never heard save from her sacred
lips:
" What voice is this I hear
From yonder grove,
That charms my listening ear,
And wakes my love ?
Sure 'tis some heavenly guest
Inviting me to rest
On my Redeemer's breast,
Sent from above."
Did space allow I would gladly copy the whole,
which I have never seen in print. And as I in-
scribe these few words, there comes with them such
a gush of happiness, such a thrill of melody, as
though an angel hovered near. May it not be so ?
46 LETTERS OF LIFE.
I feci ber love within my heart,
It nerves rae strong and high,
As cheers the wanderer on the deep,
The pole-star in the sky ;
And if my weary spirit quails,
Or friendship's warmth grows cold.
Her blessed arm is round me thrown,
As in the days of old.
That low-browed apartment, with all its appoint-
ments, is before me, an indelible picture. I see its
highly polished wainscot, crimson moreen curtains,
the large brass andirons, with their silvery bright-
ness, the clean hearth, on which not even the white
ashes of the consuming hickory were suffered to rest,
the rich, dark shade of the furniture, unpolluted by
dust, and the closet whose open door revealed its
wealth of silver, cans, tankards, and flagons, the massy
plate of an ancient family.
Once or twice my infant eyes had enjoyed brief
glimpses of that parlor, lighted by two stately can-
dlesticks, and an antique candelabra, and methought
it was as the hall of Aladdin. But to be extant
in the evening, was a condition of being not con-
templated for childhood, and with one long gaze
I was gathered to my darkened chamber, possiV.y
with some inner echo of the moan of our first mother :
" And must I leave thee, Paradise ? "
■^\
i
I
\
EAELT TEAES. 47
Yet if there ever was any such repining, it was
too transient to have marked the slightest trace on
memory.
"What particularly riveted my attention in that
fair parlor was an ancient clock, whose tall, ebony
case, was covered with gilded figures, of strikingly
varied and fanciful character. These, like the storied
tiles on the mantelpiece in the drawing-room, con-
tinually exercised my wonder and admiration. There
I gazed with folded hands, to touch being forbidden,
regarding the mystic movements of the pendulum
seen through its orb of glass, and counting the
" ticJc^ tick^'' until, perchance, the stroke of its ex-
ceedingly clear musical bell caused a startled delight.
But the lov'd friend who sate
Near in her elbow-chair,
Teaching with patient care
Life's young beginner, on that dial-plate
To count the winged minutes, fleet and fair,
And mark each hour with deeds of love,
Lo ! she hath broke her league with time, and found the rest above.
The rich benefits derived from friendship between
ii^ant inexperience and saintly wisdom, are incal-
culable. The tutelary influences of holy age upon
the forming mind, can be fully computed only by
those who stand with folded wings before the throne.
/
/
48 LETTERS OF LIFE.
To her, wlio there worships among an innumerable
company redeemed from the earth, I would humbly
say in better words than my own :
" If some faint love of goodness glow in me,
Pure spirit ! I first caught that flame from thee."
LETTER in.
MY TEACHERS.
In the dramatis personce of every young life, dear
friend, the teachers are wont to have prominence. My
first one ! Methiuks she is now entering the room. I
start, for I was always afraid of her. ISTot that she was
severe to me ; she could get no chance to be so. A
timid little thing of four years, always obedient and
diligent, offered no facilities for her ferule. Above the
usual height was she, with sharp, black eyes, large
hands, a manly voice, a capacious mouth, and a step
that made the echoes of the quiet schoolroom tremble.
She Avore an immense black silk calash, and when I
saw it bobbing up and down by our garden wall, as
she passed, I hid myself, like the malcontents of Eden,
among the trees. Especially was I affrighted at dis-
covering that she was once coming, by invitation, to
take tea at our table. I did not enter the parlor until I
was called, and then curled down in a corner with a
small book, which, whether it were Robinson Crusoe or
Qrumbdumbo, I could not readily have told. Gladly
' 3
50 i,i:tter8 of life.
would I have been excused from the repast, for I dared
not cat before her. But, peering out from under my
drooping eyelids, I ascertained that she made the same
use of her large mouth that others did, appropriating
good things in goodly quantities, and ^Yith correct
appreciation of their different ratios of relish and
rarity. What I learned of an intellectual nature under
her sway, it might be difficult, through the long vista
of years, to decipher. My chief enjoyment was in the
spelling-class, where we " went above," according to
our own skill and the mistakes of others. Having very
early learned to read by myself, the forms of words,
and their syllabic construction, dwelt in memory like
the minutiae of a picture, so that the usual amount of
study made me fearlessly perfect in the daily ortho-
graj^liical lesson. Hence, the mounting by detachments
to the head of a regiment of some threescore and ten
personages was no unfrequent occurrence. Some were
four times my own age, and of formidable altitude and
prowess ; but the victory was more quietly accorded to
a meek-looking lilliputian, than to one better qualified
for a rival in other matters. The position being held
but one night, the chieftain going to the bottom of the
class and rising again, pacified the discomfited, while at
the same time it nourished an unslumbering ambition!
in the bosom of the aspirant.
My next teacher was of the masculine genus. Why,
at so tender an age, my parents should commit me thuf
MY TEACHERS. 51
to the miscellaneous association of large district schools,
it might be difficult to say, save that it was the custom
of the times. The idea of heing given in charge to a
man, filled me with uncontrollable awe. On the first
morning of my entrance, I could have taken the shoes
from my feet, as if the place where he stood Avere a
modern Sinai, where the law might be given amid
thunderings, and lightnings, and temj^est. Yet, on the
contrary, I was far more at ease than under the domin-
ion of his predecessor. To my amazement, I found
myself rather a favorite with him, and kindly appre-
ciated by the scholars. Some of these were large boys,
on the borders of manhood, who attended school in
winter, and at other seasons pursued various useful
occupations. One of their prime accomplishments was
covering large sheets of paper with fine chirography of
different sizes, they having been previously ruled and
ornamented with devices in bright red, blue, and green
ink. I thought them intensely elegant, and, as I now
remember them, they had somewhat the effect of the
old illuminated missals. My aid in devising their deco-
ration, and selecting the poetry that formed a great
portion of their contents, was sought and valued, so
that I suddenly became a personage of consequence.
Instead of being made a scapegoat or a burnt-offering,
as I had anticipated, I was vastly comforted at this
terrific " man's school," and not a little built up in my
Y>wn estimation. Though my highest pleasures were
52 T,ETTERS OF LIFE.
Still at homo, in the "calm school of silent solitude,"
I here learned that it was possible to make myself
acceptable out of my own family — a fact which, from
constitutional diflidcnce, I had been accustomed to
doubt.
My next educational movement was to attend a
school for needlework. Our instructress was mild and
ladylike, though distant and reserved. In this truly
feminine department we strove to excel in nicety of
performance, and our working materials were required
to be kept in perfect order. Here it would seem that
content and happiness must surely reign. But who can
tell, by looking on a fair surface, what may smoulder
beneath ? The vines on the bosom of Vesuvius were
scarcely more agitated by the lava-stream at their
roots, than we tiny politicians by what we termed the
partiality of the mistress for one of our compeers, her
own niece. She always walked with her on her way to
and from school, sat by her side, and received atten-
tions and caresses which we coveted. We fancied she
was made independent of the rules, and shielded when
she deserved rebuke. Forthwith the fiercest proceeded
to hate her, and the most Socratic ones to treasure up
little instances of injustice as themes for private talk.
I have often marvelled that I, who had heretofore been
an upholder of the most despotic authority on the part
of teachers, in the days when the Busby code pre-
vailed, should have been carried away by this current ,
MY TEACHEES. 53
when the power arrogated was simply an expression of
preference. But the sense of injustice in the young
mind is keen, and, when once roused, magnifies trifles
and inadvertencies into wrongs.
The next teacher was one of more pretension — an
English lady, who came, with her family, to reside in
our immediate vicinity, and received both day scholars
and boarders. She instructed in what were termed the
higher branches, including music, painting, and em-
broidery. She executed on the piano with great skill,
and, as I had been a singer from infancy, I found
much pleasure in the practice of uniting an instrument
with the voice. Having become an enthusiast about
our aborigines, the first tune that I Avas permitted to
choose for my own performance was that sweetly plain-
tive melody of the " Indian Chief's Death-Song," be-
ginning,
" The sun sets at night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains while their lights fade away."
I was never tired of singing and playing this mournful
harmony, and curtailed my scientific practice to enjoy
it. But my chief delight was to paint and draw in
water colors — an accomplishment in which the instruc-
tress excelled. In my own little sanctum I liad sketched
at pleasure from the earliest years, with a pin and lilac
leaf, with a slate-pencil and fragment of slate, ere I
^vas the owner of a lead-pencil, or could obtain backs
54 LETTERS OF LIFE.
of letters — ])en and ink being forbidden, lest my gar-
ments should be defded. As I grew older, the illustra-
tions in my TTieroglyphic "Bible were copied, and any
grajiliic scene that I read, or heard narrated, produced
one or more designs. As what I called my 2^^ctures
multiplied, the desire to see them in colors became
eager and engrossing. After various experiments, I
succeeded in manufactnrinj]: certain substitutes and
pigments wherewith to adorn the groups and regions
of my fancy. A piece of gamboge was in my posses-
sion, which, with a fragment of indiijo beGi:2:cd from
the washerwoman, furnished different shades of yellow,
blue, and green ; while a solution of coffee-grounds
sufficed for the trunks of my trees, and the ambered
brown of their autumnal foliage. A wash of India-ink,
dashed with indigo, answered for my skies and waters.
Thus I got along wonderfully with my landscapes : but
my chief delight was in peopling them ; and how to
obtain tints for any variety of costume, was the ques-
tion. After many experiments, I found the expressed
juice of the scokeberry quite a passable pink, which,
with changes and dilutions, supplied me with color for
lips and cheeks, and dresses for my gay women and
children. Mingled with indigo, it produced a kind of
purple, which I used for kingly robes. But it was
hideous, and something better employed my poor, in-
(
fantine chemistry night and day. I had executed wh{^.t
I considered a veiy fine scene fi*om Roman history, ar>.'\
MY TEACHERS. 65
wanted something for the flowing mantles of the sena-
tors. Images of the Tyrian purple haunted me, and
flashed before my dreams. I pressed the rich petals of
the pansy, but they yielded nothing to my hope. At
lencrth, in one of our desserts, I observed in the over-
flowing syrup of a tart, composed of the ripe currant
and whortleberry, the identical tint for which I had so
earnestly sought. Requesting a few spoonfuls, after
sundry filtrations I applied it to the drapery of a belle,
and, had I known the meaning of Eureka^ should have
shouted it at the top of my voice. But as the saccha-
rine properties of my new color eventually predomi-
nated, causing the dress to cleaA'e away from the form
it arrayed, I did not use it for the conscript fathers.
A single brush, in these processes of limning, was all
that I could call my own. When I desired some of
larger caj^acity, I found that I could manufacture them
from small quills and my own soft hair. This one nice
little brush, with the pieces of India-ink and gamboge
before mentioned, and a lead-pencil, were all the arti-
cles for which I was indebted to the shops, in this my
early career toward the fine arts. Yet the rapture
enjoyed in my solitary chamber, as these untaught
efibrts accumulated, was indescribable. Xot even a
particle of rubber was mine, that substance not being
.hen common ; so that I was careful to draw with ex-
treme accuracy, effacing the few false outlines with
crumbs of stale bread. Though the delight experi-
5G LETTERS OF LIFE.
cnccd from lliis unpromj^tod impulse of taste was
douhtloss heiijliteiuMl by the ingenuity of the expe-
dients that sustained it, I ean never give paper or
speech nny semblance of the joy with which I received
from my father's hand, soon after entering this new
school, a box of the finest water colors, with camel's-
hair pencils of different sizes, drawing paper, and a
piece of India-rubber, which I have kept to this day, a
simple trophy and record of the past. Thus reenforced
and upbuilt, I proceeded to copy large and complicated
patterns, taking pride in the degree of labor they re-
quired. " Maria," or the crazy girl described by the
sentimental Yorick, was one of the first large pictures
of my production. She 'was represented sitting under
an immense tree, with exuberant brown tresses, a pink
jacket and white satin petticoat, gazing pensively at a
small lapdog fastened to her hand by a smart blue rib-
bon. Sterne is seen at a distance, taking note of her
with an eye-glass, riding in a yellow-bodied coach,
upon a fresh-looking turnpike road, painted in stripes
with ochre and bistre. But notwithstanding this, and
other pictorial exhibitions of shepherds and shepherd-
esses, encompassed by huge wreaths and emblems, were
sufficiently lauded and marvelled at, my proficiency,
after I was furnished with every requisite material, did
not equal my perseverance in the days of my destitit-
tion. The few rules which were given us, and whi^tti
were almost entirely about the use of colors, no correct
MY TEACHERS. 57
ones for perspective being accorded, seemed rather an
incumbrance, and I secretly bemoaned my lost satisfac-
tions in sketching ad libitum from the historians and
poets.
A boldness of literary enterprise also came over me ;
and, though I had scarcely perused a novel except sur-
re23titiously, I commenced to write one. It was in the
epistolary style, and a part of the scene laid in Italy.
I remember several of the letters, which, contrary to
my previous habit with all other comj^ositions, I men-
tioned to my comj^anions. Forthwith there was a
burst of ridicule from the grown-up young ladies of
the school.
" What a fool Lydia Huntley is ! Don't you think,
she is undertaking to write a novel, and only just eight
years old ! She can no more do it than she could tame
Bucephalus. She'd better stick to her painting — and
that's not over good."
The critics, deeming my precocity too exuberant,
and a subject for the pruning-knife, proceeded to occa-
sional browbeatings, which were very slightly regard-
ed. Most of my associates here were fully sensible of
the honor of sharing the tuition of a lady from Lon-
don, and were careful to comport themselves with suffi-
cient exclusiveness, as a patrician order, when they
■encountered any of the members of the plebeian dis-
trict schools.
My next instructor' was strongly contrasted both in
58 LETTERS OF LIFE.
person niul jmrsuit, nii earnest adept in mathematics.
I had a fondness for arithmetie, derived from ray
fatlior, and used often to work out by myself the more
difficult problems in Daboll, the standard book of the
times, and show him the result, because it was always
repaid by his peculiar smile, and coveted eulogium of
" Good child ! good child ! " But this earnest-minded
gentleman, a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin, find-
ing in me the application that he liked, led me on from
stage to stage of accuracy in computation, to higher
principles and pleasures of demonstrative science, where,
fearing no change, no failure of experiment, no mistake
in conclusion, we advance fearlessly to the truth, and
are satisfied. The salutary influence of such studies on
the intellect, especially that of females, I believe to be
great. Too little time is apt to be accorded to them.
It was so in my own case. Yet I look back on them
now, at this great distance of time, as on a heritage not
to be alienated. My enthusiasm, while pursuing them,
led me to endorse the precept which Plato caused to be
inscribed over the door of his school : " Let no one
enter here who is ignorant of geometry." After my
school-days were over, and philosophical reading be-
came a source of satisfaction, I fully subscribed to the
axiom of Bacon : " Mathematics, if the mind be too
wandering, fix it ; if too inherent in the senses, abstract-
it." I have always felt in some degree a debtor to
warm-hearted Erin for the instructions of this her
MT TEACHERS. 59
grave, silver-haired, and erudite son, who, with his
family, became inhabitants of our country ere the tide
of emigration had awakened its present unebbing flood.
My parents next decided to send me to the institu-
tion endowed, as has been already mentioned, by Dr.
Daniel Lathrop, all of whose members had the privi-
lege of instruction in Latin and Greek, after making
requisite progress in the solid English branches. Hith-
erto, when not under private tuition, I had always
attended at a schoolhouse, sheltered and shouldered by
ledges of gray rock, and within sight of the windows
of our dining-room. Xow I was to go to one on the
green plain near the meeting-house, half a mile from
home. It was like turning away from the brooding
wino; — the first fliofht from the nest. This walk, four
times a day, at all seasons and in all weathers — for I
could never consent to be absent for the wildest wintry
storm, lest I should lose my place in the class — gave a
spirit of self-reliance and a sense of liberty and power
never before realized. Both these edifices were of red
brick, much on the same plan, though of difierent sizes,
with unpainted desks and benches projected around
three sides of the room, the fourth having a recess for
the teacher's desk, a closet for books, a space for the
water pitcher, and a capacious fireplace, where plenty
of wood crackled and blazed and disappeared.
Do not suppose, friend, that I am about to satirize
the scholastic temples of my own day, bare as they
60 LETTERS OF LIFE.
were of .'ill ll)(> np|)linnces of modern luxury. Rem-
nants of a barbarous age tbey inipjlit flouV)tless now be
8tyle<l. Nevertlieless, ibcy subserved the purposes of
knowleilu^e and of discipbne. We had seen notliing bet-
ter, and were content. The teacher is of more conse-
quence than the temple. Gratified as I am that the
progress in taste and comfort should embrace the struc-
tures allotted to education, I still look back to the
lowly ones of my own nurture with associations of lov-
ing thought.
The master of this endowed school was somewhat
stricken in years, and had held his office from early
manhood, it being sufficiently lucrative for a life con-
cern. He was a thorough scholar, and austere. Not
being addicted to social pleasures, he was considerably
past his prime before he entered the marriage relation,
and he still retained the temperament of a recluse. Never
having had opportunity to wreathe his features into a
smile for a babe of his own, they were not often moved
to that form by the children of others. Indeed, ac-
cording to the system of Rochefoucault, he seemed to
take it for granted that every boy was a rogue, until
proved to the contrary. Neither was slight proof suffi-
cient to overcome his skepticism. He was of a tall,
spare form, with a keen, black eye. Every one in
school could imitate his frow^n, his measured gait, and
precision of speech.
" Boy, I shall be compelled to punish you severely,
MY TEACHEES. 61
if there is either persistence in or repetition of such
conduct."
Little did the Dominie suppose that, in the familiar
talk of the scholars, the irreverent cognomen of " Uncle
Billy " was applied to him. The more observant ones,
who, according to Goldsmith,
*' were skill'd to trace
The day's disaster in the morning's face,"
would sometimes say pantomimically, " Uncle Billy is
chewing a tough Greek root to-day. Look out for
breakers ! "
To the female branch of his dominion he was emi-
nently taciturn. I doubt whether I ever addressed
him, save in replies to his questions on the lessons, or
what sprung collaterally from the business of the
school. Still, there was no mixture of dislike in our
reserved intercourse. On the contrary, I felt an innate
sense of his approbation, which sustained my compla-
cency. He elevated me, as an especial honor, to the
office of monitor of the reading classes. This was no
sinecure, as the classes were large ; and when they
were marshalled for this exercise, I was expected to
stand opposite each one, as they read, and criticize elo-
cution and emphasis, having the power to make them
repeat their allotted portion as often as I deemed neces-
sary. On the whole, I enjoyed myself, and improved
under the stern old master, and felt a sort of pride in
62 LETTERS or LIFE. ^
his strictness, wliich I think scholars generally do, not-
withstanding!^ what they may say to the contrary.
I was removed from his regency to share the bene-
fits of a school unique in those times, and, I am in-
clined to think, not easily paralleled in any. A young
gentleman of superior talents, education, and position
in society, having been compelled by some infirmity of
health to abandon his choice of the clerical profession,
consented to take charge for one year of a select circle
of twenty-five pupils. A rare privilege was it, indeed,
to be under his guidance. He had but recently com-
pleted his collegiate course, and it seems a scarcely
credible fact that, ere he had reached his twentieth
birthday, he should have judgment to conduct such an
institution, and to impress every varying spirit with
respect and obedience. Yet so it was. The secret of
his sway was in his earnest piety and consistent exam-
ple. We revered both, and would not for the world
have done aught to trouble him. The order of the
school was perfect. The classics were excellently well
taught, as were also the English studies. Among the
latter, I recollect geography was quite a favorite, prob-
ably because it was deepened by our construction of
maps and charts, in which we were strenuous for accu-
racy, and some degree of elegance. The former we
decorated by painted vignettes and devices, and for the
latter had immense sheets manufactured at the paper
mill on purpose for us. These, being divided in'oo
MT TEACHERS. 63
regular parallelograms by lines of red ink, we wrote
on their left the name of every country on the habit-
able globe, filling its even line of regular compartments
according to their designation over the top — Length
and Breadth, Latitude and Longitude, Boundaries,
Rivers, Mountains, Form of Government, Population,
Universities and Learned Men, where they existed, and
whatever circumstance of history was reducible to so
narrow a compass. The search after these facts, the
conciseness of style requisite, and the fair chirography
which was held indispensable, were all valuable attain-
ments. This could not be an exercise common to the
whole school, from the large space required for accom-
modation. I recollect being one of six — three of each
sex — who had permission to pursue it, and to have each
a table spread for that purpose in a large vacant apart-
ment. So much was our conscientiousness cultivated
by this admirable instructor, that we, in conformity
to our promise, comported ourselves with the same
gravity as if in his presence, holding no conversation
save what was necessary to test and condense the
knowledge drawn out from the text-books on separate
papers, and criticized ere they were copied. He also
suggested an excellent employment for the intervals of
Sunday — the selection of passages of Scripture on sub-
jects given us by himself. Our zeal to bring a large
number, neatly copied, on Monday morning, prevented
the idle waste of consecrated time, and promoted an
64 LETTERS OF LIFE.
inlinialc acquaintance with the treasures of the sacred
vohime. Tlic reputation of this school transcending
aui^lit of the kind wliich liad preceded it in that region,
caused numerous applications to obtain its privileges.
But as tlie number was limited, and each planet revolv-
ing around the centre tenacious of its orbit, the aspi-
rants were doomed to disappointment. Among them
w\as a robust man, older than the preceptor, whose
desire for knowledge was the more commendable for
being cherished amid the hard labor of the hands by
which he earned subsistence. His note is character-
istic :
" Understanding, sir, that there is a vacuity in your
school, should be pleased to occupy the same one-half
of a quarter of twelve weeks, as your friend and
scholar."
There was, how^ever, no vacuity^ and the smith
smote on.
I have never attended a school where the religious
sentiment was so perfectly cultivated, or brought into
such successful operation. It seemed the secret of its
government, inspiring high conscientiousness, a per-
formance of duty because it was enjoined by the Heav-
enly Father and the Righteous Judge. This effect was
not produced by the constant repetition of precept, still
less by the enforcement of peculiar doctrines, or the
censure of others. It was not wearisome argument or
set forms of speech, but the influence of an earnest.
MY TEACHEES. 65
consistent, pious example. The deep feeling of the
morning prayer often moistened the eyes of the most
unthinking ; and the same spirit, caught from the
closinor orison, followed them home. It mi^ht be diffi-
cult to believe, by those who had never witnessed it,
that a teacher so very young could do so much in aid
of the ministers of religion — I had almost said, so
much more than they, with the hearts of his disciples.
The future course of Mr. Pelatiah Perit fully veri-
fied its opening promise. He maintained a high posi-
tion among the active operations and benevolent insti-
tutions of the country, and was for many years Presi-
dent of the Chamber of Commerce, and of the Sea-
men's Saving Bank, in ISTew York. Wherever he was,
and in whatever he eno-asred, his influence was for God
and goodness.
At his beautiful residence in N"ew Haven, whither,
in later years, he had retired from the excitements of
business, he devoted himself more exclusively to works
of charity and piety, and has but recently passed away,
respected and lamented by all, having reached the con-
fines of fourscore wholly unimpaired, except for some
slight inroads on physical vigor.
The school which I was endeavorinGf to describe to
you, my loved friend, and which he superintended
but a single year, was taken in charge by the Rev.
Daniel Haskell, a gentleman of somewhat more mature
years, and also a graduate of Yale College. He was
66 lettkhs of lifp:.
decidedly a religious character, a ripe scholar, and of
great amenity of manners and disposition. The belles-
lettres studies were admirably taught by him, and he
gave critical attention to the correct expression of
written thought. He read to us portions of the best
standard authors, in his own elegant elocution, and en-
couraged us freely to criticize both style and senti-
ment.
There seemed an arrogance in such a band of tyros
sitting in judgment on Addison, and Steele, and John-
son, and Lord Bacon, and Edmund Burke. But his
tact and patience were wonderful with our crude opin-
ions, often uttered for the sake of saying something,
and not unmarked by captiousness. Into the idioms
and refinements of our own language he carefully led
us. The " Exercises of Lindley Murray" he especially
rendered delightful in daily lessons, throwing us back
continually upon definition and derivation, until the
roots of words, and their minute shades of meaning,
became beautiful as thought-pictures. So much did he
inspire us with his own favorite tastes, that parsing the
most difficult passages of the j^oets, remarkable either
for elision or amplification, was coveted as a sport.
The culture of memory was also a prominent object
with him, for, being a natural metaphysician, he
scanned the intellect as a map, and wrought in each
department. He occasionally read slowly to us pages
from rare or antique works, historical, descriptive, or
MT TEACHERS. 67-
didactic, and, closing the book, required the substance
or analysis in our own language. This was giyen
orally at the time, and might also, if we chose, be pre-
sented in writing, subject to his correction. The ad-
vantage of this exercise, though, perhaps, not imme-
diately seen, was great in forming the habit of fixed
attention, which is the integral element of the retentive
power. It also enforced a ready utterance, and correct
relation of facts, or assertions, in which a strong mem-
ory may be mournfully deficient.
Our course of study, which was arduous, he sus-
tained and quickened by emulation. The gift of books
signalized the close of each term, of which there were
four in the year, and a silver medal was semiannually
awarded. These premiums were so definitely adjusted
to dififerent grades of proficiency, or exemplary deport-
ment, that there was no possibility of partiality, and so
wisely balanced by the kind feelings cultivated among
us, as never to create jealousy or dislike. I well re-
member our added meekness of manner when in the
reception of these coveted prizes, and am sure that it
was the fruit of his teachings. He faithfully developed
not the intellect alone, but the afiections. Instructors
have that power, if they will but use it. Each pupil
was led to consider the others as members, for the time,
of one family, holding respectability, honor, and happi-
ness as a common stock. Hence we rejoiced in the
attainments or good fortune of our companions, and
\ I
68 LETTERS OF LIFE.
covered their errors witli llie mantle of silent forbear-
ance. To a soil thus prepared, friendships were indige-
nous. Some of mine, then formed, have stood the test
of half a century, and are still among the solaces of
my life. There also sprang up my closest intimacy
with an associate of similar age, who was to me a sis-
terly spirit, a second self, until Death took her, in her
beautiful youth. Under the charge of this learned and
amiable man, there was a perceptible growth of " what-
soever was lovely and of good report."
His sway sweetly illustrated the beauty of rule and
the beauty of obedience. Our grief at the termination
of the school was more deep and passionate than aught
I have ever seen on a similar occasion. He was to us
all the " man greatly beloved." We were as Niobes
at the parting interview, when, gathering us around
him that last, sad morning, he read once more in his
voice of music from the Holy Book, gave us solemn,
tender counsels, and, kneeling down, commended us to
the blessed care of the " Father of Lights, with whom
is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."
Thou, "who didst bend to guide the timorous mind,
Wise as a father, as a brother kind ;
With gentle hand its wayward cause withheld,
Allured, not forced — encouraged, not compelled,
Till the clear eye look'd up, devoid of fears,
I bless thee for thy love, through all this lapse of years.
MY TEACHEES. 69
What is strictly called school education now found
a pause at the early age of thirteen. It was thought
expedient that I should devote more time and attention
to the employments that appertain to the sphere of
woman. I passed directly under the tuition of my
beautiful mother. A model housekeeper was she in
those times when nothing was neglected or despised
that promoted home w^elfare. Happy is the daughter
who has a wise mother for her teacher, and is lovingly
docile to her instructions. Still, mental progress was
by no means abandoned. I am not certain but it was
more vigorously pursued for the pleasant contrast and
excitement of physical exercise. A thorough course of
History and Mental Philosophy agreeably coalesced
with household industry.
Afterwards I zealously studied Latin w^ith an ex-
perienced and somewhat venerable instructor, but with-
out becoming a member of his school. My translations
from the ^neid I occasionally amused myself by giv-
ing a rhythmical form, and recollect winning praise for
one from the Fourth Book, describino: the visit of Juno
to the cave of Eolus, to beg a wind for the discomfiture
of her enemies.
After having become indoctrinated in the theory
and practice of w^hat Milton calls " household good," I
left home for the first time, accompanied by my sister-
friend, N. M. Hyde, and attended two boarding-schools
in the semimetropolis of the State. There, for several
'/
TO LETTERS OF LIFE.
months, we applied ourselves to drawing and painting,
also to embroidery of historical scenes, filigree, and
other finger-works accounted accomplishments in those
days. Side by side, inseparable, we pursued with a
double strength what often failed to interest us, sus-
tained each other's spirits under the privation of sepa-
ration from our beloved parents, and participated in the
unutterable rapture of return.
Another summoned form glides over the tablet of
memory — tall, slightly bent, and with locks like snow —
my old French teacher.
Courteous was he, and formally ceremonious, as be-
longing to the ancient regime. Titles and fortune had
been his in his native land before the Buonaparte dy-
nasty ; but he bore their loss with admirable philoso-
phy, obtaining a subsistence in this New World when
past threescore and ten, as an instructor in dancing and
modern languages. Exacting was he, yet patient, and
eminently strenuous in his Parisian pronunciation. His
drill in the difiicult sound of the letter xi^ was particu-
larly uncompromising.
" You will never get that u. ISTo — because you will
not put out your lips the way I tell you. Put them
out even with your nose — so, so. Now say w, t^."
Good, honest man I He is described by the graphic
pen of a fellow student, the Hon. S. G. Goodrich (Peter
Parley), at the sixty-first page of his second volume of
" Recollections of a Lifetime."
MT TEACHEES. 71
Afterwards two clerical gentlemen, with an interval
of several years between, kindly aided me in my wish
to obtain some knowledge of the Hebrew. It had been
an early cherished desire to read the sublime sacred
poetry in the original. I pursued the study without the
masoretic points, approaching with delight and awe
that sacred fountain, from whose overflowings God
deigned to reveal himself in Eden, and to instruct
" The Shepherd who first led the chosen seed
In the beginning, how the heavens and earth
Eose out of chaos."
I was continually attracted by its severe simplicity,
its figurative beauty, and boldness of personification.
The significance of its proper names interested my re-
search, and the analysis of its verbs to their roots of
two or three letters, seemed like the pleasure with
which we contemplate the infantine elements of being,
and then follow by prefix and suflix, biographically,
through all the variations of time's pilgrimage. I es-
pecially recall the happiness of one winter, during al-
most the whole of whose lensrthened eveninsrs the
Bible and Parkhurst were my companions. The In-
structor had directed me to commence with the Book
of Jonah, as having less idiom than most of the pro-
phetic writings. The recreant prophet seemed to be-
come a personal friend. Indeed, my indwelling with
him was intense. When he disobediently took ship for
^r
2 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Tarshisli, and was tossed by a mighty tempest upon
the deep, I was with him. I felt the chill when the
" mariners took him up and cast him forth into the
raging sea," and entered into the bitterness of his soul,
wlien, sitting under the smitten gourd, he claimed the
right to be " angry even unto death." Though I pro-
fessed no critical knowledge of the language, I could
not but be gratified to find that the annexed fragment-
ary rendering of his soulcry, "out of the belly of
hell ! " coincided in many respects with the translation
in the Memoir of that admirable linguist. Miss Eliza-
beth Smith :
To Jehovah I cried from my prison,
He will hear me ;
From the depths of the grave I cry,
He heareth my voice.
Thou hast cast me into wide waters,
Floods compass me about ;
AU thy billows and dashing waves
Roll over me.
I said I am cast out from thine eyes.
Oh, that I might behold once more
Thy holy Temple !
Waters are on every side,
The deep surrounds me,
Sea-weed bindeth my head.
Down to the roots of the mountains I go,
Earth hath shut her bars behind me
Forever.
MY TEACHERS. 73
Yet wilt Tliou raise my soul from corruption,
Jehovah, my God :
In the fainting away of my life
I remember JehovaL.
The list of my teachers is now, I believe, complete.
Benefactors were they, those who still remain among
us, and those who have gone before. Upon the altar
of memory I burn incense for them — a perpetual offer-
ing. The gift of knowledge, connected with right
principles and purposes, is inalienable, never to be re-
paid in this life for it reaches beyond. True is the
quaint old proverb : " To Parent, Teacher, and God all-
sufficient none can render equivalent."
4
LETTER IV.
FIRST GRIEF AND FIRST JOURNET.
My fourteenth birthday had scarce added itself like
a pearl to the necklace of life, when the shadow of a
great grief came upon me. The aged, idolized friend,
who had grown dearer to my heart every year, heard
the love-call and went home. She had numbered four
score and eight, and strength failed as her journey drew
near its close. She seldom left her couch, and memory,
like a garment long used, seemed worn thin, here and
there, in spots. Names, localities, and passing events,
gradually faded; but the heart's record grew bright,
as the angels drawing nearer breathed upon it.
I could not understand why any should say that pa-
tience was tried by the mind's brokenness. To me it
was a fresh delight to tell her the same thing many
times, if she required it. Sometimes, when restlessness
oppressed her, she called me to come within her cur-
tains, and sing the simple melodies that she had early
taught me. This I did in low, soothing tones, joining
my cheek to hers. Then she was comforted and slept,
FIRST GRIEF AND FIRST JOURNEY. 75
holding often my hand long in her own. At suddenly-
waking she was occasionally bewildered. Images that
gave her anxiety would take possession of her imagina-
tion. They were frequently of a financial, or rather
testamentary character, and easily dispelled, though
they as readily returned.
" I wonder what my "Will is, my dear, can you tell
me?"
This I was qualified to recite, with its full list of
legacies, donations, and charitable bequests. Then she
was satisfied, and as the dimness passed away, pure
sunlight streamed in upon her never wearied benevo-
lence. She would ask about this and that individual ;
if they had warm clothing and shoes to their feet, if
her invalid pensioners had proper food, if such a child
went to school, if another needed books or encourage-
ment; for I had been honored as her almoner, and she
confided freely to me those alms-deeds which she would
fain have kept secret.
Amid all this weakness of body and mind the
great Christian soul was strong. Faith saw no cloud —
heavenly love no shadow. " I know that my Redeemer
liveth." Here she rested, as on an anchor in the rock.
" In my flesh shall I see God." Tender were her mo-
nitions, as a mother-bird hovering over its young — " O
my child, my darling — watch at Wisdom's gates — wait
at the posts of her doors."
It was a fair September evening that the intervals
70 LETTERS OF LIFE.
between her bro.itliing grew longer and longer. She
would fain have impressed one more kiss upon my
brow, but her lips were powerless. I saw not when the
last change passed, though I knelt beside her, my face
buried in her pillow. I only remember that they said,
^'' She is gonef'' and that they carried me from the
room.
The funeral was to me like a great, teriific dream.
Every space and avenue of the dwelling was filled
with people wishing to testify respect to her memory.
The rich w^ere there, with a proud sadness, for they
said, " She belonged to us ; " and the i^oor with tears,
for they felt they had belonged to her. I was con-
scious of a great crowd, but saw nothing. I heard the
voice of solemn prayer, but followed not its words.
The long procession moved onward to the church. I
was lifted to the carriage and taken out, and set in the
right place among the mourners, by whose hands I
knew not. Between my parents I at length found my-
self, as the sacred obsequies proceeded. The text of
the funeral sermon was appropriate — " A good name is
better than precious ointment." It sketched the vir-
tues that appertain to a consistent Christian, and ac-
corded just praise to her who lay lifeless beside us.
" To our city she is a loss, and to the Church of
God which she honored. The sick and the sorrowful
mourn a benefactor : for she stretched forth her hands
to the poor and needy ; she comforted the widow and
FIRST GKIEF AND FIRST JOUENEY. 77
the fatherless. She opened her mouth with wisdom ;
on her tonmie was the law of kindness. Give her of
the fruit of her hands ; let her own works praise her in
the gates."
I was disappointed that the speaker did not add the
climax that rose to my heart, " Many daughters have
done virtuouslv, but thou excellest them all." Those
who draw the character of a deceased friend for griev-
ing love, have but a losing office. What is said may
be just, but it falls short either in fulness or warmth.
But the closing hymn, sung in a simple tune which
she loved, brought me the healing relief of tears. I
quote it from memory, at the distance of half a cen-
tury, still freshly embalmed :
" When Jesus dwelt in mortal clay,
What were his works from day to day,
But miracles of truth and grace,
That spread salvation through our race.
" The man may breathe, but never lives.
Who much receives, yet nothing gives ;
Whom none can love, whom none can thank,
Creation's blot, creation's blank.
" But he who marks, from day to day,
By generous acta his radiant way,
Treads the same path his Saviour trod —
The path to glory and to God."
The emptiness of the mansion, after its presiding
^.
8 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Spirit liad fursakoii it, fell heavily upon iis all. To me
it was a tomh. A pitying clergyman was one of the
first who said aiic^ht to comfort me. Neither should I
have been comforted, when he laid his hand upon my
head, and said, " Poor bird ! like a sparrow alone upon
the housetop," save that he was aged, like her for
whom I mourned. But this strong emotion, the first
troubler of life's hitherto serene current, did not leave
my health unscathed. The suffocating pain with which
Grief is wont to seize its victims by the throat, contin-
ued to oppress me when I attempted to speak.
My sleej), heretofore unbroken as that of infancy,
became a series of tossings ; and even now I shudder
at the thought of the spasm that used sometimes to
seize me, when, at rising in the morning, I first stepped
from my bed to the floor. I made no complaint of
these symptoms. I thought they were henceforth to be
a part of my being, and solaced myself w^ith poetry,
that blood of the crushed grape which gushed over me
like a flood. But the parental eye was quick to detect
the change in its idol. A physician was summoned. I
think I see now that cautious-. Mentor-like person, so
grave and courteous, his countenance marked with deep
thought and kindness. Dr. Philemon Tracy — I number
him among my benefactors. From his father he in-
herited medical skill and fame, monojDolizing the prin-
cipal practice of the city. Yet, let the pressure of his
business be ever so great, he studied a new case as a
FIRST GRIEF AND FIRST JOURNEY. 79
faitkful clergyman docs a sermon. He happily avoided
the extremes which my Lord Bacon has designated :
" Some physicians are so conformable to the humor of
the patient, that they press not the true treatment of
the disease, and others so hound by rules, as to respect
not sufficiently his condition." But the practise of our
venerated Norwich liealer was to possess himself of
the idiosyncrasy of constitution as well as of the symp-
toms of disease, to administer as little medicine as pos-
sible, and to depend much on regimen, and raising the
recuperative powers to their wonted action. His mi-
nute questions and long deliberation inspired confi-
dence, while the sententious mode of delivering his
prescriptions gave them a sort of oracular force. After
a thorough investigation, what do you suppose was the
decision in my case ? That I should be encased in soft,
red flannel, and take a short journey to visit the rela-
tives of my loved, lamented friend. My parents, with
their excited apprehensions, might possibly, in the sim-
plicity of this counsel, have shared the disappointment
of Naaman the Syrian, who supposed the prophet
would do " some great thing," or, clothed in dignity,
" strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper."
But however inadequate might have seemed tlie ver-
dict, there was no alternative, as his decrees, like those
of the Medes and Persians, altered not. In the dialect
of an old nurse, who had been accustomed to ply her
profession under his eye, " Dr. Philemon is always ter-
80 LKTTERS OF LIFE.
riblc mad if you don't do just exactly as he says."
And who has a better right to be peremptory than a
judicious, learned physician, who is held responsible
for the life committed to his care ? Who, also, has a
better chance to gain the love of his race, than he who
is ever ready to listen when they talk about themselves,
into whose ear they pour more than they impart to
their most intimate friend ; to whom, if they are not
religious, they turn as to a divine Dispenser of healing;
and whose name, if they are, mingles with their warm-
est prayer of gratitude to God for relief from suffering
or restoration to health ?
So I w^as obediently enwrapped in the appointed
scarlet envelope, winch at first I fancied a counteii^art
to the shirt of Nessus, and put in preparation for an
important era — the first absence from father and moth-
er. Let no one imagine that travelling then was
what it is now. Steam had not awakened to give it
wings. The world, in the language of a philosopher,
was " home-bred, and kept at home." I had once
walked a long distance with some little friends, to see
a lady who had been to New Connecticut, and re-
turned alive. Perchance we looked upon her with as
much curiosity, and more amazement, than the people
of the present day, trained up in wonders, feel as they
gaze on the returned from Kane's expedition to the
Arctic, or the saved from the wreck of the Central
America, after submersion in the Atlantic.
FIBST GEIEF AND FIRST JOUEXET. 81
And I was to take a journey to Hartford, the semi-
capital of the State ! Forty miles was its extent — the
weary work of a whole day, with a long stop at noon
for dinner, and to rest the horses. Faithful Lucy Cal-
kins was to accompany and take care of me. My jour-
nal, which I had commenced two or three years before,
noted every variation of scenery and circumstance with
becoming minuteness and solemnity. Hear w^hat that
quaint journal, from a quire of gray foolscap stitched
into a marble-paper cover, utters forth, still spreading
its fairly-written pages, half a century old, upon my
table :
" This fifteenth day of October was the one ap-
pointed for our journey. Weather very fine. Took
leave of my dear parents, and entered the stage-coach,
where were several passengers already seated. At the
distance of four miles we reached the rural township of
Franklin, w^hich was formerly called Xorwich West-
Farms, having been an appendage of my native city.
It is composed almost w^holly of farmers, whose small
and pleasant dwellings exhibit a picture of contentment.
" Six additional miles brought us to Lebanon. This
town appears to have been designed for a much larger
one than it is ever likely to become. The streets are
laid out so wide, that those who live on opposite sides
can scarcely be said to be neighbors. To me it had a
sort of dreary appearance. It is remarkable as the
residence of the two Governor Trumbulls, father and
82 LETTERS OF LIFE.
son, tnic patriots and Christians. The residence of Mr.
David Trnnilmll, a brother of the latter, is one of the
most elcgaTit in the place. They are erecting a good
brick meeting-house, the expense of which is to be de-
frayed by a lottery.
" Columbia was the next settlement. There we
made a stop, to give the horses water. The bell was
just ringing for twelve. The sun beat down upon us
with the fierceness of summer. We were glad to cast
ofi* some of our superfluous garments. Extremely fa-
tigued Ave became ere we reached the tavern where we
were to dine. I was thankful for assistance in alight-
ing ; for so cramj^ed were my limbs by their confined
position, I don't think I could have done it, and got
into the house alone, for a kingdom. After refresh-
ment and rest, we set off with fresh steeds and a new
driver, their predecessors being wearied out by the
hard labor of twenty miles. Soon we began to as-
cend and descend the far-famed hills of Bolton, with
surprising rapidity. Sometimes we were entirely shut
in ; at others enjoyed an extensive and glorious pros-
pect. The trees, in their autumnal robes, were gay
with a thousand tints of yellow, red, and brown.
Some had hastily throAvn off all their attire, others
were hourly dropping it. Here and there a sturdy oak
bade defiance to the blast, the towering pine looked
upward to the cloud, and the unassuming willow bent
its head to the earth.
riEST GEIEF AND FIEST JOUK^'ET. 83
"Approaching our journey's close, we were delight-
ed with the magnificent elms of East Hartford. The
soil, growing sandy, redoubled the toil of the horses,
by sliding from beneath their hoofs. But it became
gradually intermixed with strata of a chocolate color,
and finally turned to thick clay, with plenty of adhe-
sive mud. I was almost, petrified with horror when
we reached the ferry at the Connecticut River. Awful
accidents had I heard of drowning and capsizing, and
expected to see them repeated. But we quietly drove
into a large flat-bottomed boat, with four oarsmen, and,
to my astonishment, passed the mighty stream with
ease and safety. Hartford made a fine appearance,
with its large brick buildings, the masts of its numer-
ous vessels, and its picturesque boats gliding hither and
thither over the blue waters. "We drove a short dis-
tance up the main street to the mansion of the late
Colonel Jeremiah Wadsworth, the favorite nephew of
my deceased benefactress. It is the residence of his
widow, and two of his sisters, quite advanced in years ;
and, though I had seen them in Xorwich, my heart
beat with painful apprehension, like a stranger, at
entering their house as a guest. But when I heard
their kind voices, and remembered that her blood was
in their veins, I felt easier, though tears kept gushing
out so forcibly that I was ashamed to take my seat at
the tea-table. After a very agreeable evening, being
much fatigued, I begged leave to retire at an early hour.
84 LETTERS OF LIFE.
As I lay mminating, and rcviewino: the scenes of the dcay,
I heard a pleasant sound — the bells from the steeples of
the North and Soutli churches ringing for the hour of
nine. They strike alternately two strokes, each waiting
for the other, then, joining, tell with one voice the day
of the month — in unison. One has a deep, heavy tone,
the other a melodious one ; and their concord is like
that of bass and treble in perfect harmony. I remem-
bered that this had been described to me of old, by my
loved and departed friend. I remembered, too, that
she had said, in her feebleness, ' I wish I might have
taken you to Hartford. Then you would have been
received as my child.' My heart said to her, ' See, I
have been so received.' Did she not hear me ? I com-
forted myself that she did ; and, in that sweet belief,
sank into an unbroken slumber."
Madam Wadsworth, the head of the household, was
a lady of remarkably dignified manners, high intelli-
gence, and an excellent judgment, derived both from a
knowledge of books and observation of mankind. Her
mind w^as habitually w^ell governed, and her equanimity
so entire, that all errors arising from impulsiveness of
speech or action were avoided ; and by those long inti-
mate with her it was said she was never known to be
in a hurry. These characteristics must have been of un-
speakable value during the trying period of our revolu-
tionary contest, where her husband bore so conspicuous
a part. In his long intervals of absence the cares of
FIRST GRIEF AND FIRST JOURNEY. 85
the family, and the nurture of the children, devolved
wholly on herself; and in her perfect housekeeping, as
well as her maternal duties, she exhibited a serenity and
wisdom competent both to control and to execute. The
position of Colonel Wadsworth made his house the
centre of hospitality for both the French and American
officers of high rank when in this part of the country.
Whether La Fayette or De Grasse, Rochambeau or the
godlike "Washington, was the guest, she was always
equally self-possessed and in elegant preparation. So I
have been told by contemporaries, for of her own efforts
or honors she never spoke. Yet I listened with de-
lighted attention, as in precise and well-chosen lan-
guage, she sometimes gratified my request for descrip-
tions of the illustrious personages who varied the drama
of earlier days. Then would seem to stand before me
the Father of his Country, the chivalrous Greene, the
fearless Putnam, the ardent Arnold, not then a traitor,
the youthful La Fayette, the elegant Marquis de Chas-
tellux, and the cautious Talleyrand, who from under
his half-shut eyelids regarding what passed around,
seemed ever to have some concealed or sinister purpose.
A great privilege was it to hear the conversation of
this lady, who, to her fund of recollections, added a
fondness for elegant literature, which she could so hap-
pily combine with the gravest or minutest duties of her
sex, that neither should be overlooked, and nothing
neglected. Her portrait, by Sully, which with those
86 LETTERS OF LIFE.
of her hnshand and children hangs in the Gallery of
the Wadswoi'tli Atlienreum, seems to me, in its striking
verisimilitude, to express some of the traits of charac-
ter I have here delineated.
Two sisters of Colonel Wadsworth resided with his
widow — single ladies advanced in years, of the most
unassuming and intrinsic excellence. Heartfelt piety,
an integrity that never swerved, diligent improvement
of time, warm affections for those of kindred blood,
and unsealed sympathy for the woes of all humanity,
marked their blameless lives. In their own peculiar
apartments they preferred the quaint furniture of an-
cient times, endeared by associations with beloved and
departed j^arents. There were the straight-backed ma-
hogany chairs, which long, careful rubbing, had given
almost an ebony complexion, the small dark-framed
mirrors of wonderfully rich, clear plates, the huge easy-
chairs, capable of enveloping two good sized occupants,
and the queer, clumsy cabinet, containing the volumes
of Seed, South, and Sherlock, with some pamphlet ser-
mons of their father, the Rev. Daniel Wadsworth, once
the pastor of the church whose neighboring steeple,
like a tutelary genius, looked in at their chamber win-
dow. There they dwelt in peace and honor. Respect
for the sacredness of the Sabbath, for the ministers of
religion, and for God's holy temple, had been incorpo-
rated with their infant training, and remained with
them in age. No tale of suffering could be told them
FIEST GRIEF AND FIEST JOTJENET. 87
but the moistened eye attested their unquenched sen-
sibilities. Methought they were like the sisters of
Bethany, whom Jesus loved.
Another member of this household was a native of
Cape Fran9ois.
After the savage massacre, she was brought hither
by friends who took refuge in this country. Colonel
Wadsworth, whose liberal charities knew no bound of
race or clime, in his attentions to those foreigners dis-
covered that the little gii-l, Pauline, was considered a
supernumerary, and suspected that she might be some-
times treated with unkindness. Finding on inquiry that
they would consent to part with her, lie took the help-
less orphan under his protection, and placed her at a
boarding-school in an adjacent township. "When her
education was completed he brought her home to his
wife and children, where she was kindly comprehended
within the domestic circle. At this j^eriod she was
somewhat past her prime, but of great activity, and
rendered herself extremely useful by superintendence
of the more delicate departments of housekeeping, and
by various skilful uses of the needle. She had a very
dark complexion, a brilliant black eye, and an inextin-
guishable naivete, to which her slight foreign accent
added humor and force. She, who at her first arrival
here, was so slender and slight as to have been com-
pared to a "picked bird," had attained an unwieldy
size ; but so far from taking offence at any allusion to
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it, was wont to reply, that it was " her daily hope to
reach three hundred." Notwithstanding this great
weight of adipose substance her active movements be-
tokened her French origin, and her step in the dance
was almost impalpably light. Slie was a person of
good capacity and great shrewdness of observation, and
filled in the family an important place, which was af-
fectionately appreciated. Her gratitude for the memory
of her benefactor was enthusiastic ; and from her elo-
quent, almost histrionic descriptions, I gathered my
most graphic ideas of the nobleness of his domestic
habits and feelings, who for bravery as an officer, and
wdsdom as a financier and statesman, was illustrious on
both shores of the Atlantic.
The comfort of this interesting and dignified family
was promoted by a band of Avell-trained and trust-
worth}^ servants, a cook, chambermaid, and waiter, gar-
dener, and coachman. Each was at their post with a
clock-work precision, so perfect was the system of or-
ganization. The house was old-fashioned but com-
modious. Its late proprietor, notwithstanding his
huge wealth, preferred it to a modern and costly
mansion, because it was consecrated by filial recollec-
tions. To me it seemed a most amiable sentiment that,
accustomed as he had been for years to a palace-resi-
dence in France, and to all the decorations which the
fine arts could give, he should still choose to dwell in
comparatively humble apartments which had been hal-
FIRST GKIEF AND FIRST JOURXEY. 89
lo'W'ed by a father's pious prayers, and a mother's ten-
der love. The buildmg, which was of wood, had a
pleasant yine-covered piazza, with a southern exposure,
and had been enlarged in the rear by a range of cham-
bers resting on heavy stone columns, which by moon-
light had a picturesque effect. Connected with the
court was a larsce srarden, filled with luxuriant fruit-
trees, a variety of herbs which were thought to have
affinity with health, and the largest and most fragrant
damask-rose bushes. I speak more particularly of these
premises because they are now occupied by the fine
edifice of granite known as the " Wadsworth Athe-
naeum," and their original aspect will soon have faded
from the memory of the living.
Colonel Wadsworth, who had great influence in the
city of Hartford, and did much to encourage the in-
dustry of its deserving young men, as well as for its
public institutions and edifices, gratified his taste in
architecture by erecting two elegant mansions for his
children. They were near his own habitation, and that
of his son was accessible through their united grounds.
There dwelt Daniel Wads worth, Esq., a name in his
native region synonymous with philanthropy, refine-
ment, and every amiable virtue. His wife, a daughter
of the second Governor Trumbull, was beautiful in
person, and of an angelic goodness. I think none could
have been near her without admiring her, or being made
in some measure better and happier. Their spacious
90 LETTERS OF LIFE.
apartments displayed that exquisite taste, and liberal
patronage of the fine arts, that ever distinguished the
master of the mansion. There I first enjoyed the lux-
ury of studying fine pictures; and in this abode, and
also in that of his mother, revelled in the delights of a
large and select library. In which of those volumes
was it that I found that magnificent sentence of Mil-
ton, which, if I brought nothing else away, were wealth
sufficient, and which is worthy of being remembered
till we can read no more ?
" The end of reading, and of education, is to repair
the ruin of our first parents by regaining to know God
aright, and out of that knowledge to love Him, to
imitate Him, to grow like Him."
The other edifice which I mentioned as having been
erected by Colonel Wadsworth, was for his daughter,
a lady of fair and sweetly expressive countenance and
commanding presence, and who, in many noble traits
of character, was said to bear resemblance to him.
Her husband. General Nathaniel Terry, stood high in
the legal profession, possessed fine talents, a finished
education, and was in manners a perfect gentleman of
the old school. Surrounded by a large family of un-
commonly beautiful and promising children, these three
households formed a delightful circle, often meeting in
social festivals, and comprising a remarkable range and
variety of age, accomplishments, and wisdom.
The kindness received from all was to me a source
FIRST GRIEF AXD FIRST JOURNEY. 91
of wondering gratitude. Whatever of interest could
be found in our walks or rides, was carefully shown me.
Hartford had then but about five thousand inhabitants,
and though unable to boast of the edifices now so im-
posing, displayed the nucleus of a fair and prosperous
city. I was taken to the Museum, where I gazed at
coarse pictures and stiff wax figures, and relics without
end. I took it uj^on me vastly to admire the antique
State House, and thus endorse my impressions in my un-
sophisticated journal :
" The State House is a most eleg^ant buildinsr of
brick, with a lofty portico, commanding from its second
story a grand prospect of the town, with its numerous
abodes, its fertile back country, and the river with its
shipping. The pavement, in diamond- shaped pieces of
white and chocolate-colored marble, is fine, and the
Council-chamber so large that we were as pigmies in it.
There are the seats for the Governor and Council, but
what most riveted my attention was a portrait of Wash-
ington rather larger than life, in a splendid frame, sur-
rounded with curtains and festoons of crimson satin.
The dignity and affability of that countenance I have
never seen equalled. I felt as in the presence of a su-
perior being. On retiring at night I was extremely
well satisfied with my explorations during the day."
Those citizens who see this edifice as it now is,
adorned by ranks of noble trees and a magnificent
fountain ; and are yet clamoring for another, better wor-
92 LETTERS OP LIFE.
thy to contain the halls of legislation, "will be amused
at the primitive opinions of an untravcllecl child.
But Wyllys Hill and the Charter Oak were the ob-
jects of my highest enthusiasm. Methought the proud
Sir Edmund Andros, with his red-coated minions, stood
before me. I heard the heavy tramp of their armed
heels as they ascended to the chamber where the care-
worn fathers of the colony prolonged their evening ses-
sion. Methought the closing words of the speech of
Governor Treat, his voice hoarse with emotion, met my
car :
" Our colony has not yet recovered from the perils
of its infant years. Not only have ^ we heard them
with our ears, and our fathers have told us,' but some
who are in council here remember them. I have my-
self borne a part therein. But since this blessed Char-
ter has been ours, the gift of Charles II. of glorious
memory, we have enjoyed tranquillity and the just
rights of free men. Shall it be taken away without
cause, and we be made vassals ? To me it is like the
rending asunder of soul and body, to yield up the de-
fence, the liberty, the life of the State."
A sudden darkness falls — a rushing step passes —
the life-blood of our liberties thrills in the heart of the
faithful tree.
The ancient mansion at Wyllys Hill was an object
also of intense interest. Brought over from England
during the infancy of the colony, it gleamed out from
FIEST GRIEF AND FIRST JOURNEY. 93
its lofty site like a watch-tower in the wilderness. The
Wyllys family, who gave their name to this fair do-
main, was one of wealth and distinction in "Warwick-
shire, and held for several generations high offices in
the government of Connecticut. An aged widow was
now its sole representative, dwelling almost alone, amid
antique portraits, tall, regal chairs, and worn Turkey
carpets — herself an affecting relic of faded grandeur.
The large house, with its low-browed apartments, has
been since renovated, modernized, and removed, but
was to me more interesting in its dilapidated condition,
as a feudal monument, uttering the voice of other
days
Wert thou the castle of the olden tune,
Thou solitary pile ? — a beacon-light
To the benighted traveller ?
Thy lone brow
Peered in baronial pride o'er pathless wilds,
And waters whitened by no daring sail,
While to the roaming red man's eye thy pomp
Was as a dream of terror. Now thou stand'st
In mournful majesty, as if to mark
The desolation of a lordly race,
Or, hke a faithful vassal, share their grave.
Farewell ! farewell !
A loftier dome may rise.
And prouder columns blot thy time-stain'd walla
From the slight memory of a passing age.
Yet some there are, who deem thy mouldering stones
Dearer than sculpture's boast, where musing thought
04 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Lovca pilcnt shades and arbors darkly wrcath'd,
And walks dim-lighted by the chequering moon,
While Fancy with the groups of other days
Fills yon deserted halls.
But thou, brave Oak 1
Timc-honor'd and majestic, who didst lock
Our germ of freedom in thy sacred breast,
BafHing the tyrant's wrath, we will not say
Farewell to thee. For thou dost freshly take
A leafy garland from the hand of Spring,
And bear the autumnal crown as vigorously
As if thou ne'er hadst seen gray Time shred off
Man's branching hopes, age after age, and blast
His root of glory.
Speak, and tell us tales
Of forest chieftains, and their warring tribes.
Who, like the bubble on the waters, fled
Before our sires. Hast thou no record left
Of perish' d generations, o'er whose prime
Thy foliage droop'd ? — thou who unchanged hast seen
The wise, the strong, the beautiful go down
To the dark winter of the voiceless tomb ?
Oh ! flourish on in healthful honor still,
Thou silent Monitor ; and should our sons
E'er in the madness of prosperity
Forget the virtues of their patriot-sires,
Be thou a Delphos, warning them to heed
The sumless price of blood-bought hberty.
The same lyre, half a century after, struck its
mournful strings in a dirge for the " fallen Oak, the
monarch of the plain." A violent storm, on the night
FIRST GRIEF AND FIRST JOURNEY. 95
of August 21st, 1856, prostrated this idol of the peo-
ple. At the time of my first visit to Hartford, in
October, 1805, its gnarled branches spread wide,
though its head was not conspicuously lofty. The
extension at the base was large and hollow, and,
according to tradition, the cavity had been capable of
containing thirteen persons. I should think, if the
numeration was accurate, they must have been of the
pigmy race. It was doubtless of great antiquity, and
seemed then in as vigorous health as when, after the
abdication of the fourth Stuart, and the accession of
William and Mary, it opened its casket, and restored to
the rejoicing colony its well-guarded treasure.
After a fortnight's stay I returned home with
heightened happiness and overflowing gratitude. Reno-
vated health and the rose-tint faintly reappearing on
the cheek, delighted my doting parents, and uplifted
their opinion of the wisdom of our good physician into
a sort of homage due to a tutelary being.
Faithful Lucy, my attendant, had been made happy
by the condescension extended to her, and the wonders
she had seen. " I have been to London," said she, in
her attempted narrations. Yes, London undoubtedly
to her, who had never before been ten miles from her
native place, but in the humble simplicity of household
labor,
" Along the cool, sequestered vale of life,
Had kept the noiseless tenor of her way."
90 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Yet this excursion, and the knowledge of her fiter-
ling virtues tlius given to tlic relatives of her former
mistress, whom she had faithfully served almost twenty
years, was to win her a future permanent and most
desirable home.
At crossing the Connecticut, on our return, I recol-
lect the honest creature said earnestly how much she
should like to live there ; not knowing that her lot had
even then been thus cast by a Hand that never errs.
As she spoke, a silent prayer of gratitude for the
blessed kindness that had cheered me in this pleasant
spot, was rising from my full heart ; and a petition un-
consciously mingled, that, if it were the Divine will, I
might at some future time be permitted to revisit it.
No prescience, as the voiceless orison breathed over
these quiet waters, then suggested that there would
ever be aught of ada23tation to the reminiscence of the
patriarch, " With my staff passed I over this Jordan,
and now I am become two bands."
LETTER Y.
EEMOTAL — HOUSEHOLD EMTLOTMEXTS.
It was in the bloom and beauty of a most glorious
June that we made our first removal. The new abode
was at a short distance from my birthplace, less aristo-
cratic in its appointments, but perfectly comfortable,
and our own. My father, according to his invariable
system, paid every cent of the purchase-money, and all
the workmen who had been employed to put it in com-
plete repair, ere we entered on the premises.
On the morning of leaving the spot endeared by so
many tender recollections, my young heart was too
exultingly filled with the present to summon mournful
shadows from the past. Greatly was my housekeeping
ambition gratified, by obtaining permission to receive
and arrange all the furniture — my mother superintend-
ing its departure, and my father alternating between
the two habitations, as the benefit of both might re-
quire. This deputed trust was executed with immense
zeal, and as much judgment as might be expected from
5
98 LETTl'T^S OF LIFE.
a girl of fourtcoii, the men who drove the carts aiding
ill tlie transfer of the licavier articles, according to my
direction. After the more laborious parts of the mis-
sion were com])leted, I amused myself by disposing, in
a closet witli a glass door, our slender stores of silver
and china, to the best possible advantage. The satis-
iiictions of that day, and the responsibilities entrusted
to me, come back fresh and unimpaired over the ex-
panse of half a century. Wearied as my limbs were at
last, I managed to course all over the garden, and fill a
large vase of roses, to greet my beautiful mother.
At the sunset she came, herself as blooming as they.
Methought I had never before appreciated her comeli-
ness. Though nearly forty, she might have passed for
half that age, so brilliant was her complexion, so elas-
tic her movements. Proud was I of her aspect of
youth, and the charm of her animated manner.
Great Pussy, an integral part of our household,
arrived ignobly tied in a sack, lest, taking note of the
way, he might be tempted surreptitiously to return.
After his liberation, and a slight flurry of anger at the
indignity to which he had been subjected, he ran about,
applying his olfactories to the various floors and thresh-
olds, and apparently approving their odor, finding also
his old friends, and, still more, a good supper, made up
his mind contentedly to become a citizen.
Our house was after the plan of the convenient
structures of that day, comprising, on the first floor,
REMOVAL — HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 99
two parlors, a bedroom, a spacious kitchen, with a
wing for pantry and milk-room ; on the second, five
chambers ; in the attic, one, and that delightful append-
age to old-fashioned mansions, a large garret. The
garden, which had been planted and prepared for our
reception, contained the finest vegetables, in luxuriant
beds ; while the borders were enriched with fruits —
pears, peaches, and tlie clustering grape-vines. The
interstices were filled with the currant, gooseberry, and
strawberry ; concerning the latter of which Sydney
Smith has said, " Without doubt God might have made
a better berry, but without doubt He never dicV*
This garden, whose fertile soil and admirable culti-
vation rendered it remarkably productive for its size,
was skirted by a small, green meadow, swelling at its
extremity into a knoll, where apple trees flourished,
and refreshed by a clear brooklet. It furnished an
abundance of winter food for our fair cow, who in
autumn, after the second mowing, might be seen
grazing there with great delight, or ruminating, after a
rich repast, " alone in her glory." She seemed also
well satisfied with her new quarters in a nice barn ;
and our fine flock of poultry, being equally well accom-
modated, strutted, and crowed, anc! paraded their hope-
ful offspring, as if they had held tenure there from the
beo-innins^.
Our domain comprised, at the distance of a couple
of miles from the city, several acres of excellent wood-
999i95A
100 LETTERS OF LIFE.
land. Tlicrc, majestic forest trees spread a broad cano-
py, and younger ones interlaced tlieir houghs, melodi-
ous witli the nesting people, their feet laved by a busy,
wliispering burnie, as clear as crystah Every autumn
the master designated, with his usual judgment, a suffi-
cient quantity of wood for our yearly exj:)enditure,
which, after being cut in proj^er lengths, was stored to
dry in a basement room with glass windows, which
might have been easily fitted up for a kitchen, had the
size of the family required it. Those piles were pleas-
ant objects, from their mathematical symmetry as well
as the vision of the cheerful warmth their fflowins: coals
and dancing flame would diifuse around the wintry
hearth-stone. How much more poetical than the black
stove and the coal-fed furnace !
The man who depended on the regular commission
of transporting these loads of wood in his team, was
an old Revolutionary soldier. He had been in the
battle of Bunker Hill, and maintained his post at that
sanguinary spot called the " Rail-fence," whence so few
escaped. Weather-beaten and wiry was he, like one
who had seen and could bear hardships. No skill had
he in narration. His taste was for deeds. He would
not have been apt to waste powder in a poor aim, and
might be a tight hand at the bayonet.
" I fired seventeen times," said he, " till my cart-
ridges giv' out ; and I guess some on 'em told, for I
looked ouo sharp afore I spent my ammunition."
REMOVAL — HOUSEHOLD EMPLOTMEXTS. 101
A mixture of the Yankee and the Spartan character
he seemed. I should not like to have had him for a foe.
His oxen, like himself, looked as if used to hard knocks,
and, at his slightest monosyllable, started off at a more
rapid rate than is common to their contemplative race.
In this new abode I was elevated to a higher rank,
as an assistant to my mother. This gratified both my
filial love and m^ desire to learn new thino-s. She was
an adej^t in that perfect system of Xew England house-
keeping which allots to every season its peculiar work,
to every day its regular employment, to every article
its place ; which allows no waste of aught committed
to its charge ; which skills to prolong the existence of
whatever may need repair, and builds u2J the comfort
of a family on the solid basis of industry and economy.
Under her training I had already acquired some ele-
ments of this science ; now I was installed in the dig-
nity of a prime minister. In those days of simplicity
of living, when the use of the hands was accounted
honorable, it was the custom of households far more
wealthy than ourselves to take some poor child, and
bring it up as a domestic assistant, or hire occasional
aid, as their needs might require. The latter was our
choice. Thus we enjoyed the luxury of living without
turning a key. The women who could be readily
called in when additional labor or unexpected com-
pany rendered such aid desirable, were generally small
householders, who considered it a privilege to earn
102 LKTTKKS OF LIFE.
Homothiiii:; for tlic comfort of those at liomc. Thus the
mutuiil benefit liad in it a feature of philantliropy.
If Lor(i Bacon is correct in liis position that the
mind needs no recreation save change of employment,
our sex have a favored sphere, for it admits of an un-
ending variety. Very happy were my mother and
myself in our light and constantly recurring household
occupations. Up with the lark, we wrought with a
spontaneous song. Broom and duster were our calis-
thenics, and every apartment was kept in the speckless
sanctity of neatness. Somewhat enterprising were we
too, and made excursions out of the orbit of regular
feminine rotation. We pajDcred walls when we chose,
and refreshed the wood-work of our j^arlors with fresh
coats of paint, purchasing 2:)ots of such shades as
pleased us. I was honored by having particular charge
of the sashes, which required a delicate brush, lest the
panes of glass should be soiled. I cut silhouette like-
nesses, and executed small landscapes, and bunches of
flowers in Avater-colors, to embellish the rooms.
In culinary compounds, and the preparation of the
golden butter, I was only subaltern ; but in some other
departments an equal partner and perhaps a little
more. The needlework of the household was especially
my forte. I became ex23ert in those arts by which the
structure of garments is varied, and their existence
prolonged. From the age of eight I had been pro-
moted to the oflice of shirt-maker for my father. I
EEMOVAL — HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 103
now adventured upon liis vests, cutting to pieces an old
one as a pattern.
For a hall in the second story, which was carpetless,
I cut squares of flannel, about the size of the compart-
ments in a marble pavement, and sewed on each a pat-
tern of flowers and leaves cut from broadcloth, of ap-
propriate colors. The effect of the whole was that of
rich, raised embroidery. With the true Xcav England
spirit of turning fragments to good account, I con-
structed of the pieces which were too small for the
carj^et a gay counterpane for a little bed, used when we
had children among our nightly guests. I also braided
white chip, and fine split straw, for the large and very
pretty hats which were then in vogue.
It was the custom, in many families, to supply by
their own spinning-wheels what the Scotch call napery.
The sound of the flax-wheel of my diligent grand-
mother was among the melodies of my infancy. Her
hands, with those of my mother, thus made the linen
of the household. Our six beds, with the exception of
one in the guest-chamber, which exhibited what were
then called "Holland sheets," were thus furnished, the
manufacture of cotton beino; then unknown in this
region. Comely were those flibrics to my unsophisti-
cated eye, and durable, some of them being in exist-
ence even at this date.
This branch of internal revenue received a remark-
able impulse after our removal to this new habitation.
lot LETTERS OF LIFE.
On our ])r(niisos -was .1 sniull lionsc, wliosc sole tenant
was a widow and a weaver, wlio desired to pay her
rent in licr own work. To accommodate her, my
motlier enhirixed this sphere of productive industry,
and tauglit me the use of the great-wheel. Always
sliall T he grateful to her for this new source of pleas-
ure. It is one of the most healthful and effective forms
of feminine exercise. It gives muscular vigor, and has
power in removing pulmonary tendencies. But no
eulogy of mine may hope to call again from the shades
that which Fashion has proscribed and made obsolete.
A stated period in the morning was allotted to me
for this employment. I was sorry when it expired, and
ever mingled it with a cheerful song. Flannel sheets,
with table-cloths, and towels woven in a rude form of
damask, soon abounded among us. Then we betook
ourselves to the manufacture of carpets, the warp being
spun wool of various colors, and the woof economically
made of cast-off winter clothing, or remnants purchased
from the tailor's shojD, cut in narrow strips, sewed
strongly, and dyed black. Truly resj^ectable were
they, and, in those days of simplicity, praised.
Growing ambitious in proportion to our success, we
spun for ourselves each a dress out of fine cotton, card-
ed in long, beautiful rolls by ray mother. A portion of
the yarn was bleached to a snowy whiteness, and the
remainder dyed a beautiful fawn or salmon color. It
was woven in small, even checks, and made a becoming
REMOVAL — HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 105
costume, admired even by the tasteful. I wore mine
with more true satisfaction than I have since worn
brocades, or court costume at presentations to royalty.
The antique tenant, for whose convenience in the
matter of rent we so much bestirred ourselves, was
quite a character. Wrinkled was her visage, yet rubi-
cund with healthful toil ; and when she walked in the
streets, which was seldom, her bow-like body, and arms
diverging toward a crescent form, preserved the alti-
tude in which she sprung the shuttle and heaved the
beam. Her cumbrous, old-fashioned loom contained a
vast quantity of timber, and monopolized most of the
space in the principal apartment of her cottage. Close
under her window were some fine peach trees, which
she claimed as her own, afhrming that she planted the
kernels from whence they sprung. So their usufruct
was accorded her by the owner of the soil. As the
large, rich fruit approached its blush of ripeness, her
watchfulness became intense. Her cap, yellow with
smoke, and face deepening to a purple tinge of wrath-
ful emotion, might be seen protruding from her case-
ment, as she vituperated the boys who manifested a
hazardous proximity to the garden wall. Xot perfectly
lamblike was her temperament, as I judge from the
shriek of the objurgations she sometimes addressed to
them ; while they, more quiescent, it would seem, than
boy-nature in modern times, returned no rude reply.
I opine that the lady might have been botli exacting
106 LETTERS OF LIFE.
and tyrannical, if jiowcr on a larirc scale had been
voucliPafcd licr. Slie was molliricd by our mode of
treatment, whicli was a reverse of tlie code of paying
tribute to Ca?sar. My principal intercourse with her
was in giving her sometliing to read — for she read on
*' Sabba'-day," as she called it, and on tlie yearly fast-
day — in carrying her pudding on Sunday noons, and
baked beans on Saturday nights.
Of tlie last-named dish, w^hich was so symbolical
of the early customs of Norwich that a large province
of the township was cliristened Bean-hill, it is fitting
that I should speak particularly. It made its appear-
ance on the supper-table of every householder who was
able to compass its ingredients, at the closing day of
the week ; and with the setting sun that announced to
the Israelite the termination of his Sabbath, warned
these descendants of the Pilgrims that theirs had be-
gun. A little boy of our acquaintance said honestly,
*' We never missed having baked beans but one Satur-
day night, and then our oven fell down " — a penal result
which seemed to him both natural and just.
This nutritious and canonical dish of our forefathers
was always received by the weaver-widow with com-
placence. A little conversation was wont to ensue, in
whicli she evinced a good measure of intelligence and
shrewdness, with those true Yankee features, keen ob-
sei'vation of other people, and a latent desire to manage
them. Her strongest sympathies hovered around the
REMOVAL — HOrSEnOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 107
majesty and mystery of her trade, and her highest ap-
preciation was reserved for those who promoted it.
The kindness that dwelt in her nature was most palpa-
bly called forth by a quadruped member of our estab-
lishment which has not been mentioned, and is, I sup-
pose, scarcely mentionable to ears polite. Yet I could
never understand why it should be an offence to deli-
cacy to utter the name of an animal which the Evan-
gelists have recorded on their pages as plunging, in a
dense herd, " down a steep place into the sea, and per-
ishing in the waters." Neither do I know why they
should be made the personification of all that is mean
and gormandizing, because they chance to have a good
appetite, and a digestion that a dyspeptic might envy.
Wolves and bears are not more abstinent or refined,
yet they freely figure in elegant writing and parlance.
Such treatment is jDCCuliarly ungrateful in a people who
allow this scorned creature to furnish a large part of
their subsistence, to swell the gains of commerce, and
to share with the monarch of ocean the honor of light-
ing their evening lamp. He is justly styled the poor
man's friend, and the adjunct of every economical
household. Happy to feed on the refuse of our table,
he liberally replaces it by luxuries purchased with his
life. Our creed in this matter is more inconsistent than
that of the Jews ; for we do not hesitate to profit by
his death, though we have made his life despicable.
He is not originally destitute of grace, as those who
108 LETTKRS OF T.TFE.
have scon his infancy, in tho peaceful sphere of a rural
farmyard, can testify. Tliat he is capal)lc of mental
progress, has hvcn proved by those who, with the epi-
thet of " learned," have been exhibited in public. Yet,
without nimingf to advance any extraordinary preten-
sions on tlie part of this stigmatized animal, it would
seem but common compassion as well as justice to
make comfortable the short span allotted him among
the living. Our own formed quite a friendship for the
elegant cow, welcoming her when she entered the yard
to which his mansion had access, frisking, and looking
in her calm face with an affectionate guttural language
reserved for her alone. She was far less demonstrative,
but not wholly indifferent to his attentions. His skill
in making his bed w^as amusing, shaking and arranging
the fresh straw until the smooth pillow suited his
epicurean taste. White and clean Avas he in his person,
having Avater at his command, and hapj^y in regular
and ample rations. He regarded those who bestowed
on him his favorite viand of greens from the garden
with a loving twinkle in his eye, as if sympathizing
with that large class of higher humanities mentioned
by Southey, " the most direct road to whose heart
was through the stomach." Our lady-tenant was
never more interesting to me than when, presenting
her slender libations to this humble retainer, she ex-
ulted to see how readily he came at the call of her
cracked voice. She was prone, however, to modify tho
EEMOVAL HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 109
effect of her disinterested attentious, by computing the
weight which might be expected to accrue from his
increasing corj^ulence, and hinting some personal claim,
or future prospect of a dividend of bacon, on the prin-
ciple of joint investment.
My highest entrustment to her skill as an artisan,
and indeed the Ultima Thule of my ambition in the
line of constructiveness, was a suit of clothes for my
father. The choicest wool was obtained, and each
thread drawn out to the utmost fineness consistent
with strength, was carefully evened and smoothed with
the fingers, ere it received the final twist, and was run
upon the spindle. The yarn was arranged in skeins of
twenty knots, vernacularly called a run^ each knot con-
staining forty strands around the reel, which was two
yards in circumference. The addition of every skein to
the mass hanging upon the panels of the spinning
apartment, heightened my happiness. TThen committed
to our lady of the loom, she incessantly complained of
its " awful fineness," and demanded a higher price for
weaving, which we deemed it equitable to accord. Re-
leased from her manipulations, its texture was tested in
a fulling-mill, where I believe its contraction was one-
fourth of its orisrinal dimensions. AVhen broucrht home
from the cloth-dresser a beautiful, lustrous black, and
made into a complete suit, surmounted by a handsome
overcoat, or surtout, methought I was never so per-
110 LETTKRS OF LIFE.
fectly happy. TIh^ filial Bcntimcnt was mingled with a
pride and tendorness wliich I had never felt before.
Anotlior ])art of liis wardrobe, the knitting of his
stockings, I claimed as my especial ])rovince. It had
been so considered since the death of his mother, and
until his own, at the age of eighty-seven. I think no
other shared witli me that privilege, and am sure than
none were purchased. It was the habit of our family,
and not a peculiarity at that day, that this article of
dress should be of domestic manufacture. With us
the yarn of which they were made emanated from our
own wheels, and was more durable, because more care-
fully wrought, than what was for sale in the shops. We
produced cotton of various degrees of fineness — linen
thread for summer, and wool for the colder seasons. To
the hose destined for my father I devoted particular at-
tention, because short breeches and buckles being es-
sential to the full dress of a gentleman, the encasing of
the lower limbs was more consjoicuous than since the
easier regency of the pantaloon. I took pleasure in
making his ribbed, viz., knitting two stitches and seam-
ing one, which, though a slower j^rocess, rendered them
more adhesive, and better revealed the symmetry of his
well-shaped limbs.
Great was his complacence in my various little
works to please him. Yet always calm and equable, he
never boasted of them or praised me. I cannot recol-
lect that he ever thanked me. I would not have had
REMOVAL HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. Ill
him ; it would have troubled me. The holy intonation
of his voice T\'hen he said " 3Iy child,'' was enough.
The sweetest tears swelled under my eyelids when I
thought of him. Methinks the love of a daughter for
a father is distinct and different from all other loves.
He liked to have me with him in his ministrations
among the green, living things, whose welfare he scien-
tifically understood. How kindly would he ask my
opinion about pruning or grafting, as if I were able to
counsel him. He wished to cultivate a correct judg-
ment, and increase my admiration of the works of Him
whose beneficence is seen in the grass blade, and the
herb which hides under its rough coat the spirit of
health. I well remember, and could even now weep, as
I recall his serene, approving look, when at the close of
some summer's day, if rain had been withheld, I re-
freshed with my bright watering-pot not only my own
flowers but his trenches of celery and beds of salad.
If he planted a tree, my hand must hold it steadily
while he arranged the fibrous roots, and pressed around
it the earth of its new abiding place. I recollect his
calling me to assist in setting out two apple trees in
our front yard. To the rallying remarks of some of his
more fashionable friends, he replied it was better to fill
the space with something useful, than with unproduc-
tive shade. His utilitarian decision was rewarded with
bushels of the finest Q-reeninsrs and russets — and also
with what she had afiirmed might be ecured, the sym-
112 LETTEIIS OF LIFE.
metrical form of tlic trees, wliiith were judiciously
pruned ns their growth ndvnnoed. The fragrance
■vvhieli tliey diffused througli the whole house in their
time of efflorescence, was delightful, and not impaired
by the sight of the clustering bees, burying themselves
in the calyx, or glancing from petal to petal of the pink
and white flowers, with their busy song of gain and
gladness.
The jiroductivcness of his fruit trees was the wonder
of his neighbors. He devoted to them almost a florist's
care. During the fervors of summer their trunks and
principal bouglis were occasionally refreshed with a
bath of soap-suds. He had an office of kindness for
them as they mournfully shed their leaves, preparing
for the discipline of winter. If any moss, or unsightly
excrescences adhered to their bodies, they were removed
by friction, and a plentiful lavation administered, a love
token till a better season, like the stirrup-cup of our
British ancestors to the parting guest. Its ingredients,
if I recollect right, were in the following proportions :
three gallons of lye from wood ashes, a pint of soft-
soap, a quarter of a pound of nitre, with a handful of
common salt. The nitre w^as dissolved in warm water,
and after tbe mixture was well incorporated, it was ap-
plied with a brush to the trunks and principal limbs.
When spring revivified their roots, another hydropathic
welcome awaited them. The elements of the medicated
bath were one quart of soap and of salt, and one pound
REMOVAL HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 113
of flour of sulphur, with a sufficient quantity of soft
water. As an additional tonic the earth was opened in
a circle around each tree to the depth of two inches,
and a prescrijotion of compost, mingled with two quarts
of wood-ashes, one quart of salt, and the same quan-
tity of pulverized plaster added, to quicken their ap-
petite, and the whole neatly raked over. The reci2:)i-
ents repaid these attentions by their healthful condition.
Since almost every person likes good fruit, and does
not object to a large quantity, I make no apology for
mentioning to you, dear friend, the old-fashioned modes
by which those results were promoted.
Busy and merry was the autumnal ingathering
from our small domain. The vegetables accepted a
winter shelter in the sj^acious cellar, where each genus
was arranged in due order ; and the savoy cabbage,
standing erect in its bed of sand, might have pleased a
Dutch burgomaster by its unfading greenness. Apples
were to be cut and dried for tarts, pears and peaches
for confections and pastry, and boiled sweet corn ex-
posed to the sun for the dish of succotash, whose rich-
ness was learned from the poor Indians. Sage, and the
red heads of thyme, and the rough leaves of the bur-
dock, were to be saved for the domestic pharmaco2)eia;
tansy and peppermint for distillation, as the fragrant
damask-rose had ^already been, and the luxuriant hop,
for beer, which sometimes burst the bottles with its lus-
cious effervescence. The finest apples were to be thor-
114 LETTERS OF lAVK.
ouLclily wiped, and wrajijK^d in ]»n])cr, crc they were
comniittcMl lo tlicir reservoirs, tlic rougli-coatcd pear
that served tlic oven until sprincc, comfortably accom-
modated, and tlic large, golden quince, embalmed with
sugar to regale the guest. Heavy sheaves of inaize
covered with a formidable depth the garret floor, as a
field was appropriated to the culture of this majestic
plant, with its humbler adjunct, the potato, having their
interstices filled with the graceful bean and ponderous
pumpkin, -without the favor of whose yellow face our
Puritan forefathers dared not adventure on their
Thanksgiving. There was a rural independence in our
style of living which pleased us all. Our poultry and
eggs were abundant and fine, our cow furnished an
overflow of the richest milk, cream, and butter, and our
hams, etc., preserved by a recipe of my father's, were
proverbial for their delicacy. It is something to know
what you are eating. More than this, w^e knew what
thei/ had eaten, upon w^hom we fed, and their aliment
had been healthful and ample. Butchers' meat, of which
we were no great consumers, could be obtained daily from
carts, there being then no regularly established market.
The provisions for our table, though simple, were
always admirably prepared. Let no one esteem this a
matter of slight importance, or to be confidently trusted
to careless hirelings. Ill-cooked and over-seasoned
viands may serve to help the physicians ; and all trades
must live. Neither should the appointments of a board
REMOVAL HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 115
round which the family gather thrice during oue diur-
nal revolution, be viewed with aught of stoical indif-
ference. Good food, neatly presented, has something to
do with a good character. You can tell the merchant
on 'change who has had a nice breakfast, and expects a
Btill better dinner. Gourmands are disgusting, but very
abstinent j^eople are prone to be crabbed and provoked
to see others enjoying Avhat they deny themselves.
Whoever has wholesome viands, and a hearty appetite,
and a good conscience, let him eat and be thankful. I
have observed that ladies who understand the science
of table-comfort and economy, whose bread is always
light, who know the ingredients of every imj^ortant
dish, and are not afraid or ashamed actuallv to com-
pound it, possess the high respect of their husbands.
Let those look to this " who love their lords."
The principle of our little household was not " liv-
ing to eat, but eating to live," and honestly taking the
enjoyment which the Creator has kindly connected with
that on which existence depends. The hours appointed
for our repasts were as primitive as our opinions.
Breakfast was soon after sunrise, dinner at twelve, and
supper somewhat varied by the seasons. From so vul-
gar a dining-hour the fashionable city people might be
moved to count us barbarians. Yet I recollect hearing
a French physician of eminence say at a banquet in
Paris, that there was a quickening, a rise of tide in the
human system at high noon, that concurred with the
110 LETTERS OF LIFE.
reception of tlie principal meal, and that the increase of
jiar.'ilysis in tliat region since the dining-liour liad ap-
proached evening, was marked and manifest. Perhaps
lie might liavc endorsed the proverb which was used m
his native clime, as early as the tenth and eleventh cen-
turies :
" Lever h cinq, diner h. ncuf,
Soupcr i\ cinq, coucher t\ ncuf,
Fait vivre ans nonantc ct ncuf."
The translation is particularly quaint :
" To rise at five, and dine at nine,
To sup at five, and sleep at nine,
"Will make one live to ninety-nine."
This adage of the Carlovingian dynasty is extreme
both m premises and promise. Not having exactly its
nonante-neufin view, the point which 2:>rincipally har-
monized with our creed was the hour for retiring, in
whose memory we were always aided by the sonorous
voice of the bell, pealing from the church tower, and
reverberating from rock to rock. Regularity in periods
of rest, rising, and refreshment, were considered among
the elements of health. Led by my father, who had a
deep sense of the value of the fleeting hours, we were
distinguished by punctuality, especially at meals, which
I think seldom varied for years five minutes from their
allotted time, except from calls or unavoidable interrup-
REMOVAL — HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 117
tions. I have already mentioned that they combined
simplicity vrith comfort. Yet though not studious of
luxury, and never maldng the devices to pamper appe-
tite a subject of conversation, it was an object to secure
a commendable variety. In this we were aided by our
proximity to the sea, which brought to our board differ-
ent races of the finny people, and the oysters from the
Xorwich cove, which were proverbially excellent. For
all our household expenses and wardrobe the invariable
rule was, to " pay as you go." Hence, whatever we
used was our own. There was no chars^e agrainst us on
any merchant's ledger, and no bills brought in to im-
pede the festivities of the Xew Year. What was need-
ful for our comfort that our domain did not furnish, was
supplied by the interest of money, which my father had
saved and invested. Our income from all sources, pru-
dently managed, left us perfectly at ease, and indulged
us in the pleasure of aiding the poor. I cannot imag-
ine a happier domestic condition. Xot annoyed by
watchfulness over the doubtful fidelity of servants, the
employments that devolved upon us aided health and
cheerfulness.
Voltaire, using as homely a simile as Socrates was
fond of adopting, has compared the different grades of
society to a cup of beer : " The top is froth, the bottom,
dregs, the middle, pure and good." This mediocrity,
removed from the vanity of wealth and the pain of pov-
erty, it was our lot to share. Our united happiness is
118 LETTKR« OF LIFE.
sketched in n fow siiiiplo linos, written during one of our
quiet evenini::s at home :
Loud roars the hoarse storm from the angry North,
As though the winter-spirit loath to leave
His wonted haunts, came rudely rushing back
Fast by the steps of the defenceless spring.
To hurl his frost-spear at her shrinking flowers.
Yet while the tempest o'er the charms of May
Sweeps dominant, and with discordant tone
Wild uproar rules without — peace reigns within.
Bright glows the hearthstone, while the taper clear
Alternate aids the needle, or illumes
The page sublime, inciting the rapt soul
To rise above all warring elements.
The gentle kitten at my footstool breathes
A song monotonous and full of joy.
Close by my side my tender mother sits,
Industriously bent ; her brow still fair
With lingering beams of youth, while he, the sire —
The faithful guide, listens indulgently
To our discourse, or wakes the timeful hymn
With full, rich voice of manly melody.
Fountain of life and light, to Thee I turn.
Father Supreme ! from whom our joys descend
As streams flow from their source ; and unto whom
All good on earth shall finally return
As to a natural centre — praise is due
To Thee, from all thy works— nor least from me,
Though in thy scale of being, light and low.
REMOVAL HOUSEHOLD EMPLOYMENTS. 119
From Thee descends whate'er of joy or peace
Sparkles in my full cup — health, hope, and bliss,
And pure parental love ; beneath whose smile
A heart call'd lonely, doth not feel the loss
Of brother, or of sister, or of friend.
So, unto Thee be all the honor given,
"Whether young Morning with her vestal lamp
"Warn from my couch — or sober twilight gray
Yield to advancing Xight ; or simamer sky
Spread its smooth azure ; or contending storms
Muster their wrath ; or whether in the shade
Of much-loved solitude, deep-wove and close
I rest ; or gayly share the social scene,
Or wander wide to wake in stranger-hearts
New sympathies ; or wheresoever else
Thy hand shall lead, still let my steadfast eye
Behold Tliee, and my heart attune Thy praise.
To Thee alone, in humble trust I come
For strength and wisdom. Leaning on thine arm
Oh let me pass this intermediate state.
This vale of discipline ; and when its mists
Shall fleet away, I trust Thou wilt not leave
My soul in darkness, for Thy word is truth.
Nor are Thy thoughts like the vam thoughts of man,
Nor Thy ways like his ways.
Therefore I rest
In peace — and sing Thy praise, Father Supreme.
LETTER VI.
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASURES.
Possibly you may imagine, my friend, that the rou-
tine of employment sketched in my last might prove
the significance of the old proverb, dulness arising
from " all work, and no play." Not at all. Every day
was lark-like. There was no dulness among us, no ner-
vousness. Indeed, I scarcely ever heard nerves men-
tioned, and did not suppose that I had any. I am con-
vinced that feminine household industry is conducive to
health, and a happy flow of spirits.
Yet there were plenty of amusements in those
days, and, from leaving school at so early a period, I
was sooner ready to be their participant. I have some-
times wondered that my mother should permit me at
thirteen to mingle in those evening sleighing-parties
which were the favorite and most exciting kind of win-
ter festivity. Methinks there was more snow then than
now, and that it lasted longer. At any rate, it was
faithfully improved. The plan of those parties which I
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASURES. 121
have mentioned, was for a select number of young
friends of both sexes to wrap themselves up warmly,
and soon after tea drive out a few miles to one of
those quiet, respectable houses of entertainment, which
the iTiral districts afforded. The season of snow being
their time of harvest, they kept in readiness a large
room for dancing, and a man who, after the labor of
the day, was able and willing with his violin to quicken
the " light, fantastic toe." There we amused ourselves
for a while with quadrilles and cotillons, waltzes being
happily unknown, when some slight refreshment was
handed round, and we returned. Gay were our spirits
with this exhilarating recreation, yet wonderfully re-
strained within bounds of decorum. Our party was
composed of the sons and daughters of neighbors, or
those who associated on intimate terms, and was seldom
too large for three well-filled sleighs. Most of us had
the affinity of school days, or of hereditary fiiendship,
so that there were many subjects in common to render
conversation delightful. Some of us girls were in the
habit of recapitulating and prolonging these pleasures
by notes, of which the following from a favorite com-
panion, may serve as a specimen :
" Dearest L : Did not we have a good time last
evening ? Such a moon ! We might have seen to work
muslin by it. Then the smooth, well-beaten roads, and
the snow so high on each side, and all over the fences
6
122 LETTERS OF LIFE.
and fields, like a great white world. T declare it was
romaiitie. The horses en joyed themselves too. I know
they did hy their prancing, and seeming to keej) time to
the bells. I suppose they thought we got up that
music for their especial merriment and behoof.
" We succeeded quite well with our new cotillon,
did not we ? That good old fiddler — I hope he'll live
forever — that is, as long as we want him. But those
horrid cakes they regaled us with, at last. Not the
least light, and scarcely sweet at all. I could have
made better ones myself. If that is a specimen of vil-
lage cookery, I'm glad I don't ' tarry ' in their taber-
nacles.
" Brother thinks it would be a pleasant variety to
sing a song or two just before leaving. What do you
say ? Would not it look too frolicsome ? I told hira
you'd never consent to any thing short of Old Hundred,
or St. Martin's. He is half crazy about the ' Battle of
the Nile,' and pretends to play it on a flute. You may
hear him any hour in the day, and for aught I know, in
the night too, shouting the hideous chorus :
* And Nelson, gallant Nelson's name
Immortal shall be/
Mother thinks he improves mightily, and grows more
of a gentleman in the house since he has gone with us
nice ladies to these sleighing parties. So she promises
we shall go again. That's just right. To please her,
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASUKES. 123
and be so happy, and grow wiser too, all at the same
time, is a very grand business. So good-bye for the
present. Be a good girl, and mind every word your
mother says.
" B. Nevixs."
The confidence of our parents in us was not mis-
placed. AYe were allowed the frequent intercourse of
walks amid the varied and pleasant scenery of our na-
tive place, and of short evening visits. Conversation
between the sexes was social and friendly, though the
established manner might seem at this time that of the
most distant politeness. To press the hand would have
been a thing inadmissible, and to walk arm in arm
was considered as an announcement of matrimonial en-
gagement. I mention not these minutiae as examples,
but traits of the times. And looking back upon them
through the lapse of years, I think it better to settle in
the minds of young people that true basis of propriety
and delicacy which will make them a " law to them-
selves," than to keep watch over them like a sentinel,
or divide the sexes as though they were mutual adver-
saries. Those whom God has ordained to walk to-
gether through life's changeful day, it would seem ill-
judged and useless for " man to put asunder," through
the whole of its fair morninGT.
Dancing, it will be perceived, was one of our prime
forms of entertainment. At a period when the puri-
124 LETTERS OF LIFE.
tanical projndicos against it were still in force, it may
be thought strange tliat my father, with his high stand-
ing for piety, should have given it his sanction. But I
was indulged in it, })rohably, from the suggestions of
my mother. She reasoned that the exercise was health-
ful, and the accomplishment conducive to ease and
courtesy of manner. Like Addison, she thought a
" lady should learn to dance, in order to know how to
sit still gracefully." But the argument by which she
chiefly prevailed was the isolation of my brotherless
and sisterless estate, and innate fondness for solitary
musing, w^hich required stronger aid in the full develop-
ment of social feeling, lest the love of a happy home
becoming too intense, should make a selfish character.
My sweet sister-mother did not use her eloquence in
vain, and her grave husband, who had for years borne
the title of Deacon, though without the office, con-
sented that his child should attend a dancing school.
As I bad adopted the rule to endeavor to excel in what-
ever I attempted to do, his sacrifice of sentiment, if in-
deed it was one, was sometimes compensated when he
came to escort me home in the evening, and lingered
among the spectators, by hearing what is so agreeable
to parental ears, a daughter's praise.
Our first teacher was a Frenchman, whose previous
history not even Yankee perseverance could elicit. He
bore the sobriquet of Colonel, and was disturbed at the
name of Bonaparte. It was inferred that he had been
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS — MENTAL PLEASURES. 125
aggrieved in some form by his imperial sway, and had
in consequence forsaken his native clime. He was tall,
gaunt, well stricken in years, and impassable beyond
aught we had seen of his mercurial race. His style of
instruction betrayed his military genius. He would
have been an excellent drill-sergeant. Perfect order was
established. AYe were under a kind of martial law.
During the hours of practice not a whisper was heard
in our cam]). The girls received elementary instruction
afternoons, and, when a particular grade of improve-
ment was attained, met and mingrled with the other sex
for two hours in the evenings. Beins; his own musician,
and executing with correctness on the violin, he re-
quired a strict adaptation of movement to measure.
At his cry of '-' Balancez f"" we all hopped up in a line
like so many roasted chestnuts. Low obeisances, lofty
promenades to solemn marches, and the elaborate po-
liteness of the days of Louis Quatorze, were inculcated.
Many graceful forms of cotillon he taught us, and some
strange figures called hornpipes, in which he put forth
a few of his show-pupils on exhibition days. They
comprised sundry absurd chamois-leaps and muscle-
wringing steps, throwing the body into contortions.
Being stiff in his joints from age, he could not exem-
plify these more complex gyrations, but gave out words
of command, as if at the head of a regiment. As im-
perative was he as Frederick the Great, and we as
much of automatons as his soldiers. Monsieur le Colo-
12G LKTTERS OF LIFE.
nel sooinod to roc^anl liis cloc^.int art as a Fpccics of tac-
tics, a joyless yet bonnden duty inonmhent on all civil-
ized liuMiniiity. But our young, clastic nntures were
able to clothe and beautify these bare bones. The
mere circumstance of being together, timing our move-
ments to sweet sounds, and practising that politeness
which has affinity with higher virtues, made us happy.
Afterwards we had teachers of greater indulgence,
and who better understood the poetry of motion. Yet
our thorough elementary instruction was an evident
advantage, and we looked back with the memory of
respect to our severe old teacher. Every se2:)arate term
closed with what was styled a dancing-school ball.
Then we were joined by beaux and belles of more
advanced age, and prolonged the festivity to a later
hour. These were the only occasions on which the
dance was continued beyond nine in the evening. The
ringing of that curfew put us all to flight, like shot
among a bevy of pigeons. Thus, one of the most seri-
ous objections against this amusement — its tendency to
late hours — was removed. Another, founded on ex-
travagance of dress, was also entirely obviated. I dis-
tinctly remember the simple and becoming costume
which was deemed sufficient for our most ceremonious
assemblages : a plain white frock, broad blue sash usu-
ally passed over one shoulder, shoes of the same color,
and hair without ornament, save its own abundant
curls, falling richly on the neck. The principal consul-
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS — MENTAL PLEASUEES. 127
tation about dress for those balls, -^ith ray friend and
second self, Xancy Maria Hyde, was wont to resolve
itself into the interrogation, " Will you wear a full, or
a half mane ? " The former implied the whole mass of
tresses pendent ; the other, a j^ortion of them confined
by the comb, and falling gracefully over it. It was
pleasant to us to dress Avith a sisterly similarity, and
mane was the term which she had adopted for our
chief natural adornment.
Quite satisfied in all respects was my dear mother with
the salubrious result of her theory of dancing. If her
quick eye chanced to detect — Avhat no other would have
discerned — some indication of too close application to
books, at the close of a long winter evening, she would
allure me, just before retiring, to dance up and down
our spacious kitchen, after her own spirited singing of
appropriate tunes. Occasionally she used, as a substi-
tute, her own native humor or histrionic powers to
elicit laughter, which she said was the friend of good
sleep. She coincided, without knowing it, in the phi-
losophy of the Rev. Dr. Edmund Dorr Grifiin, who,
while president of a college, once convened, during the
prevalence of a northeasterly storm, his theological
students, addressing them in a solemn, impressive tone :
" I am satisfied with your class, save in one re-
spect."
Every eye regarded him with earnest attention.
" Of your proficiency in study, your general deport-
128 LKTTKIIS OF LIFE.
menl, I liavc no complaint to make. Still, there is
one essential, one very sad deficiency."
They gazed ujion each other, and upon him, with
intense and painful curiosity.
" That to -which I allude, young gentlemen, is a
neglect of the duty of Christian laughter^ Then,
drawing up to its full height of wix feet his large, sym-
metrical i)crson, and expanding his broad chest, he
commanded, " Do as I do," and uttered a peal of
hearty, sonorous laughter. After summoning each one
separately to imitate his example, and observing how
the corrugated muscles untwisted, and the brow cast
off its wrinkling thought, he said, " There, that will do
for the present." He did not narrate any incident pro-
vocative of mirth, as he might readily have done, for
he possessed wit as well as eloquence. Probably he
deemed it sufficient to enforce the habit, and trust to
their own ludicrous resources for themes to sustain it.
The risible faculties might be a good counterpoise for
polemics. If they were allowed their due exercise, I
doubt whether we should have as many cross contro-
versies. If Milton and Salmasius had sacrificed to
Momus, instead of concocting bitter objurgations, the
world w^ould have been just as wise.
Singing-school was a graver yet much-prized enjoy-
ment of early days. It was the custom of our church
to employ a competent teacher for several months in
the year, to train her young people in the melodies of
SOCIAL AMUSEME>rTS — MENTAL PLEASURES. 129
Sabbath worship. We were instructed the remainder
of the time by our own regular choir-leader.
The gentleman to whom I was first indebted for
initiation into the rules and practice of sacred vocal
music, was a resident in a distant part of the State.
He was somewhat past middle age, of a very comely
aspect, and sufficiently scientific. I now recall the
thrill of pleasure with which, having completed the
rather long process of examining the voice, and what
was technically called " learning the gamut," we were
permitted to execute our first tune — a simple, common
metre, in the minor key. It was called " Lebanon,"
and is probably out of print in modem collections of
music ; but its notes, which I now sing while I write,
give force to the plaintive words to which they were
wedded :
" Lord, what is man ? — poor, feeble man,
Born of the earth at first.
His life a shadow, light and vain.
Still hasting to the dust,"
We were led on gradually to complex music, elaborate
anthems, and some of the noble compositions of Han-
del. The teacher had in his book some pieces of music
not contained in any selections which we had opportu-
nity to purchase. When these were given out, it was
necessary to copy them for the classes ; and he, being
more expert Avith the voice than the pen, deputed this
130 LETTERS OF LIFE.
"hranrh to those most willinc; to take it. Quantities of
snrh work wore .icccptcd by me, until I became accom-
plislied in notation, and was honored with the gratui-
tous custom of a respectable patron of the choir.
After the reading of the psalm or hymn on Sun-
days, when he rose in his place, enunciating audibly the
name of the tune to be sung, giving the key-tone
through the pitch-pipe, raising high his very white
hand to beat the time, and scrutinizing every division
of his forces with the eye of a commander, I thought
him beautiful. The taste of the congregation was de-
cidedly for that plain, slow music in which the devo-
tion of their fathers had clothed itself, and " wherein
the majesty of buried Denmark did sometime march."
Though he taught this extremely w^ell, he had an in-
nate love for those brisk fugues, w^here one part leads
off, and the rest follow with a sort of belligerent spirit.
In these he occasionally indulged, thinking, probably,
that the ancient prejudice had better be dismissed, or
would be more honored in " the breach than the ob-
servance."
Acting on this principle, he one Sabbath morning
gave out a tune of the most decidedly lively and stir-
ring character, which we had taken great pains in prac-
tising. Its allegro, altissimo opening,
" Eaise your triumphant songs
To an immortal tune,"
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASURES. 131
Startled the tranquillity of the congregation, as though
a clarion had sounded in their midst. The music, being
partially antiphonal, comprehended several stanzas. On
we went complacently, until the last two lines :
" No bolts to drive their guilty souls
To fiercer flames below."
There was the forte of the composer. Of course, it
was our duty to give it full expression. Off led the
treble, having the air, and expending coji spirito upon
the adjective " fiercer," especially its first syllable,
about fourteen quavers, not counting semis and demis.
After us came the tenor, in a more dignified manner,
bestowing their principal emphasis on " flames." " No
bolts, no bolts," shrieked a sharp counter of boys,
whose voices were in the transition-state. But when a
heavy bass, like claps of thunder, kept repeating the
closing word " below," and finally all parts took up
the burden, till, in full diapason, " guilty souls " and
" fiercer flames below " reverberated from wall to arch,
it was altogether too much for Puritanic patience.
Such skirmishing had never before been enacted in that
meeting-house. The people were utterly aghast. The
most stoical manifested muscular emotion. Our moth-
ers hid their faces with their fans. Up jumped the
tithins-man, who-se oftice it was to hunt out and shake
refractory boys. The ancient deacons slowly moved in
132 LETTERS OF LIFE.
their scats at the foot of the pulpit, as if to say, " Is
not there something for us to do in the way of church
goveninient ?"
As I eame <lowii from the gallery, a sharp, gaunt
Welsh woman seized me by the arm, saying :
" What was the matter with you all, up there ?
You begun wery well, only too much like a scrame.
Then you went gallivanting off like a parcel of wild
colts, and did not sing the tune that you begun — not
at all."
IIow the shrill-voiced old lady, who could not sing,
should know what the new tune was, or ought to be, I
was not given to understand.
The apartment allotted to our musical instruction
was a very large one in the Court-House. Behind a
broad table, where, in term time, the lawyers took
notes of evidence, or rectified their briefs, sat we girls
of the novitiate, technically called the " young treble."
In the gallery, raised a few steps above us, were the
older, more experienced singers, some of whom were
the beautiful belles of the city. If aught in our de-
portment displeased them, or they fancied us growing
too self-complacent, they did not fail to look over the
parapet and reprehend us. Our teacher was painfully
sensitive to discords. I have seen him set his teeth,
and the color forsake his lips, at a succession of false
sounds. They were to him what donkeys were to
Betsy Trotwood. On such occasions his irritability
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS — MENTAL PLEASURES. 133
usually vented itself upon us. Being more susceptible
than grammatical, the exclamation usually was, after a
picturesque attitude of listening:
" There ! it's them young treble."
However, it was not always them young treble.
They knew it, and he also. It was safer to reprove us
than to offend the more elevated part of his forces,
whose irritability, if in proportion to the degree of
musical genius, might chance to approach his own. So
he accounted us a sj^ecies of scapegoat. After a little
seasoning^, this ceased to trouble us. We knew that at
heart he did not despise us, because, in other company,
he spoke of us as his " nice, hopeful young birds."
Considering his impatience as a constitutional infirmity,
we were willing to act as a safety-valve for the benefit
of the whole. Possibly our amiable philosophy might
have been helped by the consciousness that the young
gentlemen of our circle were in presence there, either
as spectators or members of the choir. Certainly it did
not impair our smiling endurance, or our powers of
melody. The mutual influence of the sexes in the plas-
tic period of youth has been long conceded. Where
there is a right education, refinement, and piety, it is
doubtless for good. Association with the excellent of
our sex is a protection to young men from many temp-
tations. I have observed that those who from early
years have been most constantly in the society either
of sisters or judicious female friends, attain a fuller de-
134 LETTERS OF LIFE.
vclopmcTit of tlioso pympatliica and virtues wliich shed
lK'ij)])iTirss around tlic sphere of tlie liusLand and father.
Very pleasant "vvere our fMniiliar forms of social in-
tercourse in the IovcmI laud of mv l>iiili. Tn Avintcr,
various individuals from our more intimate circle spent
an hour or two of the evening unceremoniously at each
other's houses. Apj^les and nuts, the product of our
own groves, were the accustomed and adequate enter-
tainment. So many subjects had ^yo in common, that
conversation never flagged. Games, however, we had,
if desired, and sometimes two of the more contempla-
tive might be seen seated at the checker or draught
board. Now and then some stenographic genius found
a secret place, and took notes of all that was said, and
then, emerging from concealment, read it aloud for the
diversion of the dramatis personce. This, however,
was not frequent, and never revealed to the circle until
about to part ; for, had it been known that there was
" a chiel amang us, takin' notes," it might have invaded
colloquial freedom, or possibly quickened some scintil-
lation of that spirit with which Johnson said, when
told of the designs of Boswell : " If I really supj^osed,
sir, that he contemplated writing my life, I would take
his:'
In summer we enjoyed a walk after tea, or a short
sail on the quiet Yantic, the oars keeping time to the
favorite melody of " Row, vassals, row ! " or the Cana-
dian Boat-Song. Once or twice in the season we ex-
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASTTKES. 135
tended our excursion, early in the afternoon, to the dis-
tant wood, ostensibly in search of whortleberries, but
usually returning with baskets better stocked with wild
flowers than fruit. Redolent was that romantic region
of Flora's gifts. From the early-wakened arbutus,
vainly striving to keep the secret of its sweetness, a
regular succession was kept up — the columbine, dancing
on its wiry stem ; the wild honeysuckle, commonly
called the swamp-apple, which we plunged through
morasses to secure ; the fringed gentian and grass
violet, blue as the skies that fostered them ; the laurel,
luring us to the cliffs ; the white lotus sleeping upon
the waters, and the magnificent lobelia cardinalis, tow-
ering in queenly beauty.
It may possibly be thought, from this rather minute
enumeration of domestic employments and social pleas-
ures, that those of the intellect were overlooked. No
such thing. There were always space and heart for
them. Indeed, I had never so much leisure when Avait-
ed on by many servants, as at this period of my life,
when we had none at all. Time was systematized,
work simplified, and no waste of feeling incurred by
watchfulness over doubtful fidelity. The mind found
its true level, and did not forget its natural aliment.
Instincts are prone to take care of themselves. Among
them, it seems to me, should be ranked the love of
knowledge.
At the time of our removal I was enoraged in
136 LETTERS OF LIFE.
ahridcrinir, for private use, a treatise on Rhetoric, which
had been amonjx my favorite school stndies. To ninlti-
ply examples and illustrations of its different ficjures,
gave additional interest to a perusal of the standard poets.
A large and elaborate Commonplace Book was also
commenced, where selections both in prose and poetry-
are characterized by solid and serious thought. Its
clear and compact chirography is embellished by a
few paintings in water colors, more remarkable for
adaptation of subject than accuracy of perspective or
artistic execution. One in particular, which represents
the flight of Eneas from the flames of Troy, and ac-
companies a copious extract from Dryden's Virgil, is
amenable to criticism. The group seem proceeding
leisurely down the steps of a temple, whose columns
and entablatures, notwithstanding the proximity of the
fire, are in an untouched freshness of bright brown.
Anchises sits calmly upon the bowed back of his heroic
son, as if enjoying the ride, carrying in a section of his
purple robe what might seem to be a paper of yellow-
headed dolls, intended for his household gods. Eneas,
though sorely burdened, finds a hand wherewith to
grasp Ascanius, a bewildered-looking little personage
in a red frock. The flames shoot up like slender,
pointed, red needles, from arches whose integrity is
unbroken, and the volumed smoke, in regular half-
circles and rhomboids, has a decided tint of azure.
Creusa follows closely, with an unmoved aspect, clothed
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASURES. 137
in a flowing garment painted with thick Prussian bhie,
a corner of which is thrown over her head, like a stiflf
hood. So decidedly unpre^^ossessing is she, that one is
tempted to think her disappearance might not be an
irreparable affliction to her lord, though the poet con-
strains him to exclaim :
"Alas! I lost Creusa — hard to tell
If by her fatal destiny she fell,
Or weary sate, or wandered with affright ;
But she was lost forever from my sight."
The faults of my painting in those days, which
arose from laying on the colors too thickly, came from
incorrect teaching, and were afterwards remedied by
more skilful instruction in softening the shades. Still,
in its most unscientific state, my pencil was a source of
almost daily pleasure. Landscapes and flowers from
nature were its chosen themes. Of these the drawing
was always accurate, and sometimes spirited, but the
coat of water-colors often too heavy, for want of a few
simple rules.
Committing passages from the poets to memory,
was a systematic exercise. Cowper and Goldsmith
were among the first chosen for that purpose. The
melody of the latter won both the ear and heart ; and
"The Deserted Village," or "The Traveller," were
voicelessly repeated, after retiring at night, if sleep,
" Like parting summer's lingering bloom delay'd."
13S LETTERS OF LIFE.
Witli tlio rnrnoRt perusal of Slmkspcarc and Tliomson
was intorsprrscd that of the German poets, Klopstock
and Ki>l /,el>ue, and also some of tlic modern travellers
and aneient historians. Among the latter was Josc-
pluis, whose study did not, on the whole, produce any
great satisfaction. I found myself more attracted by
the historians of the Mother Land, still, with imma-
turity of taste, preferring the conciseness of Goldsmith
to the discursive and classic Hume. A reading society
of a few young people was commenced and sustained
with various fluctuations, where the prescribed course
was the history of our own country, with a garnish of
the jioems of Walter Scott. Attached to this circle
were some fine readers, among whom I recollect with
unalloyed pleasure the perfect enunciation and empha-
sis of a lady who afterwards, as the wife of the Rev.
Samuel Nott, went out with our first band of mission-
aries to Asia. Passages from the poets, thus rendered
by her, come back over the waste of years with clear,
unchanged melody. I think the intonations of fine
reading are longer and more definitely recollected than
those of music. The latter is sometimes permitted to
overpower the words with which it is combined, thus
having only the vibrations of the ear, or the transient
pleasure of the thrilling nerves to rely upon. But the
other, walking hand in hand with sentiment, or death-
less knowledge, adheres with augmented force. The
young of my own sex are not often fully aware of the
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS MENTAL PLEASURES. 139
value of this elegant attainment of reading, or the
influence it might enable them to exert. Half the daily
practice required to thrum passably upon the piano,
would make them respectable proficients. Narrative
and poetry, in their appropriate robe of tuneful utter-
ance, throw a strong charm around the wintry fireside.
Parents foro^et the toil of nurturin gr the daucrhter who
thus repays them. Perchance the aged grandparents
are there to listen with delight, and the deafened ear
rejoices in that sweet benevolence which without effort
links it to the world of sound. " I quicken my home-
ward steps," said a young husband at the close of day,
" for my wife reads so beautifully that I forget all the
toils of business." A man who had been in youth
tempted by wild associates, admitted that he was with-
held from many allurements to vice by the delightful
evenino- readino-s of his sister. It is a foiTu of crivino;
pleasure to the invalid or the solitary which the be-
nevolent heart should not disreg-ard. The amiable
Miss Hannah Adams, one of our earliest literary
women, and the author of a History of the Jews, was
thus solaced in her venerable age. Some of the most
lovely and accomplished young ladies of Boston went
by rotation to read to her such works as renovated and
refreshed her mind. The service was appreciated, and
spoken of with the warmth and simplicity that charac-
terized her nature.
" They pay me such respect," said she, " that I quite
140 LETTERS OF LIFE.
forcjct tlint T nni old. Thry sit by my side as if I
were tlieir own relative. By their help I travel every
day throiiirli the world of books ; and their tones are so
elear, and distinct, and sweet, that sometimes I think I
am liearing an angel's song."
Among my solitary satisfactions was a journal. It
was commenced of my own accord when a school-girl
of eleven. Its sole object then was a record of my
studies. One day was almost a facsimile of the other.
The length of the lessons in grammar and geography,
history, rhetoric, and philosophy, the number of sums
in arithmetic, or problems in geometry, were its un-
varied themes. Their only embellishment was a coup-
let or stanza, savoring of Sternhold and Hopkins, which
here and there inserted itself perforce, like a slender
grass-blade peeping through the crevices of a log tene-
ment. Feelincr that the habit mig-ht be conducive to
improvement, I recommenced it after leaving school;
and having tried my skill in bookbinding upon a large
volume of foolscap, Avhose exterior was marble paj^er
made thick by some of my own paintings pasted on the
inside, and interleaved by a map of the world which I
had carefully executed, I dedicated it as a journal on my
thirteenth birthday. This was done without advice
from others, and intended for no eye but my own. Yet
it repaid me by becoming a sort of companion and con-
fidant. As I showed it the respect of always writing
in it with neatness, and reserving for it my best reflec-
SOCIAL AiTUSEMEXTS MENTAL PLEASURES. 141
tions, instead of smothering it with the froth and ephem-
era of trifling events, it seemed to yield me a sort of
reciprocity, and minister to mental elevation. Indeed,
at one time, especially while reading the works of John-
son, it became almost pompous in diction, with aphor-
isms on the follies and vanities of life better fitted to
maturity than girlhood. In process of time the habit
became a part of my existence, and the single volume
multiplied like the " line of Banquo." By the aid of
these many books I can now, when I choose, retrace
" As in a map, the voyager his course,
The windings of my way, for many years."
It sometimes interests me to search out for the passing
day, its genealogy through half a century. Turning
the manuscript pages, it stands with its fifty sisters be-
fore me, like the daughters of Danaus. Each bears its
burden of change, its garland of hope — pointing silently
to its felicity of progress, or its sum of error and of loss.
Each knits into the web of life a slender thread of srold,
or sable. Each brings its budding rose, its leaf of cy-
press, or its spray of evergreen, for the wreath of mem-
ory. All, as they fleet away again to the dreamy past,
demand praise for the Preserver, whose " mercies are
new every morning, and fresh every moment."
The pleasures of written thought into which I had
been early initiated, revealed themselves more fully
after the removal to our new habitation.
142 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Yet my cflfnsions, of wliatcvcr ii.it iiro tlicy were, I
strove to koc)) in uiiinvadcd secrcsy. Unsuggested \>y
others, and iniMTnl)itions of praise, they " hid themselves,
like the son of Jesse," amono^ tlic stuff. Even from my
darling mother I concealed them, though in all things
else every possession and sympathy were a common
stock. Especially in my attempts at poetry was I mys-
terious and sensitive. It came to me in the beginning,
I knew not how. Waking from downy sleep I some-
times received a few lines, and thanked with strange
rapture their ethereal giver. Thus I learned to person-
ify the Muse, ere I had read of Urania, and to hold her
gifts sacred. Afterwards, when I linked rhymes mechan-
ically, or as an exercise of skill, though they had naught
to do with her who at the first " visited me nightly,"
I regarded them with a shrinking delicacy, and desired
no human being to know of their existence. Perhaps
the sentiment was morbid, and never perfectly under-
stood by myself. Still, with some modifications, it has
ever adhered to me. Though in later years literary
effort has become a trade or traffic, a transmutation into
gold which the utilitarian prizes, yet contracts with
publishers are repugnant to my tastes ; and apart from
the necessity of circumstances, I am never in the habit
of conversing about what I may have been enabled to
write, even with the most intimate friend, unless they
introduce or press the subject.
Our simple mode of life which I have so hastily
SOCIAL AMUSEMENTS — MENTAL PLEASUEES. 143
sketched for you, clear friend, was eminently happy.
Does it seem to you too much burdened by household
toils ? Xo ; for they were balanced by social and in-
tellectual pleasures. Truly, as well as beautifully, has
Ruskin said, that " it is only by labor, that thought can
be made healthful ; and only by thought, that labor can
be made happy. The two cannot be separated with
impunity. The worker ought, therefore, to be often
thinking, and the thinker to be working."
I feel as if I had but inadequately expressed my
gratitude to that spirit of poesy, which, amid the
brisrhtest allurements of life's cloudless mornincf vouch-
safed a still higher and purer enjoyment.
Even now, though that life from its zenith doth wane,
And its morn-gathered garlands grow scentless and vain,
And many a friend who its pilgrimage blest,
Have fallen from my bosom, and gone to their rest —
Yet still by my side, unforgetful and true.
Is the Being who walk'd with me all the way through ;
She doth cling to the High Rock wherein is my trust,
Let her chant to my soul when I go to the dust ;
Hand in hand with the Faith that my Saviour hath given,
May we kneel at His feet mid the anthems of heaven,*
* " Western Home and Other Poems," p. 161.
LETTER VII.
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME.
The upper, or old town of Norwich, my birthplace,
was decidedly aristocratical at the period of which I
speak. Yet its aristocracy was not founded on wealth
alone, but on the firmer basis of honorable descent and
moral excellence. Higher principles were called into ex-
ercise more not to disgrace an ancestral name embalmed
by the respect and love of the community — than merely
to amass money, or to display it. Hence the structure
of society was good where the influence of wealth aided
the power of virtue.
The aristocracy of that favored sjDot was principally
vested in two families and their collateral branches,
the Lathrops and Huntingtons. The dynasty of the
first dated back some two hundred years, to the in-
dustry, integrity, and piety of Mr. Thomas Lathrop (or
Lotrop, as the name is found written in ancient books).
He left two sons and a daughter, who nobly sustained
the paternal dignity. Of the eldest, Dr. Daniel La-
ARISTOCRACY OP THE OLDEX TIME. 145
throp, distinguished by talents and education as well as
by public spirit and piety, I have spoken in my first
letter. He died long before my birth, but his brother.
Dr. Joshua Lathrop, I well remember. Indeed, I think
I see now his small, well knit, perfectly erect form, his
mild, benevolent brow, surmounted by the large round
white wig, with its depth of curls, the three-cornered
smartly cocked hat, the nicely plaited stock, the rich
silver buckles at knee and shoe, the long waistcoat, and
fair ruffles over hand and bosom, which marked the
gentleman of the old school ; and he never yielded to
modern innovation. A large oil portrait of him, in this
costume, with one of his beautiful wife, courteously
presenting him a plentiful dish of yellow peaches,
adorned their best parlor, covered with green moreen
curtains, at which I gazed when a little child with eyes
dilated, as on the wonders of the Vatican.
He was a man of the most regular and temperate
habits, fond of relieving the poor in secret, and faithful
in all the requisitions of piety. He Avas persevering to
very advanced age in taking exercise in the open air,
and especially in daily equestrian excursions, withheld
only by very inclement weather. At eighty-four,* he
might be seen, mounted upon his noble, lustrous black
horse, readily urged to an easy canter, his servant a lit-
tle in the rear. Continual rides in that varied and
* " Past Meridian," p. 65.
140 LETTERS OF LIFE.
romantic rccjion ■\vcrc so full of suggestive thought to
his religious uiind, tliut he was led to construct a nice
juvenile hook on the works of nnluro, and of nature's
God, IJeinc: in dialocrue form, it was entitled "The
P^ather and Scm ; " and we, younglings, received a
copy with great gratitude from the kind-hearted author.
It was stitched in coarse flowered paper, and some-
times presented as a Thanksgiving gift to the children
of his acquaintance, or any whom he might chance to
meet in the streets. How well I recollect his elastic
step in walking, his agility in mounting or dismounting
his steed, and that calm, happy temperament, which,
after he was an octogenarian, made him a model for
men in their prime.
A single sister belonged to these two excellent
brothers. She married a gentleman of the name of
Coit, and was exemplary in the conjugal and maternal
duties. I never saw her, but have been told by her
contemporaries that she was a lovely, consistent Chris-
tian. Her eldest son, Mr. Daniel Lathrop Coit, I re-
member as a frequent visitant of the venerated widow
of that uncle whose name he bore. I think I have
been told that he had been a member of her family be-
fore his marriage, and he evidently listened with affec-
tionate respect to the treasures of wisdom that flowed
from her lips. She also appreciated his accuracy of
mind, and close observation of human nature, which
had been aided by what was rare in those days, the ad-
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 147
vantage of travelling in England and France.* She
used familiarly to style him her "philosophical nephew."
I thought he was a second Seneca, and always was
mute in his presence.
He was fond of the science of Natural History, and
of exploring those labyrinths where nature loves to
hide, having made man himself a link in her chain of
mystery. By casual observers he was deemed reserved
or haughty ; but those Avho were able to comprehend
him discovered a heart true to the impulses of friend-
ship and affection, and a mind capable of balancing the
most delicate points of patriotic and moral principle.
He was the father of an interesting family, and opposite
their pleasant residence was a pair of those lofty, wide-
spreading elms, which are the peculiar glory of 'New
England. Those were the trees that prompted the sim-
ple effusion beginning
I do remember me
Of two old elm trees' shade,
With mosses sprinkled at their feet,
Where my young childhood play'd. f
The consort of Dr. Joshua Lathrop was a lady of
fine personal appearance and great energy. In an age
when domestic science was in universal practice and re-
spect, she maintained the first rank as a pattern house-
* " Sketch of Connecticut Forty Years Since," p. 18.
f " Pocahontas and other Poems," p. 161.
148 LETTERS OF LIFE.
keeper. Tlie young girls brought up by her were
nnrommnu workers, and thoroughly indoctrinated in
moral and religious obligation. They often married
well, and in thrift and industry were a fortune to their
husbands. She was a sagacious observer of human
nature, and not unfrequently a profitable adviser to her
lord, whose unsuspicious cliarity made him occasionally
the prey of imposture. One morning a man presented
himself with a written paper, jiurjiorting that he was
deaf and dumb. No institution for the nurture of that
class of persons then existed in our country ; and as
instances of that misfortune were rarely exhibited, they
were wont to call forth both curiosity and sympathy.
This stranger enforced his claim by signs, and answered
in pantomime such queries as were made paljoable to the
eye. The pity of the good old gentleman was warmly
awakened for a fellow-being thus cut off from all the
privileges of speech and sound. The antique dark ma-
hogany desk was opened, which never turned ujoon its
hinges in vain. Still a ]^ixiv of keen black eyes occa-
sionally raised from the needle, critically regarded the
mute applicant. Suddenly a sharj^ report, like a pistol,
issued from a chestnut stick that had intruded itself
among the hickory on the great, blazing fire, and he in-
voluntarily started.
" My dear," said the lady, " this person can hear."
Horror-struck, and enraged at thus losing the large
bounty almost within his grasp, he discourteously, and,
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 149
it is to be hoped, unconsciously exclaimed, " You lie ! "
And the illusion was dissolved.
Mrs. J. Lathrop survived her husband many years,
and, until past the age of ninety, retained her active
habits and mental capacity unimpaired.
Three children appertained to this branch of the
Lathrop dynasty. The eldest, Thomas, evidently in-
herited the energy of his mother. He possessed a
laudable ambition to sustain the dignity of an unsullied
aristocracy. No equipage was so conspicuous as his,
no horses so fine, no harnesses so lustrous, no carriages
of such immaculate neatness and taste. An eleo-ant
mansion rose at his word, on a commanding eminence.
To our more plebeian eyes it was like that of " Peveril of
the Peak." Two sons and five daughters enjoyed and
beautified this attractive abode. The eldest, who bore
the name of her disting^uished o-reat-aunt, seemed to
partake of her excellences. So many elements of con-
sistency and moral beauty did she reveal, that mothers
said to their daughters, and teachers to their pupils,
" Do and be like Jerusha Lathrop." A child, who was
perhaps too often reproved by comparison or contrast
with so perfect a model, replied petulantly, '' I wish
there wa'n't no Rusli' Lotrnp. I'm tired out of the
sound." Similar was the sentiment of the Athenian
peasant, who desired to vote for the banishment of
Aristides, because he was tired of hearing him always
called " the Just."
150 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Tlio widow of Thomas Lathrop, Esq., is still living,
nnd ('xliil)its, at tho age of ninety, a rare example of
comely appearance, active habitudes, and serene piety.
Witli unbowed frame she directs the daily operations of
a systematic household, and delights in the skilful uses
of the needle. She illustrates the theory of Cicero,
that " old age is honored, if it maintain its own right,
if it is subservient to no one, if it continue to exercise
control over its dependents ; " and belongs to that class
whom the same eloquent philosopher designates as
" those with w^hom wisdom is progressive to their latest
breath." *
Mr. Daniel Lathrop was a gentleman of portly
form, whose movements were as leisurely as those of
his elder brother Avere mercurial. He almost always
smiled when he spoke, and ever had a kind word or
benevolent deed for the lowly and poor. He and his
fair wife were patterns of amiable temperament and
domestic happiness. Three daughters and a son, whom
they reared with great tenderness, reached maturity,
but all slumber in the grave with their parents. The
w^hole family, interesting in themselves, were more
so to me from being inhabitants of the mansion of my
birth and earliest hapj^iness. I watched the changes
that were made in modernizing the premises with some-
what of the jealous exclusiveness that the ancient Jews
* She died in 1863, at the age of ninety-two.
fc
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 151
felt for Zion. Still, the sentiment that leads to the
preservation and embellishment of an ancestral man-
sion, especially in these times, when the fashion is that
" all things should be made new," seems to me to pos-
sess great filial as well as moral beauty.
Lydia Lathrop, the only sister of the tw^o brothers
of whom I have spoken, was brought up in the indul-
gences of wealth, yet not released from the obligations
that a primitive and utilitarian age required of her sex.
I have heard that she was accounted beautiful w*hen
young, and sought in marriage by those of high posi-
tion and expectations. When I first saw her she was
the thoughtful and rather comely wife of a Presbyte-
rian minister settled at Elizabethtown, Xew Jersey,
whence she came statedly to visit the paternal home,
being welcomed like an angel. The echo, " Mrs. Aus-
tin has come ! " transmitted from servant to servant to
our abode on the opposite side of the street, is among
the gleeful clanon-cries of memory. She always re-
membered to bring something to the children. My
usual gift was a small sugar radish with a tuft of
green leaves. This was treasured for months im-
maculate, till another came. I recollect feeling great
indignation at a visitant to my baby-house, who
broke, for the purpose of tasting it, my consecrated
treasure.
The choice of her lot for life, by this daughter
of the aristocracy, was considered a love-match, and
152 LETTERS OF LIFE.
somewhat coiifinnntory of the ancient adage that " tlie
course of trne love never did run smooth."
Her spouse, the Rev. David Austin, was quite a
character, lie was stately and elegant in person, of
insinuating manners, polished by European travel, and
possessed of an ample fortune. He was fluent, often
eloquent, and took great delight in the exercise of his
oratorical powers. He was a good scholar, though a
vivid, excursive imagination often made shipwreck of
both argument and analysis. Over the people of his
charge he had, at first, an entire influence ; but intense
study of the prophetic portions of Scripture, while par-
tially recovered from an attack of scarlet fever, unset-
tled his mind, and led to wild theories which ended in
his dismission. Afterwards he occupied himself with
building on so extensive a scale in his native city of
New Haven, as to exhaust his own finances and in-
volve those of his family, and become, for a time, the
inmate of a debtor's prison. When released, and find-
ing that his eccentricities had excluded him from the
regular pulpits of his own denomination, he was im-
mersed, and joined the Baptists, and then the Method-
ist connection. His amiable wife, whose native pru-
dence would have been a healthful counterpoise to his
eccentricity had its influence been admitted, returned
to the abode of her parents. He was there frequently
an inmate with her, and eventually a constant resi-
dent.
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 153
It was in the later years of his life that I knew him,
when his peculiarities had been softened by time. He
distinguished me by kindness, sometimes directed my
juvenile reading, and gave an impulse to my Latin
studies. He had pleasant conversational powers, and a
fund of humor. The latter was, however, so dependent
on manner and gesture, and variation of feature, that
its related instances fail of effect.
" I was driving in the country yesterday," said he,
" and saw some hoarhound plants by the roadside that
looked green and pretty. I got out and took them up,
and brought them home. There they are growing, and
I call them mine, for it's clever to have something to
domineer over." For the latter years of his life he was
the pastor of the Congregational church in Bozrah, a
small township in the vicinity. There he faithfully
and acceptably discharged all parochial duty, still con-
tinuincf to reside in Xorwich, the will of the father of
his estimable wife having made respectable provision
for his support. His delight in preaching, and his in-
tellectual vigor, were unchanged by advancing years,
while his moral purity and true kindness of heart never
varied. Among the evidences of his piety were the
tender, devout spirit of his prayer, the meekness with
which he received reproof, the almost lavish benevo-
lence which shrank not at self-denial, and the calmness
with which, at past threescore and ten, he received the
summons of dismission to a world unseen.
154 LETTERS OF LIFE.
The name oT Huntington lias already been men-
tioned ns roparfncr with Latlirop in the acknowledged
aristoeracy of olden time. J>etween them was no
rivalry or disturhing force, as among the ^Montagues
and Capulets. Neither is it a slight merit that they
should cherish the bonds of ])iivate friendship, and
seek the general good of the community, since there
might naturally arise causes of comjietition, or of am-
bitious strife, to Avliieh few wlio were similarly situated
would have held themselves always superior.
After I was old enough to become an observer, the
dynasty of the Iluntingtons was the most numerous ;
and of those branches which were located around what
was then called Huntington Square, my recollections
are vivid, our own residence being in that neighbor-
hood.
General Jabez Huntington, the father of this distin-
guished house, I never saw, and presume that he must
have died before my birth. With the eldest son, Gen-
eral Jedediah Huntington, a patriotic and saintly man,
and the friend of Washington, I was not personally
acquainted, he, with his family, having early become
inhabitants of New London. Judge Andrew Hunting-
ton, the second in succession, w^as a man of plain man-
ners and incorruptible integrity. His few words were
always those of good sense and truth, and the weight
of his influence ever given to the best interests of soci-
ety. His was that true republican simplicity of virtue
AEISTOCKACY OF THE OLDEX TIME. 155
that dees nothing for show — makes no sacrifice of 2)rin-
ciple to popularity, pays every one his due, and is con-
tent with the silent plaudit of an approving con-
science. Would that his mantle had fallen upon many
in our own more stirring times ! His lady — a second
wife, I believe — possessed an elegance of form and
address which would have been conspicuous at any
foreign court. She was especially fascinating to the
children who visited her, by her liberal presentations
of cakes and other pleasing eatables, or, what was to
some equally alluring, a readiness to lend fine books
with pictures.
Colonel Joshua Huntington had one of the most
benign countenances I ever remember to have seen.
His calm, beautiful brow was an index of his temper
and life. Let who would be disturbed or irritated, he
was not the man. He regarded with such kindness as
the Gospel teaches the whole human family. At his
own fair fireside, surrounded by loving, congenial spir-
its, and in all social intercourse, he was the same serene
and revered Christian philosopher.
General Ebenezer Huntington was a noble specimen
of the soldier and patriot. I think I have been told
that he left college at the age of sixteen, to join the
army of our Revolution, and continued with it during
the whole war of eight years. The elegant manner
and decision of character that are wont to appertain to
the higher grades of the military profession, were con-
156 LETTKIJS or T.TFE.
Rpicuons in liiiii, and uiiimpnirofl hy age. lie was the
fatlier of a minicrous family, and a gentleman of exten-
sive influence.
General Zacliariah Huntington was a model of
manly symmetry and beauty. He was tall, with noble
features, a ])ure complexion, and a fresh color upon
cheek and lip. Though more intimate in his family
than in that of any of the otlicr brothers, his daughter
being my schoolmate and friend, I always felt afraid of
him. To my childish fancy he seemed like one of the
chieftains of the old Douglas blood, who ruled the
Scottish kings.
With this remarkable brotherhood were two sis-
ters — Elizabeth, the wife of Colonel John Chester, of
Wethersfield, the mother of many children, richly
gifted both in person and mind ; and Mary, the help-
meet of our excellent pastor, the Rev. Dr. Joseph
Strong. A mistress w^as she of the minutiaB of that
domestic science w^hich promotes household comfort
and haj^piness. Proverbially plain was she in dress
and manner, condescending to the lowliest, and of so
easy and cheerful a temiDeraraent that her words were
always mingled wdth smiles. In those days a minister
and his consort w^ere expected to be patterns in all
things to all people, and the closest critic perceived in
her only those quiet, unambitious virtues that pertain
to woman's true sphere, and a cloudless piety. Her
husband had erected a handsome parsonage within the
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 157
precincts of Huntington Square; and they and their
children formed an integral part of those weekly social
gatherings which kejDt bright the chain of affection, and
the fountain of kindred sympathy. To be occasionally
comprehended in those circles, and partake their " feast
of reason and flow of soul," which comprised always a
most liberal admixture of creature-comforts, was ac-
counted a rare privilege. i
On such an occasion I had more than once the
pleasure of seeing the venerable mother of that noble
race. To young eyes she seemed a person of extreme
age, and probably surpassed fourscore. It was beauti-
ful to note how warmly she was welcomed, and what
marked and sweet respect was paid her by all her de-
scendants. Her presence seemed the centre and crown
of their enjoyments. Tenderly cared for and honored,
she dwelt under the roof of her youngest son. General
Zachariah Huntington, until her death, which, I think,
was sudden, and from the effects of severe influenza.
This son, who superintended a mercantile establish-
ment as well as the culture of his extensive grounds,
took great delight in music. He possessed a scientific
knowledge of it, with a voice of great power and mel-
ody. A desire to improve this important department
of Divine worship induced him at one time to become
the leader of our choir in church. This voluntary ser-
vice was appreciated by the people, and the labor con-
nected with it felt to be, on his part, both a condescen-
158 LETl'KRS OF I.Il'E.
Fi'on mid :\ rcli^rinus ofTorititr. AVlicn he gave out the
name of the tune, wliicli was then always done in a
distinct enunciation, and we rose in our scats in tlic
gallery, every eye turning to him for guidance, ho
seemed, with his commanding presence and dignified
form, to our young minds a superior being. One of his
requisitions was imperative, that the female portion of
the choir should sing loithout their bonnets. That arti-
cle of apparel heing then the antipodes of the present
fashion, and formidable both for size and protrusion, he
affirmed not only intercepted the sound, but precluded
striking the key-tone with accuracy. None of us would
gainsay his wishes, and the simplicity of the times
counted it no indecorous exposure. Nevertheless, there
was sometimes, as is wont to be in more modern days
among those who sustain the sacred harmony, a mur-
muring of discordant strings. One young lady of the
Huntino;ton name, thouo^h not a near relative of his
own, chanced to take offence, and was seen on a Sun-
day morning making her way to a seat in the body of
the church.
" Come \v^ to us here," said we.
" No. Zaccheus may climb the tree alone, for all
me," was the quick reply. It ought to be mentioned
that this bad pun was by no means a fair exponent of
her native wit.
The only daughter of this gentleman, Eliza Mary
Huntington, my school associate and sisterly friend,
AEISTOCEACY OF THE OLDEX TlilE. 159
returns to my heart thronp:h the far lapse of years, as I
gather these reminiscences, and claims a heart-tribute.
Full of gay life and spirit was that beautiful girl, ear-
nest in her studies, and in the recesses for play our
leader. With the A'io-or of a fine constitution, she ex-
ulted in all graceful exercises, and the sensation of
fatigue was unknown to her. Together we scaled the
ledges of rock with which our native region abounded,
searching for hardy plants, when the wild honeysuckle
first threw out its bright pink banner. In the evening
we sometimes met, and repeated to each other the les-
sons for the next day, knitting at the same time, with
primitive simplicity, our own stockings. When the
years of school fled away, and youth ripened, her
beauty assumed a more tremulous delicacy, as though
health might not be firmly rooted. Watched over like
a fair rosebud was she by the stately father, the doting
mother, and two fond brothers, with the unwavering
idolatry of affection. They would not that the winds
of heaven should roughly visit their darling. She was
early married, and removed to the city of Xew York.
Early , too, was she transferred to that home where
they " neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are
as the angels of God."
Ah ! does that gentle head
Rest with the ancient of thy noble house
In the tomb's silence ? Many a falling tear
Answers my question from the sons of need,
IGO LETTERS OF LIFE.
Whom, hungry, tliou hast fed — uncovered, clotlicd —
And sorrowing, comforted.
With eilcnt course.
Unostentatious as the heaven-shed dew,
Thy bounties fell ; nor didst thou scatter gifts
Or utter prayers with pharisaic zeal,
For man to note. Thy praise was with thy God.
In that domestic sphere where Nature rears
Woman's meek throne, thy worth was eminent ;
Nor breathed thy goodness o'er cold, stoic hearts.
What gentleness was thine, what kind regard,
To him thou lov'dst — what dovelike tenderness
In voice and deed ! Almost Disease might bear
Its lot without complaining, wcrt thou near,
A ministering angel.
Scarce had Spring,
Weeping its tear-dews o'er thy daughter's grave,
Return'd, ere thou wert summon'd to ascend,
Like her, to that bright host whose ceaseless harps
Hymn the Redeemer.
She with earnest hand.
When gathered like a rose 'mid perfumed flowers,
Clasp'd the firm hope of everlasting life.
And thou, in trembling, less-confiding trust,
Launch'd on the surge of Death's tempestuous flood
With the same anchor.
So ye are at rest,
Where sorrow comes not. Is there room for us
In the same haven, when the Master calls ? *
* From a volume of poems, published in Boston in 1827.
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEX TIME. 161
Perhaps I should ask your pardon for adding a
tribute which, to uninterested persons, may seem com-
monplace, but which was with me a heart-voice. The
favorite companion of happy school-days, and the lov-
ing mother who installed me almost as a daughter,
when her own had found first a new residence, and last
an eternal home, it was fitting that I should record in
verse as well as in memorv.
Xeither would I omit the expression of gratitude
for attentions and kind treatment from almost every
member of the ancient aristocracv with whom I be-
came acquainted. In those days it might not have
been deemed a slight condescension to notice with a
marked, im varying regard, one of humble origin, un-
aided by wealth, and unable, even in the large hospi-
talities of social intercourse, to render an equivalent for
benefits conferred.
It was in the autumn of 1857 that I was permitted
to attend an interesting; festival in ISTorwich — the sfath-
ering, as far as was feasible, of all the remaining
branches of the great clan Huntington. Invitations
had been sent, for a year previous, in all directions, and
preliminary arrangements made for accommodation and
comfort.
Nature conspired with this movement of so many
of her friends, for the weather was fine and the scenery
paradisaical. It was in the " shining morning-face " of
Thursday, September 3d, that throngs, in carriages and
162 LKITKUS OF LIFE.
on foot, were seen weiKliiii!; llieir way toward the
meeting-house on tlic grceii, in the ancient town of
Norwich — mine own o1r1 mroting-houfic. Tlio hody of
the edifice was exchisively reserved for those in whoso
veins flowed the Huntington blood; the galleries and
outskirts were lor aliens. Every thing — the welcome
from the ]inlpit, the poem pronounced there, the hymns,
the music composed for them, the choir that rendered it
sweetly vocal — all were from the lips of Iluntingtons.
Verily they were as the chosen people, the sons of
Aaron, in that temple. The genealogical address, hap-
pily blending research with enthusiasm, was written
and delivered by the Rev. E. B. Huntington, of Stam-
ford, and is already multiplied through the press. After
the public exercises, an elegant collation spread in the
State House, with beautiful and profuse embellishment
of flowers, was enjoyed by the chosen people. The after-
noon exercises were finely varied by miscellaneous
speaking. Goodly elements had they for such an en-
tertainment — divines, statesmen, civilians, representing
the professions and occupations of our widespread land.
Among them, the tact and eloquence of Professor Hun-
tington, of Harvard University, were conspicuous.
There was a goodly sprinkling of grace and beauty
among the feminine portion of this noble house and its
collateral branches. Yet I saw no one who, in manly
symmetry and bearing, was a better exponent of its
ancient dignity and courteousness than Wolcott Hun-
ARISTOCRACY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 1G3
tington, of Norwich, a son of the late elegant Briga-
dier-General.
It was pleasant to mark the heightened action of
kindred blood, as the closing hours of the festivity-
drew near. Those who had at first scrutinized each
other with a strange kind of curiosity, now felt the
imj^ulses of affinity, clasped the parting hand with fer-
vor, and regretted that a longer period had not been
allotted to their reunion.
For my own part, I wish that such family gather-
ings were more frequent. If not always able fully to
foster ancestral pride, they would still be fruitful in
healthful sympathies, perhaps suggestive of mutual
action in the blessed fields of patriotism and benevo-
lence.
LETTER Vin.
AV KITTEN THOUGHT.
Prose, besides wlint a daily journal comprised, I
occasionally wrote in early life, but seldom impulsively.
It was a kind of job-w^ork. The melody of rhyme, like
sugar coating the pill, being absent, left the labor too
palpable. The ear having been elevated as a sort of
chief judge, sometimes took the latitude of making
sense subsidiary to sound. It was offended when its
stewardship was taken away. It did what it could to
make the mind sullen at the toil of providing more ma-
terial, as if murmuringly it said, " I cannot dig, and to
beg am ashamed.'"*
Passing events furnished themes for my verses.
They were literally extemporaneous, and if copied a
second time, seldom altered. A poem entitled " Edgar
and Ann," extending to several hundred lines, was my
longest effusion. It was a love narrative in the heroic
measure, plentifully interlarded with pathos.
Among the few remaining specimens of prose of that
TVEITTEN THOUGHT. 165
period, is one prompted by my favorite quadruped and
quondam companion, the cat, written in the quaint or-
thography of the ancient English style :
COXCERXIXG YE CATTE.
Ye dogge hath many admirers, ye catte but few.
He folio wet h manne, and is praised by him. She stay-
eth in-doors with the women, who have not much to
do with the penne, so her good deeds have little chance
of beine written down. Moreover, she is not treated
in any w^ay to encourage them. In the very days of her
innocent kittendom, the waddling babe or the cross
child do seize her up by the back or throat, dragging
her hither and thither, until her eyes start out with
pain. Her piteous mewings they heed not ; yea, when
she reposeth by the fire at night, rude boys do pull her
tail, and none reproveth. If she venture to go forth
into the streets they caste stones at her, or belabour her
with sticks. She hath great hatred of the dogge; so he
must needs be sette upon her with clapping of handes
and shoutes. She draweth up her bodie like a ball,
and enlargeth her tail marvellously, and spitteth at him
with all her might. If, peradventure, there be a tree
near, it is good lucke, for she saveth herself by climbing
whither he cannot come. Yet if he chanceth to shake
her poore carcase in pieces, who careth ? " It is only a
dead catted Now by reason of this fierce tyranny and
IGO T.KTTERS OF LIFE.
scorn, her V)Ottcr nature darctli not fully to unfolde
itself.
But look yc, my masters, yc cattc hath some good
qnnlitics, which I shall endeavour to sctte forth. I ask
ye if she he not useful. Would not ye mice and rattes
despoil all ye storehouses in ye land, were it not for
her ? I know that some do laudc ye terrier dogge.
Yet he is too oft a lazy tyke, waiting for the prey to be
caught in traps and laid before his jawes. Moreover,
he eateth more than the vermin he professcth to de-
stroys
Not only is ye despised catte useful, but accom-
plished. She hath a natural taste for musicke, and
great compasse of voice. How lulling are her tones
when she purreth, sitting on the knee of a friend !
How sweetly and tenderly speaketh she to her young
offspring ! Her more passionate strains in ye nightly
serenade are wonderful. A powerful counter might she
sing, if trained in a choir. Yet what payment getteth
she for her concerts ? I grieve to say that brick-battes
and boote-jackes are hurled at her head, with evil
wishes and cursing words too vile to repeat.
Ye catte cometh of a high familie. This is wont to
have weight with mannekinde, and womankinde also.
To be only a cousin of my Lord Duke, causeth ye stu-
pide to be runne after.
But look you, ye catte hath ye greate, grande tiger,
and ye kingly lion, for her neare relations. She boast-
WRITTEN THOUGHT. 167
eth not of her royal ancestry, neither is puffed up.
Verily she setteth an example of meekness, eating
thankfully in any darke corner such mean bittes as ye
cooke-maide throweth unto her.
Ye catte is neate. What other beaste doth dili-
gently wash its face and pawes, as if it would pay re-
spect to those with whom it dwelleth ? She also oft
cleanseth her kittens, and maketh them to be tidy. She
is a fond mother, and taketh pride in the beauty and
grace of her little ones. How carefully lifteth she them
from place to place in her mouth, holding her heade
very high lest their tender limbes be hitte or hurte.
She doth not neglecte their education, learning them to
hunte by laying a dead mouse before them, for which,
very likely, her own mouth doth water. She playeth
merrily with them, and frisketh at proper times. Yet
hath she due regard unto their manners, and boxeth
their small ears with a wide-spread paw, if they dis-
obey or displease her. Is there any other four-footed
creature that doeth these things ?
I will not pretend that ye catte hath no faults. I
cannot say that she is frank. It is not her callinsr. It
would not help her trade. She creepeth softly, and
turneth her head another way, and seeketh dark places
when she hath any evil end in view. And sometimes
they who blame the four-footed bodie loudly, do the
same thinojs.
But I say once more, that poor pussie hath not had
ICa LETTERR OF LIFE.
fjiiro jtlnyo in lliis worldc. Be kinder to her, my mas-
ters, and take some pains to improve her talents. Tlicn
shall ye l)o better able to say truly what ye catte is,
and what she is not.
Another variety of mental emj^loyment to which I
took a fancy was the composition of serious Essays, or
Meditations, with a text prefixed, which I called my
sermons. This exercise originated in those epochs, very
rare in my early history, when I was detained from pub-
lic worship on Sunday. It then became a habit to
write and read aloud in my solitary chamber two of
these j)roductions, or an additional one if a third ser-
vice was desired, compose the usual number of hymns,
and sing them in the old, established tunes, of which I
knew a great variety. Thus my secluded Sabbaths
kept up some shadow of the privileges of the sanc-
tuary, and occasionally there came over my soul a
sweet, hallowed calmness, like a premonition of that
clime where praise is perpetual.
From a mass of these manuscripts on coarse gray
foolscap paper, the ink faded by time, I select two or
three specimens for your friendly perusal :
WRITTEX THOUGHT. 169
I.
" When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers ; the moon
and the stars which thou hast ordained ; what is man, that thou art
mindful of him ? and the son of man, that thou visitest him ? " — Psalm
Tin. 3, 4.
The pride of our nature iDcliues us to think too
highly of ourselves. It is prone to covet a high station
in the scale of being. Hence, the first work of devotion
is to teach humility. The first breathing of the Holy
Spirit upon man is the lesson of his imperfection and
dependence.
This self-abasement seemed to have been heightened
in the mind of the Psalmist by a contemplation of the
heavenly bodies. The lofty expanse, studded with ma-
jestic orbs apparently countless and immeasurable, yet
all maintainino' the law of order enforced at their crea-
tion, uplifted his conceptions to new adoration of that
Power who cast them forth as atoms into emjDty space,
yet " calleth all by their names, bringeth forth Mazza-
roth in his seasons, and guiding Arcturus with his
sons." Then in such strong contrast aj)peared his own
insignificance and frailty, that he uttered the impres-
sive interrogation, " What is man, that thou art mind-
ful of him ? and the son of man, that thou visitest
him?"
The study of the stars was one of the earliest
sciences that attracted the human mind. The most an-
8
170 LETTERS OF LIFE.
ciont nations, the Assyrians and Egyjitians, pursued
it willi avidity. Thoy debased it to superstition by
their tlicories of judicial astrology. The worship of the
heavenly bodies was the prevalent form of idolatry in
the East. Perceiving them to have some influence over
vegetable life, they inferred an invisible agency over
the constitution and fortunes of man.
To strike at the root of this error, Moses informs
Israel that Jehovah formed them like other masses of
inert matter, and sent tlicm forth to their appointed or-
bits, for the service, not the worship of Ilis intelligent
creatures. In his valedictory, just before the death-
stroke, he again reminds them that those luminaries,
which they were moved ignorantly to adore, were or-
dained by the Almighty Maker as servants to every
beholder, without regard to rank, for " He hath divided
them to all nations under heaven."
Still the chosen people did not purify themselves
from this idolatry. The prophet Jeremiah upbraids
them with pouring out offerings to the moon, and bid-
ding their children participate as to the " queen of
heaven." Amos, the inspired herdsman of Tekoah, re-
proves them concerning the " star of their god," and
their tabernacles of imagery, and warns them to " seek
Him who maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turn-
eth the shadow of death into the morning." He is
quoted by the martyr Stephen in his last bold and elo-
quent appeal : " Yea, ye took up the tabernacle of Mo-
WKITTEX THOUGHT. 171
loch, and the star of your god Reraphan, figures which
ye have made to worship."
By these facts we see the general observance that
the luminaries which make the sky glorious, obtained
from man in the earliest times ; and also his proneness
to change light into darkness, and let the Creator be
hidden from his soul by the very magnificence which
should disclose Him. This was, however, a more ex-
cusable infirmity in the heathen world, to whom He
had not been clearly revealed. To us, the spangled
concave should be the volume of devotion. On its
pages are inscribed in unfading characters the might
and goodness of the Supreme. There, as untiring
teachers, are orbs of difiering magnitudes, pursuing
difierent paths, yet never violating the laws given
them when at first " the morning stars sang together,
and all the sons of God shouted for joy." Can we be-
hold their beautiful obedience, their unbroken repose,
and not feel reproved for our own wilful and wayward
courses ?
When we consider the most remote stars as centres
to other systems, from which innumerable revolving
satellites gather garments of light and songs of praise ;
when we think of their myriad inhabitants, drinking
existence from One Source, dependent for every breath
on His will, we are lost in a labyrinth of wonders.
We fear to be forgotten ourselves. " Lord, what are
172 LETTERS OF LIFE.
wc, .ind what is our fatlicr's liouse, that Thou shonldcst
be 111 i 11(11 ul of us, or visit us ? "
"With iTflcotions like these, let mc view the expanse
of heaven. Higher reverence for God and deeper self-
knowledge will thus be cherislicfl. Gratitude should
also spring up at the thought, that from Ilis lofty habi-
tation above the stars He should deign to take note of
us, worms at the footstool. Never again would I be a
discordant string in the harmony of Ilis creation. I
would rejoice to devote my time, my talents, ray being
to Ilim, their Author. ^
Humility is the robe in which the highest archangel
stands before the Throne. It would be fitting for us,
were we perfect in innocence. But when we think of
our native frailty — of our follies, derived, habitual, and,
stranger still, forgotten — we shudder at the thought of
human pride, and are lost in astonishment at the Divine
forbearance, like the Psalmist-king, or repeat the words
of the poet who sometimes caught his devout, tuneful
spirit :
" That God who darts His lightnings down,
Who rules the worlds above,
And mountains tremble at His frown —
How wondrous is His love !
■WRITTEN THOUGHT. 1Y3
n.
" How long halt ye between two opinions ? If the Lord be God,
follow Him : but if Baal, then follow him. And the people answered
him not a word." — 1 Kings xviii. 21.
The blessed Scriptures contain instruction for the
inrnorant, encouraofcnient for the timid, exhortation and
exam^^le for all. There is no crime so abandoned, no
sinner so depraved, that they deign not to consider and
admonish. They would that all should be saved.
This passage from one of their sacred historians is
interesting in several points of view. It presents a
vivid picture. Elijah was called upon to contend sin-
gly with the nine hundred and fifty idolatrous prophets
of Baal and of the groves. Look at the throngs gath-
ering in their curiosity, with eyes bent scornfully on
the solitary herald of the truth, or triumphantly on
their own infuriated, vociferous champions. There
they stand, representatives of a degenerate nation,
sunk in idolatry, the sport of corru2:>t minions, and
awed by an infamous monarch, Ahab, and his still more
infamous queen. Neither the three years' famine, nor
the sealed windows of heaven, nor the perished ver-
dure of the land, could arouse their death-like stupid-
ity. Their blinded priests, hardened in conscience, re-
jected the law of Jehovah. The prophet appeals not
to their forfeited reason, but touches them with the
sting of satire ; for when the armor of the king of
174 LKTTERS OF LIFE.
Isriicl j^roved incfTectnal, the shcplicnl's sling and stone
slew IIk' giant.
" Cry nlond : for lie is a god : either lie is talking,
or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or perad venture
he slcepeth, and must be awaked."
The result of this trial was decisive. The voice of
convinced Israel exclaimed : " The Lord, he is the God I
the Lord, he is the God ! " Methinks the echo of their
great shout reaches us over the buried ages. With it
also comes the injunction of the victorious prophet,
" Follow Him." Is He not deserving of the fealty of
all His creatures ? Are they not fashioned by His
hand — supported by His love ? Doth not His faithful-
ness surround them ? Are not His mercies new every
morning, fresh every moment ? Linger they not
through the shades of every evening, the w^atches of
every night ? His power and goodness are plain to the
comprehension of the simplest one at His footstool, and
by all ties, natural, moral, and divine, they are bound
to serve Him.
Whence, then, this indecision — this balancing on a
point of such clearness and importance ? Is it not fatal
to the interests of time — to the welfare of eternity ?
Here we dwell in God's garden, refreshing ourselves
with its fruits, its fragrance, and its bloom, yet doubt-
ful w^hether to thank and obey Him, or to clasp the
hand of His enemy.
It was not always thus. There were Christians of
WKITTEX THOUGHT. 175
old who Stood unmoved amid the ruins of their altars,
content to die for the faith they had espoused. Wick-
liffe, Jo^n Huss, and Jerome of Prague bore perilous
testimony to the truth. Luther, the rugged Atlas of
Germany, stood unmoved by persecution — a " bush
burning, yet not consumed."
" The people answered not a word." Why ? Was
there nothing to say ? Was not the appeal forcible ?
And is it not much more so now, through the eloquence
of Him who in His own person " tasted death for
every man " ? Yet here is the smile of pleasure, and
the sun of prosperity, and the blandishments of the
things that " perish in the using," and for their sake we
turn away from the voice of Him that " speaketh from
heaven."
Man, though often deceived by the objects with
which he deals, finds nothing more deceitflil than his
own heart. Ere he plunges deeply in guilt, he is prone
to pause, and resolve not to wander long or wide in
paths that are forbidden. Perhaps he proposes that his
first step over the boundary of virtue shall be the last.
Perhaps he sees a path almost parallel to it, but slightly
diverging. He enters it, and they never again reunite.
Their goals are as diverse as the scroans of hell and the
melodies of heaven.
Oh, soul of mine ! see the end of this " halting be-
tween two opinions." Dost thou hesitate whether to
choose the God of all grace and consolation, or him
176 LKITKKS OF LIFE.
"who by vanity and lies deceived the mother of man-
kind, and was "a murderer from tlie beginning"?
How lonix ere tliou wilt come to a decision ? Hast
thou centuries to waste, that time is thus cast away ?
Has an existence measured by setting suns any right to
be prodigal ? Answer tlie question of the majestic
prophet, " IIow long ? " Till the mists of evening
gather — till thou art swept away, like a forgotten
flower ? Oh, no — no ! Now let the things that be-
long to your everlasting peace be secured ; let this
" day be your accepted time, your great day of salva-
tion."
III.
"I exhort, therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, iu-
tercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all men." — 1 Timothy
II. 1.
Is this injunction of the eloquent apostle often fully
obeyed ? We resort to prayer as a privilege, when
sorrow oppresses us. In that bitterness of heart which
exposes the vanity of earthly helpers, we flee to the
Throne of Mercy ; and if the burden is not taken away,
strength comes to bear it. Yet is there not sometimes
an exclusiveness — I had almost said a selfishness — in our
devotions ? We seek medicine for ourselves : do we
always remember to bring the diseases of others to the
WRITTEN THOUGHT. 1T7
Great Physician ? For those who are dearest to us
perhaps we say with fervor, " Oh, deign to heal my
parent — my life's companion — my child — my friend ;
prosper their designs, and protect them from all evil."
Yet the supplication is for those who are a part of our-
selves. Their sufferings affect us, in their blessings we
participate.
The inspired passage on which we meditate requires
a broader benevolence. It is not restricted to individu-
als, to families, to communities, to native country, or to
kindred blood. It is as wide as creation. It comprises
" all men."
But shall we pray for strangers ? Why not ? Did
our Master make any reservation of people, or kindred,
or tongue ? Did not the prophets, who saw Him afar
off, utter truly the language of His great salvation :
" Come unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the
earth " ?
When we pray for those within the sphere of our
influence, a deeper love springs up for them, a stronger
desire to do them service. When we implore pity for
the mourner, and support for those who are about to
pass over the cold river of Death, we turn with more
devout and chastened joy to our homes, still unvisited
by the Destroying Angel. When we intercede for
those who pine with famine, or tremble beneath oppres-
sion, is not the fervor of pious gratitude quickened by
the contrast with our own plentiful and peaceful land?
178 LETTERS OF LIFE.
When the wooR of the heathen — the iflolatrous ITindoo,
the beiiiixhlcd African, the neL,^lectecl American forest-
Bon, or llie blinded Jew — wing our ]jrayers, is not the
bond of brotlierliood witli the whole human family
made more fervent and complete ?
If we pray for strangers, shall we not also pray for
enemies ? What was the example given on Mount Cal-
vary, when the rocks rent, and the dead came forth
from their graves ? For whom did the expiring Sa-
viour supplicate, "Father, forgive"? "Was it not for
his murderers ? And are we his followers ? But at
what a distance ! We are commanded to sacnfice a
few wrongs, aversions, prejudices — shadows that must
soon fleet away, and in eternity be forgotten. Yet,
when we are reviled, we ofttiraes revile again ; when
we suffer, w^e threaten — reversing the Christian code,
and omitting to pray for those who despitefully use or
persecute us. Nay, are we not sometimes vindictive
with little cause, and implacable for fancied injuries ?
How, then, can we be the true discij)les of Him who
was patient unto death, and whose birth-song was
good-will and peace to all mankind ?
The rule given by the primitive Christians is accord-
ant with the spirit of our text, that when we receive
from others unkind words or deeds, we should, as soon
as possible, retire, and entreat our Father in heaven to
bestow on them some benefit. Whoever should perse-
vere in this course would receive a blessing in himself.
WRITTEN THOUGHT. 1V9
It would be found the most effectual course to eradicate
ill-will, revenge, and hatred, with all the bitter and
baneful fruits that flourish within their dark enclosures.
Benevolence would thus be quickened, humility made
more profound, and the warm wish that all men be
blest, ascend a constant and pleasing orison to a Deity
whose nature is love.
Let us meditate more frequently on this inspired
command. Formed as we are for social intercourse, the
universal brotherhood of our kind should be an accept-
able doctrine. The paired birds seek the shelter of one
nest ; all animals of gentle heart are gregarious ; it is
only the savage beast that chooses to stalk forth alone,
prowling for prey and blood. To civilized man, the
sweetest sound is the voice of man ; the fairest sight,
that countenance which was made in the image of its
Creator. Christian faith, by sublimating these im-
pulses, is able to make his purest delight consist in
doing good — in expanding the circle of his charities ;
until, embracing the whole household of humanity, he
is moved in the ardor of devotion to spread the wants
of " all men " before his Father and their Father, his
God and their God.
A work on the subject of Prayer bears date among
my early compositions. Its plan was threefold : first,
all the instances recorded in Scripture of the efticacy
180 LETTERS OF LIFE.
of prayer; sccoiully, examples from history of answered
prayer; thirdly, the written testimony to its solace and
power hy Christians, in nil ages of the world. I think
now, witli my added literary ex^icrience, that the plan
was excellent. I pursued it with zeal, and it was more
voluminous than all my adolescent works. l>ut I liave
an idea that it was heavy, inasmuch as I never could
bear to read it myself. When last I saw it there
Beemed some danger of its being suffocated under a pile
of incumbent manuscrij^ts. Sometime w^hen I am in
good courage I will seek for it ; but not to inflict it on
you.
Occasionally I indulged myself in imitating the
style of the historical parts of the Old Testament.
This I was first induced to do by admiring a parable of
Dr. Franklin, w^hich exhibits a remarkably successful
similarity.
When still very young I had been much pleased
with a brief history of the mother-land, in pamphlet
form, entitled " The Chronicles of the Kings of Eng-
land." I wish I could find it now. The quaintness of
some of its expressions still dwells in memory. After
a good description of the Gunpowder Plot, the simple
phrase, " and James was glad that he was alive," de-
picted more clearly the happy state of the monarch's
mind than an elaborate portraiture.
Fancying that this style was adapted to make last-
ing impression on the retentive powers, and being fa-
WKITTEX THOUGHT. 181
miliar with it by daily perusal of the Sacred Yolume in
retirement, I conceived the ambitious design of en-
wrapping in it some events of our own national his-
tory. It did not strike me as involving aught of irrev-
erence, for that would have shocked me beyond meas-
ure. It seemed to me a vehicle of thought, beautiful
for simplicity, and capable, both by its amplifications
and elisions, of producing a peculiar effect. Here is
one, on a rather undignified event, but which bore de-
cidedly upon the progress of our Revolution. I am not
certain but this has, at some time or other, got into
print, as have many of my juvenile compositions.
It was in 1773, while the spirit of alienation was
quickening among the colonies, that a determination
was formed to resist the introduction of large quanti-
ties of tea made subject to taxation. The ministry of
Great Britain sustained the East India Company in this
policy, who were desirous of disposing on the best
terms of their accumulated stores of this article. Phila-
delphia was the first to lift her voice against tea and
taxation; but Boston was the leader in action, and,
resolute even to rashness, boarded three vessels laden
with tea that entered her harbor, and threw their en-
tire cargoes overboard.
182 LETTERS OF LIFE.
THE BOSTONIANS AND TUE TEA.
It came to pass, in tlic days tliat were before us,
that a vessel of small size did spread its white sails
over the far sea. Wind and storra stood in its way, as
it steered toward a waste land and desolate. But be-
hold, her people said, " Here w411 we abide forever, that
we may be free — we, and our children after us."
So they cut branches from the trees of the forest,
and built unto themselves booths, and became dwellers
among the heathen. Great perils had they from scarce-
ness of bread ; and when the snows of winter fell, and
frost turned the waters to stone, divers of them died,
and were buried. Yet the residue of them repined not,
but trusted in God.
So, after many days, they multiplied in the land,
and sowed corn, and had cattle, and waxed strong. In
the time of their famine, and likewise of their pros-
perity, among their chief comforts was a plant from a
far country toward the rising sun, which they called
Tea. Its dried leaves were precious in their sight ; and
some accounted the infusion thereof better than the
blood of the vine.
Now, it came to pass, that beyond the great waters
was a mighty realm, calling herself their Mother. And
she spake, saying : " Of this tea drink ye as much as
your soul desireth ; ye, and your wives, and also your
TVTinTEN THOUGHT. 183
lictle ones. Ye shall buy it with money, and pay unto
lae a tax, over and above the price thereof."
Then said they : " 3fust we pay this tax unto thee,
whether we consent or not ? " So, the great mother-
land, wearing upon her head a crown, and having fast
by her throne men of wealth, bearing the name of the
East India Company, did answer and say : " Yea,
verily, without your consent."
Now the dwellers in the new western world waxed
wroth, and their countenances were changed. And
they lifted up a loud voice, saying : " Xay ; we will
pay no taxes without our consent. See ye to that."
Now, behold, there came unto the haven, and cast
anchor therein, vessels full of tea belons^ins: unto the
East India Company. And the men of Boston took
counsel together, saying : " What shall we do ? If this
entereth within our borders, then will the shekels be
demanded, which it is hateful unto our souls to pay, be-
cause we have not consented thereunto."
But certain of the boldest ones, when they had con-
ferred together in secret, said unto their brethren :
" Keep ye silence. Go unto your homes, and we will
manage this matter." So they went every one to his
own home.
And when the darkness of night had come, lo !
there entered into those vessels men who did appear
like unto the wild natives of the land, inasmuch as they
were clad in their raiment. And they spake no word,
184 LETTERS OF LIFE.
but qui(^kly -with liatcrliets brake all the boxes, and whL+.
"was t heroin cast tbey into the sea, and so departed. /
Then were tlic deep waters blackened by the ccior
of the tea, and the fishes affris^hted. And those -who
had knowledge of that hidden realm did say, that the
sharks who disported themselves in that tea-tank were
quiet for a season, and the dolphins slept a great sleep.
Moreover, Neptune, when he beheld the darkening
of the deep, shook his trident, saying in wrath,
"Wherefore is this waste?" Moreover, he com-
plained that this had not been made known unto him ;
for he would bave bidden sundry of the sea-gods, who
had been civil unto him, to a tea-party.
So the men who had thrown into the sea this great
store of the Chinese plant, turned and went every man
unto bis own home, ere the morning dawn. And when
the sun arose, certain of their wives did question them,
saying : " Why tarried ye so long away, in the dark
night ? And where found ye such plenty of tea, that
it should be shaken on the floor in heaps, when ye took
the shoes from your feet ? "
But they held their peace, and spake never a word,
so that the wives marvelled. When the morning was
fully come, they called together all their households,
and spake unto them with authority, saying : " Ye
shall taste no tea, not one of you ; neither shall it pass
through your lips, for it is accursed."
So in all that goodly town, the herb of China, with
WEITTEX THOUGHT. 185
the pots and flagons appertaining thereunto, was ban-
ished from every table. Divers also of the ancient
women did murmur within their tents, saying : " Ye
have taken away that which did comfort us in all our
toil. An evil and bitter thing did they do who cast it
into the sea. And lo ! because of this, sleep hath de-
parted from our eyes."
But the wise men, who looked into the future con-
cerning this matter, answered with kind words, saying :
" Be ye of a good courage ; for, peradventure, there
shall grow herefrom an excellent thing, that ye wot not
of, even a fair heritage to a free people."
LETTER IX.
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBRANCES.
TuE memories of the time devoted to the education
of others are faithfully cherished and fondly recalled.
They beckon me with a loving smile, and I willingly
follow. They embrace the most cloudless period of
my life, the most methodical, tranquil, and conge-
nial.
My earliest promptings of ambition were, not to
possess the trappings of wealth or the indulgences of
luxury, but to keep a school. A modest aspiration
truly, yet predominant in the reveries to which I was
addicted. Only children, probably, are more in the
habit of making their lonely hours dramatic, than those
whose companionship with brothers and sisters leads
them to the sports and affinities of outer life. At all
events, with the visiting thoughts that cheered my
solitary childhood, snatches of song I know not from
whence, and scenes peopled by fancy, came vivid pen-
cillings of the delight, dignity, and glory of a school-
EDUCATIONAL EEMEilBEAXCES. 187
mistress. "Whereupon I arranged my dolls in various
classes, instructing them not only in the scanty knowl-
edge I had myself attained, but boldly exhorting and
lecturing them on the higher moral duties.
According to their imagined progress or obedience,
they were elevated from shelf to shelf in the baby-
house, which, being a capacious beaufet of carved oak,
with many compartments, was favorable to this grada-
tion of discipline. Afterwards, when I became, at the
age of four, a member of school, I observed as a sort
of adept the modus operandi ; while these incipient
criticisms, with the previous doll-practice, were not
without their use when, in due time, the ruling hope
reached fruition.
In the early bloom of youth, surrounded by the
attractions of life's gayest period, interested in its inno-
cent pleasures, and hapjoy with loving and loved asso-
ciates, the desire of teaching remained inherent and
unimpaired. It was not sustained by sympathy, for I
cherished it in secret ; nor by example, as my young
friends had no such ambition, and, had they discoA'ered
mine, might have regarded it with surprise or ridicule.
Yet there it dwelt, as the germ that the snows cover,
biding its time.
I did not fully communicate it even to my parents,
for I thouirht it mic^ht strike them as arroc^ance. Yet
ray mother, who with a kind of second sight had
always read my heart, knew its unuttered yearning.
188 LETTERS OF LIFE.
She liad prohaMy cnliii^htcned licrsclf also by somo
passapjcs in a journal, which I closely concealed, and
bolievcd to ho private.
]My fatluT marvelled at my })referencc, hut not more
than I at his proposal to tit up one of our pleasantost
apartments for my chosen purpose. AVith Avhat exulta-
tion I welcomed a new, long desk and hcnchea neatly
made of fair, wliite wood ! To these I proceeded to
add an hour-glass, and a few other articles of conven-
ience and adornment. My active imagination peopled
the room with attentive scholars, and I meditated the
opening address, which I trusted would win their
hearts, and the rules that were to regulate their con-
duct. Without delay I set forth to obtain those per-
sonages, bearing a prospectus, very beautifully written,
of an extensive course of English studies, with instruc-
tion in needlework. My slight knowledge of the world
induced me to offer it courageously to ladies in their
parlors, or fathers in their stores, who had daughters of
an age adaj^ted to my course. I did not anticipate the
difficulty of one at so early an age suddenly installing
herself in a position of that nature, especially among
her own people. Day after day I returned from my
walk of solicitation without a name on my catalogue.
Yet with every morning came fresh zeal to persevere.
At length, wearied with fruitless pedestrian excursions
and still more dej^ressing refusals, I opened my school
with two sweet little girls of eleven and nine years old.
f EDUCATIONAL EEilEMBEAXCES. 189
Consolatoi-y was it to my chastened vanity that they
were of the highest and most wealthy families among
us. Cousins were they, both bearing the aristocratic
name of Lathrop. Very happy was I with these plas-
tic and lovely beings. Six hours of five days in the
week, besides three on Saturday, did I sedulously
devote to them, questioning, simplifying, illustrating,
and impressing various departments of knowledge, as
though a large class were auditors. A young lady
from Massachusetts, of the name of Bliss, being in
town for a short time, also joined us during that inter-
val, to pursue drawing, and painting in water-colors.
At the close of our term, or quarter as it was then
called, was an elaborate examination in all the studies,
with which the invited guests signified their entire
approbation.
It might be supposed that this experience of the
actual labor of teaching, T\'ithout eclat or pecuniary
gain, might have checked my enthusiasm in that de-
partment. Xot a whit. It was a love which stood the
test, as the sapling strikes deeper from the trials of its
first season. I only sought another opportunity of re-
newinsr the toil. And it came.
The father of my most intimate friend had sustained
a reverse of fortune. She meditated how to aid him, as
he had no son, and was past the prime of days. The
office of a teacher seemed the only feasible channel.
Our intellectual sympathies had been long in unison ;
100 LETTERS OF LIFE.
now, our purposes " like kindred drops were melted into
one."
It was sup:gestcd that residence at a boarding-scliool
in one of the lai'c^er cities, and attention to those orna-
mental branches wliich the taste of the times demand-
ed, might give a prestige to our desired profession.
Forthwith, at the coldest period of one of our coldest
winters, without companion or protector, we miglit
have been seen slowly rumbling in the stage-coach over
frozen ground, for the greater part of a day, toward
the banks of the ice-bound Connecticut. At two of the
best seminaries that Hartford then afforded, we devoted
ourselves to the accomplishments of drawing, painting
in water-colors, embroidery of various kinds, filigree,
and other things too tedious to mention. " Cobwebs to
catch flies," said my sw^eet associate with a sigh, as we
laid by our working implements late at night, our
hearts turning to our distant homes, and the fond
parents who missed from their fireside the brig-htness
of the one young face.
At our return, and announcement that we would
open a joint school, we were thronged with applicants.
Its location was on the beautiful plain between the old
town and the southern section of Norwich, where we
became fellow-boarders with the widowed sister of my
friend.
The first appearance before our assembled disciples
was formidable. There they were, in full array, every
EDUCATIONAL KEMEiTBKAXCES. 191
eye fixed in curious and significant inquiry. Most of
them were entire strangers. We were known to be
young, and would be considered, even by close observ-
ers, younger than we were. How should we clothe
ourselves with the dignity and authority which were
then held essential to the oflice we had assumed ?
The subject of daily commencing and closing our
school with 2^1'ayer had been discussed between my
friend and myself. It was the only point which we did
not view as with the same eyes. The custom was not
in those days prevalent in female schools, especially
where the teachers were so youthful. She was fearful
of ostentation. She was diffident, and extemporary
prayer, which was required by the religious denomina-
tion to which we belonged, seemed an eSbrt, and a
cross which she shrank to take up.
Being her senior by six months, it was decided that
the responsibility of the first, most appalling, day must
be mine.
Never shall I forget the relief that came over my
burdened spirit, when, after having all read together
a chapter from the blessed Scriptures, my supplication
arose to the Father of Lights for His guidance and
smile on our future intercourse. Never before was a
full interpretation given to the passage :
"Nothing in my hand I bring:
Simply to Thy cross I cling."
192 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Strength entered into my soul, and a peace unspeak-
able. Every face was clothed with new beauty. We
were all the children of one Father. lie had l)rought
U8 together, that we might do each other good. Hence-
forth we were no more strangers, but members of a
dear household, of which He was the Head. Ever
afterwards, this daily exercise, commenced with such
timidity and lowliness of soul, seemed fraught with
comfort, and fortified by the promise, " In all thy ways
acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths." My
loved friend also took part in it, and throughout the
whole of our course as teachers, there was as perfect a
coincidence as could be expected to exist between sepa-
rate minds ; indeed, it might almost seem like one mind
or soul inhabiting two bodies.
Arm in arm, like sisters, we entered school every
morning, and, after our sweet devotional services, sepa-
rated, one to the chair of supreme authority, and the
other to a seat among the pupils. There, while mingling
in their pursuits and sympathies, she secretly exercised
an influence over both, leading them by her example to
application, order, and obedience. Thus, escaping the
inconvenience of " two kings of Brentford sitting on
one throne," we were alternately principal and subal-
tern, ruler and ruled.
Six hours daily we gave to our school, except Satur-
day, when there was only a semi-session. Neither was
our office any sinecure. Our pupils were of different
EDUCATIONAL EE3IEMBRAXCES. 193
ages and grades of improvement, some, indeed, older
than ourselves, so that accurate classification was a
matter of labor as well as tacj. Our course of study
was extensive for the times, and thorough. We en-
couraged them to question us on points not well under-
stood, and, as we required of them readiness of reply-
in recitation, found it necessary to review our own
studies, especially historical ones, lest some inquiry of
a chronological character should cause hesitation, or
haply disclose ignorance.
We attached great importance to clear, fair chi-
rography. One hour every morning was devoted to
this accomplishment. It was one of earnest manual as
well as mental effort. Metallic pens were unknown,
and we set copies in their writing-hooks with our own
hands. Our knives must be continually sharpened for
manipulation upon the goose-quills which solicited us
from every quarter, like the bristling of chevaux-de-
frise. We were continually on our feet during that
hour, overlooking and advising the writers, making and
mending pens, which sometimes seemed to us returned
for alteration with capricious frequency.
But the muscular fatigue of the chirographical
morninfr hour was nothino; to the onerous labor of the
afternoons, which it was expected we should devote to
the ornamental branches. The number and nature of
these it would be tedious to enumerate. The super-
vision of the fancy-work that then entered into femi-
104 LKTTliIRS OF LIFE.
nine training taxed us body and mind. Tliorc were the
varit'd di'signs and nameless sliades of embroidery in
pilks ; th(^ progress of the brilliant filigree from its first
inception ; the countless varieties of wrought muslin
essential to a lady-like wardrobe ; and the movements
of pencil and paint-brush, from the transcript of tlie
simplest flower to the landscape, the group of figures,
or " the human face divine."
Besides these, the fitting and responsibility of what
was termed plain icorJc devolved upon us. Among the
most elaborate portions of this department was the
construction of fine linen shirts, with their appanage
of ruffles. Though occasionally sorely puzzled, we soon
discovered that it was our policy, perhaps safety, to
ajopear to be ignorant of nothing. Young as we were,
we boldly adventured on untried ground, though with
many things that we were expected to teach we had as
little congeniality as experience. Yet a deep interest
in the welfare of those whom we instructed, and their
affectionate attentions, lightened every toil. In process
of time, what was at first laborious became easy, and
the irksome pleasant.
Still, the chief solace was our own unswerving, all-
pervading friendship. Every evening, in our seques-
tered nook, we confidentially comjoared the result of
our investigations during the day, imparted such idioms
of character as had unfolded, taking counsel for the
reform of those who needed it, and for the welfare of
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBRANCES. 195
all. Double force was thus concentrated for action,
and each, in shielding the breast of her loved one, more
imperviously guarded her own. Methinks I still hear
those tones of sweetness, that often mingled with the
liquid moonlight, as they soothed both ear and heart.
We were also cheered by the appreciation of those
whom we served. This was evinced by affectionate
attentions, and a respectful deportment beyond what,
at our immature asce, we mi2;ht have rationally antici-
pated. The foundation was also laid for some pleas-
ant friendships, which lapse of years has not extin-
guished.
The increasing number of scholars made it neces-
sary, the second year, to provide more spacious accom-
modations. We therefore obtained a fine, large build-
ing, formerly used for a public school. It was situated
on rather a steep hill, from whence we had a delightful
view of the winding Thames, and the romantic beauty
of its banks. Fail' surroundings, during the process of
education, are salubrious to the young. The charms of
Nature cheat study of its weariness, and refine the
heart while they enrich the mind. It has been well
said, that " those who do not appreciate the beautiful
have no heart for what is good."
Our new edifice, being in the centre of the southern
section, or what was called the Landing, obliged us to
seek a nearer boarding place, and we became denizens
under the roof of an aunt of my friend — a pleasing
190 LETTERS OF LIFE.
lady, of nniiiiatcd, graceful manners, and an excellent
housekeeper. Her liusbaiid, C\'i))tain Krastus Perkins,
Avlio was nuicli older than herself", had been, in earlier
life, a skilful, practical navigator. His quietness, and
equanimity of temperament on all occasions, attracted
our admiration. "We spoke of it to each other as what,
in physiological science, denoted longevity. Without
arrogating the honor of prophecy, our token became
true. He completed more than a century in health and
comfort, beloved by all who knew him. To borrow
the simple words of a German j^oet :
" There flowed around that good man's ears
The silver of a hundred years."
Our school continued to grow in popular favor, and
the parents and friends of our pupils vied with each
other in polite attentions and proofs of regard. The
sole drawback to the felicity of our lot was the loneli-
ness of our parents. Especially were those of my
loved associate unreconciled to her protracted absence.
I could perceive that the Saturday afternoon and Sun-
day spent with them only heightened their desire to
retain her longer, and that the sorrow of parting on
Monday morning overshadowed her sweet spirit during
the early portion of the week. I fancied also that my
beautiful mother looked a little pale and thin, though
she made no complaint. After consultation, and taking
into full view our filial duties, we decided on the plan of
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBRANCES. 197
SO dividing our labors that eacli could remain at home
every other week. Our plan of instruction and discipline
had been so Ions: established, that it was thousjht this
alternation of service might involve no loss to its subjects.
But ere long inconveniences became apparent. The
school was large and miscellaneous in its elements, and
missed the force of the double rein. My second self
was discovered to be the most indul2:ent. The truth is,
she had not indwellin^c enousrh with au2;ht of evil, to
look out for or to manasce it. There were not wantins:
some S2)irits to take advantage of this. They calcu-
lated every other week to have what they called a
" good time." As I was a stickler for strict order, a
part of my week was devoted to restoring the effects
of the carnival of the preceding one. I would not
imply there was any thing morally wrong among them,
but they simply followed the dictates of nature in wish-
ing to have their own way.
We also missed the great solace of our teaching,
the confidential evenings of friendship, which, next to
Divine aid, gave us strength for the burdens of the
day. After a season our parents consented that the
experiment should cease, and we resumed our conjoint
authority.
Our school, from the moderate price of tuition —
which was three dollars per quarter, the accustomed
price in those days — yielded us no great pecuniary
gain. I was anxious that my dear parents should have
198 LETTERS OF LIFE.
a more tani^iblo recompense for tlie loss of my time and
filiiil service, and therefore determined to save the ex-
pense of board by retnrninir every night. This implied
a daily walk of fully four miles, the accommodations of
omnibus and livery stable being then wholly unknown
in that region. My friend continued a boarder as here-
tofore, and my enterprise was censured as Quixotic.
But the motive sustained me, and I doubt whether at
any period of my life I was ever more perfectly
happy.
My morning walk of two miles imparted such vigor
and cheerfulness that the cares of teaching were unfelt.
My noon's repast consisted of two or three hard bis-
cuits, made in the most delicate manner by my mother,
and placed by her hand in my little bag. They were
taken, as I sat with a book, when the weather was fine,
under some umbrageous trees in the grounds at the
rear of our school-house. I needed nothing more, but
was satisfied and light-hearted. At night, our work
done, the image of my watching, welcoming parents
nerved my feet, and bore me over the intervening
space as on the wings of a bird. Sometimes there
were severe storms. Then the parents of such pupils
as lived in my section of the town were kind enough to
take me in the family carriage with their daughters.
These occasions were, however, but few ; and the
amount of exercise, which had been deprecated by
friends and even blamed by physicians, thus combining
EDUCATIONAL EEMEMBEAXCES. 199
with the occujiation that I loved, gave elasticity to the
spirits and energy to the constitution.
Great was my enjoyment in this school at Chelsea.
The studies were thoroughly taught and zealously pur-
sued. Among its members were some possessing supe-
rior talents and great loveliness of character. AVe
were also fortunate in awakening a warm and in many
cases an unswervinsr attachment. It was to me a
source of deep regret when, on the arrival of the in-
clement season of Avinter, it was deemed advisable to
dismiss until the spring. The united voice of the two
houses of parents prevailed. They considered no gain
of money equivalent to the loss of our society during
the long evening and the wintry storm. It was our
duty to consult first their happiness. The i:>arting was
diminished in pain by the expectation of recommencing
in spring, and by the pleasant memories that we bore
with us to our sweet homes.
The enjoyment of the parents in the restitution of
their broken trio, was now entire. Still, with me the
habit of teaching: seemed to have become an essential
element of happiness. Therefore I procured a large
room at a neighboring house, and opened a gratuitous
school twice a week for poor children. My principal
object was to impart religious instruction, Sunday-
schools not having then commenced in our country.
It being understood that books, and also articles of
clothing, were sometimes distributed, my apartment
'JOO LKTTKRS OF LIFE.
was tlirona;c(l. As the coniiort of a tcaclicr docs not
wliolly <lc'j)('ii<l on tlic liigli erudition of the puj)ils, I
found mncli gratification in this liunible sphere of
action.
One of my favorite classes was of sable hue. My
dark-browcd people were obviously grateful for com-
mon attentions, and being most of them quite young,
and intellectually untrained, I felt no little pride in
their progress. But occasionally this dangerous senti-
ment was doomed to a downfall. Once, for instance,
while recapitulating explanations of the Sermon on the
Mount, which had been ofttimes enforced, and in a
manner, as I flattered myself, quite admirable for sim-
plicity, I asked them the meaning of the " alms " which
our blessed Saviour had commanded should not be
done to be seen of men. Whereupon they promptly
and exultingly responded : " Oh ! guns, pistols, clubs,
and such like." I humbled myself at the ignorance of
my disciples, as every instructor ought.
In the mean time that kind Providence, which al-
ways surpasses our deserts, and often our imaginings,
was invisibly preparing for me the fruition of my de-
sires — a school where I might carry out my own ideas
of discipline, and pursue not solely the culture of in-
tellect, but the education of the heart and life. I was
invited to pass the festivities of Election in Hartford,
by the relatives of my dear, departed benefactress.
Madam Lathrop. At the close of the visit, which had
EDUCATIONAL EEMEMBKAXCES. 201
been prolonged beyond my original intention, it was
proposed by Daniel Wadsworth, Esq., a name synony-
mous with every form of goodness, that I should take
charge of a select number of young ladies, the children
of his friends, and continue under the roof of his vener-
ated mother, where I had been for more than two
months a cherished guest. My whole soul overflowed
with o-ratitude. Xothins; was wantino: but the consent
of my parents. This they freely accorded. Their reply
stated that they were both in good health, and while
this blessing was vouchsafed to them, would patiently
await my vacations, not being able to refuse the request
of one to whose judgment and benevolence they could
safely entrust what was to them dearer than life.
And now, a man of great wealth, a munificent
patron of the fine arts and literature, the merits of
which he aj^j^reciated with unerring taste, engaged in
beautifying his extensive domain of Monte-Yideo,
which was thrown open as a visiting-spot and pleas-
ure-ground for all the people, the founder of our
present noble Athaeneum, with its libraries, historical
archives, and gallery of paintings and sculpture, trans-
mitting his loved name to future generations, humbled
himself to the irksome labor of gathering a school,
and the minute details for its accommodation. Those
most familiar with his inner life of philanthropy were
the least surprised at this.
As his influence in society gave him an almost un-
202 LETTERS OF LIFE.
limited choice of pu]iils, lie kept in view pimilarity of
station and of attainments, deemins^ it desirable that
in their studies all should go on as one class, and wisely
Fupposini^ that the children of those who visited in the
same circle, might have habits and sympathies some-
what in unison. This ])rinciple of organization greatly
diminished the labor of teaching, and removed from
those who were taught the disparities which sometimes
create jealousy, and impede the progress of friendship.
Mr. "Wadsworth was not willinor that I should incur
the fatigue of instructing more than fifteen the first
year. In his selection among numerous applicants, he
therefore restricted himself to that number, keeping
the names of the other candidates on a list for the next
year, saying that if our experiment proved successful,
my circle should be enlarged to twenty-five. This it
was, and thus continued for five years. If the par-
takers of Heaven's bliss are interested in ausfht that
thrills these our hearts of clay, may he inhale the per-
fume of that warm gratitude which the lapse of almost
half a century has neither dampened nor repressed.
A beautiful apartment w^as provided for us. This
we aimed to keep with the neatness of a parlor. No
drop of ink upon its delicate desks was tolerated, no
littering papers, or disarrangement of articles from
their allotted places. In the season of flowers our
capacious vase was freshly filled by contributions from
many little hands, and each one in rotation took charge
EDUCATIONAL KEMEilBEANCES. 203
of the premises for a day ; no unfitting apprenticeship
for that science of household order and neatness which
ranks both among the accomplisliraents and duties of
our sex. When I looked on those fifteen fair young
faces turned toward me with a loving trust, how ear-
nestly did I desire and determine to omit no labor even
on the lowliest foundation, where a symmetncal charac-
ter might ultimately and safely rest.
Great was my delight at finding that my patrons
had decided not to have the ornamental branches
divide the attention of their children from the course
of study, which was sufficiently extensive, and which
they agreed with me in wishing should not be super-
ficially pursued. I required of them thoroughness and
accuracy, rather than to surmount a large space, or give
a few brilliant illustrations. I believed that the moral
nature might be modified by the empty show of the in-
tellect, and become untruthful. Therefore I taug:ht
them to prefer a little knowledge well understood, and
faithfully remembered, to a reputation more brilliant
but unsound. Patient and persevering were those
young creatures, and easily guided to every right
course. How much did I enjoy unfolding with them
the broad annals of History. Seated in a circle, like a
band of sisters, we traced in the afternoon, by the
guidance of Rollin, the progress of ancient times, or
the fall of buried empires. Each one read an allotted
portion of those octavo pages with a slow, distinct
204 T.KTTKRS OF LIFE.
enunciation, tliat all nii«j;lit without effort comprehend.
At tlie completion of the reaclinc^ the book was closed,
and each related in her own language the substance of
what she had read, questions were asked on the most
important parts, pains taken to impress on the memory
the dates of prominent facts, and encouragement given
to express their own opinions of heroes, or other distin-
guished personages.
Even now I seem to hear, like the varying tones of
music, their sweetly modulated voices, praising deeds
of generosity or pity, or expressing surprise that the
great were not always good, or amazement that artifice,
I'evenge, or cruelty should sometimes have stained
those names w^hom the world had pronounced illus-
trious. How rapidly passed the hours spent in each
other's society ! Often when the duties of the day
were closed, and the period of dismission had arrived,
if our course of study had been j^eculiarly interesting, or
particularly difficult, they would gather closely around
me, like a swarm of honey-laden bees, seeking conversa-
tion or explanation, while the gentle entreaty, " Oh,
stay a little longer, please ! " was so imperative, that
the lowering summer sun, or the wintry twilight, drew
over us unawares.
Yet the rules to which they were subjected were so
strict, that some might have supposed they would repel
this loving intercourse. They were intended not only
to preserve that order which is essential to successful
EDUCATIONAL EEMEMBRANCES. 205
study, but to cover the miniitia3 of deportment. They
required punctual attendance, marked courtesy at en-
tering and leaving the room, affectionate treatment of
fclloTV-pupils, and respect to guests who occasionally
visited us : they forbade disorder of books or desks,
leaving seats without liberty, all whispering, all conver-
sation save with the teacher, except by express permis-
sion, or whatever else might disturb those high pur-
poses for which we came together. This code, the finiit
of experience and observ^ation, was solidified in twelve
brief rules, each fenced by a hope or penalty, and read
every morning after our devotional exercises, that none
might plead forgetfulness. Ko slight praise was it to
that blessed assemblage of young creatures, that they
never objected to this minute supervision, but strove to
sustain it. Cheerfully admitting that order, industry,
and propriety of conduct, were essential to the object
for which as a body politic they held existence, each
lent their aid to that discipline which was its health
and hope. They counted it their glory never to have
broken a rule ; and a few there were who stood by my
side on the first and last day of my office, a period of
five years, who wore this laurel freshly bound upon
their fair brows. «
Shall I give you a simple delineation of our daily
routine ? I almost fear to weary you with prolixity,
BO asrreeable to me is the theme.
The morning clock strikes nine. With light steps
206 LETTERS OF hlFE.
and .'i l)ric^]il smilo tliey enter, Halutinrr tlie instructress.
Qiiietly eacli takes her scat and her IJible. After read-
ing in rotation, they close the book and lay it in its
place, each repeating from memory tlie verse or verses
that came to their share. If any question arises in
their minds respecting the meaning of their allotted
passages, they freely propose it. Should it require a
longer explanation than comports with the morning oc-
cupations, it is deferred to the season allotted for con-
versation. A brief prayer ensues, to which they are
required reverently to attend. Then the rules are
read by the teacher, who, at the close of each separate
one, pauses, while one of the young ladies utters in al-
ternate response the reward or penalty that guards it.
But who is she, thus seated in chair of state side by
side with the executive, reading with her the judicial
code, to whom she defers as an adjunct, ever and anon
throughout the day, and in a low voice seems to consult
her ? That is the Monitress. She has on a large slate
before her the name of every pupil, opposite to which
she registers their gains and losses by recitation or de-
portment. How earned she this position of honor and
trust ? By being at the head of the class at the close
of the previous day. How came she there ? By im-
maculate obedience to the rules ? Yes — and by some-
what more. It had been observed, during my previous
years of service, that correct orthography, and the accu-
rate definition of words, had been too much neglected
EDUCATIONAL KEMEMBRAXCES. 207
in female education, or overshadowed by more showy
attainments. Desiring to give prominence to this
branch, I thought it best to connect it with a palpable
and coveted distinction. Just before the devotions that
closed our daily school, a short time was allowed to
look over the orthographical lesson which had pre-
viously been studied. Then each one, as her name was
called by the monitress, arose, and took her place in
the class. Every word, as given out by the teacher,
was required to be accurately spelled, and its etymol-
ogy, definition, and grammatical signification clearly
told. Mistake, or even hesitation, caused the word to
be passed onward, and the thorough scholar took her
place above the discomfited ones. Close study, a clear
understanding of the shades of meaning, and a ready
utterance were thus simultaneously cultivated, while
the stimulus of emulation concealed the severity of the
mental tax. The one left at the head of the class after
what was sometimes almost a decimation, was the moni-
tress for the ensuing: dav. The last act of the ci-devant
monitress was to write upon her slate the order of the
class, and resign it to her successor; the power at-
tached to that oftice being too great to be held with
safety for a longer period than a single day. Moreover,
it involved a future honor — a premium given at the
close of the term to the one who had most frequently
sustained that ofiice. Another prize was also accorded
at the same period to the pupil who had attained the
208 LETTERS OF LIFE.
greatest iinniber of eredit-marks. These were the test
of Brholarsliij>, one being given for every correct an-
swer in any recitation Avliicli was rendered in a distinct
elocntinn. A list of these credit-marks was kept by
the monitress on Jier slate, and copied by me nightly
into a book for this purpose. Infraction of the rules
was attended with tlie loss of an allotted number of
credit-marks, or lowering the place in the class. The
highest penalty ever inflicted during my five years of
administration, w^as to go to the bottom of the class.
This was a very rare occurrence, as our rules were
framed on the princii)le that strictness prevents severity.
The monitress, and the credit-mark premium, toward
which earnest effort was directed throuG^hout the whole
term, consisted of a single volume, of no great pecu-
niary value, but coveted and prized for its written tes-
timony of merit, and having usually the name of its
fortunate possessor in gold letters upon the cover.
These rewards, it will be perceived, bore directly
upon scholarship and exemplary deportment. Yet I
desired also to encourage those amiable dispositions
which are so essential to the true womanly character.
I believed that some who were unable to take the high-
est rank as students, or who might even by inadver-
tence have fallen short in some of our minuter points
of discipline, miglit still possess that lovely tempera-
ment which, more than eitl.er, sheds happiness on the
domestic sphere. I wished to distinguish this unobtru-
EDUCATIONAL EEMEMBRAXCES. 209
sive excellence. But how was it to be done ? Could I
safely trust myself with such a selection ? Might not
some, by pleasing manners, ingratiate themselves with
me, and yet not be remarkable for amiable affections
toward their fellow pupils ? Therefore they would be
the most accurate judges. I decided that they should
on such an occasion exercise the riGfht of suffrage.
Exj^laining this to them, and charging them to vote
conscientiously, and without influence from others, each
was permitted to give me, at the close of the term, a
sealed ballot containins: the name of the one who had
CD
with the least variation given the most amiable exam-
ple. To the counting of these votes, and the announce-
ment of the successful candidate, I gave as much dig-
nity and eclat as possible. The welcome from her com-
peers was touching. Each gave her the kiss of the
heart. At the examination in all the studies on the
last day, where invited friends were present, she wore
a crown of flowers, woven by their hands, as their cho-
sen Queen, the loved of all.
In the distribution of these three marked honors,
simple enough, yet intensely coveted, it will be per-
ceived that I left myself no chance for partiality, with
which instructors are often charged by the discomfited.
Two were as clear and open in their winning, as any
mathematical demonstration, and the other was the
result of an uncanvassed suffrage. A prominent objec-
tion to the distribution of school rewards, is the possi-
210 LEITERS OF LIFE.
l)iHty or the odium of injustice. Yet there are some
wliose system of etliics is so delicate as wlioUy to dis-
card the |)riiHi]>le of emulation. Of this class was my
friend tlie Jlev. ^Nlr. Gallaudet, the accomplished prin-
cipal of the Asylum for tlie Deaf and Dumb. Ever
was he saying to me: "I dissent from your tlieory.
You know what Book classes 'emulation' with * wrath,
strifes, seditions,' and other still more wicked works."
*' Yet does not the same Sacred Volume appeal to
our hope as well as our fear ? — as those wlio run in a
race for the ' prize of their high calling.'
*' I am sure yon onglit to agree with me, that a
right education should teach to do right from the love
of goodness, and not the lucre of gain."
Our arguments, sometimes " long drawn out," usu-
ally ended in my confession of inability to manage a
school without the aid of this j^owerful principle. I
was sure that the expectation of a meed fairly earned,
which would impart happiness to joarents and friends,
gave strength to their young hearts to overcome indo-
lence and press on in the path of habitual duty. I felt
that their guard from the dangers of competition was
in the truth and warmth of their own friendships.
This was cultivated with such success, that the jealousy
and envy against which Ave were forewarned, gained no
entrance into their charmed circle. There were occa-
sions when the claims of aspirants so closely approxi-
mated as to make the difference scarcely perceptible.
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBRANCES. 211
Then their cherished attachment came forth in beautiful
prominence.
One instance I chance to recollect, where, in perse-
vering efforts for a particular premium, two pupils had
for months advanced side by side. As the term reached
its close, there was a slight but clear indication of pre-
cedence. In conformity to this, the honor was award-
ed. TThen the class came forward, as was their cus-
tom, to congratulate their exemplary associate, she who
had failed only a step or two in climbing the same
arduous height was among them. Possibly a secret
tear might have moistened her eye ; but, hastening to
embrace her more fortunate companion, she said most
sweetly and gracefully, in reference to a period of Gre-
cian history recently studied together :
" Pedaritus, when he missed a place among tbe cho-
sen three hundred, rejoiced that there were in Sparta
three hundred better than himself"
She who uttered this sentiment, now Mrs. Catharine
N. Toucey, who was with me from the first to the last
day of my period of instruction, has continued to ad-
vance in loveliness and intellectual attainment, having
been distinguished at the court of our nation, where
for years her lot was cast, by those graces of manner
and conversation tliat lent attraction to her example of
piety.
But how widely I am digressing from my pre-
scribed theme ! I commenced to give you the pro-
212 LETTERS OF LIFE.
prammc of a dny in school. AVliithor have I wan-
dered ? In tins region of memory I am as a bee
lioveriiig over a parterre of lloAvers, not knowing where
to alight. How can T pursue a straight course to the
hive, so allured with tlieir honeyed essence ?
I tliink I have already said, that every hour we
spent together had its allotted employment. To pass
from one to the other promj^tly, and without loss of
time, was numhered among the school virtues. Often,
witli no announcement save tlie turning of the hour-
glass, they changed books or implements, bent over the
prescribed lesson, or rose to recitation with military
precision. We all became attached to that primitive
chronometer, as making visible by its gliding sands the
swift transit of time.
I gave all the influence in my power to the simple,
solid branches of culture, as the best basis for a rational
education, and through that for a consistent character.
To distinct, deliberate utterance both in reading and
conversation, I attached great importance. They agreed
with me, that to puzzle and disappoint others in their
efforts to understand, was both unkind and unjust ; and
that, while they had the use of teeth, tongue, and
oesophagus, they would not curtail, cheat, or swallow
up any letter of the alphabet. The recitation of select
passages of poetry was found a salutary exercise in the
regulation of tone and emphasis. They devoted, at my
request, much attention to the meaning of the sentences
EDUCATIOXAL EEMEMBEAXCES. 213
they were to read, that, making the spirit of the author
their own, they might more accurately interpret his
style.
Next to Reading and Orthography, with Definition,
of which I have already spoken, came clear and beauti-
ful Penmanship. In thoroughly teaching this I was
most assiduous. Durino; its allotted hour I took no
seat, but was ever passing from one to the other, to
supply what was needed, regulate the holding of the
pen, or improve the formation of the letters. As I set
the copies after which they wrote, I reaped the advan-
tage common to instructors who teach any right thing
by example — self-imj^rovement, even beyond that of
their disciples. The acquisition of a chirography which
has been praised as eminently easy to read, and not un-
graceful, I owe somewhat to early care, but more to
the habit of teacliino; it to others.
For Arithmetic, as leading the mind to application
and concentration, I had a high esteem. I wished to
render it subsidiary to the keeping of accounts — a
womanly attainment of great practical value. If every
girl, as soon as she can write, should be induced to
place the items of her expenditure in a little book for
that purpose, it would be a practical guide to the right
use of her income in future life. It would be a pecu-
niary protection to her husband, if she chance to have
one, and save her from tlie forgetfulness and reckless
indifference with which our sex often spend money,
214 l.ETTKRS OF LIFE.
whose tnio value tlioy cannot know from not having
earned it, and whose power as an instrument of good
tliey ouirht never to forget. Our liour for aritlnnetic
was an exceedingly busy one, and I strove to make it
inl(M-esting. Yet I could not flatter myself with uni-
versal success. Those who excelled were rather excep-
tions — certainly a minority. I examined myself, not
without reproach. I applied the axiom, that if any
study is not agreeable to scholars, the teacher is in
fault. It had been a favorite science of mine from
early childhood, having been inured from the age of
eight to keep accounts for my father. I could not dis-
cover where the deficiency was, unless I came to the
conclusion that a love of arithmetic is not indigenous
in the female mind ; for I was forced to admit that a
class of boys of equal age, in the common district
schools, would surpass most of my proficients. To add
a feature of novelty, I gave, once a week, exercises in
mental arithmetic, beginning simply with the multipli-
cation of one number by itself, until the amount be-
came as large as their memories could retain. To my
surprise, they did * well in these exercises, seeming
scarcely conscious of their difficulty. These were at
length omitted, as causing too much mental excite-
ment.
In the Grammar of our language, so often de-
nounced as a dry study, we were particularly fortu-
nate. The etymology which they had from the begin-
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBRANCES. 215
ning united with their daily orthographical exercises,
gave them both taste and facility in syntax and proso-
dy. These recitations I strove to make pleasant to
them ; and by the aid of Lindley Murray's Exercises —
the best book of the kind then extant — they became
thorough adepts in parsing the most intricate sentences
of our most diffuse writers. I know not but that small
volume is entirely superseded or out of print, but this
shal] not prevent my commendation and gratitude.
An easy transition led them to enjoy Rhetoric, for
which they were well prepared. Indeed, I was sur-
prised at so early a development of correct apprecia-
tion for the refinements of their native tongue. Their
pure spirits thrilled, or glowed in harmony with our
best orators and poets. A disposition to express their
own thouorhts with ease and eles-ance, both in writing:
or orally, being the natural fruit of such studies, was
encourasred. Yet, havinoj discovered that the stern
requisition of stated compositions from novices often
daunted those who might have little to say, and
checked the impulse of those who had none, I made no
demand for elaborate moral essays. As the epistolary
style is always valuable to our sex, and, by its endless
variety of subject, allures those who would shrink at
the formidable idea of " composition," and its attendant
criticism, I permitted them, at stated times, to express
their thoughts in a letter addressed to myself. They
strenuously insisted on a response, and I found this fur-
216 LETTERS OF LIFE.
nishod mo willi opportunities of suggesting or en-
forcing subjects of consequence to ns hoth, more fully
than I could do in conversation.
Ancient and Modern Geography, witli Natural and
Moral Philosophy, were sources of mutual enjoyment.
Kach lesson was required to be studied at home, and
their allotted portion of the precious school-hours de-
voted to recitation and explanation. I was careful not
to drive their minds over too great a space at once, lest
they should form a habit of being superficial. Neither
would I burden them with too many studies at the
same time, lest, by pressure or redundancy of aliment,
the intellectual digestion should become impaired, or
secret harm be done to the invisible network of nerves
that link the material to the divine. Knowledge pur-
chased by the wreck of health, is truly but " sounding
brass and a tinkling cymbal." To us it was not a task,
but, like our daily food, a necessity and a pleasure, for
which we gave God thanks.
Four afternoons in the week we read History to-
gether, according to the system that has been already
mentioned. I took great pains to have them connect
with every event of consequence its correlative date.
They soon felt the value of this as a map to arrest and
deepen the traces of memory. They were pleased with
the quaint axiom, that " Geogra23hy and Chronology
are the eyes of History," and said, " We will not grope,
like the blind, through the great Temple of the Past."
EDUCATIOXAL EEMEMBEAXCES. 217
I was not in possession of any good chronological
synopsis for their benefit. With the systems of Mrs.
Willard, that noble pioneer in female education, I was
not acquainted. My only resource seemed, to make,
from my own historical reading, a list of such dates as
might be most important or interesting. As this was
with me a favorite exercise, it soon swelled to about
two hundred. Their copies of my manuscript cata-
logue while in the progress of arrangement were frag-
mentary, hastily traced on slips of paper, on comers of
slates, and often on no scroll but memory. Yet, almost
by magic, they possessed themselves of the chain that
bound events together, from the Creation downward.
When an unemployed interval of only a few minutes
occurred, I was accustomed to ask them for a date, and,
looking up with a bright smile, they would answer.
Methought they took peculiar pride in that science.
Perhaps because they knew I delighted in it, and I was
striving, with the aid of crude materials, to impart it
to them. The questions were varied, that the answers
might combine sometimes the date, sometimes the ex-
planation. For instance : " In what year of the world
did the ark rest upon Mount Ararat ? Who was called,
1921 years before the Christian era, to go forth alone
from his people and his father's house? Who was
Queen of Assyria, and who the Judge of Israel, when
Troy was destroyed, 1184 years before Christ ? When
were the Jews carried into captivity by the Chaldeans ?
10
218 LETTERS OF LIFE.
How many years afterward was Xerxes defeated at
Salamirt ? Wlio invaded Britain in A.D. 55, and what
was his rcccpt ion ? " The dates after the Cliristian era
were of course more numerous, and a convenient mode
lor a rapid review of liistory. I recollect they were
fond of replying to the question, " How long after the
birth of our Saviour did John tlie Baptist commence
his ministry ? " in the comprehensive words of the
Evangelist Luke : " In the fifteenth year of the reign
of Tiberius Ca3sar, Pontius Pilate being governor of
Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his
brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and of the region of
Trachonitis, and Lysanias the tetrarch of Abilene,
Annas and Caiaphas being the high priests, the word
of God came unto John the son of Zacharias in the
wilderness." A few of my pupils were tenacious of
the honor of never missing in a recitation of nearly
two hundred dates; and, clumsy as the course may
seem to modern criticism, it enabled them to systema-
tize their knowledge, and confirmed a class of mental
habits for which they express gratitude even to this
day. The wonderful power of memory revealed by
some of them in this and similar exercises, made me
think it might be almost limitless ; and yet I feared to
call it fully forth, or to bring too palpably to bear upon
it the force of emulation, lest the healthful balance of
the mind might haply be in danger.
I desired to form in them the habit of a daily tran-
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBRANCES. 219
script of events and feelings, believing that it not only
teaches the value of time, by turning attention to its
minuter portions, but rescues life from dreamy forget-
fulness, and deepens tlie lessons derived from God's
varied discipline, by keeping it freshly in remembrance.
To borrow the lanofuasre of a beautiful writer :
" There is a richness about the life of one who keeps
a diary, unknown to others. Time, thus looking back,
is not a bare line, just stringing together personal iden-
tity, but intermingled and intertwined with thousands
of slight incidents that give it beauty, kindliness, real-
ity. It is not merely a collection, an aggregate of
facts, that comes back to you ; it is something far more
excellent than that : it is the soul of days gone by, the
dear auld lang syne itself, quickened, and in new robes.
The perfume of the faded hawthorn hedge is there —
the sweet breath of breezes that fanned our gray hair
when it made sunny curls, smoothed down by hands
that are in the grave."
Convinced as I was by experience of the benefits of
this practice, which I had commenced unprompted at
the age of eleven, I still hesitated to press upon those
young pupils, amid their many studies, the requisition
of a daily journal. I therefore devised a preparatory
step, which I hoped might eventually lead to the de-
sired result. During one of my short vacations with
my parents, I made a number of blank books — me-
thinks I see them now, with their long foolscap pages
220 LETTERS OF I-IFE.
ami iiiarltlo-pnpor covers. These were christened " Re-
moinbrancers," and each pupil encouraged to write
therein, at the close of each week, a brief synopsis of
whatever had occurred around her, or within lierself,
that she deemed worthy of preservation. They faith-
fully complied witli my request ; and since these
school-sketches had not the secresy of a diary, I ai>
pointed a time every Saturday to have them read
aloud. This induced them to he more attentive to the
style, and the subjects were often found mutually and
pleasantly suggestive.
So regular was our established system, that each
hour during the week had its appointed employment,
almost as unalterable as the code of the Medes and
Persians. Still, as the young heart loves variety, I
endeavored to keep that in view whenever it could be
consistently combined with the great features of order.
On Monday was the recitation of the sermons heard the
preceding day. It comprised the text, and such recollec-
tions of the teachings from the pulpit as they were able
to bear away. They were advised not to take notes on
paper, but on Memory's tablet. This served to fix their
attention on the instructions of the sacred day ; and they
gradually made such proficiency, that the language of
the speaker, if in any degree remarkable, was correctly
reported. They had liberty, if they chose, afterwards
to write these recollections in their Remembrancer, or
to keep a blank-book for that especial purpose.
EDUCATIONAL EEMEMBRAXCES. 221
On Friday afternoon was a thorough revieTV of all
the studies wliich had been pursued during the week —
a " gathering up of the fragments, that nothing might
be lost." Then, also, my dear little silent disciple,
Alice Cogswell, the loved of all, had her pleasant privi-
lege of examination. Coming ever to my side, if she
saw me a moment disengaged, with her sweet supplica-
tion, " Please, teach Alice something," the words, or
historical facts thus explained by signs, were alpha-
betically arranged in a small manuscript book, for her
to recapitulate and familiarize. Great was her delight
when called forth to take her part. Descriptions in
animated g-esture she was fond of intermino-linsf with a
few articulate sounds, unshaped by the ear's criticism.
In alluding to the death of Henry II. of England from
a surfeit of lamprey-eels, she invariably uttered, in
strong, guttural intonation, the word " fool ! " adding,
by signs, her contempt of eating too much, and a
scornful imitation of the squirming creature who had
thus prostrated a mighty king. Fragments from the
annals of all nations, with the signification of a multi-
tude of words, had been taus^ht bv little and little,
until her lexicon had become comprehensive ; and as
her companions, from love, had possessed themselves
of the manual alphabet and much of the sign-language,
they afi*ectionately proposed that the examination should
be of themselves, and that she might be permitted to
conduct it. Here was a new pleasure, the result of
222 LETTERS OF LITE.
tlicir llioH'^'htriil kindness. Eminently liappy was slio
made, uhile cacli in rotation answered with the lips her
question given by the liand, I alternately officiating as
interpreter to her, or critic to them, if an exj)lanation
chanced to he erroneous. Never can I forget the
varied expression of intelligence, 7iaivete, irony, or love
that would radiate from her beautiful hazel eyes on
these occasions. It was such intercourse that sug-
gested the following poetical reply to a question once
asked in the institution of the Abbe Sicard, at Paris :
" Xfs tSozirds Jfuets se troiivent-ils malheureux f " *
Oh, could the kind inquirer gaze
Upon thy brow with gladness fraught,
Its smile, like inspiration's rays,
Would give the answer to his thought.
And could he see thy sportive grace
Soft blending with submission due,
And note thy bosom's tenderness
To every just emotion true ;
Or, when some new idea glows
On the pure altar of the mind,
Behold the exulting tear that flows.
In silent ecstasy refined ;
Thine active life, thy look of bhss.
The sparkling of thy magic eye,
* "Are the deaf and dumb unhappy?"
EDUCATIONAL KEME31BEANCES. 223
"Would all his skeptic doubts dismiss,
And bid him lay his pity by,
To bless the ear that ne'er has known
The voice of censure, pride, or art,
Nor trembled at that sterner tone
Which like an ice-bolt chills the heart ;
And bless the lip that ne'er may tell
Of human woes the vast amount,
Nor pour those idle words that swell
The terror of our last account.
For sure the stream of noiseless course
May flow as deep, as pure, as blest,
As that which bursts in torrents hoarse,
Or whitens o'er the mountain's breast ;
As sweet a scene, as fair a shore.
As rich a soil its tide may lave.
Then jo}'ful and accepted pour
Its tribute to the Eternal wave.
The pleasures of fhe Friday's rehearsal were termi-
nated by each one's quietly bringing me a written vote,
on which was the name of the young lady whom they
considered to have exhibited throughout the week the
most faultless example.
The successful candidate, amid the greetings of her
companions, was invested with the honor of Saturday
224 LETTKIIS OF lAVK.
MonitiTss. This iiiiplieul the reception of a certificate
in my best diirograpliy, a seat at my side as vice-regent,
aii<l tlio j)riviloge of inviting some of lier friends to
pass the forenoon in our school-room. The exercises
differed from tliose of any other day in the week, and
after our stated religious worship, commenced with the
recitation of poetry and prose, to which I attached
great importance, and in wliich they were thought by
competent judges to excel. The right of selection was
accorded to them, subject to my approval, and I was
often both surprised and delighted at the accuracy of
taste they evinced. Their style of elocution, not am-
bitious of rhetorical flourish, was required to be delib-
erate, distinct, and perfectly feminine. How admirably
many of them entered into the spirit of the author !
Methinks I still hear the sweet tones of some of the
younger ones repeating the favorite hymns of Addison :
or,
" The spacious firmament on high,"
" When all thy mercies, my God,
My rising soul surveys ; "
or his almost inspired version of the Twenty-third
Psalm.
A lovely creature, with flowing, flaxen curls, a
daughter of Mrs. Thomas Chester, who gave in une-
qualled intonations the ode of Henry Kirke White :
I
EDUCATIONAL KEMEMBKA2sX'ES. 225
" Come, Disappointment, come !
Thou art not stem to me " —
has entered ■\Yhere harmony is unending ; and another,
Mrs. Mary Weld, who has successfully trained sons and
daughters for the race of life, used to thrill every
hearer by her full, fine emphasis in the poem of Pope :
*' Rise, crown'd \^ ith light, imperial Salem, rise ! "
This pleasant entertainment was followed by read-
ins: their weekly remembrances, where the same clear
elocution was required, for I well remembered how often,
in seminaries of young ladies, I had listened painfully,
but almost in vain, to the movements of their ruby
lips, doubtless uttering beautiful sentiments. Every
third Saturday they read a letter which they had
written to me ; and I also, one addressed to them, and
which was claimed by the Saturday Monitress as her
peculiar perquisite. A selection from the last-named
class of epistles I have been within a few years induced
to publish, entitled " Letters to my Pupils," connected
with biographical sketches of some of that loved group
who have been earliest summoned to begin the travel
of eternity.
During the two intervening Saturdays, for I directed
epistolary composition only once in three weeks, our
closing exercise was reading to them the memoir of
some distinguished person, which I had abridged for
226 LETTERS OF LIFE.
tlirir use. I was careful to wlccl lliosc whose examples
iiiiLrlit naturally and hap])i]y bear upon their own course
of principle or action. Always (IkI lliey reward me by
fixed attention, as if they iully ap))reciated this loving
service. And then we ])art('d until anotlicr week. It
might seem aflfcctation to say, not without regret. And
yet I have heard them express it, for they delighted in
each other's company, as I in theirs.
The discovery of a new pleasure brought them occa-
sionally together during this interval, the pleasure of
doing good. They had become somewhat acquainted
with a class of girls in humble life, to whom I gave re-
ligious instruction on Saturday afternoons. Their quick
eyes detected some deficiencies in apparel which they
thought the supernumeraries of their own wardrobe
might happily supply. Obtaining permission at home
for this transfer, they found it desirable to meet and
consult on the best modes of adaptation and repair. It
was felt to be no privation thus to devote a portion of
their only weekly recess. I sometimes saw them, thus
gathered in the school-room, wdth their busy needles,
thoughtfully devising to whom this or that garment
should appertain, and how it might be most accurately
fitted to the dimensions of the recipient. I w^as sur-
prised at both their judgment and efficiency. The old-
est of this board of commissioners was sixteen, and the
youngest six, the majority ranging from nine to thir-
teen. Yet with a singular mixture of maternal care,
EDUCATIONAL EEilEMBEANCES. 227
and the acuteness of the sempstress, they might be
heard debating how a dress might be repaired, or a
mantle enlarged, or a hood rejuvenated, so as best to
accommodate the little body or head that most needed
them. When I listened to the ring of their melodious
voices, and saw the glance of their bright eyes, as they
decided on some successful expedient, or triumphantly
displayed some finished garment, I have felt that they
could never be so truly hapj^y at any sj^lendid party.
As it is the nature of true charity to expand, they
were led from link to link in the chain of goodness.
This clothing process induced more intimate acquaint-
ance with their pensioners, and they thus ascertained
that in the families of some were aged, or sick persons,
or feeble infants, requiring assistance. Appointing al-
moners to visit and report, they formed themselves
into a regular society, with a written constitution, at a
time when such associations were so much less common
than at present, as to give the plan almost a pioneer,
or at least a novel character.
Prompted by that charity which leads its votaries
from grace to grace, these pure-hearted beings con-
ceived a desire of making their monthly alms the fruit
of their own efforts. " Is it any benevolence," said
they, " to give away the money of others ? " When
they first mentioned to me their design, I replied :
" What can you do, my children, with those little
hands ? " But they persevered. Each consulted with
22 R LETTERS OF LIFE.
mother and friends at home. Tlicrc they found concur-
rence. A variety of methods were adopted, suited to
their respective positions. One was systematically to
perform some slight domestic service, to which a sti-
pend was attached. Another was to aid in the depart-
ment of plain needle-work, or mending, all happily
bearing upon the cultivation of a taste for household
good. If it was found that these new occupations in-
vaded the time appropriated to their daily lessons, they
promised to rise an hour earlier in the morning. Their
fixedness of purpose was remarkable ; so was their in-
genuity in searching out forms of remunerative indus-
try. During one afternoon reading of History, I ob-
served one bright little head bent over her desk, instead
of the accustomed attitude of face to the circle. On
going to her seat I found her with an elongated piece
of leather on her lap, in which she was dexterously in-
serting slender pieces of bent wire. To the inquiry,
what she was doing, she briskly answered :
" Setting card-teeth for the spinning machines.
They have promised to pay me."
" How did you learn the art ? "
" Oh, in their shop, by looking on a few minutes.
It is more profitable work than I could get at home."
When they brought their first contribution at the
opening of a new month, under this new regime, ob-
serving their eyes to beam with a deep satisfaction, I
said : " You have not cast into the treasury that which
EDUCATIONAL REMEMBEAXCES. 229
•
cost you nothing." Their quiet reply was sweet : " Of
thine own, Lord, have we given Thee."
Theii' benevolence had also the crowning grace of
humility. They avoided allusions to it save for pur-
poses of consultation. " It is our design," says one of
the articles of their written constitution, " to impart our
bounty without ostentation, following the example of
Him who went about doing good, without seeking the
applause of men." I have reason to believe that they
were strictly governed by this principle. Some touch-
ing incidents were related to me by various friends, of
light footsteps in the abodes of the sick or sorrowing
poor, flitting garments, vanishing forms, and relief left
behind, as if by angel visitants.
Their spirit of good works had also the element of
continuance. Long after the termination of their school,
their charitable society held its annual meetings, its
choice of officers, its varied and judicious enterprises.
I find the following tribute to one of their regular anni-
versaries, addressed to them several years after my
marriaoje :
The traveller in some clime serene,
Where Nature rules with genial sway,
Blots from his heart no blissful scene
That cheer'd the wanderings of his way.
If beauty rose with winning air,
If Flora's drapery deck'd the place ;
230 LETTERS OF LIFE.
If birds of Paradise were thoro,
Ho fondly guards the glowing trace.
Like him, recall the landscape sweet
That woke on this auspicious day ;
Nor let so fair an image fleet
From memory's vivid page away.
Regard, as through some fountain wave,
Whose crystal courts the admiring view ;
The brilliant pearls that knowledge gave,
The coral cells where friendship grew.
Nor oh, forget the sigh for those,
Companions then, in youthful bloom ;
Who, withering like the smitten rose.
Have sunk in beauty to the tomb.
Where'er o'er life's eventful stage
Your far divided path may tend ;
Where o'er your locks the frosts of age
Or chilling snows of care descend.
Though she, who once with partial eyes,
The record of your worth would keep,
Buried and cold to earthly ties,
Should moulder in oblivion's sleep,
Remember still this sacred hour,
By pity to the sons of need ;
By pure affection's changeless power.
By deep devotion's heaven-born deed.
EDUCATIONAL KEMEMBEAXCES. 231
Engrave it on your fleeting span,
By prayers of faith, and acts of love,
That He who reads the heart of man,
May note it in His Book above.
So that dread Book which none may dare
Unmoved, unshrinking to survey ;
A bright, auspicious trace shall bear,
K thus ye keep this hallowed day.
Great was my rejoicing over these lovely beings.
Great my glorying in them. Earnest my petitions that
they might lead all the remainder of their lives ac-
cording to this beginning. I trust it has been so.
Cheered have I been by their course among more ar-
duous duties and important responsibilities.
As the close of our first year approached, they
sought my permission to celebrate the day on which
our school commenced. TTith a pleasing flattery they
said, " It is more to us than the Fourth of July was to
our fathers. It began for us a new life." I found their
plans, which had only awaited my consent, in quite a
state of forwardness. From various propositions and
phases of enjoyment, they had chosen a rural festival.
The designated spot was a beautiful grove, on the
banks of a fair stream, carpeted with a rich, dense turf.
No more congenial locality could have been selected, in
which to rivet the links of cherished remembrance.
Our anniversary was the 1st of August. Many
232 LETTERS OF LIFE.
young eyes stiiclied the promise of the elouds, rain
being a leari'iil foe to such delights as they anticipated.
A finer morning never dawned upon expectant earth.
At an early hour the committee of arrangements pro-
ceeded to their field of action. Parents, and particular
friends, had already received invitations to be present,
and j^artake our happiness.
Vividly the scene returns, with all its minute linea-
ments. The lofty trees, lightly waving with the breath
of summer, the " smooth-shaven green," the sparkling
river, with its liquid monotony of welcome, the beam-
ing countenances of the white-robed band, the light
footsteps of those of their number whose office it was
to receive the guests, and who, with graceful courtesy,
their sashes floating out on the breeze, hastened for-
ward to greet every coming friend. Then there was
the long table, with its white cloth gleaming through
embowering branches, spread with a plentiful collation
of wonderful variety, each having contributed, in an
ample basket, such viands as were deemed most rare
or congenial. Thus every visitant was liberally enter-
tained, and hospitably pressed to replenish, by the wide-
awake, untiring hostesses. There were also songs, and
pleasant talk, among the picturesque groups seated be-
neath umbrageous trees, or wandering by the fringed
margin of the river, and, as the sun drew low, warm
thanks of the gratified visitants, as they returned to
their carriages. After their departure, the care of the
EDUCATIONAL EEiIE:\rBKAXCES. 233
young dispensers of the feast over its varied fragments
was admirable, for in the time of their gayety they did
not forget the poor. Intimate knowledge of the state
of their pensioners, enabled them to decide what would
be most appropriate for the sick, the aged, and the fam-
ilies where many children clustered. With prompti-
tude, each allotted portion was despatched to its re-
spective designation.
These delightful festivals were maintained with un-
imj)aired enthusiasm at every return of the 1st of Au-
gust, during the continuance of the school. One of
their unique and interesting habitudes, was the corona-
tion of the Queen of the year, the young lady who,
during that period, had been pronounced, by the suf-
frage of her companions, to have excelled them all in
amiable disposition and virtues. At the appointed
time, a rich garland of woven flowers was placed upon
her brow, with congratulations from her subjects. Her
Majesty vouchsafed a brief address, sometimes poeti-
cal, and the whole beautiful ceremony was calculated
to inspire good resolutions in the hearts of her com-
peers.
They sometimes wished to extend their enjoyment
beyond the circle of consanguinity or friendship, and
invited the silent inmates of the neighboring institution
for the deaf and dumb to spend an hour in the grove,
and share their collation ; or the orphan girls of the
Beneficent Society, whose improved wardrobe, or new
234 LETTEItS OF LIFE.
dresses, disclosed the bounty of tlieir fair cntertain-
CFB. /
It was to me an unexpected and affecting propo-
sition, tliat after tlie dissolution of our school, its anni-
versary should still he kept in the consecrated grove.
Thither we therefore gathered year hj year, brightening
the links of memory's jewelled chain. Tlic gravity of
life's cares had settled upon some of us. There were
no more flower coverings ; but in every hand was a
vivid evergreen, or a thoridess rose, culled from the
field of knowledge and of love, which we had to-
gether traversed. Still, their charitable society was in
existence ; and here, in a quiet little nook, was held
their annual choice of ofticers. Considerable variety
marked their selection of objects. On one occasion it
would be an infant school apparatus for a loved asso-
ciate, who had gone forth to bear the Gospel to heathen
Burmah ; then a choice collection of books for a mis-
sionary among our own aborigines, or a library for the
colony of Liberia, in Africa, which was just lifting
its head above the surrounding darkness. An eloquent
letter which accompanied a donation of fifty dollars to
the widows and orphans of Athens, during the strug-
gle with Moslem tyranny, says :
" We were once members of a happy school, with
whose early studies the history of your classic clime
was prominently interwoven. To Greece, especially to
Athens, our young hearts went forth in willing pilgrim-
EDUCATIONAL PwEMEMBEAXCES. 235
age. We now offer yoii a gift, in the name of our com-
mon Redeemer. Stretching our hands to you across
the globe, we pray you to be of good courage."
By degrees our band became widely separated,
their new homes fonning a line of posts from New
Hampshire to Georgia. They twined a wreath of re-
membrances by promising to write to some one of
their number, or to me, on the return of the 1st of Au-
gust. These epistles were often read at our assem-
blages in the grove. But if some had left our charmed
circle, others appeared, claiming a right of representa-
tion. Carpets were spread on the fresh, smooth turf,
where little forms gambolled, and small, new faces
looked up with glad, wondering eyes. Sometimes a
j oyous prattler would be led to a fair recess, and told
that on that spot its mother had placed upon her head a
beautiful crown, for being the very best among all good
children. Over many brows was stealing a deeper
thousrhtfulness, from the blessed cares of the mother
and housekeeper, the climax of woman's happiness, for
which their course of education had striven to give
fitness and harmony.
Our anniversary festival, though sometimes omitted
by the necessity of circumstances, was observed with
more punctuality than could have been naturally an-
ticipated, and always preserved its features of tender
interest. The twenty-fifth return of the 1st of August
found me on the ocean, a voyager to Europe. Still that
236 . LETTERS OF LIFE.
loved band, true as the tribes of Israel to Mount Zion,
gathered in their dedicated grove, with kind wishes and
prayers for her who rode the " tossing, melancholy
main," and from the far-off, crested billow, breathed for
them, in the voice of affection, her blended greeting
and adieu.
Our latest celebration, the forty-fifth, seemed to me
to possess features of peculiar interest. Diminished
numbers, and mournful associations connected with the
grove, of those who must meet us there no more, sug-
gested the jDropriety of a different gathering-place, and
my own quiet parlors were the accepted substitute.
Thither they came, the lovely and beloved. A few of
them were from other cities, and from distant States.
Thirty-three out of our circle had entered that angelic
class, than which they had here stood but a " little
lower." The original eighty-four were now more than
twice outnumbered in the second generation.
Yet in our hearts there was no change. Each
one of us, perchance, had hidden there some cypress-
bud. But we came not together for sadness. Every
face was wreathed in smiles. We summoned the past,
and it returned without a shadow or a thorn. One,
Mrs. Emmeline Rockwell, who had preserved much of
the beauty and grace of early prime, and who, in her
journey from the Hudson Kiver, had been fourteen
hours in the cars, said, with a sparkle in her ex-
pressive black eye, she was " not at all fatigued, and
EDUCATIONAL EEMEMBEANCES. 237
would have remained there twice as long, rather than
not be in season for the reunion." Interesting epistles
were read from absent ones, my early records of our
school-life searched into, while this revivifying of
scenes and events of other days made us all young
again.
As tAvilight approached, two bright, efficient beings,
insisted on relieving me from all superintendence of the
tea-table, which they had all previously united in
loading with luxuries. This blissful occasion was to
me most sweet and salubrious. It brought new life
into the lone heart. It restored those precious years
when side by side we labored and aspired, vicTving
education as a mighty and solemn thing, which was
to gird us for the battle of life, and the victory over
death.
With my whole soul I bless God for those years
of diligent effort. I thank Him that I was permitted
to sustain such a relation to those pure-hearted and
affectionate creatures. If I was made an instrument
of any good to them, I received tenfold from them,
and from the sweet toil of being their teacher. What
can better close remembrances so dear, than the
eloquent words of the great statesman of Massachu-
setts :
" If we work upon marble, it will perish. If we
work upon brass, time will efface it. If we rear tem-
ples, they will crumble to dust. But, if we work
238
LETTEBS OF LIFE.
upon inmiortfil minds ; if wc imbue them with high
principles, witli a just i'c.ar of God, and respect for
their fellow-men, we engrave on those tablets some-
thing which no time can deface, but which will deepen
and brighten throughout all eternity."
LETTER X.
LOVE AND MAEEIAGE.
I AM extremely tired of these letters. So I am per-
suaded will you be, or any one else who attempts to
read them. I must try to bring them to a close.
And yet, when people talk about themselves, the
temptation to garrulity is great. Is not that one rea-
son why we like our physician ? We alone are the
subject. He asks of our minute symptoms, and listens
attentively to all we say. Perhaps he thinks lightly of
our statements, or suspects exaggeration ; but that he
keeps to himself, and on we go.
I think I have already mentioned that social inter-
course between the sexes, in the olden time, began at
an earlier period than at present, the time allotted to
school education beingr far more brief. Thouo-h unen-
cumbered by ceremony, it was characterized by cour-
tesy and severe decorum. It combined the elements
of a cheering friendship with some degree of mental
improvement. Reading aloud instructive books, with
240 LETTERS OF LIFE.
the singing of songs to wliicli our voices became admi-
rably trained, were often the amusement of our evening
visits. We gave no entertainment to the animal appe-
tites. It was not exj^ected. Almost children as we
were, this Platonic intercourse was genial and ele-
vating. Any slight preference that chanced to reveal
itself, caused no disturbance in this sweet preface to
the history of life.
But as years glided onward, with their changes, I
was no stranger to the language of love, nor unsuscep-
tible to its sentiment. Manly beauty and grace I ap-
preciated, but the chief attraction was in intellect and
knowledge. My most valued associates were of the
latter order. I had also a penchant for the company
of men considerably older than myself. This arose
from several motives. I had always been taught to
respect seniority. I gained from their experience more
information, and felt secretly more at ease in their com-
pany, because I thought there could be no susj)icion of
their partiality, or of my seeking to create it. Ever
had I been exceedingly sensitive to aught that bore the
appearance of forwardness in my own sex. It seemed
to me treason against their native refinement and their
allotted sphere. So I still think ; and, however the
modes of association may vary with differing genera-
tions, can never respect any woman who boldly seeks
the attentions, or invades their province whose part it
is to make advances, to legislate, and to bear rule.
LOVE AND 3IAERIAGE. 241
Perhaps I might have been deemed fastidious, but have
never been able to lay aside my creed.
I had still a deeper reason for avoiding serious ad-
vances. My mind was made up never to leave my
parents. I felt that their absorbing love could never
be repaid by the longest life-service, and that the re-
sponsibility of an only child, their sole prop and solace,
would be strictly regarded by Him who readeth the
heart. I had seen aged people surrounded by indiffer-
ent persons, who considered their care a burden, and
could not endure the thought that my tender parents,
who were without near relatives, should be thrown
upon the fluctuating kindness of hirelings and stran-
gers. To me, my father already seemed aged, though
scarcely sixty ; and I said, in my musing hours. Shall
he, who never denied me aught, or spoke to me other-
wise than in love-tones, stretch forth his hands in their
weakness, *' and find none to gird him " ?
So my resolution was taken solemnly, and, as I sup-
posed, iiTcvocably. The loved objects for whose sake
it was adopted knew nothing of it. They would not
have required such a pledge, nor, perhaps, accepted it.
My mother would have been pleased, I fancy, to have
seen some reciprocity on my part on particular occa-
sions. She was not without ambition, and would have
enjoyed seeing her darling's lot in life uplifted and
made pennanent. She often rallied me on my indiffer-
ence to various fascinations, ascribing it to the love of
11
242
LETTERS OF LIFE.
books, which she hinted might become extravagant or
morbid. I conversed frankly with her respecting all
my gentlemen friends, and my joeculiar standing with
them, and was both surprised and enlightened by her
acuteness in the analysis of character, and her discrimi-
nating criticism of the style of manner and conversa-
tion.
Secretly deeming myself a thing set apart, I con-
scientiously avoided all trifling with the feelings of oth-
ers. Detesting every form of flirtation, when I fore-
saw by woman's intuition that aught serious was
meditated, I withdrew myself as far as possible until
the impression passed by. It seemed to me rank dis-
honesty to sport about the purlieus of matrimony, with
a fixed intention of never entering there. Neither
were this innate vow and consequent self-denial so
great as might naturally appear in one so young and
so agreeably allured. Fondness for intellectual pur-
suits prevented any restless search of excitement or
personal admiration ; and I never knew a sensation of
loneliness save in uncongenial society. As my Lord
Bacon says, " he had the privy-coat of a good con-
science," I wore, as an inward shield, my own con-
struction of a daughter's duty.
Still, I was sometimes sorely tempted, and my faith
ready to fail. At a time when my religious con-
victions were peculiarly strong, I painfully studied the
case, whether I ought not to take part in mission labor
LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 243
in a foreign clime. The literal application of the pas-
sage was warmly pressed : " He that loveth father or
mother more than me, is not worthy of me." " Xot
worthy of me ! Xot worthy of me ! " rang like a
dirge in my soul. But the surge of feeling subsided,
and in deepened humility I decided that, without any
worthiness whatsoever, I must cling to my Saviour's
cross.
Sundry times, also, I came near being caught in the
clerical net, but broke through. Fascinations of a
more ambitious character had likewise their scope and
sway. Still my slight bark was guided, though some-
times veering, to keep its pole-star in view. Those who
would have steered it to some favoring haven, where
" The light-house looked lovely as hope,
That star on Life's tremulous ocean,"
I remember with great respect and gratitude. "Worth
was theirs, and wealth, and mental culture, and the
world's consideration. I was not insensible to their
virtues ; their kind attentions are embalmed in mem-
ory. I have regarded their success and happiness with
satisfaction, and would fain have ever considered them
as brothers or friends.
But the blind archer, though oft repulsed, and
long held in subjection, bided his time. One might
have supposed that, for me, this time had passed. A
quiet school-dame, most happy with her scholars and
244 LETTERS OF LIFE.
frion(]s, having surmounted tlie period of youth's ro-
mantic enthusiasm, and addicted to " maiden medita-
tion, fancy-free," might have been thought no fit mark
for his arrow.
Nevertheless, as I plodded my way to and from my
school-house, a pair of deep-set and most expressive
black eyes sometimes encountered mine, and spoke un-
utterable things. They were the property of a gentle-
man of striking physiognomy and the elegant manners
of the olden school. Their dialect might not haA^e
made a lasting impression on one whose every thought
and faculty were bespoken by her daily occupation;
but ere long a letter came — a letter of touching elo-
quence and the fairest cbirography. From this there
was no escape. It was like a grappling-iron, not to be
evaded. Wherever I turned, its words followed me as
living creatures — an image of the wheel seen by the
entranced prophet, full of eyes, that gazed wherever he
went. To love-letters I had been no stranger, yet
nothing like this appeal bad caused such perturbation,
and captivity of thought. Its writer I bad occasion-
ally met in select parties, with bis wife, a being of
angelic loveliness and beauty, who bad gone to a
higher and congenial sphere.
At length I determined to consult my dear Mr. and
Mrs. Wadsworth. Readily and affectionately they
gave me their opinion, adding earnest urgency that I
should accept the proposal. The gentleman who had
LOVE AND MAEEIAGE. 245
thus honored me was of the highest respectability,
their neighbor and friend. He possessed intellectual
tastes, an accomplished education, and had given proof
of his domestic virtues during a conjugal union of fif-
teen years. They also expressed apprehensions that
my present profession, though delightful and prosper-
ous, might eventually make inroads on my health.
They adduced several occasions where its inevitable
exposure to changes and inclemency of weather had
produced colds of peculiar severity and obstinacy.
Now I could take leave of the employment honorably,
and without shadow of blame, ^"e should perma-
nently dwell near each other, and be sundered no more.
They held me closely to their heart, as they gave their
advice that this should be viewed as a favoring provi-
dence of our Heavenly Benefactor.
But the parents — the parents, already looking with
hope to the next vacation, when the sole idol of their
thoughts and prayers should come with her lamp of
love to enlighten their lonely dwelling — shall they
be told that she is makino; to herself a new home ? —
that she is meditating to sojourn with them no more ?
It was decided that the case should be simply and
circumstantially stated to them, with the assurance
that I had not committed myself in any form, but
awaited their decision, by which I would be implicitly
guided, and begging that they would take full leisure
to deliberate. I wrote the letter, and then led a life of
24G LETTERS OF LIFE.
supplication to Ilim wlio nloiio givctli wisdom. I
miujht Ijave said Avitli tlic Psalmist, " I wait on the
Lord ; my soul dotli wait, and in His word is my
hoiic."
Several circumstances conspired to lengthen this
period of suspense. And then came the letter from my
blessed fiither and mother, cordially consenting to the
proposed change of condition, and adding that, after
the tirst surprise had subsided, their minds felt relief at
the thought that, when death should take them from
me, my brotherless and sisterless heart might rest on
such a protector as he was represented to be by our
most faithful friends and benefactors.
During this probationary interval of somewhat
more than three Aveeks, I had declined an inteiwiew.
After the reception of the parental sanction, I find in
my journal, with the date of January 27th, 1819, the
followino; notice :
" I feel almost astonished as I write the words. I
am no more mine own, but another's. Last evening I
promised to do all in my power to advance the happi-
ness of a man of the purest integrity, sensibility, and
piety. I surely anticii^ate improvement from inter-
course with his elegant and scientific mind, but cannot
avoid shuddering at my unfitness to fill the station his
generosity has designated."
But whither had fled that settled purpose of celi-
bacy, which with almost the sanctity of a vow had so
LOVE AND MAEEIAGE. 247
long ruled my life ? Where ^vas even the compunction
that was wont to attend any parley with temptation
to forsake the watch and ward of parental welfare ?
"Where that impersonation of filial gratitude and duty,
to which I had bound myself, as a willing servant, for-
ever ? Ay, where ?
I gave scope to the new affection, so long repressed
or chastised, and its sway was pervading and delight-
ful. Every task was achieved with new vigor, every
obstacle surmounted as with double strength. Indeed,
it seemed as if nothing remained worthy the name of
task or obstacle, so perfectly did couleur de rose over-
spread all things. The refrain of an ancient sacred
melody echoed in my secret thought a perpetual
melody :
" God of grace !
Henceforth to Thee
A hymn of praise
My life must be."
I was as one wrapped in the tissued drapery of a
pleasant dream. What came the nearest to awakening
me as a stem reality, was the necessary dissolution of
my cherished school. It was in a highly prosperous
state. The studies had never been more agreeably or
earnestly prosecuted. We had recently commenced an
interesting course of Modern History, and I was pur-
suing a system of experiment on tlie extent of the
248 LETTERS OF LIFE.
capacities of memory in the yoimg unpreoccupied
mind, which I was persuaded had not been fully ascer-
tained.
Not long after my engagement, and while I sup-
posed its knowledge confined to particular friends, I
met, on approaching our school-room, several knots of
its occupants on the stairs and in the halls, with heads
in close propinquity, which parted and flitted away as
I drew near. Some exciting intelligence seemed circu-
lating with telegraphic speed. Not a whisper was
heard ; but I fancied I could divine their subject. Dur-
ing the exercises of the morning, eyes were fixed on me
with a varying expression of wondering curiosity or
incipient regret. One or two of the youngest made
errands to come to me, and linger as long as possible,
watching my every movement as if they expected me
to spread two great wings of an eagle, and vanish from
their sight. It became fashionable among them, for a
while, to asperse him to whose agency they ascribed
the anticipated loss. But these childish ebullitions
soon evaporated, and, in pleasant harmony with him
and with me, we prepared for separation at the close
of the existing term. It approached with unexampled
rapidity ; and again I have recourse to my journal :
" The trial of parting with those blessed young
creatures whom I love, and whose affection for me can-
not be mistaken, has this afternoon been accomplished.
In dispensing parting gifts, it gave me great satisfac-
LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 249
tiou that so exemplary had been their deportment, that
there was not a single one unrewarded, either by a
book-premium, or a certificate of merit in my best
handwriting. Surely their intercourse has been one of
improvement. Wherever their future course, or my
own, shall lead, I must cherish the memory of the
years God permitted us thus to pass together, while
' His banner over us was love.' Tears and irrepressi-
ble anguish marked our final leave-taking. They part-
ed, and returned, prolonging the painful scene till the
dimness of twilisiht drew over us. Their unaffected
grief cut my heart in fragments. And every fragment
found a voice, saying : ' Oh, most selfish ! thus for
your own ease and aggrandizement to trample out this
Heaven-enkindled love.' "
Sweet, sweet band of sisters ! Ah, how could I sever
The bright, golden chain that encircling has charm'd ?
How shall I write the words, Farted forever !
On the casket our friendship so long has embalm'd ?
Here, where your groups would so joyously meet me,
Gay as the birds through pure ether that soar ;
Here, where your eyes with fond dialect greet me,
The step of Affection returneth no more.
Knowledge you've sought with a warm emulation,
Quicken'd to ardor, yet soften'd by love ;
Wisdom invoked with profound veneration —
That wisdom whose mansion and crown are above.
250 LETTERS OF LIFE.
And now, empty Vase, by thy flow'rcts deserted,
Full oft round thy borders, though cheerless and lone.
Fond Memory shall linger, averse to be parted
From fragrance thy l>losfloms around thcc have strewn.
Farewell, dear companions ! Heaven's blessing attend you ;
And when those bright locks shall be frosted and gray.
When Age the faint light of his taper shall lend you.
Come, stand by my mouldering pillow, and say :
We remember the friend by whose side we were seated,
While knowledge allured us with lessons of love,
And whose prayer of the Father of Mercies entreated
That we all might unite in Uis kingdom above.
It had been arranged that, after the termination of
my school, I should make a valedictory visit to my
beloved Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth, before returning
home to prej^are for my marriage. In their blessed,
sympathetic society, I found solace for the dejection of
my recent farewell, and counsel for the new and impor-
tant duties that awaited me. I was constantly by her
side, who seemed to me more like an angel than a par-
taker of our own infirm humanity. The wise, encour-
aging voice of him who had been to me both as a
patron and father, gave me increased confidence in
good men, and in a God of goodness.
During the six weeks that thus glided away, I had
unrestrained opportunities of becoming more intimately
acquainted with Mr. Sigourney, whose residence was in
LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 251
the Deigliborhood, and avIio had been courteously in-
vited by my kind bcncflictors to visit their house freely
at all times. This unrestricted intercourse revealed
some new and interesting points of his history, calcu-
lated still more to rivet my affections. He Tvas a
native of Boston, and of a family of the highest re-
spectability. To me it was a source both of gratula-
tion and pride, that he should have descended from
that pious race of Huguenots, who left their fair clime
of birth for conscience' sake, and emigrated to this New
World soon after the revocation of the Edict of ISTantes.
His father, Mr. Charles Sigourney, of Boston, w^as the
third in descent from Mr. Andrew Sigourney, who, with
his son Andrew, came to this country from France in
1686. His mother, whose name was Frazer, was of
Scottish ancestry, and dying while he was yet a child,
his father took him to England, and placed him at an
excellent school at Hampstead. Here, under a strict-
ness of discipline that would not be tolerated in Young
America, he was inured to habits of obedience, order,
and application. His acquaintance with the studies
that he pursued was eminently thorough and accurate.
Particularly was the grammatical construction of the
Latin and French so well acquired, that, though he
left school at a very early age, their knowledge re-
mained with him unimpaired to the close of life.
At thirteen he returned to Boston, and entered the
store of his father as a clerk, where he evinced the
252 LETTERS OF LIFE.
panu' j»ati(Mit dcvotcdncss to mercantile employment
that he had formerly displayed in the requisitions of
scholastic lore. In the first year of the present cen-
tury, having attained his majority, he removed to Hart-
ford and commenced the hardware husiness, which he
pursued with unintermitting diligence and ability to
the close of life. In his i)rofcssion he was distin-
guished by accuracy, integrity, and knowledge of man-
kind ; and in every dejDartment of action his public and
private virtues had won the respect of the community.
He married, at the age of twenty-three, a young lady
from his native city, of uncommon loveliness and beau-
ty, to whom he had been attached from early youth,
receiA^ng and imparting, for fifteen years, as pure con-
jugal happiness as appertains to our changeful human-
ity. She fell a victim to consumption, leaving three
fair and interesting children to solace his mourning
heart. A few years after his marriage he commenced
attending the Episcoj^al Church, where he became a
communicant, and ever continued to evince his devoted
attachment by faithful and important services.
His native taste for literature and the fine arts was
carefully cherished. He was a critical judge of pic-
tures, and drew architecturally with precision and ele-
gance. He was fond of history and the standard au-
thors, but objected to the floating miscellanies of the
day, as furnishing no nutritive aliment to the mind, and
enervating its appetite for solidity. So elevated was
LOVE AND MAREIAGE. 253
his theory, that he decried the use of newspapers for
the young, as tending to debase the style by bad mod-
els of composition, and to weaken the retentive powers
by reading what they did not intend to remember, and
what was not worthy of being remembered. He was
watchful against new-coined words and innovations of
the language, constantly referring to the large edition
of Dr. Johnson's Dictionary for etjTnology and shades
of signification.
Possibly a fondness for the study of geometry in
boyhood might have contributed to develop the percep-
tion of symmetry, and the features of order and exact-
ness that characterized his mind. His style of conver-
sation was refined, and he never hesitated to introduce
intellectual and elevated subjects, from which some
might be deterred by the imputation of pedantry. His
manners, marked by the courtesy of the old school, had
a mixture of dignity which would be sure to repel all
undue familiarity. Cheered by intercourse with him,
and the beloved ones whose beautiful mansion was as a
home, the fair sjn'ing had reached its meridian, when,
with a heart overflowing with gratitude to my benefac-
tors, and prayers that Heaven would repay them four-
fold, he accompanied me to my parents. Having a
noble horse that he was fond of driving, and an easy
chaise, he preferred on this occasion that primitive form
of conveyance to a more ostentatious equij^age. Thus
we had liberty to enjoy the varied landscape, beautified
254 LETTERS OF LIFE.
by the soft LTrecii and opening l)U(ls of A])ril, and vivi-
fied by tlic souix <>i' many birds. To mc it was a sicj-
iiillcant fact, tliat our first journey together sliould
have been made on tlie anniversary of my parents'
birlli; wliieh I liave before mentioned occurred on tlic
same day of the month, with an interval of thirteen
years.
Deeply anxious w^as I that the introduction and
subsequent acquaintance of the three beings who were
now my all in the world, should produce a mutually
fixvorable impression ; and proportionably grateful that
so it seemed to be. I could not but feel how momen-
tous might prove the import of even slight circum-
stances at such a crisis, both on this life and the next.
Viewing him as the life-protector of their dearest one,
when they should be taken away, they were at once
disposed to the exercise of trusting affection. The
sterling and unobtrusive qualities of my excellent
father required intimate acquaintance for their full
development ; but I could perceive that my loved
friend was struck at first sight with the youthful as-
pect and animated manner of my beautiful mother,
who, though past fifty, seemed scarcely older than
myself, and vastly more impulsive and enthusiastic.
I was also much gratified that from the many friends
who were prompt in paying him attentions, he in-
variably won the high suffrage of a perfect gentleman.
He admired the variegated landscapes and sur-
LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 255
roundings of my native city, to which might be ap-
plied what the eloquent author of the recent " Personal
History of Lord Bacon" has said of Twickenham:
" Every plant that thrives, every flower tliat blows, is
in love Avith its soil." Its rural walks, also, were
faithfully explored, much to our enjoyment. At his
departure, he left witli me "Wakefield's Treatise on
Botany," and a small microscope, for the examination
of plants ; also the eight volumes of Sir Charles Grandi-
son, commending both works to my perusah With
regard to the first, I was obediently compliant. Miss
F. M. Caulkins, afterwards well known as the merito-
rious historian of Xorwich and of Xew London, was
staying with me, as an agreeable companion and kind
assistant. Together, we pursued strenuous dissections
of the vegetable races, from mouse-ear to cactus. I
felt almost as a pirate and murderer in Flora's realm.
Not having been accustomed to such researches, my
conscience reproached me, that, for the sake of techni-
calities of class and order, we should thus ravage the
calyx, and despoil the corolla, to which Nature had
given life and brilliance.
Richardson's novel did not fare as well as the
scientific treatise. It was so difi'use ; the elegant man-
ners which it portrayed were, to our republican no-
tions, so ceremonious and formal, that it was impossi-
ble to keep up a sustained interest. Therefore, though
I deemed myself in fault for dissenting from so culti-
256 LETTERS OF LIFE.
rated a taste as that of its owner, I was ever ready to
lay down the books, in wliich I made progress hy skip-
ping formidable intervals. Sir Walter Scott's earlier
works bad appeared, and already effeeted a revolntion
in the region of romance. By making the passion of
love subsidiary to historic lore, his powerful genius was
able to throw into the shade that class of works which
had so long made it their basis and integral element,
while at the same time they emasculated it by minute
and puerile delineations.
Among my occupations, at this period, were visits
to my pensioners, which assumed somewhat of a vale-
dictory character. These were not numerous, for hab-
its of industry, and the circumstance of having no
foreigners among us, forbade the growth of absolute
penury. Those who needed aid were principally such
as age or sickness had impaired, and for whom a well-
conducted alms-house furnished a comfortable asylum.
Still there were a few, to whom the proud memory of
better days rendered this retreat an object of disgust,
and who preferred to suffer privation rather than enter
it. One of these was an antiquated spinster, known by
the familiar sobriquet of Aunt Renie, her original name
being the poetical one of Irene. She seemed to have
fallen much within my own province, a prejudice being
in prevalence that she felt vastly above her condition.
She kept a single chamber at a low rent, in which was
some old-fashioned furniture ; and contributions to her
LOVE AND MARKIAGE. 257
fire-place and larder Tvere acceptable, though usually
received without thanks, as she seemed to hold the
theory that the world owed her a living. She had, in
her prime, been a nurse and a common needle-woman,
but I believe never a servant of all work. She was of
huge proportions, and such an immense adipose sub-
stance that it was impossible to connect with her the
idea of pining poverty. Her heavy footstep) was liter-
ally a " threshing of the floors." I have seldom seen
womanhood attain such a bulk. She was garrulous,
and, as is natural to threescore and ten, dwelt much on
the past. She imagined that she had once been the pos-
sessor of beauty, and the rallying point of several ad-
mirers. This required the strength of an implicit faith,
overcoming all evidence of the things that were seen.
But the vanity was harmless, and seemed to entertain
her. She also wished to convey an opinion of the dig-
nity of her family. The effort centred principally in
her mother, whose name, she never omitted to add, was
Miss Remembrance Carrier, abridged for domestic con-
venience to the monosyllable Mem. An acrostic, in-
spired by this parent, she Avas fond of rej)eating. Its
concluding lines I chance to recollect, the last syllable
of her conjugal nomenclature being land:
" Let Satan fly with fiery dart —
Arise, commune with thy own heart, —
Now, learn to choose the better part, —
Deliverance find from sin's desert."
258 LETTERS OF LIFE.
AmoTiir the (listurl)incj forces that conflicted with
this somewhat dreamy period of my existence, was tlie
thouujlit tliat I could no longer, by my owmi earnings,
add to tlie comfort of my parents. It had been the
purest, most unmixed pleasure, that I had ever tasted.
I low could I possibly resign it? Imagination was active
in searching if there were not some form of productive
employment consistent Avith my new position. The
liberality of my future husband was unquestioned. But
I desired to retain the privilege of working for my
parents. Selfishly, I was unwilling that any should in-
termeddle wdth this sacred joy. Yet how could it be
retained ? Might I not write some small w^ork for chil-
dren — some school-book, and get money ? I had heard
of a society in New York, which accorded good prices
for nice needle- work, with the intention of encouraging
that form of female industry. I was expert and deli-
cate in the uses of the needle. Might I not sew, and
earn something for them ?
These unsolved anxieties were deepened by the con-
sciousness that I was soon to leave their roof forever.
Still this was imperfectly realized until the time of
separation came. They were so thoughtful of my feel-
ings, as never to allude to that event with any expres-
sion of regret. Often was I saying in my heart, the
Lord bless them for their forbearance and self-control.
The reserve which we thus practised toward each other,
LOVE AXD MAREIAGE. 259
led me to the journal, my confidante from childhood,
and it records a few such effusions as the foUowincr :
o
Dear native earth, sweet spot of rest,
In summer's fair attractions drest ;
Wild springing flowers, romantic shores,
Gray cliflfs, where light-wing'd Fancy soars ;
Green valleys where my childhood rov'd,
Deep groves, in musing youth beloved,
Loved scenes where social virtues dwell
In sweetest harmony — -farewell !
Dear parents' home of happiness.
Which hovering angels deign to bless ;
Where every pain my heart could know,
And every care, and every woe,
Were ruled by soft affection's sway.
And banish'd from their haunts away-
Still lingering in this sacred cell,
The gushing tear-drops say — -farewell !
Thou too, my harp ! and can it be.
That I must bid adieu to thee ?
Thou, who hast cheered me day and night,
Tum'd every gathering shade to light,
And made a lot the world might scorn,
Bright as the rose-ray of the mom ;
Oh ! dearer far than words can tell,
My wild, my mountain-harp — farewell !
Yet all perturbations were allayed, and for a season
dispersed, when the long, journalizing letters of my
260 LKTTEKS OF LIFE.
life's compaiiioii .inivcd, vicli in description and phil-
osopliic.d remark, and redolent of the love-spell. I
think I have before mentioned, that one element of their
attraction was the beauty of their chirography. In
later years, while puzzled with deciphering^ the involu-
tions of fashionable writing, I have earnestly remem-
bered the clearness and symmetry of every separate
word and letter, the finished elegance of page after
page, even through whole volumes of mercantile ac-
counts, and the decided contrast of the downward and
upward marks, which the rigidity of the modern, me-
tallic pen precludes.
Among the pleasant grouping in w^hich imagination
indulged, and prominent in all my castle-building, were
the three children of my husband. Mrs. Grant, in her
" Letters from the Mountains," says, rather flippantly,
that " she is partial to ready-made families." The eld-
est of those to whom I contemplated assuming so im-
portant a relation, was a boy of eight years, and the
two youngest were daughters. I anticipated much
pleasure in promoting their improvement, the habit of
teaching having become almost an essential part of my
nature, while it was an object of my supplications that
I might be permitted to share their affections, and ena-
bled in some measure to supply the unspeakable loss of
a departed mother.
After the last visit of my aflianced lover, which was
to precede our nuptial ceremony, I seemed to attain a
LOYE AND MAKEIAGE. 261
more abiding sense of the responsibilities that awaited
me, and a more intense desire that I might so discharge
them as to enhance his comfort. I also became fatigued,
almost disgusted, with the preparation of a wardrobe,
which, in comparison Avith my previous simplicity and
frugality, seemed unduly elaborate.
" Can a maid forget her ornaments, or a bride her
attire ? " asked one of the prophets of Israel. I should
have been thankful to have been allowed to forget
mine. Such purchasing, devising, driving of needle
and shears, dealing with mantuamakers, milliners, and
sempstresses, had never before entered into my history.
I was humbled by it. I analyzed it as an inherent sel-
fishness, a weak compliance with the tyranny of Fash-
ion. It struck me that an event so sacred, so en-
twined with eternal destinies, should be less marked by
trifles and traj^pings. Xor could I witness without
regret the consequent and almost entii*e absorption of a
moderate sum laid aside from my school-earnings, and
mentally devoted to my dear, deserted parents.
One of the brightest of June mornings shone upon
our nuptials. Every leaf and flower was redolent of
dew and sunshine, as the bridal procession set forth.
The Episcopal church in Chelsea was two miles dis-
tant, and, notwithstandinor the earlv hour of eisrht,
densely thronged. The ceremony, most touching of all
save that which renders us back to dust, was feelingly
performed by the venerable Mr. Tyler, rector for flfry-
202 I.KTTKRS OF LIFE.
four years of Christ Clnircli, Norwich, assisted hy the
Rev. ^Ir., aflerwards Disliop Wainwriglit, then rector
of Clirist Church, TTnrlford, wlio, with his lady, and
otlicr friends from tliat city, liad kindly come on to be
present at the marriage.
It had heen my resolution to utter audibly the
responses required of me. Yet I was not aware,
until hearing the clear, impressive enunciation of
him who stood by my side, that my lips gave no
sound. The power of articulation fled. The pres-
ence of the throng had no influence. It did not
enter my mind. I seemed wrapped in a dream, and to
have no personal identity W'ith surrounding things.
The congratulations that succeeded the ceremony, the
world of flowers that were pressed upon me and show-
ered around, seemed cheering and beautiful ; but I
could not think them mine. It seemed an illusion,
though without the loss of self-command. What first
restored full consciousness, was the blessing of an old
lady of ninety — Madam Lathrop, a connection of my
earliest benefactress — and the fervent glance of her
still lustrous black eye. Her voice touched the sealed
fountains of other years, and I was again myself
The country through which we journeyed was inter-
spersed Avith thriving villages, and gorgeous in its sum-
mer drapery. Here and there early haymakers loaded
the air with fragrance. Rocks robed themselves in
laurel, and the wild strawberry blushed as it ran to
LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 263
bide among the matted grass. In the bridal coach
which led the ^vaJ were my husband and myself, our
little son who had accompanied him on this occasion,
and a servant-sfirl devoted to the care of the children.
Several carriaoies followed with the returninjx iruests,
with whom we held pleasant converse when any pecu-
liarly fine prospect attracted admiration. Our dinner
had been previously bespoken by the bridegroom at
Andover, a rural township which equally divided the
distance of somewhat more than forty miles. The
whole party partook of it with glee, and, as it was a
banquet of some pretension, it seemed to have made an
impression in the surrounding region, as, several years
after, a substantial-looking, elderly woman called, in-
troducing herself as one who had assisted in cooking
my wedding dinner.
The sun drew near the golden verge of his cloudless
rest as we approached our home. Our blessed friends,
the TVadsworths, gave us cheering welcome from door
and window as we passed. Our travelling companions
and a few other friends took tea, and spent the evening
with us, cheering me with their cordial good wishes.
Novel yet sweet to me was the appellation of
" Mother " from the dear little ones ; wliile the kind
induction into a new abode by him who held supreme
authority there, assured my heart and inspired the
desire to be faithful in every duty.
Loved friend, Avhose urgency has called forth these
264 LETTKUS OF LIFE.
rcniinisooncoR, I transcribe for you a few aspirations,
bearing date with the earliest light of my wedding
morning — June 16th — and written on the little white
deal table in the front chamber of my father's house in
Norwich, where from childhood the intercourse of
thought and pen had been pursued.
" Almighty God ! deign to look down and strength-
en me on this the most fearfully important era of my
life. Divine Saviour ! touched with the feeling of our
infirmities — Lamb of God ! who takest away the sins
of the world — I beseech Thee to hear me. Holy
Spirit ! sustain, cheer, animate me ; breathe into my
soul the calmness of self-possession, the same mind that
was in Christ Jesus.
" Blessed Trinity ! endue me with such virtues and
graces as my lot may require. May I move in the un-
tried sphere that awaits me with the humility of a
Christian and the benevolence of an angel. Heavenly
Father ! remember my forsaken parents. Known unto
Thee is the loneliness of their hearts. Thou alone hast
the power to comfort them. Bless him whom Thy
providence has appointed as my guide, companion, and
counsellor until death. Bless our children, and prepare
them early to walk in Thy truth. Thou hast called
their mother unto the perfect rest of heaven. Fill my
heart with her love toward them, and grant me sue-
LOYE AND MARRIAGE. 265
cess in the duties and affections that their tender age
requires.
"Art Thou not the God of Hope to all who put
their trust in Thee ? the God of Consolation to the
desolate ? the God of Wisdom to those who falter by
reason of darkness ? Oh ! for the sake of Him whose
last sigh on Calvary was peace to the sinner, suffer no
error or evil to overtake me. Let the solemn vows of
this day be registered in heaven. May I go forth to
my new lot in Thy holy fear. And when Thou shalt
summon me from earth's duties, may I be ready joy-
fully to pass where all tears are wiped from the eyes
for evermore."
12
LETTER XL
DOMESTIC LIF E.
Hymen is wont to strew with roses the entrance
into his domain. This is well ; for where the most
onerous duties of this life are assumed, all the aids
derived from agreeable excitement and cheering antici-
pation should be enlisted. J
The introduction to a new abode was signalized by "
many kind, social attentions in the form of calls, enter-
tainments, and parties. Such marked regard from the
aristocracy, as well as other classes, might have hum-
bled me with the feeling that I had no just claim to it,
had I not considered it as a demonstration of respect to
my husband. He, though a devoted and successful
merchant, often found time, toward the close of day, to
take little excursions, always choosing to drive himself,
through the beautifully varied scenery which the sub-
urbs of the city presented. A promise had been made,
at taking me from my parents, that, whenever it was
possible, he would bring me to visit them every month.
DOMESTIC LIFE. 267
This pleasant journey of forty miles was performed in
the same style, with a single horse, taking one of the
children in rotation, to share in our happiness.
Our household, besides our three lovely children,
comprised a maiden sister of the first Mrs. Sigourney,
a lady of most amiable manners, and of the same age
with my husband, two clerks, who, being from good
families, were generally included in our own circle, two
men employed about the grounds, store, or stables, and
three female servants. Finding the arrangements of a
family that had been in existence sixteen years sys-
tematically established, I was careful not to disturb or
interfere with its routine unnecessarily. Still it was
p my desire to bear a part in its operations, and to prove
that the years devoted to different pursuits had created
neither indifference nor disqualification for domestic
duty. In this new sphere I could scarcely hope to
equal my predecessor — who was a model of elegance —
but was assiduous that our hospitalities, especially the
dinner parties, which were occasionally large, should
show no diminution of liberality and order.
Habitual industry did not forsake me, but was
ready to enter untried departments. Perceiving my
husband to be pleased with efforts of the needle and
knitting-needles, mine were seldom idle. Xot content
with stockings of all sizes, I constinicted gloves of vari-
ous sorts, adjusting their fingers to the tiniest hands,
and surprised at my own success. A still bolder em-
208 LETTERS OF LIFE.
prise kiiKlled my ambition — tlic cutting and making a
}»air of pantaloons for our son. Kipping a cast-off gar-
ment of that sort, and sedulously measuring and ad-
justing every part by the pattern, I produced an article
of mazarine blue bombazine, which, trimmed with
white pearl buttons, was well-fitted and becoming. It
was sufficient for me that the father was pleased, and
praised it. For I was often saying in my heart, I hope
he may sustain no loss, at least in financial matters,
from having married a schoolmistress and a literary
woman.
It was particularly pleasant to me to keep up in
some measure the habitudes of teaching with our very
bright and attractive children. I simplified for them
portions of geography, history, and Scripture, illus-
trated by stories, and by degrees formed sets of writ-
ten questions, by w^hose aid they might review and
rivet their little gatherings in memory. Highly grati-
fied were they when father chanced to be an auditor.
They w^ere joined in these exercises by the youngest
clerk, w^ho requested it as a favor, having been well
instructed at the primary schools of a neighboring
State. This addition to their class served to encour-
ao-e them, and was to him a source of satisfaction.
Possessing a thirst for knowledge, and a fair, distinct
chirography, he advanced to the construction of his-
torical and chronological charts, which were in all re-
spects creditable, and worthy of preservation.
DOMESTIC LIFE. 269
The custom which prevailed among merchants in
the olden time, of drawing within their circle of
home-charities those whom they received as pupils in
their profession, was both kind and wise. The benevo-
lence of sheltering from temptation the young who are
thus severed from parental supervision, and whose
hearts often pine for the tones of lost affection, is often
recompensed by a more perfect identification of inter-
ests, and sometimes by a lifelong friendship.
The year after our marriage we removed to a habi-
tation which Mr. Sigourney had erected after his own
plan, in a commanding and beautiful situation. It
combined convenience with eleg-ance in a remarkable
degree. Facing the east, its stately columns caught
the first rays of the rising sun, as they unveiled, like
a picture, the city stretching at its feet. The interior,
with its lofty ceilings, marble mantel-pieces, folding-
doors, and windows reaching to the floor, had a patri-
cian aspect, more noticeable half a century since than
now, when such appendages are common. It was en-
vironed by an extensive lawn, whose curving gravel-
walks were adorned with shrubbery ; and spacious gar-
dens, one of which stretched downward to the fair
river that girdled the domain, from which it was pro-
tected by a mural parapet. One of the most unique
features of the scenery was a grove sloping rather pre-
cipitously to the borders of the same graceful stream,
traversed by winding paths, and shaded by lofty trees
2V0 LETTEES OF LIFE.
never disturbed by tbe axe, save to prune tlieir hixuri-
anee. On its margin, aii<l partially sublaincd by the
trunk of a strong oak that bent over the water, a rustic
recess with two or three seats, called the Hermitage,
had been constructed. It was approached by a kind
of wilderness path through the lower grounds, and, so
far from vindicating tlie propriety of its name, was
said to be the spot where many of the courtships of
the city were negotiated, under the auspices of Luna.
An adjohiing eminence was crowned by a summer
house, on whose vane, which was in the form of an
arm and hand, with a pointing finger, was the classic
inscription, " Ut ventus vita " — our life is as the wind.
Garden-seats were placed in different positions, so as
admirably to reveal the charms of nature and art
which were here combined — the velvet lawn, the tur-
rets of the neisfhborino; college, the stream that at one
point exhibited a slight cascade, and at another seemed
to have a lake-like termination, neither of which gave
the slightest indication of the torrent-fury of which it
was once in a year capable, when, swollen and dis-
turbed by the attrition of the dissolving spring-ices, it
rushed onward like a maniac. The trees which were
scattered here and there seemed instinct with the spirit
of grace ; and methought I had never beheld such en-
chanting moonlights as fell through their chequering
branches.
The iron horse has since tramped over those prem-
DOMESTIC LIFE. 271
ises, annihilated the grove, with its love-consecrated
cloister, demolished the rich eastern garden, and with
his fiery breath consumed a pair of ancient elms that
guarded its entrance, full of vitality and glory. But I
still keep the unchanged picture in my heart.
Our domain was beloved by the flowers. Roses of
every hue and variety cast their perfume upon the air ;
the clematis threw over the piazzas its rich masses of
cerulean blue ; brilliant woodbines and trumpet honey-
suckles spanned the arching gateways, or clung to the
trellises of the summer-house ; the alternate white and
purple lilacs bowed their heads over the avenue allotted
to them, as if in close consultation ; the neighboring
lilies bent back their listening petals, like the ears of
the white rabbit ; on the borders of the gravel walks
the gorgeous coxcomb flaunted, the peony and lupine
advanced their pretensions, the pansy lifted its deep eye
of intelligence, and the arbor-Judea waved its pendulous
banner when the slightest zephyr claimed homage.
Life in its varied forms, biped and quadrupedal, leaped
and luxuriated among us. Birds, fearing no shaft of
the fowler, peopled the boughs, and made a paradise of
song. Among the lofty walnuts in the grove a race of
exceedingly pretty gray squirrels might now and then
be seen flitting from si3ray to spray, or gracefully grasp-
ing in their paws the nuts that they nibbled and
amassed in their hoards. Snowy turkeys strutted amid
the green turf, those of the masculine genus spreading
272 LETTERS OF LIFE.
thoir broad j)luniajn^e with a peacock's vanity. TTcns, of
the same tint, protruded their heads from the gratings
of tlu'ir sliarp roofed summer-houses, calling back their
brooding little ones from among the compeers with
wliom they wandered n])on the allotted area. Their
similarity of color arose from the preference of my hus-
band, who, in his drives among our suburban farmers,
if he saw a fair, white member of the poultry tribe,
purchased it ; their eggs, being used in incubation, pro-
duced flocks of the same garniture, or if, by chance, a
youngling of different hue made its appearance, its date
was short. Among our other retainers was a favorite
horse, of large proportions, who, from the contrasted
color of his legs half way to the knees on an even line,
was known by the sobriquet of " White Stockings."
When led out to water, he might be seen lifting his feet
high and carefully, lest he should tread upon some kit-
tens, whose mother had chosen her abode in a corner of
his manger, or inserting his long, honest face, through
the open window of an adjacent pantry, to receive a
slice of bread, perhaps, with a sprinkling of salt. Two
fair cows, with coats brushed to a satin sleekness, rumi-
nated at will, and filled large pails with creamy nectar.
A long line of buildings stretched in the rear of the
mansion, unmarked by ornament, yet of pleasing archi-
tectural proportion, the classic taste of my husband
being obvious in the slightest details, every part of this
establishment, from the basement to the capitals of the
DOMESTIC LIFE. 273
columns, having been executed after a model drawn by
himself. Havins; been so thouorhtful of comfort as to
wish the coolness of an abode in summer not invaded
by the fumes and odors of culinary preparation, this
additional erection contained a large, secondary kitchen,
which having also every convenience for a laundry, was
constantly used for that purpose. There was also a fine
room for a dairy, and a chamber for the shelter of any
wayfaring man who might wish to tarry for a night.
The remainder of the building^ was divided between a
receptacle for fuel, carriage-house, and accommodations
for animals, with the stores of their requisite food.
It was accordant with the rural element in the char-
acter of us both, that a portion of the family subsist-
ence should be drawn from our own cultivated soil.
This we considered both congenial to health and that
consciousness of independence which is one of the
pleasantest parts of a life of agriculture. Fifteen acres
were connected with the domicile, which Mr. Sigourney
promised himself much pleasure in supervising. Like
many of the gentlemen-farmers of England, he pre-
ferred that his principal gardener should be a Scotch-
man, the thrift and close observation of that people
being happily shown in exciting the highest fruitfulness
of the earth, without exhausting its powers.
Our gardens supplied a profusion of the richest veg-
etables, which gave variety and a healtliful aliment to
our repasts. Currants pruned into the form of small
274
LETTERS OF LIFE.
trees, sliowered tluir fniitai^o hotli white and red,
raspberries luxuriated ujion their espaliers, and a large
expanse was allotted to the luscious strawberry. We
had at a little distance a field where the tasselled maize
grew lovingly with the potato, and a pasture where
our cow^s took their clover meals, repaying us in a
barter-traffic of cream and golden butter. Our poultry
peopled their territory with a prolific zeal, and munifi-
cently gave us their eggs, their offspring, and them-
selves.
Our trees, of the peach, pear and ap2)le, apricot
and cherry genus, w^ere so exuberant in their gifts, that
neither by usufruct, or donation, could they be always
expended. The resource was in casting them to a class
of retainers whose name, for some reason or other, per-
haps for none at all, is scarcely admissible to ears
polite. Nevertheless, having very comfortable quar-
ters, wdth a fortified area, where they might enjoy the
air and sun, and being kept scrupulously neat, they
were not disagreeable objects, especially when the be-
fore-named dessert w^as distributed. They exhibited
unmingled delight in partaking of it, cracking the
peach-stones to extract the aromatic kernels, and look-
ing up at their benefactors with some degree of intelli-
gence. We did not scorn the comfort of this subsidiary
part of our establishment, who in return added condi-
ments to our board, and their hams were thought to
have derived flavor from the peaches that had nourished
DOMESTIC LIFE. 275
them. Soon after our removal to this delightful abode,
my husband confided to me that, from some obstruc-
tions in the course of mercantile prosperity, added to
the exj^enses of building, which are wont to exceed
their original estimate, a system of retrenchment would
be expedient, perhaps imperative. Concurring with
his projDOsition, I sought how it might best be put in
force without involving palpable inconsistency in the
habitants of so costly a dwelling; and having seen
some examples of a successful union of economy with
hospitality, determined to become a learner and disciple.
I steadfastly set myself against waste in every domestic
department, and also to prolong the existence of all
garments, by repair or transmigration. Wishing to
take my part in privation, should any be deemed neces-
sary, my wardrobe was for years supplied at a surpris-
ingly small expenditure. I also undertook that the
labors of our large household should be performed by a
single adult female servant, aided by a young girl to be
retained until the age of eighteen, whose remuneration
was to consist of her clothing, board, and instruction.
This arrangement I was enabled to persevere in for
somewhat more than eight years, until the birth of lit-
tle ones rendered the assistance of a nurse indispensable.
To the description of help given by servants under
eighteen, I became much attached, as calling forth some
modification of the maternal principle, and giving scope
for more of grateful regard than usually enters into the
276 LETTEKS OF LIFE.
history of liirclings. One of mine, tlius trained, bc-
cnmo a rospoctrd tonrhor, and liaV)itant of our fair,
growinix West; and anotlier, wlio was a model of fidel-
ity and piety, became the Avife of an honored Mayor of
our city.
For the household accounts, which were entrusted
to me, an early training had given fitness and facility.
Having acquired a fair handwriting, and some knowl-
edge of arithmetical com})utation, at the age of eight
my father accepted my assistance in keeping his books,
a weakness of the eye, caused by the measles, making
any continued use of the pen painful. As he held for
some time the office of Town Surveyor, I was initiated
into the mysteries of debt and credit, and gratified by
being installed as a species of de2:>uty book-keeper. He
required a very clear chirography, and tolerated no
blots or erasures ; and the attention to accuracy thus
inculcated in childhood, has been an advantage through-
out life. By him I was also induced to commence, at
eleven, in a manuscript book for that purpose, a state-
ment of all my own expenditure, however small, a habit
which I have continued without interruption to the
present day.
I was happy that my husband should have the bene-
fit of these financial proclivities, at a time when they
were apposite and serviceable. Indeed, I have often
wondered how so many of my own sex, especially
housekeepers, should so often neglect, and even testify
DOMESTIC LIFE. 277
contempt for a regular account of their expenses. It
not only seems necessary to prevent forgetfiilness of
where their money goes, but acts as guide in the science
of its correct use. It is a sort of chart, by which a safe
course may be steered, and the quicksand of debt
avoided. My own countrywomen are vastly more neg-
ligent in this matter than the ladies of England, where
I have observed even those of high rank keep their
household-book near at hand, where it can be system-
atically consulted. I have also noticed in London,
amono; the eles^ant o-ifts of a bridal trousseau, a beauti-
fully bound blank book, for household expenses.
Dear friend, whose practice in such results is so ex-
emplary, I am sure you will forgive this financial ej^i-
sode, for you believe with me that there is more pleas-
ure in a just economy, even when not compelled by pe-
cuniary need, than in the most lavish expenditure ; the
conscience of one who realizes a Christian stewardship,
being better satisfied.
Among the pleasures of our mode of life I was per^
mitted to put in practice what had been my ambition
for years, ever since a short visit to the Hon. Governor
John Jay, that venerable patriot, scholar, and saint.
His daughter. Miss Ann Jay, a most refined and lovely
person, who had charge of his establishment, gave em-
ployment to the poor women of that vicinity and the
neighboring villages, in spinning and weaving, provid-
ing the materials, and paying them for their labor. The
278 LETTERS OF LIFE.
fabrics thus produced were sometimes retained, but
Gfcnerally disjioscd of at very low piices to those who
iiiadc thorn, bcinc^ of such a substantial nature as to be
useful in their housoliolds. Thus she eucouracfed their
industry, and also gained such an acquaintance with the
structure of their families, as enabled her to send ac-
ceptable gifts to the sick and aged, or useful books to
the young. To prevent a too frequent invasion of time,
she appointed one day in each month for the transac-
tion of this business, when groups of earnest, hard-
working women might be seen, wending their way on
side-saddle and pillion, bringing the fruits of their dili-
gence, and flattered to be received at the great house as
coadjutors and friends. Thus, this estimable lady, who,
like her father, was the personification of benevolence,
illustrated, in her own ingenious way, the principle that
the best mode of helping the working-classes is to sus-
tain their self-respect by prompting them to help them-
selves.
My plan of operations was of course on a more
limited scale, but kept its original steadily in view. It
was ripened into action by information from my hus-
band that an establishment for the sale of dry goods in
which he was concerned, had been unfortunately man-
aged, and that the articles belonging to him which re-
mained unsold would be brought to the house, and I
might have liberty to dispose of them in payment for
the work of spinning-women, if such personages could
DOMESTIC LIFE. 279
be found. Most grateful was I to him for this permis-
sion, and delighted to see a small apartment in the
attic overflowing with calicos, plaids, and a multitude
of other articles adapted to home consumption.
Forthwith I opened negotiations with the flax mer-
chants, and busied myself in searching the suburbs for
those who were skilled to transmute the raw material
into yarn, thread, etc., receiving remuneration in w'hat-
ever they might select from my store, at marA'ellously
reduced prices. Here was a commercial intercourse, and
a barter-trade opened, without any manner of doubt.
The trafiic proved a source of mutual satisfaction.
It was principally among the old-fashioned people
w^hom I dealt, the younger not having been initiated
into the policies of spindle and distaff. At length, dis-
covering a female weaver, I had my purchased yarn
transmuted into various forms of what the Scotch call
napery, of a serviceable and durable quality. A cor-
relative species of industry, which I had not antici-
pated, sprang up from this pleasant traffic. My own
maidens, who were moved with a desire of imitating,
or surpassing what was exhibited by their suburban
friends, betook themselves, at their intervals of leisure,
to the same employment, and the music of tlic large
spinning-wheel was extant among us. This was inter-
esting both to Mr. Sigourney and myself, as conforming
still more to those habits of rural life which we re-
spected. We procured wool for them, which, after
280 LETTERS OF LIFE.
beinir mniiipiilnfofl by cnrrlinnr mnrliinos into four lonrr
rolls, they jnaTiulactunMl into nice flannel sheets, some
of which are in existence at the present day.
Amid our interesting domestic avocations, the claims
of society were not forgotten. Pleasant parties of
friends were not nnfrequently invited, for whom it was
our rule to make our ice-cream, and other varieties of
refreshment, within our own premises.
It was our desire in these entertainments to avoid
display, and unite simplicity with social and intellec-
tual pleasures. We did not wish to make the animal
appetites the chief attraction to those whose company
we solicited, but taking it for granted, in the words of
the Apostle to those of Corinth, that they had " houses
of their own, to eat and drink in," w^ould not tempt
them to unseasonable indulgence, perhaps at the ex-
pense of physical welfare.
The pleasantest months of the year gave us the en-
joyment of a more protracted hospitality. Our rural
residence was delightful in summer to our city friends,
and my husband's relatives from Boston, and the visit-
ants of our daughters, often made the family circle
large and cheerful.
Yes, and in process of time guests appeared, not for
a season only — two little ones, who, having first opened
their eyes amid that delightful scenery, claimed it as a
home. My first infixnt, who came to us just before
leaving our former habitation, fainted at the gate of
DOMESTIC LIFE. 281
life, and was laid by the pale angel on a turf pillow.
It was a daughter of fair countenance and unusually
large size, for whose crushed life my own was placed in
imminent peril, and my health, for months afterwards,
seriously suffered. Then followed the premature birth
of two sons, and I gradually resigned the hope of ever
becominor the mother of a livino; babe.
But somewhat more than eight years after our mar-
riage, one of the smallest representatives of the human
race was laid in my bosom by the All Bountiful.
Scarcely four pounds in weight was this miniature of
humanity ; and to see it breathing, moving, stretching
its tiny hands, unclosing its bright, blue eyes, was a
sleepless source of wonder — a new demonstration of
creative power and infinite goodness. Like a vision
was the little Mary, and a blessing has she since been
to all who have known her. I could not believe she
was mine. I could not feel that I had a rigcht to her,
though she so freely drew her subsistence from me.
Her loving babyhood was as a dream of enchantment
to the heart which had so long schooled itself to resign
anticipations of this nature.
Scarcely two years after her advent, a brother, of
larger proportions, and vigorous frame, gladdened her
nursery. Swiftly fled the months in their sweet com-
panionshi]), and early and proudly was she seen guid-
ing his footsteps as they traversed the velvet lawn. His
father honored him with the name of Andrew, which
282 LETTERS OF LIFE.
was borne by the ITugiicnot .ancestor wlio first cmi-
gr.it cd to this land for " freedom to worship God."
Tlie enres of maternity, .added to those of house-
keeping, had interfered with the regular routine of
visits to my ]iarents. This was a source of anxiety, as
the health of my mother had become delicate, and her
elastic spirits gradually subsided into sadness after my
ultimate departure. They had been induced occasion-
ally to pass a winter with us, and at the close of one of
those visits Mr. Sigourney proposed that they should
dispose of their property in Norwich and dwell con-
stantly with us, as the trouble and expense of a sepa-
rate establishment might thus be spared, while the
presence of their baby grandchildren offered a new mo-
tive in favor of the arrangement.
His arguments prevailed, and my father, journeying
alone to his deserted abode, promptly effected a suc-
cessful sale of his real estate, movables, etc., and re-
turned at the age of eighty with the vigor of a young
man, bringing with him a copious selection of articles,
which I prized as memorials of former days. Most
grateful was I for this kind permission to dedicate a
portion of time and attention to those who had for
years suffered from their deprivation. I doubt whether
the full responsibility of an only child is often cor-
rectly estimated. Their indebtedness for a concentrated
and exclusive love of a lifetime, cannot be computed in
the arithmetic of language. If a daughter, her for-
DOMESTIC LIFE. 283
saking father and mother when the wheels of life begin
to drive heavily, the blotting out of the one bright
face, and young voice, the falling back upon hirelings
when the worn heart yearns for loving looks and
words, is a loss and a sorrow surpassing speech.
While the home-circle was enlarged on one side, it
was temporarily diminished on the other. Our oldest
son had become the student of a college in a distant
State, under the presidency of Right Rev. Bishop Phi-
lander Chase, the particular friend, and formerly the pas-
tor of his father. The eldest daughter, the most beau-
tiful one of our familv, was at the celebrated French
boarding-school of Madame Chegaray, in New York,
while the youngest remained with us, a daily attendant
of the Hartford Female Seminary, then under the
charfre of the distin squished Miss Catharine E. Beecher.
As my husband, soon after taking up his residence
in Hartford, had become a member of the Episcopal
Church, I considered it my duty to adopt his form of
worship. Though attached to that in which I had been
educated, it was not long ere I accounted this change a
privilege, so impressive was the solemnity of its liturgy,
the hallowed beauty of its ordinances, and its system-
atic commemoration of events in the life and death of
our divine Redeemer. Especially did the pathos of its
burial-service thrill through my soul. It soothed me to
think that the tearful request might probably be granted
made to my mother, when, a young child, I first heard
284 LETTERS OF LIFE.
it fit the c^ravc of a companion : " Let that same be read
over me when I am dead.''
There was but one place of worshij) for tlie Episco-
pal Church in tliis city, at the time of our marriage in
1810, a i)lain structure of wood, with a small congrega-
tion. Tliis was sold to the Catholics in 1827, removed,
and eventually destroyed by fire. The original site is
occupied by the present spacious and substantial speci-
men of Gothic architecture ; besides which, there are
five edifices of stone, counting the chapel of Trinity
College, consecrated to the Episcopal form of worship.
AVhen I commenced attending it, the Rev. Jonathan
M. Wain Wright was for a short time our rector, a young
clergyman of high classical attainments, noble elocu-
tion, and dignified manners. He was afterwards widely
known as Bishop of New York, and author of several
beautiful volumes of tasteful literature and piety.
His successor was the Rev. Dr. Nathaniel S. Whea-
ton, respected for undeviating integrity, practical phi-
lanthropy, and. universal knowledge. His earnest
promptings stimulated to the erection of the present
edifice of Christ Church, which had throughout its prog-
ress the aid of his architectural taste. With perse-
vering industry he drew the original design, marked
out the ground-plan, and superintended the details of
the work from buttress to tower with somewhat of the
attachment of the ancient Jews for their sacred temple.
After ten years of faithful service, he resigned our
DOMESTIC LIFE. 285
pulpit for the presidency of Trinity College, and his
place was supplied by the Rev. Dr. Hugh Smith, who
came to us from the South. He was a man of genial
temperament, and distinguished by the tenderness of
his ministrations at the couch of sickness and death. I
found both pleasure and edification from attending a
weekly Bible-class instituted for the ladies of his con-
gregation, where the Scriptures were happily illustrated
by knowledge drawn from various commentaries, as
well as by his own feeling and impressive enforcements.
Neither of these three sacred teachers are now deni-
zens of earth. They have passed to that blessed re-
ward for which they labored to prepare others. May
their flock be permitted to meet them at the feet of the
one Great Shepherd !
The Rev. Georo-e Buroress came to us in 1833, while
yet a young man, recently returned from travelling in
Europe, and a residence of some length in Germany.
His character combined exalted and tender sympathies,
profound learning, and poetical genius, all of which
were humbly laid at the foot of the cross of Christ.
For thirteen years we enjoyed his faithful instructions,
and example of the meekness of wisdom. Then he
consented to accept the Episcopate of Maine, where his
self-denying labors have been unremitting and intense.
The Muse but inadequately expresses the sorrow of his
people at the separation :
286 LETTERS OF LIFE.
I.
Pastor and friend, wliosc voice from year to year
Witli lore of heaven, the listening car hath mov'd ;
Whose pure example, brightening still, and clear,
Gave beauty to the path thy words approv'd :
Alike by youth, and reverend age belov'd,
In vain, alas ! — thy fostering smile we seek ;
To distant fields of sacred toil remov'd,
We miss thy guiding hand and o'er the cheek
Steal the heart's living pearls, as of thy loss we speak.
n.
For thou wert with us, when our souls were tried
By the sore ills that throng this pilgrim way ;
And like a brother bow'd thee at our side
When pain and sickness mark'd us for their prey,
Or dearest hopes sank down in dark decay ;
How rose thy tones, as if an angel pray'd,
When forth the spirit pass'd from failing clay ;
Or with the mourner-train, in funeral shade,
Where sadly, dust to dust, the holy dead were laid 1
III.
The sheep of other folds thy kindness knew, —
The wandering lambs that own'd no shepherd's care,
The erring outcast, shrinking from the view,
The poor, in cell all desolate and bare.
The homeless stranger, in his deep despair ;
No cold pretension, oft from learning bred,
No Pharisaic pride constrain'd thy prayer ;
DOMESTIC LIFE. 287
And ever didst thou strive with patient tread
To seek and save the lost, for whom thy Saviour bled.
IV.
Say, hadst thou known, all lowly as thou art,
Prone of thyself such sHght account to make,
How strong the ties that from so many a heart
Twin'd round thy spirit for thy Master's sake —
Childhood's blanched lip, that trembled as it spake.
And white-haired age, that shunned the parting look,
While from dark hut, and courtly haU did break
Such sound of weeping that thy manhood shook,
Couldst thou have knovni it all, and yet our love forsook ?
V.
Hence, selfish thought, and hide thee in the dust !
Shall our own separate good absorb our care ?
And ne'er another's gain, or joyful trust,
Give ardor to our gratulating prayer ?
Christ's family alike His favor share.
And ill should we within His blessed fold
Deserve a place, if haughtily we dare
To gloat exulting o'er our gamer'd gold,
Nor heed a sister-flock, that roam the mountains cold.
VI.
Yet ah, forget us not ! though far away
'Neath happier skies, thy hallow'd course be run.
Think of our vales, where sleeps the autumnal ray.
Our placid river, sparkhng in the sim,
Haunts, where thy laurels from the muse were won.
288 LETTERS OF LIFE.
Ilcartlis, where fond memories of thy friendfihip twin^
IIcartH, wliose best hopes, beneath tliy care begun,
Shall hoard thine image, even till life's decline,
Still let thy prayers be ours, our grateful blessings tliine.
"We have, since his departure, been favored for pe-
riods of different length, with the ministrations of the
Rev. Dr. Peter S. Chauncey, the Rev. Dr. Thomas
Clark, -who left iis to become the Bishop of Rhode Island,
the Rev. Richard S. Abercrombie, and the Rev. Dr.
George 11. Clark, who is at present our esteemed rector.
I hope I may not have failed to derive lasting benefit
from the teaching of these spiritual guides.
During all these mutations, the Rev. Dr. Hawes, of
the First Congregational Church in Hartford, continued
to discharge his sacred duties with unimpaired physical
and mental energies. He exhibits the rare example of
constancy to one flock for almost half a century, and,
in the words of Goldsmith, " ne'er hath changed, or
wished to change his place." Having been a communi-
cant there when in this city, until emerging from school-
mistress into matron, I have been in the habit of occa-
sionally going to hear one of his earnest discourses-
which are still delivered with the same strength and
volume of voice, and emphasis of manner, that distin-
guished his early years. Respected by all for his long
life of undeviating integrity and consistent piety, he
may be seen traversing our streets with an alert step
DOMESTIC LIFE. 289
and healthful complexion, intent on errands of good-
ness, at past the age of threescore years and ten.
The Right Rev. Thomas Church Brownell, senior
bishop of the United States, has presided over the
Episcopal Church in Connecticut between forty and
fifty years, and for almost the whole of that period
been a resident of Hartford. Possessed of a clear intel-
lect, and of the advantaijes of hisrh education and foreign
travel, his discourses and published wi"itings ever main-
tained a disting-uished character. He Tras the first
president of Trinity College, and filled that post of
honor with success, and a delightful blending of dignity
with afiability. This position he resigned, that he
might more exclusively devote himself to the duties of
his diocese. There, his success in increasing its num-
bers, and preserving that spirit of peace which has ever
marked his own life and spirit, has been eminent. He
has repressed the disposition to controversy, and studi-
ously enforced that unity and love which the Gospel of
Christ requires.
Xow,* in his eighty-fifth year, the saintly beauty of
his countenance, seated happily with the loved com-
panion of his youth, and usually attended by some one
of their affectionate children, is what no artist's pencil
may hope to equal. Compelled by advancing infirmi-
* The honored prelate entered into the blessed rest of the saints on
the 13th of January, a. d. 1865.
13
200 LETTERS OF LIFE.
ties to devolve the cares of his sacred office on the ex-
cellent Assistant Bishop, the Rev. Dr. John Williams,
residing in Middletown, lie exhibits an example of ven-
erable and pious age which all love and revere.
Tliricc blessed is the crown of days
Around his temples wove, —
Who ever in his hallow'd sphere,
Firm in the Gospel's faith and fear,
Hath kept our Master's spirit dear,
And ruled with peace and love.
Believing that Christian sympathies may be quick-
ened by sometimes joining in the worship of other de-
nominations, and that cxclusiveness obviated which is
prone to adhere even to the most conscientious, I occa-
sionally listened with pleasure to the Rev. Dr. Bushnell,
whose strikingly suggestive and original mind is por-
trayed in his published works ; to the Rev. Mr. Beadle,
who, both as a foreign missionary and pastor in his na-
tive land, has evinced the devoted and loving spirit of
his Master ; and to the Rev. Dr. Turnbull, of the First
Baj^tist Church, whose warm Scottish heart gives life
and energy to the religious labors, social intercourse,
and literary efforts, which for nearly twenty years he
has pursued among us.
I have been also j^leasantly acquainted with several
interesting and fervent preachers of the Methodist Epis-
copal Church, and with the late Dr. Brady of the
Romish Church, under whose auspices the noble build-
DOMESTIO LIFE. 291
ing known as St. Patrick's Cathedral was erected, and
who, with all his devotedness to his own immediate
people, had the interests of the whole community stead-
fastly at heart.
The longer I live, the more inclined I am deeply to
regret that those differences of doctrine and form
which must always exist, should be permitted to disturb
their Christian charity who embrace the precepts of the
same Gospel, and pray to dwell at last lovingly ia the
presence of one Redeemer, in purer light, and perfect
unity.
LETTER XH
LAPSE OF YEARS.
After a residence of eighteen years amid the fair-
est rural scenery, we removed to another habitation,
somewhat nearer the central part of the city. To
leave the trees we had planted, and the flowers whose
growth we had watched, was like parting with living
friends. Associations also were entwined with the
walls of the mansion, with the different apartments,
the windows where the rising sun had so long greeted
us, and the piazzas where we had sat under the rich,
soft moonlight. To sever these ties, was like breaking
the flexible tendrils of the vine.
But what I permitted myself for a time to make a
trial and a sorrow, gradually faded away. In a few
years I passed those premises without a thought of
self-appropriation or a thrill of regret. This philoso-
phy was doubtless strengthened by the agency of the
railroad in ravaging recesses where Memory might
have too fondly lingered.
LAPSE OF YEAES. 293
Our new abode, being of much smaller dimensions,
required dexterous arrangement in transferring our
goods and chattels. The large dining-tables, massy
side-board, and other similar furniture, with the alabas-
ter ornaments of the broad mantel-pieces, could not
obtain admission. The carved, high-post bedsteads
were sawed down to accommodate the lower ceilinors,
and readily resumed their functions. If, at first, any
one might fancy that respiration during warm summer
nights might be impeded in those comjDaratively con-
fined chambers, it was a mistake. We have breathed
very well here for years ; and after a little judicious
management of allotted space, and acclimation of the
feelings, it became entirely comfortable.
Yet not all who had composed our household on the
hill accompanied us hither. Four years before we left.
Death had summoned the first beino; who had ever
passed from its halls to his narrow house. My mother,
at the age of sixty-seven, fell the victim of an acute
dysentery ; and she, who from birth had nurtured me
with an exclusive, almost idolatrous love, was a cold
form of clay.
" Farewell ! farewell ! Such thoughts as breathe
The thrilling, grateful sigh,
Still with thy name my lips enwreathe ;
God will not let them die."
Our circle was also ere long to be diminished by the
294 LETTERS OF LIFE.
doprirturc of our two eldest daugliters, who made judi-
cious and linp]iy marriages — ]N[rp. Elizabeth Knox
taking up her residence in Troy, and Mrs. Jane C.
]>nnihain in the city of New York. There they he-
came the mothers of interesting and promising families,
beloved by their many friends, and discharging the
duties of their position with gracefulness, fidelity, and
piety.
All these changes served to make me the more sus-
ceptible of gratitude for the attentions of friendship,
to Avhich throughout life I have been so deeply indebt-
ed. One more instance of its singular disinterestedness
I should love to relate to you.
Among the neighbors of our hill-residence were Mr.
and Mrs. Christopher Colt, who inhabited the spacious
and pleasant mansion opposite our own, now the abode
of my friend Mrs. John A. Taintor. He Avas a native
of Massachusetts, a gentleman of fine form and counte-
nance, and amiable manners ; and his Avife, who was a
daughter of the late Major Caldw^ell, one of our most
distinguished citizens in early times, was a model of
dignified beauty. At the social visits which that im-
mediate neighborhood strove systematically to main-
tain, they were accounted our handsomest couple.
Their family consisted of two daughters and four sons,
the former of whom having been among my pupils
when I was so hapj^y as to be employed in the work
of education.
LAPSE OF YEAES. 295
Samuel, the second son, was a beautiful boy, uniting
sprightliness Tvith a thoughtful temperament. He often
attracted my attention among the group of playmates
who came to visit Charles, our eldest son, and pursue
their sports upon the grounds.
Having once received from some person the rather
questionable gift of a pistol, he seated himself in a con-
templative manner under a tree, and, taking it entirely
to pieces, and laying each jDart in order by his side,
restored and reunited them all perfectly again. Was
not this a shadoT\dng forth of the machinery he was to
construct, and the armories he should build ?
His mechanical genius, which was early developed,
did not gain immediate appreciation. Foreign climes
made the first true estimate of his extraordinary in-
ventive powers. England, France, Russia, Turkey,
and other realms of the older world, discovered, under
an exterior wholly devoid of ostentation, and revealed
to his birth-land, his scientific skill and indomitable
energy. Though a AYisdom that never errs has pointed
out the tendency of the human mind to undervalue
that which is ever within its reach, yet our country,
which, more visibly than any other on the globe, has
been uplifted by her self-made men, and is not obtuse
to the principles of loss and gain, is unwise to overlook
those talents which reflect distinction upon herself.
Yet the obstacles which, in early life. Colonel Colt
encountered and overcame, deepened his sympathies
200
LETTERS OF LIFE.
for every form of hardship, and bis liberality in aiding
and upholding the laboring classes.
Kcturning to his native city with the meed of fame
and the materials of wealth, he consecrated them to
her benefit with a iilial warmth, which she had taken
little pains to win, nnd was slow to acknowledge. By
the bold design and successful completion of his dike
or embankment, he seems to have created a new ex-
panse of land, which he defended against the attacks
of the Connecticut, from whose depths it was drawn
and consolidated.
When swollen by the reenforcement of melting
snows, the proud river returns in spring to the inun-
dated play-places where it had revelled from the begin-
ning, and finds itself excluded, foaming with rage it
essays a faint imitation of the waves of the sea, vainly
dashing against and battling the immovable parapet.
An immense stone armory, including buildings more
than twelve hundred feet in length, and several stories
high, filled with his own invented or improved ma-
chinery, gave employment to more than a thousand
working-men. To these he punctually accorded the
wages on which the subsistence of their families de-
pended, erecting for them substantial tenements of
brick, and in a range of Swiss cottages kindly consult-
ing the home associations of one class of his immi-
grants.
A manufacture, whose extent had not been antici-
LAPSE OF TEARS. 297
pated, sprang from the ozier willow which had been
planted on the outer edge of the embankment, that the
interlacing of its fibrous roots might aid in communi-
cating permanence. From this, a multitude of exquis-
ite articles for use and adornment came forth as if by
magic, revealing both the ingenuity and the Midas-
touch that he possessed, and employing throngs of
laborers. For the households of all thus under his
care, comprising thousands of difierent ages, from in-
fancy to decrepitude, he testified an interest, wishing to
elevate them mentally, providing a large hall where
they might have lectures and music, sustaining mission
schools, and devising future plans for a more extensive
and thorough education.
Yet, amid the magnitude of his pursuits and respon-
sibilities, the honors from foreign climes, and gifts of
crowned heads that were showered upon him, the most
minute promptings of friendship were never disregard-
ed. Beautiful books and pictures he sent me from
abroad ; the malachites and porphyries of Russia, and
an inlaid writing-desk of the costly buhl-work of
Vienna. It would be almost impossible to record the
various forms in which his benevolent regard for me
was indicated. Yet I would not willingly forget one
of them.
Knowing my fondness for flowers, twelve pots of
the richest ones would be sent me in winter from his
green-house, filling my windows with fragrance, and
298 LETTERS OF LIFE.
exciting the •vvoiulor of passers-by that a dwelling so
lowly shouUl thus be irradiated by tulips and carna-
tions, hyacinths, geraniums, and the soldi cVor. Every
ten days or a fortnijjht he thoutjlit fully commissioned
his gardener to remove these, and replace them by an
equal number of fresh ones. Fruits and vegetables
from his garden enriched my table ; cordials found
their way to me if I were but slightly indisposed ; and
pleasant rides in the fine equipage, driven on those
occasions by his own hand, were cheering to my wid-
owed and sonless heart. He was not willing to accept
even the offering of thanks, but had implied to some
of my friends that he considered himself a debtor for
pleasant words sjDoken to his boyhood, while playing
upon our grounds — of which I have no remembrance ;
and for kindness to his sisters while they were my
pupils — which was a pleasure to myself, instead of an
obligation to them. Yet it is delightful to find, in
these venal times, an example of generosity thus
springing wholly from a sense of gratitude, however
mistaken. Some philosopher has sagely said, that only
generous natures are capable of the grateful senti-
ment.
Recollecting my interest in our early local histories,
and the bi-centennial anniversary of the settlement of
Hadley, Mass., the place of his paternal ancestry, being
appointed, he invited me to join his family party at
that celebration. During this excursion of several
LAPSE OF YEAES. 299
days I received unremitted attentions from himself and
his wife, formerly Miss Elizabeth Jarvis, a lady of a
lovely spirit, accomplished education, and eminent
piety, with whom his marriage in 1856 had given the
climax to his earthly happiness.
But he, my disinterested, untiring friend, at the age
of forty-four, laid down his noble head in the last slum-
ber, on his own fair domain. Surrounded by his three
little ones, their white monuments gleam out amid the
evergreens he had reared, strewed with votive offerings
of fresh flowers.
One of the scenes at his thronged funeral will not
soon be effaced. Fifteen hundred or more of the labor-
ing men, who had received from his hand bread for
themselves and their families, reverently approached,
two and two, to take the last farewell of their benefac-
tor. Sadly they gazed upon the expressive counte-
nance on its coffin-pillow, and, the tears coursing down
their rusfo^ed cheeks, said : " We shall never look on his
like again."
Still his palatial mansion exhibits its charms ; the
green-houses and graperies overflow with tropical
wealth ; the broad expanse of velvet turf, interspersed
with statuary, delights the eye ; the deer gambol in
their park, upon the clear lakelet which he formed ;
the swans, so often fed by his hand, lead forth their
young cygnets ; but he, the master of all this beauty,
for whom the heart of affection grieves, returns no
more.
nOO LETTERS OF LIFE.
One little son alone survives him. Carefully nur-
tured by lii^ excellent mother, he already, at the age
of four, reveals elements of that courtesy and i)erse-
verance which characterized him whose name he bears.
May God spare him, and grant him, through a life of
usefulness, to evince the same capacity, energy, and
generosity !
I think I have not spoken much of those important
personages in every New England household, the do-
mestic assistants. I early discerned that the term
sonant was unpopular and inadmissible among them,
and that they must be styled Jielp^ whether they were
in reality helps or hindrances. In our state of society,
where equality so evidently prevails, to continue an
intercourse that implies subordination without frequent
changes, is not often feasible. Yet in this respect I
consider myself to have been favored by Providence,
having an aversion to fluctuating helpers, unless neces-
sity requires. I commenced housekeeping with the
creed of endeavoring to make friends of all who should
serve us. Though warned by adepts that this would
prove a delusion, I have not yet materially varied in
my theory, still believing that, where there is any gen-
erosity of nature, kindness and sympathy are not
thrown away. It seems to me but just, that those
who have in their keej^ing our home-comforts, and
almost the breath of our nostrils, should be treated
with respect ; and, as their lot is one of toil and hard-
LAPSE OF YEAES. 301
Bhip, that it be lightened by kindness, and, as far as
possible, an assimilation of interests.
Out of the number of our assistants, I have found
some whom it was highly desirable to retain, and been
fortunate in their continuance for long periods of time.
Their distinctive lineaments of person and mind it is
still pleasant to recall. Shall I describe to you two or
three of these my friends ? for friends I consider them,
whose faithful hands conferred benefits upon us both
day and night.
Anna Brown, the first of these, who remained with
us as long as eight years, possessed uncommon capacity
for all manner of household labor, untiring industry,
and a firmly-knit frame capable of great endurance.
While working for us, it seemed as if she were work-
ing for herself; and this repelled both complaint and
weariness. It seems almost even to myself that I utter
fables, when I say that, with the aid of only a young
girl under eighteen, she performed the whole work of
a family that, during the finer months of the year,
often comprised sixteen or eighteen persons, and that
the semi-annual ablutions of our large mansion were
conducted by her. Our partially agricultural estab-
lishment enlarged the sphere of woman's operations,
by the care of milk, the making of butter, of soap,
and of candles, both mould and dipped — lamp-oil being
little used, and gas and kerosene unknown. Not con-
tent with these exploits, she occasionally kept the large
302 LETTERS OF LIFE.
spinniiig-wliccl in action ; also increasing her perquisites
liy nccdlc-work for the serving-men, producing shirts,
jackets, and pantaloons -with orjnal facility. She was
lial)lc to some exacerbations of temper, but usually
subject to tlie control of those whom she respected.
She was an earnest adherent of the Methodist Church ;
and I won very much upon her by once attending, in
her company, their AVatch-Night, or the service with
which they bid farewell to the old year, and welcome
the new. She zealously prized the public recital of
religious experiences, and was tenacious of the privi-
lege of exclamation during sacred worship. Iler pres-
ence at evening meetings was not affected by distance,
darkness, or storm. On one occasion, having sur-
mounted these obstacles without the aid of any com-
panion, she said, rather exultingly, " The Lord went
with her, and the Lord brought her back."
" Then I think He leaves you at the door," replied
Charles, our eldest son, then a boy, who inherited the
vein of humor belonging to his paternal ancestors, and
was not particularly her admirer. Her uses of lan-
guage were quaint, and her phrases often decidedly
Yankee in structure. Chancing to hear her say that
she had once a twin brother, and being a profound
admirer of twins, ever hoping, while building up our
family, to possess a pair, I asked, " Did you not love
him very much ? " " No, me ! I hated him worse
than any on 'em," was the reply. From this it must
LAPSE OF TEARS. - 303
not be inferred that her household were brought up as
foes — for her sisterly affection always manifested itself
by deeds — but that conflicts for coveted things be-
tween two little ones of equal age created more pro-
tracted struggles, and some approach to a belligerent
condition.
This remarkable personage, after a service of eight
years in our family, married a very respectable physi-
cian, much older than herself, the owner of a small
freehold in a neighboring township. Here her efforts
were as unceasing as they were characteristic. There
being often difficulty in hiring men to aid upon the
farm, and her husband's health far from vigorous, she
might be seen harnessing their horse wuth marvellous
exjDedition, or, mounted on a wagon, pitching hay, or
making the hoe and spade fly in the garden, or culti-
vating a field of tobacco, which more readily than bet-
ter agricultural products was convertible into the cir-
culating medium. She has seemed to me one of the
most striking developments of fearless, tireless Yankee
activity that I have ever beheld in my own sex.
Another assistant — Miss S. Albro — I was so fortu-
nate as to secure, of a higher grade of intellect and
character. She was of a respectable family, well edu-
cated in the common branches, and decidedly religious.
She came to me at the birth of my last child, and
chanced to conceive for my baby-boy so devoted an
attachment as to release herself from some previous
304 LKTTER8 OF LIFE.
cng.igomonts, lliat she ininjht loncjcr attcnrl upon him.
Indeed, her fondness for him scomcd less like a senti-
ment, tlinn a passion, and was at first the nilinc^ motive
of retaininix her in my house for a period that proved
longer than tlie love-term which Jacob served for Ra-
chel. His attachment for his foster-mother was early
and touchingly evident. Her attention to the physical
welfare of both the little ones never knew declension ;
and licr influence over them for word and deed proved
an important aid in tlieir incipient training. When
they grew older, and her labor for them was dimin-
ished, it was found to be invaluable to the family. In
cases of indisposition, her experience enabled her to
save much resort to the physician, by applying at their
earliest development some judicious domestic remedy,
and adding — what Avas still more important — her
watchful nursing-care. As she wrote a remarkably
clear, distinct hand, she sometimes aided me as a copy-
ist, and was much gratified to be thus employed. Her
skill and diligence in the uses of the needle, whether in
constructing or repairing, were proverbial in the house-
hold, monuments of which remain with me to this day.
Soon after becoming a resident among us, she took my
advice to lay aside her surplus wages ; and such an
example of prudence did she become, that sometimes,
when her quarterly payments were made, she deposited
the whole in the Savings Bank, reserving nothing for
contingent expenses. There, by the punctual addition
LAPSE OF YEARS. 305
of interest to principal during the seventeen years of
her continuance with me, she accumulated an amount
of more than two thousand dollars, and was enabled to
take up her abode with a widowed sister, who owned a
dwelling in their pleasant native township. There she
Btill resides, in that comfort and respectability which
flow from a life of industry, frugality, and piety.*
Have patience with me while I trace the image of
one more earnest helper, who, notwithstanding her
sable brow, is fan* and dear to memory.
She was a person of small size, but great activity
and strength. Her hands seemed always ready for
action, and, by a spirit of order and systematic arrange-
ment, she accomphshed what was required in our large
family without confusion or neglect. She had no idea
of working a certain portion of the time, and taking
the remainder for herself, but only of working faith-
fully as long as there was any thing to do. With her,
neither the name nor condition of servitude were ac-
counted dishonorable. She respected those who em-
ployed and provided for her ; and, having been brought
up a slave until the age of eighteen, would gladly
have given me the title of " Mistress," had I not re-
fused it.
Perceiving, though a regular attendant on the Epis-
* This faithful helper and friend outlived the one who thus chroni-
cled her virtues only a few weeks. — M. R.
300 LETTERS OF LIFE.
copal Cliurch, tliat slic Ij.id never partaken of its ordi-
nanceR, I conversed with her, and found she was de-
sirous of receiving hotli baptism and confirmation.
After interviews of examination witli our clergyman,
she was accepted, and I stood her sponsor in the bap-
tismal rite ; after which she was duly confirmed, and
partook of the communion with great reverence and
solemnity. Afterwards I found that she considered my
agency in this cause as a personal obligation ; and
sometimes, when I expressed sympathy if she had sus-
tained some unusually arduous labor, would say, in
her animated manner : " Oh ! that's nothing, ma'am.
Did not you stand for me when I was baptized ? "
Poor, dear Ann Prince ! Her gratitude seemed un-
bounded.
Her style of cooking and oj^erations in the laundry
were unexceptionable ; and she was an excellent ad-
junct on any short journey, taking excellent care of
baggage in the cars, and packing and unpacking with
great address and rapidity. In her own costume she
was plain and old-fashioned, and of scrupulous neat-
ness, delighting in clean checked aprons, the more be-
cause she saw they were pleasing to me. She hailed
the coming of our guests as the friends of her friends,
not regarding any additional toil that might ensue.
She was a close observer of the manners of our visit-
ants, and had remarkable powers of setting things in a
ludicrous light. Some faults she had, arising from an
LAPSE OF TEAKS. 307
active imagination, sometimes overstepping the reality
of circumstances ; while the desire of making her sto-
ries or statements Tvorth hearing tempted her to wan-
der from matters of fact, or mingle them with inven-
tions. Relisrious admonition she received with an
affecting humility, and those purposes of amendment
that heightened the friendly regard of the reprover.
Our interests as a family she identified with her
own. In our happiness she rejoiced, at our bereave-
ments she wept, and clothed herself in the habiliments
of mourning. She sympathized with me in my widow-
hood, and strove to lighten its cares. She had always
by economy endeavored to diminish our expenses ; and
now, conceiving some new anxieties for me, proposed
in the most affectionate manner to work without wages,
saying she wished to do so, and appearing grieved that
her heart-prompted offer was not accepted. Yet not
until the final departure of my daughter by marriage
did I fully realize the worth of this devoted creature.
She exerted herself to supply the desolation of all kin-
dred blood, and tried to cover the whole vacated
ground, and guard it at every point. She assumed the
charge of my wardrobe, and desired me to dispense
with a second assistant, that she might do every thing
for me herself. If she fancied that a shade of sadness
stole over my brow, she immediately made it her busi-
ness to dispel it. She possessed uncommon powers of
imitation, and some degree of histrionic talent. She
308 LETTERS OF LIFE.
could spoak in tlic voices of (lifferent people; and, as
ber strong memory enabled her to repeat their lan-
guage, I would sometimes seem to hear from the next
room the conversation of friends or acquaintances on
some amusing suhject. If she elicited laughter from
me, she was fully repaid. Iler watchfulness over my
health was incessant. By regarding my countenance,
she sometimes discerned symptoms of indisposition
before I suspected it myself, and was assiduous in apply-
ing some judicious domestic remedy. Thus was I
favored with this heart-service for a period of twenty-
five years — as long as age and disease permitted her to
make any effort. The sharp and short ministry of a
cancer dismissed her from earth. Her image is still
vivid before me, and I cherish it with tenderness. Her
color was no obstacle to my grateful attachment. She
■was to me as my own flesh and blood.
Her life helped to establish my favorite theory of
cultivating the friendship of household assistants ; her
example illustrated how labor may be lightened by
love, and how the heart enlarges through the exercise
of its affections.
The services of these three remarkable personages
covered half a century — a longer period than that after
my marriage ; the two last-named having been dwellers
under my roof at the same time during seventeen
years. I have sometimes thought that their agency
might be compared to that of the hands, the intellect,
LAPSE OF YEAES. 309
and the heart, personifying the threefold cord that
metaphysicians ascribe to our mixed nature of body,
mind, and soul.
A friend of a still higher order it was my privilege
to retain as a companion at different periods during
several consecutive years. I must indulge myself in
here inscribing the name of Miss Anna Freeman. She
possessed a rare combination of excellences, refinement
with practical efficiency, and tact without its frequent
concomitant of worldliness. She was one of the most
disinterested beings I have ever known. Long care of
an enfeebled mother had given her a nursing knowl-
edge and a sweet patience that were invaluable. The
bright smile that lighted up her face when she spoke
communicated its spii'it to those around, and seemed to
inspire with vitality, until a stroke of paralysis took
her from us.
The world seems poorer when the good depart—
The just, the truthful, such as never made
Self their chief aim, nor strove with glozing words
To counterfeit a warmth they never felt ;
But, steadfast and serene, to friendship gave
Its sacred force, and ne'er from duty shrank
Because stem care or toil environ'd it.
They, loving others better than themselves,
Maintain the Gospel rule, and taste a bliss
Unknown to selfish souls. These, when they die,
Must find a realm of truth, as kindred streams
Turn to the absorbing ocean.
310 LBITERB OF LIFE.
Such wns sho
\\1)o left lis ycfltorday. ITcr ppcaking smile,
Ilcr earnest footstep, speeding to give aid
Or sympathy, her ready hand well skill'd
In all that appertains to woman's sphere,
Her large heart pouring life o'er every deed,
And her glad interchange of social joy,
Dwell with us as a picture.
There the heart
Shall muse, and contemplate each lineament
With lingering tenderness, through dropping tears
That tell our loss, and her eternal gain.
You have asked me, dear friend, for some sketch of
my journey ings. During the earlier stages of matri-
monial life we visited Boston, New York, and Phila-
delphia, where, having friends, we had opportunity of
examining the principal institutions and distinctive
attractions of those noble cities. Our longest excursion
was to Virginia, where we were greatly interested in
seeing the remains of the ancient church at Jamestown,
and the university then newly established at Charlottes-
ville ; also in the privilege of meeting, at their own
homes, ex-Presidents Jefferson and Madison, and, in
Pennsylvania, the venerable Charles West Thompson,
the secretary of the first Congress of the United
States.
After the birth of our two little ones I was station-
LAPSE OF YEARS. 311
ary, except for brief excursions to our neighboring sea-
shore during the heat of summer, until they were large
enough to be left, without anxiety, in charge of their
attentive and efficient nurse. Then I accepted an invi-
tation from my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, of New
York, to accompany them and their daughter on a jour-
ney whose most prominent points were Niagara and
the Valley of "Wyoming. "We visited Saratoga, the
Falls of Trenton, the wheat-covered vales of the Mo-
hawk, several of the lakes of "Western New York, the
beautiful Seneca, the glorious Niagara, the Canadian
possessions of her Majesty of Great Britain, and, turn-
ing southward to the fair State of the good William
Penn, where his just and calm spirit still seems to lin-
ger, explored the region of Wyoming, famed both in
history and song, and also the then newly-opened mines
of anthracite, whose sable sceptre has since held such
domination over the commerce of the civilized world.
There being no railroads to expedite our course, we
enjoyed the advantage of a leisurely survey of the
peculiarities and attractions of the regions we trav-
ersed. Instead of the tramp and shriek of the fiery-
nostrilled steed that now propels the traveller, it was
the habit of my friends to hire a large, easy carriage,
with either two or four horses, and, when their fresh-
ness became impaired, send back the conveyance to its
owner, and take a new one. This they considered
more independent for a long journey than to depend on
312 LETTERS OF LIFE.
their own oquipnc^o, and run the risk of oxliausting
tluir favorite horses, being ahle to proceed either
slowly or rapidly as they chose, liaving opportunity
to examine the beauties of nature or curiosities of art,
and lingering as long as they desired in any interesting
locality. Much varied scenery we saw, to furnish vivid
pictures for memory.
But the crown of all was Niagara. Who can de-
scribe it ? If he should attempt, he will be either
smothered with emotion or silenced by shame. It is a8
the voice of Him who " poured it from His hollow
hand." Its perpetual warning is, " Hence, ye pro-
fane ! "
In the album of our hotel, where w^e were request-
ed to write our names, I left the following lines, extem-
poraneous and inadequate, yet irresistibly prompted :
Flow on forever, in thy glorious robe
Of terror and of beauty.
Yea, flow on,
Unfathom'd and resistless. God hath set
His rainbow on thy forehead, and the cloud
Mantled around thy feet. And He doth give
Thy voice of thunder power to speak His name
Eternally, bidding the lip of man
Keep silence, and upon thy rocky altar pour
Incense of awe-struck praise.
Through the kindness of these disinterested friends,
to whom I was indebted for this delightful excursion,
LAPSE OF YEARS. 313
I had subsequently an opportunity, during a visit at
their country seat on Staten Island, to become ac-
quainted with the charming scenery of that region,
which occasionally exhibits the wiklness and grandeur
that mark the cliffs of the Isle of Wiorht, and then,
with sudden contrast, softens into the luxuriance of the
vale of Tempe. We also explored the watering-places
of Long Island, from Brooklyn to Montauk, from the
quiet shades of Greenport to the rock-bound coast of
Southampton, battling with unsubdued though not un-
scathed heroism the terrific surges of the southern
Atlantic.
I have been always a devotee of Ocean. In my
earliest days I was a stranger to it, but from the time
I first looked upon its face its sublimity enchanted and
subdued me. I had been introduced by my husband to
the wonderfully excavated rocks of Nahant, where the
storm-wrought billows sport and reverberate ; and the
luxuriant scenery of Newport, whose beautiful beaches
carpet themselves with the softest, whitest sand for the
foot of aristocracy.
We followed the custom of many of the inland
dwellers, to resort, during warm weather, to the sea for
invigoration. There was a rocky peninsula on the
shore of Connecticut, bearing the name of Sachem's
Head, from a tragedy once enacted there of decapi-
tating, upon one of its stony scaffolds, a chieftain of
our poor forest tribes. This retreat we claimed almost
14
314 LETTERS OF LIFE.
by right of discovery, wlicii tlicrc was but a single
farm-liouso where boarders were received, and only one
clinmbor capable of accommndalini^ thoni. ]Mr. Sigour-
ney used to write, and engage this apartment in ad-
vance ; and at early autumn, when the completed elec-
tions at the bank of which he was president gave him
release, drove thither his own faithful horse, to enjoy
a quiet vacation unimpeded by the restraints of fash-
ionable society. Here, in long rambles, sometimes with
his hammer to examine minerals, collecting crystals,
and endless varieties of felspar, in the favorite luxury
of sea-bathing, or the perusal of books which we car-
ried with us, he tasted a happiness known only by
those who, amid the cares and conflicts of business,
preserve unalloyed the love of nature and the pleasures
of intellect. Mental progress he was conspicuous for
keeping in view ; and after surpassing the age of fifty,
having received into his house a young native of Sa-
mos, who was desirous of obtaining a collegiate educa-
tion in this country, he decided to commence with him
the study of modern Greek, often rising earlier in the
morning to obtain more uninterrupted leisure.
To witness his satisfaction at this occasional recess
from employment, and free intercourse with the bound-
ing billows, was a privilege ; and I have never received
so much physical benefit from the presence of the great,
solemn sea, as when we were its guests in this rude,
solitary spot. I identified myself as far as possible
LAPSE OF YEARS. 315
with his pursuits — became a tireless walker, a fearless
climber, a searcher in caverns for sea-weed, and a
rather expert swimmer ; occupying intervals with
needle-work, of which I brought great store for stormy
davs. It seems difficult to realize that this secluded
retreat, approached by almost precipitous roads, should
now exhibit a spacious edifice, with bathing-houses,
bowling-alleys, carriages in waiting, and a range of
bams and stables, where erst our single animal was not
very largely accommodated or thoroughly groomed.
Methinks I see his exulting step, as he was led to his
daily sea-bath, his great delight, arching his noble neck
above the crested wave, and striking out boldly as if
to sweep across the Sound. Now, the Sachem's Head
House, with its three long piazzas, and colonnades of
white pillars reaching to the roof, from whence floats a
brilliant flag, is a striking object to the passing voy-
ager. Its numerous dormitories, spacious apartment
for music, dining-room capable of accommodating hun-
dreds, parterres of flowers, graj^eries, and pleasure-
boats, ofier attractions to thronorino^ oruests. I fre-
quently make a brief stay there, and admire its im-
provements, yet find ancient cherished memories more
vivid than surrounding pageantry.
Not long after removing to our present abode I was
earnestly invited to attend an annual exhibition of the
Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, and went to South
Hadley, Mass., taking with me my little daughter of
316 LETTERS OF LIFE.
ten years. Miss Mary Lyon, llie truly remarkable
originator of tliis institution, liavini^ overcome many
obstacles by an indomitable energy, had now the pleas-
ure of seeing it in successful operation. Her plan was
to receive ])U])ils of fifteen or sixteen, and conduct them
til rough a thorough course of study for four years, to a
regular graduation. Desirous also of repelling the in-
dolence and frivolity often springing from boarding-
school culture, she decided that the housekeeping de-
partment should be committed to them. Though I had
long wished that practical utility, and a respect for
home duties, should be carefully intermingled with the
scholastic nurture of my own sex, I was skeptical with
regard to the feasibility of this part of her plan, or
rather whether it could be rendered agreeable to her
disciples, and was therefore a critical observer. After a
public recitation in Mathematics, Metaphysics, and
other elevated sciences, that would have been credit-
able to graduating classes in any of our colleges, those
w^hite-robed young ladies resorted to the refectory of
the Seminary, and, slipping on white aprons with long
sleeves, shelled six bushels of peas, and made thirty
pies, with the utmost alacrity and pleasant emulation.
To do the honors of Mount Holyoke to their assembled
guests, and see to the minutisB of their comfortable ac-
commodation, seemed an additional source of pride and
pleasure. The spacious edifice was a model of neatness
and order, and every department so arranged as to fa-
LAPSE OF YEARS. 317
cilitate the processes on which domestic comfort depend.
To remove the contempt in which these are too often
held by those whose sphere of action is eventually to
comprehend tliem, and to i:)rove that they are not incon-
sistent with advanced knowledge and refinement, were
among the essential principles of the system of Miss
Lyon. I said to her :
" You have convinced me of the practicability of
what I viewed with doubt. But you have the power
of insj^iring the young with your own convictions and
zeal, and I doubt whether the system can be thus car-
ried out by another person."
" It can be equally well sustained by my teachers
when I am no longer here," was her confident reply.
The prediction seems to have been fulfilled.
The twenty-fifth anniversary of the institution has
been recently celebrated by a joyous reunion. The
published account of the festival states that more than
three thousand have received instruction within its
walls, under a band of one hundred and twenty-seven
teachers, and that its existence is still vigorous and full
of hope. As the piety inculcated both by word and
deed by its founder, Miss Lyon, was of a zealous and
self-denying character, a large proportion of its students
have devoted themselves as teachers in our new West-
ern States, and missionaries to benighted lands. Nearly
one hundred have labored or fallen at their post of duty,
either among our forest tribes, amid the snows of Lab-
318 LKTTEKS OF LIFE.
r.idor, uiidci- the sliadow of the mount aitis of Persia,
on tho ])lains of Syria, in tlio wilds of Africa, under the
Turkish crescent, amid the coral-reefs of the Sandwich
Islands, the idol-worshippini^ Chinese, or the cannibals
of I>orneo.
In my list of short journeys, this to Mount Ilolyoke
has ever been pleasantly remembered.
Finding, as do most of our inland dwellers, the in-
fluences of a saline atmosphere subsidiary to health, I
have sometimes during summer paid short visits to the
various localities on our own coast and that of our
neighbor, little Rhoda, to Watch Hill, Stonington,
Guilford, and Madison ; the last being endeared by the
hospitalities of the lady of Wildwood, Mrs. Washburn,
as also is Newport by those of Mr. and Mrs. Pond, and
New London by Miss F. M. Caulkins, the historian of
Connecticut, and the family of her brother, the Hon. H.
P. Havens.
My longest excursion was to Europe. An incii^ient,
yet ajijparently adhesive bronchial affection, induced our
skilful physician. Dr. A. Brigham, to recommend a sea
voyage. A visit to the older w^orld had been a favorite
dream in my childhood, but dispelled and dismissed by
the realities of mature years. The opportunity of join-
ing a party who would afford both protection and
agreeable intercourse, an accomplished clergyman, now
the Assistant Bishop of Connecticut, and his excellent
mother, with the young son of an esteemed friend, was
LAPSE OF YEARS. 319
a concurrence of circumstances of which it was deemed
expedient for me to avail myself. My children having
reached the ages of ten and twelve, could be safely
left, the daughter under the charge of a governess, and
the son at a boarding-school in an adjacent township,
where the wife of the Principal with whom he was to
reside having been an early acquaintance of mine, would
extend to him some degree of maternal attention.
So I went. Yet scarcely did I realize either the de-
cision or the separation until I found myself out on the
deep, dark waters, like a waif or a spray of sea-weed.
The absence of nearly a year gave time and facility for
exploration of the more interesting parts of England,
Scotland, and France. Then I was much urged to pro-
ceed to Italy by my attached friends Hon. Mr. and
Mrs. Dixon, who showed me filial attentions in foreign
climes, and would have taken the kindest care of me.
But an aversion to be so far from my children, lest they
might be taken sick, and a desire to rejoin them pre-
vailed, and caused a refusal of the privilege. Did I do
wrong ? So some said, who were not mothers. But I
have never regretted it.
We found very much to interest us in those ancient
rescions, with whose historv we had been long familiar.
Yet more than ruinous castle, where romance lingered,
or royal palace, where pomp abode, or tower, obelisk,
or cathedral, or galleries where congregated the world's
artistic power, were the sight of the face and sound
320 LETTERS OF LIFE.
of the voice of tliose whose Miitini^s }iad instructed or
charmed me, and before whose ideal images I liad bowed
as in a sacred shrine. Too late was I, alas ! for Miss
Hannah More, and Sir Walter Scott, and Mrs. Itemans,
and Coleridge. Over Southey had settled that rayless
cloud, which lifted not till the pall enveloped him for his
burial. Yet I was indulged in the privilege of the so-
ciety of Wordsworth, and Maria Edgcworth, and Jo-
anna Baillic — a rich payment for crossing the storm-
tossed Atlantic. I was also favored with the acquaint-
ance of Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Austin, the Countess of
BIcssington, Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, the venerable
poet, Samuel Rogers, the philanthropic Mrs. Fry, and
her distinguished brother, John Joseph Gurney, with
others whose classic pens had delighted me when life
was new. In Scotland I was so fortunate as to meet
John Foster, the essayist, and Allan Cunningham ; and
in Paris to share for several weeks the hospitalities of
the elegant Marchioness Lavalette, whom we proudly
claim as a native of New England, by whom I was in-
troduced, among other memorable personages of that
courteous clime, to Count Roy, one of the most high-
bred of the ancient noblesse, to De la Vigne, the lyrist,
and the white-haired philosopher, Arago. Yet, as the
descriptions of my European tour are embodied in a
volume entitled "Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands,"
I will not indulge myself here in recapitulation.
But I must tell you of the jewels that, since remov-
LAPSE OF TEARS. 321
ing to our present abode, have been transferred from
my heart's casket to sparkle in the Redeemer's crown.
One year and two months had scarcely passed away
since our residence here, when my father, who retained
an active step, a florid complexion, and bright hair un-
mingled with a thread of silver, died at the age of
eighty-seven. He had never known sickness, save that
single day and night when cholera-morbus laid him by
her side, whom for five years he had mourned.
Xext, my only son, my faded hope — apparently of
an excellent constitution — fell, like a rootless flower, the
victim of a quick consumption, while a student in col-
lege, in the bloom of nineteen.
Four years and a half after his death, my husband,
being in comfortable health, though not entirely ft*ee
from infirmities, was prostrated by a sudden stroke of
apoplexy at the age of seventy-six. Xo previous con-
finement had precluded his attention to his professional
business. Morning and noon of his last day on earth
found him as usual at his store, from whence he walked
home, but at the setting of the sun entered on that glo-
rious life which hath no end.
Two years and a half had elapsed after his depar-
ture, when the oldest and only remaining son yielded,
at the age of forty-five, to a consumption with which
he had for some years contended, and probably inherited
from his beautiful mother. Do not these glorified ones,
322 LETTERS OF LIFE.
from tlio otlior side of Jordan, warn us to be ready to
join tlu'ir blissful company?
Otlior cliancjcs, besides those made by death, have
also 8we])t over me. Eight months after the decease
of her father, my only child left my desolated hearth-
stone, having given her heart and hand to the Rev. F.
T. Russell, a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, pos-
sessing amiable sympathies and attractive manners, and
calling forth the strong attachment of an affectionate
people during the nine years that he was rector of St.
Mark's, in New Britain, a pleasant and flourishing town
in our vicinity. He is at present Professor of Elocu-
tion in Ilobart College, Geneva, N. Y. — a dej^artment
for which he is eminently qualified, not only by the
training of his accomplished father, but by having been
himself a successful teacher of that science in various
localities, for several years of his early life.
The happiness that my daughter enjoys and imparts
in the conjugal sphere, by a faithful, unselfish discharge
of every duty, should reconcile or lead me to rejoice
in the transfer, which at first seemed like the extinction
of the last lamp at my altar.
Rapidly have I sketched for you, dear friend, some
of the bereavements that have cost my heart so much.
It is not my purpose to murmur, but rather to thank
Him who so long indulged me in the use of His loans,
and had a full right to resume them.
My home, which might strike you as desolate, be-
LAPSE OF YEAES.
323
comes dearer every year. The habit of staying much
there grows strong, so that the thought of leaving it,
even for a short season, is repulsive. Does not this
indicate that the home draws near from whence there
is neither return nor removal ?
Even so, Father ! if so it seemeth good in Thy
sight.
LETTER XIII.
LITERATURE.
My literary course has been a happy one. It com-
menced in impulse, and was continued from habit.
Two principles it has ever kept in view — not to inter-
fere with the discharge of womanly duty, and to aim
at being an instrument of good.
My journals, which I have already mentioned
w^ere begun at an early age, were usually made the
repositories of my poems, in the order in which they
were comj^osed. Those systematic records became a
sort of necessity of my existence. They seemed an
adjunct in religious progress, and to justify the adjura-
tion with which one of them is consecrated :
" Give me Thine aid calmly to look upon the
changes that are appointed me, and to love the little
streams fed hourly from the fountain of Divine Mercy ;
and to hope that, Avhen I fade, as I soon shall, like the
grass, I may be renewed in the image of a glorious im-
mortality."
LITERATURE. 325
After my establishment in a school at Hartford,
through the influence of Daniel TVadsworth, Esq., he
and his lady, my lovely friend, requested a sight of my
journals, which had been usually kept in sequestration.
He made selections from their contents which he per-
suaded me were adapted to the public eye ; and I
adventured, under his guardianship, on what was in
those times, and in our part of the country, a novel
enterprise for a female.
1815.
1. " Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse," was the
modest title of my first volume, which comprised two
hundred and sixty-seven pages. My kind patron, the
first who ever gave encouragement to my literary
tastes, and whose name I cannot utter without a thrill
of gratitude, took upon himself the whole responsibil-
ity of contracting Avith publishers, gathering subscrip-
tions, and even correcting the proof-sheets ; and was
delighted to present me, at last, a larger pecuniary
amount than had been anticipated. Much favor was
shown to this rather juvenile production ; partly, per-
haps, from courtesy to the sex, but principally that,
though its literary pretensions might be slender, its
moral and religious tone was accepted as a redeeming*
quality. Every agreeable concomitant seemed to add
to the happiness of its disinterested prompter, Mr.
Wadsworth, who delighted in drawing a solitary mind
820 LETTERS OF LIFE.
from ohscnrity into a freer atmosphere and brighter
sunbeam.
1810.
2. " Life and Writings of Nancy iNIaria Hyde."
This was a loving tribute to the memory of her
who from school-days had been to me as a sister. In
the spring of 1816 she had taken her departure from
earth ; and a vacation of three weeks spent with my
parents, tlie following June, was devoted, except such
intervals as were imperatively necessary for exercise, to
the arrangement and correction of some of her manu-
scripts for the press. These, connected by a biographi-
cal sketch, were published in Norwich, our native place,
in a volume of two hundred and forty-one pages. The
labor of preparation, though arduous for the short time
I was able to command, was a solace to my feelings,
and a source of profit to the bereaved mother.
1819.
3. " The Square Table " was the first literary pro-
duction after my marriage, written by snatches while I
was becoming initiated into the science of housekeep-
ing, with the shell of the school-mistress still on my
head. It was miscellaneous, and in reply to " Arthur's
Round Table," a somewhat satirical work which had
recently appeared. So strict was its incognita, that I
had great amusement in hearing its merits discussed
LITERATURE. 327
and its authorship inquired after in the circles where I
visited. It was issued in pamphlet form, but not long
continued, as I found the mystery on which its exist-
ence depended in danger of being unravelled.
1822.
4. " Traits of the Aborigines of Amenca."
A poem in five cantos, comprising two hundred and
eighty-four pages. This was composed two years be-
fore my marriage, but its publication delayed for some
time, when it was issued from the University Press at
Cambridge, Mass. An early acquaintance with the
Mohegan tribe of Indians, who resided a few miles
from Norwich, and a taste for searching out the his-
toric legends of our forest-people, deepened my interest
in their native lineaments of character, and my sympa-
thy for their degraded condition. In the notes of the
volume much information is concentrated respecting
them, derived from various sources, in the revision of
which I gratefully received the aid of the acute and
discriminating mind of my husband. The work was
singularly unpopular, there existing in the community
no reciprocity with the subject.
Indeed, our injustice and hard-hearted policy with
regard to the original owners of the soil has ever
seemed to me one of our greatest national sins. The
eloquent prelate of Minnesota, Bishop "Whipple, whose
328 LETTERS OF LIFE.
rcfidoncc nmoncj tlicm and labors for their Balvation
entitle his opinions to respect, says :
" Tn thoir attachments to home, kindred, and coun-
try, in their natural endowments and virtues, and in
their belief in One Great Spirit, they compare favor-
ably with any heathen race on eartli. Our early inter-
course was marked by warm friendships, and white
men lived in peace and tranquillity, w^hen their only
protection was the good faith of the Indian.
" But our first dealing with them as a government
was based upon falsehood. Instead of encouraging
them to live by honest labor, they made payments for
their lands in beads, trinkets, and scalping-knives, giv-
ing the weight of official influence on the side of sav-
age life. The sale of fire-water among them has been
unblushing, and the office of Indian Agent sought, not
because it Avas one of the noblest trusts that could be
committed to man, but because, through corruption, a
fortune might be realized in a few years.
" Because, as a nation, we fear God, let us fear to
cover up these iniquities ; because we hope in His
mercy, let us reform a system which has proved so per-
nicious."
1824.
5. " Sketch of Connecticut, Forty Years Since."
A descriptive prose work of two hundred and
eighty pages, tracing primitive habits and traditions,
LITERATURE. 329
with some intermingling of fiction. The scene is
among the wild and beautiful regions of my native
place ; and the object of its construction was to em-
balm the memory and virtues of an ancient lady, my
first and most loved benefactress. Its contents, though
comparatively diffuse, were intended to be subsidiary
to this prompting theme. It was meant to be an offer-
ins: of srratitude to her whose influence, like a golden
thread, had run through the whole woof of my life.
Her relatiA^es, as if by a heritable affection, continued
to brighten its course and coloring ; and, through their
deeds of kindness, she, being dead, yet spake. Truly
and devoutly would I apostrophize her, whose hallowed
hand wrought among the elements of my being :
" If some faint love of goodness glow in me,
Pure spirit ! I first caught that flame from thee."
1827.
6. " Poems." This volume of two hundred and
twenty-eight pages, without other distinctive title, was
published in Boston, in a very neat style, by Mr.
Samuel G. Goodrich, an early friend, who afterwards,
under the sobriquet of Peter Parley, was to earn so
extensive a literary fame, first from young readers, and
eventually from all the people. The book was a col-
lection of miscellaneous poems, many of which had
already appeared in various periodicals. It was re-
330 LETTSBB OF LIKE.
ceivcfl witli courtesy, aiul witli more of praise from
reviewers than its merits appeared to me to deserve.
1829.
V. " Female Biography."
I had been led to attach increasing importance to
biographical sketches of the good and distinguished as
examples of conduct. A large number of these had
accumulated in manuscript, which I had been in the
habit of reading and commenting upon to the pupils of
my school. This was a selection from them of the
live^ of twelve American women remarkable for their
piety. The copyright was purchased by the Sunday
School Union in Philadelphia, wdth the object of' intro-
ducing it into the libraries connected with their estab-
lishment. It was issued in a small-sized volume of one
hundred and twelve pages ; and, though I never heard
the objection adduced, I should think the style defi-
cient in simplicity for juvenile readers, not having been
prepared with reference to such a destination.
1832.
8. " Biography of Pious Persons."
In two volumes, comprising three hundred and
thirty-eight pages, the remainder of the delineations
mentioned in the preceding article, with some addi-
tional ones, were published by the Messrs. Merriams,
LITERATURE. 331
of Springfield, Mass. Interesting reminiscences are
entwined with them. At the close of each week, when
the fair creatures whom it was my privilege to instruct
were about to separate for the Sunday, I read, as a
parting exercise, one of these brief abridgments to my
attentive auditory. I seem still to see their bright eyes
fixed upon me, some of which now turn lovingly to
their own descendants, and some are darkened in the
tomb. To my inquiry, " Will you sometimes think of
this lovely character, until we meet again ? " I hear the
united answer, " TFe icill.'''' "And you will try to
transplant the same virtues into your own young
lives?" The response was, " TFe will." And so they
have.
1833.
9. " Evening Readings in History."
A love of Ancient Historv, and the habit of teach-
ing it, had frequently suggested the desire of rendering
less diffuse portions of that of Assyria, Egypt, Tyre,
Syria, and Palestine, and of so dividing and arranging
these extensive themes as to bring: them within the
compass of brief readings, or lessons. This plan, how-
ever, was not attempted until my attention was turned
to domestic instruction, when I felt the utter need of
something adapted to the mind in its early stages of
development. This work was written at the close of
the first winter after my marriage, and proved a solace
/
,332 LEiTElis OF Liri:.
for intervals of ill luallh, which pometiines induced a
retreat to my chamber. Tlie jincient classic injunction,
" Keep your piece nine years," was transcended, as this
Flumhered some thirteen in manuscript ere it was in-
trusted to the care of my Springfield publishers; who,
wishing to make it acceptable to the young, embel-
lished it with pictorial illustrations.
1833.
10. " Memoir of Phebe P. Hammond."
She was a young puj^il in the American Asylum for
the Deaf and Dumb in Hartford — that noble and. be-
nevolent institution, w^hich has done so much for the
relief and elevation of suffering humanity. I was in-
duced to undertake this transcript of the early-sum-
moned by the urgency of its principal, the Rev. Mr.
Gallaudet ; though reluctantly, from a great pressure
of employment that then absorbed my time. He
argued that the depressed circumstances of the family
of the departed, and the means of education for the
surviving sister, might be materially affected by the
pecuniary aid thus derived. As I proceeded, I repent-
ed of my hesitation, being more than repaid for the
labor by the simplicity, beauty, and piety of the
character thus unfolded before me ; furnishing delight-
ful evidence that not only from the lips " of babes and
sucklings," but from the tongue of the silent, God had
perfected praise.
LITERATURE. 333
1833.
11. "How to be Happy."
Still keeping in view the nurture of children, I pre-
pared a small work of one hundred and twenty-six
pages, with the above title, pointing out a variety of
ways in which they might find satisfaction by being
good and obedient. Another motive animated me.
The former scholars, whom I had so much loved, had
many of them become mothers. The second genera-
tion was nearly as numerous as the first. For the nine-
teenth time they were about to assemble on the 1st of
August — that day of the commencement of the school,
which their constancy had continued to embalm. I
knew they would appear under the same green trees
where their youth had gathered, leading miniatures of
themselves. I wished to place in those little hands
some useful gift, which, if death should divide me from
them before the twentieth anniversary, might be a me-
morial of affection. In ten days, and "^dthout previous
preparation, I wrote this book, and gave it to a pub-
lisher — the late excellent Mr. D. F. Robinson. To my
surprise, he proceeded to issue several thousand ; ac-
cording me the remuneration of ten per cent, on the
retail price, with twenty-five copies of every new edi-
tion for my own gratuitous distribution.
334 LEITERS OF LIFE.
1833.
12. ""Report of the ITartford Female Beneficent
Society."
This association was for orphan girls, or such as
were deserted by parents, that they might be support-
ed and trained in right and industrious habits until of
sufiicient age to be taken as assistants in families. It
had been wisely and successfully managed, its funds
having been fostered by the counsels of Chief-Justice
Williams, whose lady devoted much time and sympa-
thy to its internal details. Twenty years had elapsed
since its establishment, and it was thought that a re-
port of its proceedings might strengthen public confi-
dence — perhaps increase the number of subscribers.
Some of the more cautious managers apprehended that
it would prove useless, and a source of debt. I offered
to write it, and be held financially responsible. An
edition of only five hundred was ventured, but widely
circulated, and profitable beyond our most sanguine
expectation.
This benevolent institution has now been half a cen-
tury in prosperous operation. For the greater part of
that 25eriod the onerous services of Chief Manager have
been devotedly discharged by one lady, Mrs. Charles
Hosmer, whose name has become identified with its
welfare. Its plan has been not to mingle the sexes, or
to cultivate in masses, but to receive only such a num-
LITERATTRE. 335
ber as a single judicious matron might superintend
with attention to individual health, habits, and man-
ners. The result has been that they were often sought
and prized, as inmates in distinguished families. Some
of them married respectably, and became subscribers to
the association by which they had been sheltered, and
taught to lead lives of usefulness.
1833.
13. " The Farmer and Soldier."
A tale whose object was to impress on the young
the excellence of a calm, peaceful spirit, and to show
the false glory that sometimes surrounds those who,
from ambition, have become shedders of blood. It was
written at the instigation of Mr. William TTatson, a
friend who had accepted an agency in what was then
known as the " American Peace Society." It was pre-
sented to him as a gift, and he printed a few thousand,
in pamphlet form, for gratuitous distribution.
1833.
14. " Letters to Young Ladies."
Communion with those of my own sex in life's blos-
soming season has always been to me delightful. This
volume was a selection of themes that I deemed of
•vital importance. At first it contained eight letters,
but was eventually enlarged to eighteen, comprehend-
336 LETTEES OF LIFE.
ing about tlirec hundrcMl pages. I felt a peculiar de-
gree of diftidencc about tliis publication, and offer it in
my journal " as an oblation at His footstool who alone
giveth guiding wisdom and sustaining strength, and
"who is able to grant that it may implant in the young
mind some seeds of j)urc motive and prevailing piety."
After its unexpected publication in England and
Scotland, where it was very kindly received, I was
embarrassed by the solicitations of publishers wishing
to secure the copyright. It has appeared, for the last
sixteen or eighteen years, under the auspices of Harper
& Brothers, in New York, and still meets a steady sale,
having passed through between twenty and thirty edi-
tions, including those on the other side of the Atlantic.
1834.
15. "Sketches."
Six tales and sketches are contained in this volume
of two hundred and sixteen pages, several of which
have a historical basis, with some sprinkling of inven-
tion. It was brought out by Philadelphia publishers,
under the patronage of my late highly respected friend,
George Griffin, of New York, whose legal knowledge
guided me in those contracts which the business feature
of my literary course demanded ; while his intellectual
tastes and kind encouragement prompted and aided its
available industry. Feelingly do I pay this tribute of
gratitude to his disinterested goodness. Agreeing with
LITERATURE. 337
me in opinion that the fine exterior of a book has the
same bearing on its contents that graceful manners
have ujDon character, this one was uncommonly well
executed for the times. A second and third edition
were called for, and another simultaneously appeared in
London,
1834.
16. " Poetry for Children."
This little book of one himdred and two pages,
whose title reveals its object, was prepared with the
belief that truths wrapped in rhyme may be made a
powerful adjunct in early training, wakening the intel-
lect, softening the heart, and imprinting lessons on the
memory which time fails to efface. " Mother Goose's
Melodies " have, however, so long held priority in the
nursery, that it might be scarcely possible to make
aught of a sentimental or serious character their com-
petitor.
1834.
17. " Select Poems."
A collection of the more popular poems which had
appeared during several years in various periodicals,
with an admixture of new ones, was brought out in a
neat volume of three hundred and thirty-eight pages,
by publishers in the City of Brotherly Love. My con-
secrating prayer to Ilim who is able to make even
weak things efficacious, was that it " might be sanc-
15
338 T.KTTERS OF LIFE.
tificd to tlic comfort of tlic sorrowful, and in some
measure to tlic good of all who shall read it." Pub-
lic favor has been extended to it now for almost
thirty years; and among the many kind notices that
greeted it, was a valued review from the pen of the
honored Maria Edgcworth. '
1834.
18. " Talcs and Essays for Children."
I have an idea that my zeal to come in contact with
the mind in its earliest stages, outruns my ability. This
little book of one hundred and twenty-eight pages helps
to reveal how persistently I wrought in that field ; but
every succeeding year has more fully convinced me
that the power of indwelling with childish thought,
and so harmonizing with its simplicity as to cheer and
elevate it, such as Mrs. Barbauld and a few others have
exhibited, is a rare and not readily attainable excel-
lence.
1835.
19. " Zinzendoi*ff, and other Poems."
A visit to the Moravian establishments at Bethle-
hem and Nazareth, during a tour in Pennsylvania, so
impressed me with their moderated desires, systematic
industry, and quiet, consistent piety, as to turn my
attention to the life of the founder, and prompt me to
LITERATURE. 339
cull its poetical elements. This attempt supplied the
title for a book of three hundred pages, the greater
part of whose contents were miscellaneous, and which
passed only through two or three editions.
1835.
20. " Margaret and Henrietta."
Two lovely sisters, the only children of their
parents, beautiful in person, highly educated, and early
summoned, gave a subject to this small volume of
about one hundred pages. Sympathy with the mourn-
ing mother, and a desire to console her, was the motive
for its composition ; yet it has been widely circulated
far beyond my expectation, and amid many Sunday-
school libraries incites to imitation of these models of
goodness and piety.
1835.
21. " Marcus Aurelius."
I had loner been solicitous of selectins: some era
which might serve to imbue the young mind with a
love for historical knowledge, yet leave it undazzled by
the pomp of military achievement. This induced the
choice of one of the most faultless of the Roman empe-
rors, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. To possess myself
of any fact that might add interest to the analysis, I
studied some of the more ancient authors both in Latin
340 LETTERS OF LIFE.
and French, and so arranged my plan as to present col-
laterally parallel events, with resemhlnnces or contrasts
among the distinguished of other nations. To reduce
the style of these gatherings to the simplicity of un-
folding capacities, cost me almost the toil of transla-
tion. Indeed, I felt some degree of compunction that
two months, with the excejition of claims of corre-
spondence and contributions to periodicals, should
have been expended on a work of such trifling extent
as one hundred and twenty-two pages. Yet I eventu-
ally reaped both pleasure and benefit from its use, in
the home-education of my own tw^o little ones, who
were five and seven years old at the time of its first
appearance.
1836.
22. " Olive Buds."
This, as the name imports, has afllnity with those
peaceful dispositions w^iich are the germ of national
tranquillity and prosperity. It owes its existence to
the instigation of a friend, Mr. William Watson, who
was interested in the promulgation of such principles,
and had commenced on a small scale the business of
publishing. Having been a boarder in his family dur-
ing the last year that I had charge of my school, and
treated with great kindness, I made this work of one
hundred and thirty-six pages, with another small publi-
cation, an offering of gratitude to him, taking pleasure
LITEEATUEE. 341
in knowing that a portion oi" whatever profit might
thus accrue was to assist in the education of a promis-
ing son, destined to tlie ministry by his parents, but
removed by the All-Wise Disposer in the bloom of
youth.
1837.
23. " The Relisjious Souvenir."
Those beautiful annuals which had reached us from
over the water, so exquisite in typography and pictorial
embellishment, had begun to excite among us a spirit
of emulation. At this I rejoiced, having long felt that
there was much room for improvement in the costume
as well as the material of our literature. The aristo-
cratic " Forsret-Me-Xot " of London had been re^ularlv
sent me by its editor ; and admiration of it, as well as
other considerations, induced me to accept the charge
of a similar publication, originally commenced in Phila-
delphia by my revered and eloquent friend, the late
Rev. Dr. Gregory Bedell. The labor of editing was
more onerous than I had anticipated, demanding corre-
spondence not only with the literati, but with artists
and engravers. Yet, at the sight of a rich volume in
white Turkey morocco and gold, of two hundred and
eighty-eight pages, from our eminent writers, I felt
more than remunerated.
342 LKTTERS OP LIFE.
1838.
24. " Letters to Mothers."
Tliis is a comninnioation on matters that seemed to
mc of liiixh import with tliosc to wliom Heaven has
committed the moulding of the wliolc mass of mind in
its first formation. It was written more con amove than
most of my previous works. The importance of early-
training was continually unfolded and enforced by con-
ducting at home the education of my own two children;
and its voice often arose from my very heart of hearts.
The first edition I printed myself, that I might have
the privilege of distributing a larger number gratui-
tously. It w^as afterwards stereotyped, in three hun-
dred and ninety-seven pages, by the Brothers Harper,
and has been in successful circulation for a quarter of a
century. One of its reviewers has pronounced it " a
mass of excellence, with as little alloy as any book ex-
tant ; " though, to chastise the vanity, if any should
spring from such high praise, I have felt that it has
never excited, in the class whom it addresses, the warm
enthusiasm with which it was written. Some of its
precepts may probably be deemed out of fashion by the
mothers of the present generation.
1838.
25. " The Girl's Reading Book."
I was persuaded by a gentleman who was engaged
in elevating the condition of Common Schools in the
f
LITERATURE. 343
State of New York, the late Mr. J. Orville Taylor, to
prepare a work of didactic instruction — narrative and
poetry — adapted to the use of the young of my o^vn sex
during their progress in scholastic education. The de-
sign Tvas pleasant, but having only a month that I
could devote to it, labored both night and day. I half
feared that it would be written in my heart's blood, so
many interruptions occurred, and so determined was I,
if possible, to keep my promise of having it ready at a
certain time. Severe application enabled me to redeem
my 2:)ledge, and seventy sheets of manuscrij^t were
ready at the appointed period, to save the publisher
from disappointment. His energy brought out seven
editions during the first nine months ; and I remem-
bered no more my weariness, for the cheering hope that
it might impress some good lesson, or hallowed precept,
on the hearts of the daughters of my people.
1839.
26. " The Boy's Reading Book."
A counterpart to its feminine companion, naturally
and more leisurely followed. It was written with care,
aiming to enforce such principles as seemed to me vi-
tally important to the young sons of a republic. Again
I seem to hear the melody of a treasured voice, and my
sole boy-pupil, my " faded hope," stands by my side,
reading from its pages in his clear, deliberate enuncia-
tion, or pausing to ask some question, or listen to some
344 LETTERS OF LIFE.
collateral remark. Wiser art thou now than we, young
student in the lore of heaven !
Not satisfied with the style in "which school-books
were usually printed in those times, I decided to adven-
ture an edition of each of the two last-named works,
with a fair, large typography, in substantial binding.
I therefore made my contracts with paper manufac-
turers, pressmen, etc., and brought out four thousand
volumes, of three hundred pages, which might be pe-
rused without injuring the eyesight, or, as some writer
has said, " not being secretly in league with the craft
of spectacle-makers." The enterprise was financially a
loss, yet I never regretted it. Even now, some of its
remnants mingle with gifts for schools in our new
western settlements. Compends for reading, being
easily selected from the writings of others, grew nu-
merous, and the ground became preoccupied. By these
competitors a work consisting of original articles was
not greeted, possibly was undervalued. Still, these two
works, in a smaller form, and with the condensed so-
briquets of " Boy's Book," and " Girl's Book," are
published by Carter & Brothers, of New Tork,
adorned with some unartistic plates, and meeting a
moderate sale.
LITEEATUEE. 345
1839.
27. " The Religious Souvenir."
This Annual, as well as its predecessor, from their
tone of literature and style of embellishment, found
favor with the public. Contributions had been widely
solicited both in Europe and the United States, though
I was sometimes disappointed where I had reason to
place reliance. I had the gratification of receiving
articles from over the water from Mrs. Opie, Bernard
Barton, R. Shelton Mackenzie, and Dr. Stamatiades, of
Constantinople — as well as from our own distinguished
writers. Bishop Burgess, Bishop Chase, Bishop TTil-
liams. Rev. Dr. Tyng, Rev. C. W. Everest, and Colonel
John Trumbull ; also from Miss Sedgwick, Miss Gould,
Mrs. Stephens, Mrs. Embury, and Mrs. Stowe, whose
pen has since made itself known in both hemispheres.
I was ambitious that these volumes should exhibit as
great a variety of talent as possible ; and therefore, al-
thousch I had at first added more than one hundred
pages myself, deemed it courteous as an editor rather
to withdraw, and bring forward my friends, or, to bor-
row the expression of my Lord Bacon, " ring a bell
for other wits." But the toil of exchanging hundreds
of letters, not only with the literati, but with artists,
all the sixteen illustrations requiring to be original, ab-
sorbed too much time, and was too slavish in its charac-
ter; so, discovering that the department of editorship
346 LETTERS OF LIFE.
was not congenial to my taste, I gladly declined giving
it a third trial.
1840.
28. " Memoir of Mrs. Mary Ann Hooker."
Would that my pen had been adequate to the per-
fect transcript of one of the most lovely and intellec-
tual of beings. This attempt, with some selections from
her correspondence, an affectionate tribute to the mem-
ory of an early and valued friend, was left for publica-
tion under the superintendence of her husband, the
Rev. Horace Hooker, at my departure for Europe.
1841.
29. " Religious Poetry."
This volume, of three hundred and forty-seven
pages, with another one of poems of correspondent
size, and an enlarged edition of " Letters to Young
Ladies," were issued, according to articles of agree-
ment, by publishers in Paternoster Row and St. Paul's
Churchyard, during my residence in London. Their
beautiful style of execution rendered them appropriate
keepsakes, as testimonials of gratitude to the friends
from whom I had received attentions and hospitalities
while a sojourner in foreign climes.
LITEKATTJEE. 347
1841.
30. " Pocahontas, and Other Poems."
I had great pleasure in searching out materials for
the principal poem in this Yolume of two hundred and
eighty-three pages. It was heightened from having
once visited the ruins of the church at Jamestown,
where the Princess Pocahontas, the first convert from
the heathen tribes, received the rite of baptism in the
first temple consecrated to God in the Western wil-
derness. This event gave a worthy subject to the
spirited pencil of Chapman, among the great national
paintings in the rotunda of the Capitol at Washing-
ton.
It was the touching custom of the colonists who
landed here in the spring of 1607, to adorn their place
of worship with wild flowers, and to mingle a prayer
for the " dear Mother-country " with their Sabbath ser-
vices, which were conducted by the Rev. Mr. Hunt,
called, by historians of the times, " the morning-star of
the Church." By him, and in the same edifice, the nup-
tials of Pocahontas with the cavalier, John Rolfe, were
solemnized. A world of early vernal flowers enwreathed
the rough pine columns, and strewed the floor, loading
the air with fragrance. The white and red-browed
people, mingling, rejoiced together. Powhatan, the
powerful king of thirty nations, smiled propitiously
on his daughters bridal; while his brother, the lofty
348 LETTERS OF LIFE.
warrior, his head towering above all around, came for-
ward at the ajjpointed time to give the maiden to her
husband. Accompanying him to London, she made a
most favorable impression, and received the regard of
royalty.
Sir Thomas Dale, the wise and stately Governor of
Virginia, in his despatches to England dated June 18th,
1614, thus alludes to the young forest-princess :
" The daughter of Powhatan I caused to be carefully
instructed in the Christian religion, who, after she had
made good progress therein, publicly renounced the
idolatry of her country, openly confessed the true faith,
and was at her own desire baptized. She is since mar-
ried to an English gentleman of good standing— another
knot to bind our peace the stronger. She liveth civilly
and lovingly with him, and will, I trust, grow in good-
ness as the knowledge of God increaseth in her. Were
it but for the gaining of this one soul, I should count
my time, toil, and present stay here well spent."
1842.
31. "Poems."
This book, of two hundred and fifty-six pages, is
composed principally of short effusions of a decidedly
religious character. Being published by Mr. John
Locken, of Philadelphia, it was sometimes designated,
in the absence of a more specific title, as " Locken's
Poems." Its exterior was in good taste, and from its
LITEEATUEE. 349
portable size, as well as the nature of its contents, it
proved an acceptable present to friends going forth on
missions, of whom I had quite a number, both in
heathen and civilized climes.
1842.
32. " Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands."
Descriptions, in prose and verse, of sceneiy and
characters that most interested me during nearly a year
in foreign lands, are here embodied. It contained about
four hundred pages; and the publishers, Moni'oe & Co.,
of Boston, satisfied my rather fastidious taste in its gen-
eral costume, adorning it with a frontispiece of Sir
Walter Scott's mansion at Abbotsford, and a vignette
of the obelisk of Luxor, in the Place la Concorde, at
Paris. Its several editions were kindly received, and
favorably noticed by reviewers.
1844.
33. " The Child's Book."
Still at my old habits of writing for children, in
which I am inclined to think I display more pertinacity
than genius. This work, containing between thirty and
forty very brief articles, in one hundred and forty-four
pages, commences with great simplicity, gradually
ascending both in subject and style. My plan was to
have it read by mothers to their little ones who were
350 LBTTERS OF LIFE.
too youncT to road for tlicmsclvcs, takino^ a single chap-
ter, or pcrlinps part of one at a time, and sliowing only
the ])icturos apportaininc^ to the portion read, until the
whole series should be completed ; thus avoiding to tax
the infant intellect, yet keeping its appetite of curiosity
in exercise for the next set of pictures. By mothers
and intelligent nurses, who have observed these direc-
tions, its use has been commended.
The New York publishers, in stereotyping it, gave
it a square form, as agreeable to the little ones, and lib-
erally endowed it with more than a hundred cuts, some
of them very small, but generally appropriate. It bore
the title of " The Pictorial Reader," and I was exulting
over it as one who findeth great spoil, when I received
through the post-office the following fulminating letter :
" Sir : — You have unwarrantably taken the title of
my book for yours, and are liable to prosecution."
Knowing: as little of the irascible author as he of
my sex, I made haste to relinquish what he character-
ized as a purloined possession, and adopted the nomen-
clature of " Child's Book," by which it still holds its
course among the lambs of the flock.
1844.
34. " Scenes in my Native Land."
A transcript in prose and poetry, in somewhat more
than three hundred pages, of some interesting spots
LITEKATUEE. 351
which I had visited in my own birth-land. To me it
has always appeared in a measure Je/ime/ yet abroad,
where it was repeatedly republished, it was more of a
favorite than the " Pleasant Memories," because to the
European mind it revealed new localities, while the
other portrayed those which were familiar. Both were
issued by the same house in Boston, and rather than
disappoint them in sending this manuscript at the stipu-
lated time, I wrought painfully to complete it during a
period of convalescence, and was aided in the labor of
copying by the pen of my sweet daughter.
1845.
35. " The Sea and the Sailor."
My voyages had given me an interest in that class
of persons who buffet the ocean-billows, and through
whose hardships the commerce of the world is sus-
tained. I wished to testify sympathy and friendship by
a little book of poetry, which might go with them in
their chests, a prompter of salutary thought when they
should leave the charities of home. The first edition,
of one thousand, entitled " Poetry for Seamen," was
purchased by my liberal friend, the late Martin Brim-
mer, of Boston, and entirely distributed to the sons of
the sea, through the agency of their devoted chaplain,
the Rev. J. C. Robertson. The work, in its present en-
larged form of one liundred and fifty-two pages, is
352 LETTERS OF LIFE. '
illustrated by tho pencil of the late William Roderick
Lawrence, the school-associate of my departed son.
Should T speak of it with that frankness of criticism by
which we lady writers have too seldom an opportunity
of profiting, I should say that some of its poems are
not simple enough for sailors, and others too simple for
those in command, so that it falls short of both classes.
Still, as a parting gift for the sea, it has been often wel-
comed, lighting the dim forecastle with a ray from the
hearthstone, and a thought of the heavenly shore.
1845.
36. " The Voice of Flowers."
Fragrance and melody have native affinities, like the
plumage and the song of birds. Having a variety of
effusions called forth by the floral creation, I w^as per-
suaded by a publisher in Hartford, the late Mr. Henry
S. Parsons, to gather them into a volume of one hundred
and twenty-three pages, to which he gave the miniature
form, as being at that time peculiarly popular. It con-
tains forty-five articles, most of them brief, and all aim-
ing to extract an enduring essence from beauties that
fade.
1846.
37. " Myrtis, with other Etchings and Sketchings."
This book comprises, in two hundred and twenty-two
pages, thirteen tales in prose. The scene of the one
LITEKATUEE. 353
which furnishes the title is laid in ancient Athens, during
'he period that Rome was under the sway of the An-
x)nines. That of another is in Poland, during her
struggle against Russian domination. The others are
located in our own land, while in its colonial existence,
or more recent position among the nations of the earth.
All not being equally elaborate, a kind of deprecating
modesty moved me to denominate them as " Etchings
and Sketchings," though several are, perhaps, superior
in interest to what are deemed the more finished delinea-
tions.
1846.
38. " The Weeping Willow."
Another tastefully executed miniature work, of one
hundred and twenty-eight pages, uniform, and a coun-
tei'part with the " Voice of Flowers." It is a collection
of poems founded on the frailty of human life, and the
sorrows that spring from the sundering of its affections.
Some were called forth by specific cases of bereave-
ment, at the request of the bereaved. Yet while its
last lines still lingered in the press, I had myself need
of the solace which it aimed to bestow on others. They
lingered to receive my sad heart's tribute to the mem-
ory of that true, dear, unselfish friend, Mrs. Faith
Trumbull Wads worth, whose love, from my early
years, through all changes, changed not. Suddenly,
with scarce a warning that awoke apprehension, she
854 LETTERS OF LIFE.
ascended to those unfrclie natures with •u'liom, for al-
most fourscore years, she liad ronimunion and growing
conixeniality.
1847.
no. " Water-Drops."
Tlie eause of Temperance, and the reformation of
those who liave swerved from its principles, had long
and often enlisted my symj^athies. This volume con-
tains, in two hundred and seventy-five pages, whatever
I had written on these subjects, cither in prose or
poetry. It was arranged at the suggestion of the
" Scottish Temperance League," in Edinburgh, but
published in New York by Carter & Brothers, the
first of a series of eight different works which they
have since issued for me, with that punctuality and
friendliness which are such desirable concomitants in
the intercourse of publisher and author. This work is
particularly addressed to females, to propitiate their in-
fluence in the structure of domestic life, against a foe
that lays waste their dearest hopes, and to quicken them
in impressing upon the tender minds committed to
their charge the subjugation of the appetites, and the
wisdom and beauty of self-control.
1848.
40. " Illustrated Poems."
From a liberal publishing house in Philadelphia,
Messrs. Carey & Hart, I received proposals to make
LITERATUEE. 355
selections from such of my poems as had been deemed
most popular, mingling with them new ones if I chose,
and permit them to be issued in an illustrated octavo
edition, uniform with those beautiful ones of Bryant,
Longfellow, and Willis, and forming the fourth of the
series. I was not insensible to so high a compliment,
and acceded to their wishes. The book contained more
than four hundred pages, with fourteen fine engravings
from original designs, by Darley, and was the first of
mine that in all resjDCCts of paper, typography, and
binding, was quite accordant with my taste. Its sale
at five dollars per copy, and seven dollars in turkey
morocco, was also satisfactory to those who had so
freely expended upon its execution. After the dissolu-
tion of that firm it ap^^eared in a plainer form, and with
fewer embellishments, several of the plates having been
destroyed in a conflagration. It was dedicated to the
late Samuel Rogers, then the oldest poet in Europe, to
whom I was indebted for many marks of friendship
when in his native clime, and who warmly appreciated
the attention. He, to w^hom the grateful ofi*ering
would have been more naturally paid, my first literary
patron, Mr. Wadsworth, who permitted me to conse-
crate with his name my " Weeping Willow," had, a few
months before the appearance of the above-named vol-
ume, laid his head in an honored grave, just before
reaching his seventy-seventh birthday. Other tender
reminiscences also cluster around it — of an eye, that.
.356 ^ LKTTEBS OF LIFE.
like the rirli, deep violet, hunu^ over its manuscript
pacjes — of a liaiul mid jxn tliat zealously aided in
copying them — of a soul-speaking face in llic bloom
of nineteen, soon to be covered on its tnrf-])illow from
the mourning mother's view.
1849.
41. " Whisper to a Bride."
This book has leathered some of those sentiments
Avhich botli in poetry and prose had been suggested by
the most important era in the life of woman. From
the absorption of time and thought incidental to such
an event, I thought it fitting that the words uttered
should be few. Robed in white silk, this slight gift
has sought the hand of many a fair young creature, as
she left the paternal hearthstone to make for herself a
new home, amid duties whose full import eternity alone
can unfold.
1850.
42. " The Coronal."
A beautiful volume of prose and poetry, thus en-
titled, was sent me from London, where it had been
selected and published without reference to me. As
you have probably never seen it, my dear friend, none
having been sent to this country save a few gift copies
to myself, I will transcribe for you the courteous words
with which they introduce it to the British public :
LITERATURE. 357
" A wreath of song, and old romantic lay,
And pleasant tale, wherewith to cheer the hearth
Around the winter's cheerful blaze, when day
Dies in the west, and evening with its mirth
And social interchange of love has birth."
" The authoress of this work has long been desig-
nated as the American Hemans ; and if feminine sweet-
ness and delicacy of thought, and the tenderest sympa-
thy with all the most sacred affections of the heart,
merit such a title, it could have been nowhere more ap-
propriately applied. As a prose writer, however, Mrs.
Sigourney lays claim to even a higher standing than the
gifted authoress of the ' Records of Woman,' as the
following pages will bear ample testimony.
" In presenting these beauties of American litera-
ture nearly all hitherto unknown to the English reader,
the editor feels assured that the refined taste and beauty
of thought which they display, combined with the high
moral principles they are designed to inculcate, will
unite to render this Coronal one of the most acceptable
and permanent additions to this class of English litera-
ture.
"London, November 1«/, 1848."
Though this date defines the time of its first publi-
cation in England, yet, as I received no announcement,
or copies of it, until the editions of 1850, I have placed
it under that year in this present catalogue.
358 LETTERS OF LIFE.
1851.
43. " Letters to my Pupils."
It bns been heretofore mentioned that it was my
custom, wliile enc^aged in tlic Avork of instruction, to
address and read to those under my care, once in three
weeks, a letter on some subject of mutual interest, or
desired imj^rovcmeut. The present volume, of three
hundred and forty-one pages, has this basis, and closes
with brief biographical tributes to such of our loved
associates as had been early summoned to " begin the
travel of eternity."
1851.
44. " Olive Leaves."
A book for the young, containing, in three hundred
and eight pages, Narrative, Biogra2:>hy, and History, in
prose and poetry, imbued, as the name imports, with
that spirit of peace which it seems should form an in-
tegral part of Christian education. Both this and the
preceding work were published by the brothers Carter,
of New York.
1851.
45. " Examples of Life and Death."
This volume, of three hundred and forty-eight
pages, issued by Mr. Charles Scribner, of New York,
comprises twenty-four biographical sketches, selected
LITERATURE. 359
with care from different climes, sexes, and conditions in
life, extending over a period of thirteen centuries, and
varying in scenery and position from the wilderness to
the throne, yet all tending to confirm the unity and
efiicacy of that sustaining principle which imparts vigor
amid the vicissitudes of time, and tranquillity under the
dread and mystery with which it recedes into eternity.
1852.
46. " The Faded Hope."
A sketch of my beloved and only son. " God
touched him, and he slept."
1852.
47. " Memoir of Mrs. Harriette Newell Cook."
The subject of this volume, a lady of talents and
piety, and the wife of a clergyman, was remarkable for
living, as it were, with a pen in her hand, noting down
the passage of daily occurrences from which good
might be gathered. This habit, with a diligently con-
ducted correspondence, supplied ample materials for
these two hundred and fifty-two pages, connected by
a thread of biography, which I was induced by the
urgency of her husband to supjily, though my time
was burdened with a multitude of occupations.
3G0 LETTERS OF LIFE.
1864.
AS. ""Western Home, and other Poems."
Admiration of our " great, green, growing West,"
called into existence the poem which gave name to this
otherwise miscellaneous volume of three hundred and
fifty-nine pages, originally puhlished by Parry &
MacMillan, of Philadelphia, and, after the dissolution
of their house, by others in New" York.
1854.
49. " Sayings of the Little Ones, and Poems for
their Mothers."
I have long been an admirer of the words of young
children, as in their simplicity combining wit with
originality. Perceiving how apt they are to be forgot-
ten, even by the fond maternal heart, I had been perse-
vering in collecting them, and this book of two hun-
dred and fifty-two pages is the result. Following out
my fancy for the West, I intrusted the copyright to
Buffalo publishers ; and that it has not been overlooked
by the public, I perceive by occasional extracts from its
choicest ^norceaux in passing periodicals, though with-
out acknowledgement or reference to the source from
whence they were derived.
LITERATUEE. 361
1854.
50. " Past Meridian."
A conviction that the period of advanced life is sel-
dom correctly appreciated either by those who reach or
those who regard it, moved me to adduce arguments to
enforce its value, and examples of its happy combina-
tion with usefulness and honor. The plan was brought
to a crisis, by chancing to look over, as an exercise in
Latin, " Cicero de Senectute^"^ written when he was be-
tween sixty and seventy, and thinking that, if a hea-
then could discover so much beauty in age. Christian
philosophy should be able more perfectly to illustrate
how the latest drop of existence might exhale in a song
of praise to the Giver. This work was written care-
fully and with pleasure, and is stereotyped in three
hundred and forty-four pages by Brown & Gross,
Hartford, with that large, clear typography which ac-
commodates spectacled eyes.
" The North American Review," our highest umpire
in the realm of intellect, deigns thus to characterize it :
" This is one of the comparatively few books in our
day which will be read Avith glistening eyes and glow-
ing heart, Avhen all who now read shall have gone to
their graves. It is written by Mrs. Sigourney, in the
character of one who has herself past the meridian of
life, and addresses itself to sensations and experiences
which all whose faces are turned westward can feel and
16
3G2
LETTERS OF LIFE.
understand with licr. It is, much more than ' De
Setiectute^ Christianized. Tt is devotion, philosophy,
and poetry so intertwined, tliat each is enriched and
adorned by the association. Tt describes, indeed, the
straitnesses and sadnesses of growing years, but sets
off against them their more than preponderant immuni-
ties and felicities. It treats of the duties of the aged,
and their rights and dues at the hands of the younger.
It gives biographical sketches and anecdotes of good
and hapjiy old men and women. Above all, it blends
■with the serene sunset of a well-spent life the young
morning beams of a never-setting day. It will carry
solace to many a fireside, and rekindle hope and glad-
ness in many a soul that scarcely dares to look into its
earthly future."
1857.
51. "Examples from the Eighteenth and Nineteenth
Centuries."
Still keeping in view that the lives of the great and
good, like grand pictures, give present pleasure and
lasting remembrance, and that what w^e thus contem-
plate may become not only a cheering sympathy but a
controlling pattern, I constructed another biographical
w^ork. It was printed in three hundred and forty-nine
pages by the same publisher who brought out its pre-
decessor, which extends over a space of thirteen hun-
dred years ; and though this was limited to a single
LITEEATUEE. 363
century, I was embarrassed by the amplitude of mate-
rials, and the difficulty of selection, like a gleaner, who
regrets to leave ungarnered so many rich sheaves of
ripened gold.
1857.
62. " Lucy Howard's Journal"
The narrative of a young life, given in the form of
a diary. Its object was to sketch the inner habitudes
of the last half century, as they were connected with
the nurture of my own sex, and which, if not altogether
obsolete, are rapidly becoming matters of tradition.
The work appeared under the auspices of the brothers
Harper, in three hundred and forty-three pages ; and
though some of its elementary details, from their sim-
plicity and minuteness, might seem to need excuse, yet
they involve principles or affections which have given
to IS^ew England homes stability and comfort, with
that affluence of strength and virtue which has enabled
them to distribute freely to the young West seeds and
germs that cause her wilderness to blossom as the
rose.
1859.
53. " The Daily Counsellor."
This book of four hundred and two pages, published
by Brown & Gross, of Hartford, was so well received
that a second large edition was called for within a fort-
304 LEITERS OF LIFE.
iiiglit aflcr its first appearance. It consists of a poem
for every day in the year, foundefl on a text of Scrip-
ture. It ia not adapted to consecutive perusal, hut to
systematic and devotional use. In my own communion
with it every morning, it is pleasant to gather around
me in spirit those who, hy its solitary perusal, or
in the family circle, are thinking the same thoughts,
or perhaps committing to memory the same passage of
Divine truth, which its lyrical echoes repeat. "A sin-
gle verse," said Luther, " is sufficient for the meditation
of a day ; and whoever finds, at the close of that day,
that he has possessed himself fully of its sense and
spii'it, may consider the day well spent."
1860 and 1862.
54. " Gleanings." Two hundred and sixty-four
pages.
55. "The Man of TJz, and other Poems." Two
hundred and seventy-six pages.
I class these two poetical works together, for I am
exceedingly tired of the list. I think you are also, and
will rejoice that I have come to a stand.
1863.
56. " Selections from Various Sources."
Patience, sweet friend ! for you will see I have set
out anew, like the guest who, after taking leave, comes
LITERATURE. 365
back again. This book of two hundred and forty-
pages I was induced to print at my own expense, prin-
cipally tliat I might have it for gifts to friends at
Christmas and Xew Year. Three hundred copies were
thus expended on those occasions, and during a few
consecutive months. It consists of extracts on all sorts
of subjects, made during a series of years, in obedience
to the ancient injunction of reading with a pen or pen-
cil in the hand. A mass of manuscripts thus collected,
without the most distant idea of publication ; but sud-
denly it came into my mind, that what had given pleas-
ure or edification to myself, might perform a similar
office for others. Whereupon I made a decimation of
these hoarded sentiments, among which some of my
own had anonymously intruded. The work has been
well received, though not offered for sale, and, having
been printed at a distance, is somewhat defaced by
typographical errors.
There was a long period, after I became a writer for
the public, when periodical literature flourished abun-
dantly. The monthly magazines in particular became
almost a legion. Every position, occupation, and age
of human life seemed to have its own exponent. This,
after a series of years, regulated itself, and such as
were essentially ephemeral disappeared. Some, whose
embellishments were original and tasteful, continued to
stimulate the tine arts, and a few established lieviews
to hold high guardianship over4he interests of literature.
nCG LETTERS OF LIFE.
On this sea of miscellany I was allured to cmhark,
and, havinrr pct snil, there was no return. I think now
with aninzcment, and almost incredulity, of the number
of articles I was induced by the urgency of editors to
furnish. Before I ceased to keep a regular catalogue,
they had amounted to more than two thousand. Some
of these were afterwards comprehended in selections,
though enough for several volumes mnst still be float-
ing about, like sea-weed among the noteless billows.
They were divided among nearly three hundred differ-
ent publications, from the aristocratic " Keepsake " of
the Countess of Blessington, and the classic "Athe-
naeum" and " Forget-Me-Not " of London, to the
" Coachmakers' Magazine," the " Herald of the Upper
Mississippi," the " Buckeye Blossom" of the West, and
the " Rose-Bud " of the factory girls at Lowell.
Promptitude was the life-blood of these contributions.
Hungering presses must be fed, and not wait. How to
obtain time to appease editorial appetites, and not neg-
lect my housekeeping tactics, was a study. I found the
emj^loyment of knitting congenial to the contemjDlation
and treatment of the slight themes that were desired,
and, while completing fifteen or sometimes twenty pairs
of stockings yearly for our large family, or for the
poor, stopped the needles to arrest the wings of a fly-
ing thought or a flowing stanza. Still, I always cor-
rected, and rewrote more than once, these extempora-
LITERATURE. 367
neous effusions, not considering it decorous to throw
crude matter at the head of the public.
This habit of writino; currente calamo is fatal to
literary ambition. It prevents that labor of thought
by which intellectual eminence is acquired. Miss
Edgeworth, liowever, tliinks fit thus to commend it :
" Few persons of genius have possessed what Mrs.
Sigourney appears to have — the power of Avriting ex-
tempore on passing subjects, and at the moment they
chance to be called for. She must have great com-
mand over her own mind, or what a celebrated phy-
sician used to call ' voluntary attention,' in which
most people are so lamentably deficient, that they can
never write any thing well when called upon for it, or
when the subject is suggested and the effort bespoken.
Those poAvers are twice as valuable that can well accom-
plish their purpose on demand. Certainly, as it re-
spects poetic gifts, those who give promptly give twice.
How few, even of professed and eminent poets, have
been able to produce any effusion worthy of their repu-
tation, or even worth reading on what the French call
' des sujets de comniande,^ or what we Englisli describe
as on the ' spur of the moment ! ' Gray could not —
Addison could not. Mrs. Sigouniey's friends will
doubtless be ready to bear testimony that she can."
With the establishment of a poetic name came
a host of novel requisitions. Fame gathered from
abroad cut out work at home. The number and na-
368 LKTTER8 OF LIFE.
ture of consequent applications were alike reniarkaMc.
Clnirclies requested hymns, to be sung at consecrations,
ordinations, and installations ; charitable societies, for
anniversaries ; academies and schools, for exhibitions.
Odes were desired for the festivities of New Year and
the Fourth of July, for silver and golden weddings, for
the voyager wherewith to express his leave-taking, and
the lover to propitiate his mistress. Epistles from
strangers often solicited elegies and epitaphs ; and
though the voice of bereavement was to me a sacred
thing, yet I felt the inefficacy of balm thus offered to a
heart that bled. Sometimes I consoled myself that the
multitude of these solicitations bespoke an increasing
taste for poetry among the people. But to gratify all
was an impossibility. They would not only have cov-
ered the surface of one life, but of as many as ancient
fable attributed to the feline race. I undertook at one
time to keep a statement of the solicitations that show-
ered upon me. A good-sized manuscript book was thus
soon filled. It was commenced during what dear Mrs.
Hemans used to call the " album persecution." It was
then the fashion for school-girls, other youthful person-
ages, and indeed people of every age, to possess them-
selves of a neatly-bound blank book, which was sent
indiscriminately to any one whom they chose, with the
request, or exaction, of a page or more in their own
handwriting.
Of those who were so unfortunate as to be known
LITERATURE. 369
as rhymers, it was expressly stipulated that it must be
original. Sometimes tliere would be a mass of these
cormorant tax-gatherers in the house at the same time.
To refuse compliance was accounted an offence, or an
insult. I commuted the matter with my imperative
engagements as well as I could, by setting aside a pecu-
liar portion of time for these enforced subsidies. Hap-
pily this custom is now obsolete, having been merged
in the slighter impost of autographs.
I feel an inclination to give you a few extracts from
the manuscript catalogue before alluded to, which was
not long continued. Perhaps they may amuse you, my
sweetly patient friend.
Some of them, you will observe, are not strictly
poetical requisitions, but sprang from a position among
poets.
Requested to Avrite dedication poems for three
nicely-bound albums, brought by strangers.
To ascertain and send an account of the compara-
tive reputation, and terms of tuition and state of health
of the female seminaries in this city, for a gentleman in
a distant State who was thinking of sending a daugh-
ter to some boarding-school.
To write an ode for the wedding of people in
Maine, of whom I had never heard ; the only fact men-
tioned by the expectant bridegroom, autlior of the letter,
being that his chosen one was the youngest of ten
brothers and sisters.
3/'0 LETTERS OF LIFE.
To read critically, in one day, a manuscript of two
hundred and sixty closcly-writton pacrcs, and write a
commendatory notice vi^ it for some j)()pular periodical.
To obtain an accomplished female teacher for the
children of a member of Congress, at the far South.
A poem requested on the dog-star, Sirius.
Desired to assist a servant-man not very well able
to read, in getting his Sunday-school lessons, and to
" write out all the answers for him, clear through the
book, to save his time."
A person feels inclined to offer a premium for some
original piece of music, and would consider it " a favor
if I would w^rite six stanzas, each of eight lines, for
it;" adding, that "the subject is to be Temperance,"
and he " does not know of any one that it possesses so
much influence with as myself."
A lady, whose husband expects to be absent on a
journey for a month or two, wishes I would write a
poem to testify her joy at his return.
An almost illegible letter, requesting an elegy on a
young man w^ho was one of the nine children of a
judge of probate, and " quite the Benjamin of the
family," the member of a musical society, and who,
had he lived, " would likely have been married in about
one year." It is added, that his funeral was attended
by a large number of people ; and " if I let them have
a production on his death," I am desired to dedicate
and have it published for the benefit of a society whose
name I cannot decipher.
LITERATURE. 371
To prei)are the memoir of a colored preacher, of
whose character and existence I was ignorant. The
document stated that the plan was to raise two thou-
sand dollars by the publication of his biography and
sermons, to present to his wife and nine children ; who,
it would seem, were all free, in health, and able to sup-
port themselves.
A hymn to be sung at the anniversary of a charita-
ble society, for which I had recently furnished one ; the
argument adduced being that " a new one every year
was interestino- and advisable."
Epitaphs for a man and two children, with warning
that only two hundred and fifty letters must be allowed
in the whole, as the monument was not large enough to
contain more.
A minister in Virginia encloses an urn, drawn with
a pen, and colored by his son, a boy of fourteen, to be
dedicated to the memory of Mrs. Judson. An acrostic
is requested on the name of this son, whom he consid-
ers a genius, yet desires not to have it made " so per-
sonal " that it may not with propriety be published in
one of their newspapers.
An ode, to be set to music, which must be finished
early to-morrow morning, that copies may be struck off
in season for the choir.
To write a i^ublishing house in one of our large
cities a laudatory notice of a volume I liave never seen,
by whose profits the author liopes to be able to travel
ID Europe.
372 LETTERS OF LIFE.
A list of the female poets who have written in all
langunires, a statement of their Lirtlis aiul rleaths, with
information of tlie best editions of their works, and
where they may be obtained, for a gentleman revsident
in a distant State, wlio tliinks of undertaking a compi-
lation of feminine literntnT-e.
A piece to copy in the album of a lady of whom I
had never heard, requested by a gentleman " to be sent
as soon as Saturday afternoon, because then he is more
at leisure to attend to it."
To punctuate a manuscript volume of three hundred
pages, the author having always had a dislike to the
business of punctuation, finding that it brings on a
" pain in the back of the neck."
A poem, intended as a school premium for a young
lady " not yet remarkable for neatness, but who might
be encouraged to persevere if its beauties were set
forth before her in attractive verse."
A letter from utter strangers, at a distance, stating
that a person who had been in their employ had come
to settle in this city, and they wished some pious indi-
vidual to have charge over him, and warn him against
evil company. That they should not thus have select-
ed me, had they known of any other religious person in
Hartford. They express apprehensions that he is going
to set up the " rum-selling business," and propose, in a
postscript, that when I obtain an interview, I should
" wait and see whether he will own Christ unsolicited."
LITEEATURF. 373
An album from a clerk in a store, given him by
another clerk in another store, to be written in for a
young lady, of whose name he was not quite certain,
and the " most he knew about her was, that she was a
very rich girl."
A new periodical desires a " touching tale, a bit of
poetry, and an address to its readers," to be sent in the
course of the week, and the printing will be stayed for
the contributions.
The owner of a canary-bird, which had accidentally
been starved to death, wishes some elegiac verses.
A stranger, whose son died at the age of nine
months, " weighing just thirteen pounds, would be glad
of some poetry to be framed, glazed, and hung over
the chimney-piece, to keep the other children from for-
getting him."
Solicitation from the far West, that I would " write
out lengthy " a sketch of the loves of two personages,
of whom no suggestive circumstances were related, one
of whom was a journeyman tailor, and the name of the
other, " Sister Babcock," as far as the chirography
could be translated.
A poem proposed on the feather of a blue-bird picked
up by the road-side.
A father requests elegiac lines on a young child,
supplying, as the only suggestion for the tuneful Muse,
the fact that he was unfortunately " drowned in a barrel
of swine's food."
374
LETTERS OF LIFE.
To draft a constitution for a society in a distant
State, ■whose object is to diminish tlie reluctance of
young people to the writincr of compositions.
A j)oem requested, to accompany a ])icce of worsted
embroidery, intended as a present to a friend at the
North.
To be umpire of a baby-show in the city of New
York.
A funereal hymn for a minister when he should die,
he being now well, and preaching as usual.
To correct poetry, transmitted in a large envelope,
send it to some paying periodical with such recommen-
dations as may secure its insertion, and forward the
gains to one who prefers to remain anonymous, giving
only three fictitious letters for an address, with the
number of a box at a distant post-office.
A monody for the loss of a second wife, fortified by
the argument that I had composed one at the death of
the first.
A poem, with which to take leave of a district-
school " in a thriving village," where the teacher had
officiated for the greater part of a winter.
Epistle from a stranger, saying his wife was likely
to die, and had a young babe, and wishing some poetry
to be written in such a way that it would answer for
mother and child, should both be taken by death.
To turn a love-story into verse, " as lengthy as I
could," though to read the obscure chirography in
LITERATURE. 375
which the descriptions were wrapped, was a herculean
task which I failed to accomplish.
A woman, whose husband had posted her in the
newspapers, with the accustomed threat of paying no
debts in future of her contracting, came in person, with
an earnest supplication for an article which should set
forth his shortcomings, I being wholly ignorant of the
facts, and unacquainted with the parties. She said she
supposed I did all sorts of writing, and she had got so
nervous she could not execute this quite as well as my-
self; and so great was her perseverance, that it was
difficult to make any of the common forms of refusal
available.
Applications of a somewhat similar nature still oc-
casionally occur, though I have ceased to take the
trouble of recording them.
A short time since, a letter from a stranger an-
nounced the death of a young man in the war, who,
from her expressions of sorrow, I supposed to be a
brother, and desiring a tribute to his memory. Be-
lieving that I might thus comfort a bereaved mourner,
I complied, though at some inconvenience, studying the
verses after I had retired to bed. Thanks were re-
turned, with the information that she was not his be-
reaved sister, but an aunt — that she was much oblio^ed
for my doing the work with so much promptness, and
his mother was quite pleased with my having written
so 'prettily about her son.
376 LETTERS OF LIFE.
A man was cini^loycd in Hliinfrlincr a ncisrhborinor
house, belonging to a colored family. From the top of
the roof floscrying a servant of mine, he called to her
that he sliould be glad to have me write some verses
for liim. A relation of his had died, and he wanted to
have the death printed in the newspaper, but thought
" some poetry to put w^ith it would be nice, and that
likely I could Avrite it as easy as anybody."
But I spare you any further inflictions of these pe-
culiar requirements. You may, perhaps, think that
some of them testified a want of respect. I believe
they were not thus intended, though their deficiency in
the sense of propriety is frequently obvious. This se-
lection is not a decimation of the requests in my record,
though it comprises some of the most unique. The
ruling fault was with myself, in occasional comphance,
which encouraged exactions.
If there is any kitchen in Parnassus, my Muse has
surely officiated there as a woman of all work, and an
aproned waiter. Lacking firmness to say no, I con-
sented so frequently, that the right of refusal began to
be counted invidious. Those who requested but a few
verses considered them, what they appeared to be, a
trifle. Yet " trifles make up the sum of human
things," and this trifle involved thought, labor, and
time. This habit of yielding to persuasion occasionally
led to the curtailment of sleep, and of meals, as the
poems which were to be sung in public audiences must
LITERATURE. 377
be ready at a specified period, and frequently a very
brief notice was accorded me. Sometimes I have been
urged to send copies of long printed poems to stran-
gers, that they might possess them in my own handwrit-
ing. Though there is always a degree of pleasure con-
nected with obliging others, yet the extent of my own
facility or folly in this respect might be rebuked by the
common sense displayed in other occupations.
Do we go to a milliner, and say, " You have earned
a good name in your line. Make me a bonnet and a
dress. I should prize them as proofs of your skill ?" Do
we tell the carpet manufacturer, " You assort your
colors better than others. Weave me a carpet for my
study ? " Do we address the professed cook with " You
have a high reputation. I am to have a party. Come
and make my jellies and confections ? " Would those
functionaries, think ye, devote time, toil, and material
to such proposals, without compensation ? I trow not.
But a truce to this diffuse matter of custom-work.
My epistolary intercourse is extensive, and exceeds
a yearly exchange of two thousand letters. It includes
many from strangers, who are often disposed to be tena-
cious of replies, and to construe omission as rude neg-
lect. I have no aid from amanuensis or copyist since
the marriage of my loved daughter, or any listening
friend to "^^hom I may take the liberty of reading an
unpublished production. Yet, if ever inclined to ac-
count so large a correspondence burdensome, I solace
378 LETTERS OF LIFE.
myself with tlic priceless ralue of the e])istlefi of long-
tritMl friendsliip, willi tlu* warm vitality often breathing
from young liearts, and the hope of disseminating
throngh this quiet vehicle, some cheering thought or
liallowed j)rinciple.
My literary course has been a happy one. Its en-
couragements have exceeded both my expectations and
deserts. Originating in impulse, and those habits of
writing that were deepened by the solitary lot of an
only child, it gradually assumed a financial feature
which gave it both perseverance and j^crmancnce.
This, which at first supplied only my indulgences,
my journeyings, or my charities, became eventually a
form of subsistence ; and now, through the income of
its accumulated savings, gives ease to the expenditure
of my widowhood, and the means of mingling with the
benevolent enterprises of the day. Pecuniary gain has
flowed in upon me rather from abroad than at home.
\Yith the exception of the initiatory volume, sheltered
under the patronage of my venerated friend, Mr. Wads-
worth, scarcely any profit has accrued to my literary
labors in this vicinity, or indeed in the whole of my
own New England. On the contrary, some severe
losses have occurred. To the States of New York and
Pennsylvania I am mainly indebted for the remuneration
of intellectual toil, and gratefully acknowledge them as
benefactors.
Fame, as a ruling motive, has not stimulated me to
LITERATURE. 379
literary effort. It has ever seemed to have too flimsy a
Tving for sustained and satisfactory flight. Candid
criticism, and the voice of friendship, have been coveted
correctives and tonics. Still the only adequate payment
are the hope and belief that, by enforcing some salutary
precept, or prompting some hallowed practice, good may
have been done to our race.
I ought to speak with more emphasis of the encour-
agement kindly addressed to me since first, as a timid
waif, I ventured into regions then seldom traversed by
the female foot. It has breathed upon me from high-
ways and hedges, from boughs where nesting birds
reared their young, from the crested billows, and the
islands of the sea. Thanks be to Him who hath thus
touched the hearts of my fellow-creatures with kindness
toward me !
Letters of appreciation have reached me from
crowned heads — from the King of Prussia, the Empress
of Russia, and the late Queen of France ; marks of fa-
vor from nobles of hisfh degree ; and what was to me
still more animating, from monarchs in the realm of
mind. I have felt humbled by such distinctions, as
transcending my merits. Some degree of chastening
counterpoise has arisen from the marked indifference of
my native city, which I have loved almost with the
fervor of the ancient Jews for Zion. Neither by word
nor smile can I recollect that she has fostered the mental
labors of the child who went out from her fair borders.
380
LETTERS OF LIFE.
leaving her heart behind. Sweet hospitalities she ex-
tends to me, but ill the point wliere I yearn for her
pympathy, or would fain lay my lionors at her feet, fihc
keeps silenee. I w^rote, by request, a lyric to be Bung
at the anniversary of her favorite academy, which the
chief musician scornfully declined to perform, and it
was read among the prose exercises. I prepared poems
with my whole heart, for her beautiful bi-centennial
birtliday, and they were refused admission into the fair
volume that described the festivity.
I mention these trifling circumstances, not by way
of comjilaint, for they are unw^orthy of it, but simply
as facts to prove that I have no other claim to the title
of prophet, save the absence of honor in my own coun-
try, and with some slight thrill of the sadness of a
child, whose filial love has failed of reciprocity.
Yes, my literary course has indeed been a most
happy one. At an age surpassing threescore and
ten, I still pursue it with unimpaired delight and un-
spectacled eyes. Through its agency, and the Divine
blessing, I feel no loneliness, though my household con-
tains only servants, with the exception of occasional
guests. Praise be unto Him who hath led me all my
life long unto this day ; and if any good fruit shall
ever spring from the seed He hath enabled me to sow,
to His name be all the glory.
LETTER XIV.
GOOD-BYE.
Good-bye. Don't you think it is time ? I am sure I
do. Ancient people are apt to be prolix, and young
ones too, if you let them talk about themselves. Yet
there's scarcely any thing more that I care to tell you
about, even if you cared to hear.
So, good-bye ! the hearty old Saxon word, less ele-
gant than the French adieii^ or the classic, mournfully
euphonious word, farewell. But in this last letter I
wish to say to you, my kind friend, how comfortably I
am living. Far happier am I at seventy than at seven-
teen. Fashionable persons who should look at my
lowly house, might not think so. That is no matter.
I have lived long enough to know that showy man-
sions, and lofty staircases, and halls of gleaming mar-
ble, and castellated domes, do not necessarily include
happiness. I have tried them all.
Here am I, in a plain wooden structure, without pre-
tension to elegance, yet exactly adapted to my comfort,
382 LETTPZRS OF LIFE.
and to tlio " ])lnin intent of life." In summer, the vines
that embower it give it fiomcwli.'it of tlie aspect of a
cottage orne ; but in the nakedness of winter one
might notice many defects, and tliat the whole would
be improved by a coat of paint. Still, it satisfies me.
I have three small parlors, so redolent with the love-
tokens of friendship, that should the donors attempt to
enter them at once, it w^ould be by no means possible.
There is also, on the northern side, a writing-room
called my den, where I have intense enjoyment, and
spend such time between early morning and the dining
hour as housekeeping propensities, and many calls from
acquaintances and strangers, allow. The edifice, though
narrow in front, stretches out longitudinally, comi^rising
more space than appears to a casual observer, so that I
am the mistress of eighteen apartments from attic to
cellar, besides some dozen closets of various capacities.
The financial cares of forecasting and purchasing
supplies, in which my husband was so perfect as to re-
quire no aid, and leave me little chance for experience,
seemed burdensome during the first years of widow-
hood ; but now they are so systematized, and the im-
provements in some departments so visible, as to form
an agreeable variety. My elementary principle is to
keep out of debt, or, in the vernacular phrase, to " pay
as I go." The surplus earnings of my pen, how^ever
small they might be, having been carefully laid aside
from the beginning, the interest on those investments
GOOD-BYE. 383
assists me in the accomjDlishmcnt of this purpose, and
with economical management keeps me free from anx-
iety. More than this. I am enabled sometimes to real-
ize the truth, how much greater is the blessing " to
give than to receive," for wliich I heartily thank my
Heavenly Father.
Should you like to look still further into my domes-
tic establishment ? My agricultural and quadrupedal
possessions are diminished and meagre. Xever, until
residing in this habitation, had I been without the ap-
pendages of gardens and a cow. Of course, I had
never before fully appreciated their value. For several
years after our removal thither, we continued to keep
poultry, but robbers decimated them, and the servants
disliked their charge, so they gradually vanished away.
The only animated beings over whom I at present hold
dominion, are a large pussy, and two hives of bees.
Those winged chemists are my perpetual admiration.
Their early explorations, their tireless industry, the
mathematical symmetry of their hexagonal cells, their
internal order, the mystery with which they seek to
veil their habitudes, Avith other strong peculiarities, are
a curious and pleasant study.
A German bee-master comes at stated periods to
claim their sweet rental. He boldly takes them in his
hands if he wishes to transfer them from one abode to
another. I asked him by what art he surmounted their
belligerent pro2:)cnsities. He simply answered, " By not
384 LETTERS OF LIFE.
l)C'incj afraid of tliera." Whetlicr this internal armor
would he suflicient in all cases, I am not ready to aver.
If tlicir irascible properties were in action, I should
choose to keep at a respectful distance. Equally skep-
tical am I with regard to the creed that they will not
sting the members of the family where they abide. An
old lady, distinguished for kindness to all the inferior
creation, especially to her own retainers, used to say it
was well to go out frequently and speak pleasantly to
the bees. She thought them susceptible of pleasure
from the attention, and cultivated by it. Acting upon
her own suggestion, and regarding their marked charac-
teristic of neatness, she arrayed herself in a clean cap
and collar for the especial benefit of her apiary, and
flattered herself that her visits were manifestly accept-
able. How far this was an amiable illusion I do not
pretend to say, but think the peculiar lineaments of this
remarkable insect have never been fully and philosophi-
cally deduced.
I always participate in their resentment when their
lawful property, the treasures of their labor, are reft
away, and give continual charge that my jDortion be not
made exorbitant. Yet there is always enough for us
both ; and the fragrant, streaming comb, is grateful to
neighbors and invalids. Indulge me, kind friend, in re-
citing that fine passage from Shakspeare's Henry V.,
which first inspired me with the desire to be an owner
of bees. But the wonderful poet, who understood so
GOOD-BYE. 385
well the arcana of Nature and the phases of the human
heart, erred in applying the masculine gender to the
chief sovereignty of the hive, the Salique law not being
in operation there :
*' So work the honey-bees —
Creatures that by a ruling instinct teach
The arts of order to a peopled kingdom.
— They have a king, and ofiBcers of sort —
Where some like magistrates correct at home —
Others, like merchant-princes trade abroad —
Others, like soldiers armed in their stings
Make war upon the summer's velvet buds,
"WTiich pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent royal of their emperor : —
Who busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing mason building roofs of gold,
The civil citizens heading up the honey,
The poor, mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum
Delivering o'er to execution dire
The lazy, yawning drone."
Snugly sheltered in a southern nook is a vigorous
hop-vine, which, taking hold with its thousand hands,
mantles the wall and a portion of the roof in its grace-
ful drapery. Its beautiful clusters of a delicate green
are gathered in autumn, and their odor always touches
my reminiscences of the vast fields devoted to their
17
386 LETTERS OF LIFE.
culture in Kent, tlic ancient Cant mm of England.
Mine are carci'ully sj^read and dried, lor they enter into
the domestic pliarmacopneia. A slic^lit infusion of them
warm, at retiring, ])ro]»itiatcs tlie visits of ^lorpheus, as
many a nervous person can testify; while taken cold, an
hour before the principal meal, it exercises a strengthen-
ing influence on the digestive organs, being both a sed-
ative and tonic.
By the side of this Ilumulus Lapulus, as the botanists
call it, flourishes a less aspiring plant, the Sambucus Ni-
gra, or common elder. Its large masses of white blos-
soms, which beautify so many wild and waste places in
June, are saved for medicinal purposes, having purifying
and alterative powers ; while some sister housekeepers,
more enterprising than myself, compound from its au-
tumnal berries a kind of wane, which they pronounce
both salubrious and palatable.
At the feet of these patronizing herbs, and in and
out among the grass-blades, a few strawberries run,
now and then hiding themselves, as if ashamed of their
semi-barbarous state, and anon exultant, as though
they heard the almost irreverent praise of Sidney
Smith.
I have told you that I have no garden. Neverthe-
less, I plant a few rows of beans, which are the delight
of my eyes ; and in winter, sow tomato seeds in a box
of rich earth, which, being early intrusted to my rather
GOOD-BYE. 387
insoluble, clay soil, produce a vegetable of greater
freshness than can be procured of the grocers. Once I
was inspired with the lofty ambition to be a producer
of potatoes. A small plot of ground in the rear of my
offices was properly prepared and stocked with the
most api^roved kinds of the pomme de terre. I watched
their green heads protruding through the mould, and
their healthful efflorescence, as Diocletian did his cab-
bages. Suddenly the withering of the green tops
seemed to betoken that the bulb was perfected, and I
directed the test of the spade to be applied. Lo ! every
hill had been rifled, their surface dexterously smoothed,
and the rootless vines set out again. Only a few luck-
less tubers remained, to show us the excellence of what
we had lost. The busy personage who had toiled so
acquisitively while we slept, was not even so obliging
as his prototype, to sow tares.
You should see by what a world of grape-vines I
am encompassed. They climb upon my piazzas, draw a
cordon around the walls, besiege every loophole, look in
at the chamber windows, and leap from my summer-
house to the surroundingr bou2:hs, hanc-ino; their clusters
in the air. I have striven to restrain the last-named
class of explorers, and woven them perseveringly in
with the lattice-work, but they have an irresistible
pioneer spirit. "Were the prolific impulses of my vines
as strong as their emigrating ones, I might scarcely
388 LETTERS OF LIFE.
know how to garner tlieir fruits. As it is, my harvest
of grapes is bount iful. Besirlos the claims of hospitality,
and the pleasure of friendly gifts, the clusters may be
so packed as to form an agreeable dessert during a part
of the winter; and I mingle the expressed juice of oth-
ers with sugar and water, producing by fermentation a
wine which may be presented to the advocates of Tem-
perance without reproof. My surplus currants and
blackberries, in which some portion of the ground is
fruitful, are also sometimes subjected to a similar vin-
tage, for I have a natural desire to be a producer.
Of the flowers which spring up quite sparsely, I have
no boast to make. There are a few roses, a flaunting
piony, some lilies of the valley, flowering almonds, and
a syringa bush. By their aid, with the evergreen from
the hedge, I can fill mantel vases, or construct a homely
bouquet. I have ceased to plant rare seeds, for they
seldom come up ; and if they do, the worms eat them.
My principal show is from plants sheltered in the house
through the wdnter, geraniums, orange trees, and varie-
ties of the Cactus Speciossimus, which enjoy their vernal
emancipation.
So that is my garden. You can laugh at the epi-
thet if you choose. I fancy I hear you asking. Have
you no trees ? Trees, to be sure ! Yes, and some of
them notable ones. Look at that weeping-willow. It
is not remarkable for grace, but has an aristocratic pedi-
gree. It is a descendant from Pope's willow at Twick-
GOOD-BYE. 389
enbam, and was sent me a slender slip in a tin box,
wliich I set out and cherished. He received a basket of
fif^s from the Levant, and observing: amono: the twisrs
that enveloped it one that appeared to possess vitality,
ordered his gardener to plant and watch it, and from
that unsightly stock came the first weeping-willow that
England ever saw. From such a classic root was my
own derived. It has now a large tinink, but being the
denizen of too dry a spot, does not throw out redundant
branches, or droop as gracefully as it otherwise might.
I have an elm, also of noble ancestry, the child of a
majestic one planted by the traveller Led yard, who
went round the world on foot. It was sent bv an anti-
quarian friend, with compost adapted to its transmis-
sion. I ordered a laro-e hole to be dus:, into which I
descended to receive my guest, arranging its roots and
fibres in a becoming manner, sifting upon them the
light, rich soil, and directing the man to trample and
press the surface, leaving a slight cavity around the
trunk, and finish by a plentiful ablution. I gave it
good advice to be content with its new home, and to
adorn it, which it seems to have taken, and uplifts its
respectable head as the watch and ward of my south-
eastern boundary.
Another elm have I, without patrician pretensions.
I placed it myself opposite my front door, on the outer
edge of the sidewalk, and had the pleasure of hearing
it flattered by some of my friends for its lilliputian pro-
390 LETTERS VF LIFE.
clivities witli the title of " Mrs. Sigourncy's broomstick."
NotwntlistaiKling nil tlioir nhnso, it is now a tree of
goodly height and size, the centre of a line of some
half dozen of the TIii)pocaRtanns tribe, remarkable for
little else save their reluctance to put forth their flowers
at the proper season.
We found a clan of maples on the outer border of
our territory when we first took possession of it. There
they still maintain a sort of sullen sovereignty, like
aborigines who conceive themselves not sufficiently es-
teemed, but are doggedly detennined to live and look
as they please.
Among the original settlers was a bevy of sprawl-
ing apple trees. Coming from scenes where every
growing thing had been trained to symmetry, and
made as beautiful as its nature would admit, I was ex-
tremely disgusted at their aspect. But when their
season of efflorescence came, I was mollified, for they
surfeited us with fragrance. One of them, a delicately
shaped crab, in its fleecy white tissue, like a bride,
called forth unqualified admiration, while its bright red
fruit supplied us with pure, delicious jellies.
So, sacrificing my prejudices, I caused the bodies of
these despised retainers to be bathed autumnally with a
dilution of soap, sulj^hur, and wood-ashes, enriched and
loosened the earth about their roots, and removed some
of their most odious excrescences. These friendly of-
fices seemed to me no more than a fit ofiering, or atone-
f
GOOD-BYE. 391
rnent for my first injustice ; but look you, how they have
been repaid ! Loads of the best fruitage their various
capacities could command have been showered at our
feet.
From the time that the early saccharines robe them-
selves in gold, to the frosty nights when the rough rus-
set puts on its brown overcoat, and asks admission to
the garner, is no stay or hindrance to their revenue.
The last year more than fifty barrels have been pro-
duced. How to dispose of them, over and above all
culinary expenditure, has been a study. Besides gifts
to neighbors, and weekly baskets to pensioners, and
Christmas barrels to the State Prison and two hundred
inmates of the Reform School, I sent many bushels to
a cider-mill, from whence they emerged a sparkling
liquid, which, eventually assuming the more pungent
form of vinegar, made itself useful in a variety of ways.
As I am not ashamed of being a practical woman, let
me mention that its exhalations, when poured on burn-
ing coals, diffuse a pleasant, healthful odor, if the house
in rainy weather has not been fully ventilated, and that
it is considered a powerful disinfecting agent in hos-
pitals.
My commerce in apples has led to a unique kind of
philanthropy. From the time of their first taking an
orbicular shape, and when it might be supposed their
hardness and acidity would repulse all, save elephantine
tusks and ostrich stomachs, they were the prey of roam-
392 LETTERS OF LIFE.
iDg children. When thoy became licavy enough to fall,
their enterprise was unbounded. They surmounted
every enclosure, they darted in and disappeared with
magical alertness ; those who had achieved an entrance
supplied, through gates or hedges, those who stood
without. They came in the evening with baskets and
barrows, and, discovering there was no man upon the
premises, waxed bolder and bolder. The accustomed
phrases of dismission and dispersion failed to put them
to flight. Rappings at the window, and commands to
disaj^pear, they met with a dogged defiance. I grieve
to say that, in impudence of deportment, the girls were
conspicuous. Since the usual forms of objurgation
were powerless, I bethought me of another expedient.
I said pleasantly : " Come in at the gate, to my south
piazza, and I will give you apples." There I kept a
large reservoir, and put some into every dirty hand, as-
suring them that all who would not help themselves
should be thus supplied. They seemed content, and
eventually their faces brightened at being called the
children who would not take what did not belong to
them. Encouraged by this proof of susceptibility, I
proceeded, with the aid of an amiable and intelligent
servant-girl, who was pleased to officiate as semi-almo-
ner and usher, to teach the phrase " I thank you^'' and
by little and little, the feat of a bow or courtesy. The
last was considered as a grotesque achievement, or an
act of supererogation, and at first was regarded with
GOOD-BYE. 393
grins, or stifled laughter ; but eventually they ceased to
be marvellous, and I fancied had a sort of refining in-
fluence, drawing them still more palpably within the
pale of humanity. So a rude species of mission-school
sprang out of this apple traffic.
Another form of prudential ministration of these
same trees ought not to be omitted. Observing their
tendency to expand and make wood, and ambitious to
train them to some degree of proportion, I caused their
excrescent branches to be removed every autumn.
These, cut in equal lengths and dried, gave aliment to
an old-fashioned fire-place in my writing-room, which,
notwithstanding the house is warmed by a powerful
furnace, I have still kept open. With the occasional
aid of hickory, purchased of the wood merchants, they
afiford a cheering, genial warmth, of a more healthful
character than the smouldering, underground machin-
ery of Vulcan, which is capable of concocting gases of
no very salubrious nature.
Oh! those black, unsocial registers. Would that
the unfortunate people who congregate around them in
long winter evenings, might enjoy the cheerful blaze
which now, while I am writing, irradiates my den !
This corner is sacred, because my blessed father sat in
it, and his staflT still stands by the cushioned chair that
he brought from his own Norwich abode. Relics of the
loved and lost always have power over the heart.
Great comfort have I beside my declining fire just
394 LETTERS OF LIFE.
•
before the lioiir of retirement. Down go the parted
sticks, tliankful tliat their day's work is done, perhaps
proud if it has been well performed. T'^p mounts the
flickering flame, tracing pictures on the wall, unwilling
to be dismissed, the spirit rising over the wreck of the
body. Around the fading coals the white ashes gather,
like legends of a buried dynasty, soon themselves to
sink in oblivion. Such a good time is it for reverie
that I linger until scarcely a brand remains to be cov-
ered, as seed for the following day. Often am I re-
minded of that sublime passage of Israel's poet-king :
" While I w^as musing the fire burned : then spake
I with my tongue. Lord, make me to know mine end,
and the measure of my days, what it is ; that I may
know how frail I am."
These severed boughs from my own domain emit a
pleasant odor from their funeral pyre, as if w^ith Chris-
tian forgiveness they blessed me even in martyrdom.
So much for the sprawling apple trees that I at first
scorned and derided. Do they not enforce the lesson
taught by the " great sheet, knit at the four corners,
not to call any thing common or unclean " ?
Since the departure of my daughter to her own
abode, I have had the society of several young compan-
ions. They have been in different degrees lovely, in-
telligent, accomplished, or efficient. I was attached to
each, and regard them all as friends. Two are presid-
ing happily over homes of their own, and one has en-
GOOD-BYE. 395
tered that angelic sphere with which her OAvn unself-
ish nature was accordant. I think with gratitude of
the many kind offices they rendered me ; but often felt
anxious lest a deficiency of excitement should be a
damper to their free spirits. My chief error was in
aimino; to consider them as real dausfhters. I have
never yet discovered any chemical compound for the
manufacture of kindred blood.
Recently I have disj^ensed with a permanent com-
panion, and think the arrangement judicious.
Though mine usually expressed themselves happy
in my society, I often feared they were not. My intel-
lectual engagements requiring comparative sequestra-
tion for a part of every morning, made me uneasy lest
their time should hang heavily. This interrupted my
trains of thought, and abridged the availability of my
labors. Theii' conversation was agjreeable at the sea-
sons allotted to its enjoyment, yet I sometimes imagined
that the monthly stijDcnd which I insisted should be
theirs, might not be an equivalent for the privation of
dwelling with an ancient, sedentary personage. Xow,
I can seclude myself without the inward reproof of dis-
courtesy, and my time, which must be necessarily short
on earth, and is much curtailed by interruptions, is
made to bear with greater precision on what I strive to
accomplish. Still, loving the young as I do, their fre-
quent visits are prized, and I gather vitality from their
smile.
890 LRTERfi OF LIFE.
Solitude of the heart must, in some measure, ever
adhere to those who outlive their relatives and early-
friends. Yet my daupjhter, Avho is the only being, with
the exception of her little ones, in whose veins my
blood flows, had for nme years after her marriage a
residence so near, that we often met, and by daily
Bketches of journalizing letters I still keep her sympa-
thies fresh in my heart, and lead a new, or double life
in hers. Faithful in every duty, and self-forgetful al-
most to a fault, the light of her countenance, and the
flitting of her robes when she enters my door, are like
those of an angel. The taper of filial love still glows
amid the gaslight of stronger loves, and she spares me
those droppings from newer and more intense affections
which my lone heart gratefully receives. If she can-
not " take the children's bread, and cast it under the
table," yet the crumbs that fall from her free hand
give nutriment and joy. Recently she has become a
resident of western New York, and I add the simple
effusion that sprang forth at the
DEPARTURE OF THE ONLY CHILD.
Bid not farewell, love !
Pass from my door
As one whose returning
An hour may restore ;
Use no parting phrases,
But let the smile speak,
GOOD-BYE. 397
Bright from thy blue eye,
And fair o'er thy cheek.
Call thy young children
In from their play,
Cover their faces up,
Lead them away ;
Methinks, my enfeebled heart
Wilder'd and lone,
Dreadeth the going
More than the gone.
From the first life-throb,
"When on my breast,
One bright Sabbath morning
They laid thee to rest ;
"We have dwelt undivided,
Like sapling and spray.
But newer loves govern thee,
Hie thee away.
Throw the dark mountains
That nothing may sever.
Throw leagues of forest
Between us forever,
To a new mansion
With vision'd hopes gay,
Stronger loves beckon thee,
Eie thee away.
Mid lakelets of silver,
In caskets of green.
398 ' LETTEKS OF LIFE.
Forget not, despise not
Thy far native scene.
Lo ! years leave their burdens
And Time draws his dart,
Think of me, pray for me.
Child of my heart.
Good angels attend thee,
Since forth thou must go,
Thou last of the loves
That is left me below ;
Where'er thou shalt rest thee,
Where'er thou may'st roam,
God's blessing be with thee
Till Heaven is thy home.
FriendsHp, that solace of the soul, has been most
liberally accorded me. It has sprung up where I had
no reason to expect, in the clefts of the rock, by the
wayside, among strangers, and in foreign lands. I
thank Him, who disposeth as He will all the hearts that
He hath made, for this liberal infusion of its balm-drops
in my cup of life.
Some of my former pupils have been to me as
daughters. They have confided to me their concerns,
and sought my counsel even when their fair locks were
sprinkled with gray. Sometimes their children have
partaken of this partiality. Though friendship is not
necessarily hereditary, I have seen delightful instances
of its transmission.
GOOD-BTE.
399
One of the advantages of age is the test it applies
to the truth or falsehood of affectionate professions.
Being considered a species of declension, it divides the
worshippers of the rising sun from those who patiently
regard its setting.
I have known a few who, like the visitants of Job,
were adroit in searching out the " dweUing of the
prince," wherever their path might lead. Since my
residence is no longer in an elegant mansion, and I have
suffered myself somewhat to fade out of fashionable so-
ciety, here and there one may have permitted an in-
timacy, of which they were formerly boastful, to subside
into indifference or neglect. Such sycophancy, however,
is usually as slightly deplored as it is easily detected.
Another of the advantages derived from seventy
years, is the correct estimate it enables us to form of
popular opinion. In our palmiest days that was a yoke
of bondage. " Mr. What-did-he-say;' and " Mrs. How-
did-she-say;' have now become less formidable person-
ages. It is discovered that both praise and blame may
be misapplied, and that neither are long remembered.
From the slightest circumstances, as well as from inven-
tions, grave accusations may be formed by the evil-dis-
posed. Therefore the censure of good persons may rest
on an erroneous basis, while that of the light-minded is
nothing worth. Since none can perfectly sift evidence,
save Him unto whom the night shineth as the day, all
human verdicts may be fallible. Words of applause or
400 LETTERS OF LIFE.
blame wcii^li little, inasmuch as both those who utter,
and those wlio Iicar, so soon pass away, to return no
more.
Most of us have reason to regret that the time and
zeal spent in justifying ourselves, or deprecating harsh
judgments, had not been devoted to useful knowledge,
or benevolent enterprise. For myself, now that the
romance of life has subsided into reality, and shadows
cease to delude, I cannot view without gratitude the
kind opinions that, beyond my deserts, have attended
me, and that encouragement from the good which has
often given new strength to my labors.
To my young friends, whose bright eyes are so eager
in the pursuit of happiness, let me say that they will
find it to depend less on combinations of circumstances,
than on the temper of mind with which they meet the
dealings of the All-Wise. A harmonizing spirit will
extract sweetness where an unsubdued one only com-
bats thorns. Byron, with all his misanthroj^ic infidelity,
shed tears, when told of a fair young creature who had
expired, exclaiming, " God^s happiness/ God^s happi-
ness ! "
" Still at my lessons ! " said Michael Angelo, when,
at past eighty, he was found in the solitary recesses of
the Coliseum, studying the models and monuments of
ancient art. " Still at my lessons ! " I repeat, at past
threescore years and ten.
So would I have it to be. It is one of the privileges
GOOD-BYE. 401
of age that we may ever be learning. A deeper sense
of the value of time ought also to be among its acqui-
sitions. For as the richness of every blessing is more
fully revealed by the approach of its departure, our
days become more precious when but few remain.
Force is thus added to the injunction of good Bishop
Taylor : " Lift up your heart at the striking of every
clock, that the hour may be usefully spent, and help you
heavenward." " Still at my lessons ? " Yes. Still a
beginner — a backward pupil at the feet of Jesus of
Nazareth.
A beautiful life have I had. Not one more trial
than was for my good. Countless blessings beyond ex-
pectation or desert. How infinite is the mercy that has
so long sustained this frail house of the body, and nour-
ished its undying tenant ! Well may we say with the
Psalmist, " Gracious is the Lord, and full of compas-
sion." As I review all the way in which He hath led
me, smiles of joy mingle with tears of gratitude. The
Almighty Friend, who hath held my hand through all
my wanderings here, I fear not to trust for the life here-
after. That it is to me unknown, gives vitality and
beauty to the Christian's faith. Not claiming to know
either of that life, or the time of entering it, I cling to
Him, and am satisfied, and at rest.
Behind me stretch the green pastures and still
waters, by which I have been led all my days.
Around, is the lingering of hardy flowers, and fruits,
402
LETTERS OF LIFE.
tliat bide the winter. Before, stretches the shin-
ing shore. The shadowy valley between seems not
worthy to come into remembrance. Past, present, and
future, concur like tliree harmonies. May their grate-
ful ascription never end !
> " But oh ! Eternity's too short,
To utter all Thy praise."
Sweet Friend ! to whose prompting and continued
urgency these^letters of life owe their existence, if you
shall have patience to read them, I bless you. If you
have not, I bless you. Your affection has been a sun-
beam and a song in the house of my pilgrimage. Our
Father in Heaven repay you fourfold, and give you a
mansion where these poor instrumentalities of pen and
ink are no longer needed to express the love that never
dies. Good-bye ! Good-bye !
Li. H. S.
THE VALEDICTORY.*
Here is my Valedictory. I bring
A basket of dried fruits — autumnal leaves,
And mosses, pressed from ocean's sunless tides.
I strew them votive at your feet, sweet friends,
Who've listened to me long — with grateful thanks
For favoring smiles, that have sustained and cheered
All weariness. »
I never wrote for fame —
The payment seemed not to be worth the toil ;
But wheresoe'er the kind affections sought
To mix themselves by music with the mind,
That was my inspiration and delight.
* This I suppose to be my mother's last completed poem, as it bears
date of less than fom* weeks before her death. It was mtended to form
a part of a longer poem, entitled " The Septuagenarian," which she was
preparing for publication in the coming autumn. The plan was all
marked out, but it was not sufficiently far advanced for any use to be
made of it. The little poem, as it stands, forms a pecuharly appropriate
close to her " Letters of Life."
M. H. R.
404 LETTERS OF LIFE.
And you, for many a lustrum, have not frowned
Upon my lingering strain. Patient you've been,
Even as the charity that never fails ;
And pouring o'er my heart the gentlest tides
Of love and commendation. So I take
These tender memories to my pillowed turf.
Blessing you for them when I breathe no more.
Heaven's peace be with you all !
Farewell ! Farewell !
L. H. SiGOURNEY.
May \2ih, 1865.
And now remains only a short, sad task, for loving hands to
gather up the last links in the chain of a pure and gentle life,
and with filial reverence to trace the steps of the journey, as it
led to that " better country, even an heavenly."
Since almost the latest event in my mother's history, as re-
corded by her own hand, was that of our departure to a more
distant home, it may not, perhaps, be inappropriate to allude
here to the pleasure, over which I would fain Hnger, of her visit
to us in our new abode. Early in July she came, bringing her
smiles and her benedictions ; and we had the joy of seeing her,
during her stay, gaining both in health and cheerfulness. She
remained with us through the summer, enjoying the scenery of
the lovely lake, and the congenial society by which she found us
surrounded, and returned to her own home in September, with
renewed strength, and with pleasant recollections of the kind
hospitalities of those to whom she came as a stranger. During
the succeeding autumn and winter these still lingered with her ;
LETTERS OF LIFE. 405
she seemed to have been reiuvigorated, and to enter with new
pleasure and animation into all her accustomed duties. We gain
from her journal some of the items of her busy life :
September. — " The weather so fine that I am constrained to
work out of doors, trimming a long row of beans, and watering
and lifting tomato-vines to the sun — also helping in the kitchen
with the flat-irons, any household work being preferred to the
pen, though I wrote four letters, and exchanged eighteen calls.
Thankful to 'live, move, and have a being,' in this beautiful
world."
October. — "Left an ofiering of sympathy with a note, at the
door of a neighbor. Is'o character seems to me so desirable as
the distinction mentioned in Scripture, of ' Him that comforteth
the mourners.' "
On Sunday, the opening day of the new year, she thus
writes :
"Beautiful New Year's morn! bearing the name of God
upon thy forehead ! Consecrated thus by His sabbatical bless-
ing — I greet thee with joy.
" Giver of all that we have or hope for, wilt Thou peculiarly
sanctify this opening year. Make it to me a season of health of
body, vigor of mind, and cheerfulness of soul. May my in-
firmities be removed, my perceptions quickened, my memory
strengthened, and my zeal in doing good unwearied. Open for
me new ways of aiding improvement, and conferring happiness
on my fellow-beings. Bless aU that I may be enabled to write,
or have already written, to the greatest amount of instruction,
satisfaction, and comfort, that it is possible for it to produce.
406 LETTKRS OF LIFE.
Increase tlie disposition and tlic means of liberality, and grant
me wisdom in its distribution. Confirm and extend the demon-
strations of affection and love, in whicli my whole natm-e re-
joices ; and continue to bless my household establishment with
fidelity and affectionate zeal. Enable me to make progress in
right feelings, and in the enjoyment of that happiness which
rises above a changeful world.
" If this year, now smiling upon me with a snowy face, is to
be mine till its close, may it manifestly transcend all its prede-
cessors in usefulness, happiness, and true wisdom ; and to the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I yield myself in un-
swerving trust and allegiance, both now and forever."
A few days later, we find the entry : " Made very happy by
making ninety little hearts beat lighter, having driven over to
the Orphan Asylum, with nice little books, fruit, and cake, for
each one. I thank my kind Father in Heaven for this blessing."
February. — " I never remember such perfect days as a few
we have lately had. I drive out for an hour near the noon, to
inhale the balmy atmosphere, and behold the bright sun."
March Bd. — " Enjoying great delight with a poem in blank
verse. May it communicate the same to other hearts."
Thus cheerfully and hopefuUy passed the weeks, giving no
token as yet that the end was near at hand. And now we begin
to trace the commencement of her failing health. Just at the
close of the winter she took a cold, apparently slight at first, but
which became more serious, and marked by extreme physical
prostration. Paroxysms of coughing ensued, almost like those
in whooping-cough, which were followed by great exhaustion.
LETTERS OF LIFE. 407
"With, her native energy she kept about as usual, riding out
and walking in the brighter days, and spending every morning
in her study, as had always been her custom. But her flesh
wasted away, and her strength failed ; and daily the effort be
came greater. Yet she still required of herself the same early
rising, the same careful attention to the details of her house-
keeping, and seemed to redouble her thoughtful kindness for the
welfare of others.
On Sunday, March 26th, the fourth Sunday in Lent, she at-
tended church for the last time. It was a bright and beautiful
day, and she was cheered and comforted by the holy service,
but returned home very much fatigued. On the last day of
March she writes : " ^o variation in my employments, except
such as extreme weakness admits. Yery much to be thankful
for."
For about three weeks her case appeared exceedingly criti-
cal, and we were very anxious about her. Then her strength
of constitution seemed in a measure to rally, her appetite re-
turned, her cough became less violent, and she was again able
to ride out and to walk a little when the weather was fine. We
trusted that she was to be given back to us ; and though we
looked forward with apprehension to another winter, we hoped
that the mild air of spring might, with God's blessing, bring her
a measure of strength and health again. Her voice remained
very weak, and her physician considered it absolutely necessary
that she should use it as little as possible. She was therefore
able to see but very few of her friends. But their constant
kindness was most grateful to her. She kept a daily record of
the calls of inquiry that were made, and the many gifts of flow-
ers and rai'e fruits and delicacies that were sent to her.
408 LETTERS OF LIFE.
About the middle of May bIio wns snddenly more completely
prostrAtcd, jind on the 18th, for the first time, was unable to rise
from her bed. There was a failure of tlie powers of Nature,
without any acute disease, and, by gentle and painless steps,
she drew near to the Land of Rest. At first she was disposed
to be very quiet. " I am tired," she said, " I cannot talk much
with you ; but I am so comfortable." As she lay one morning
in one of the sinking turns which she had every day or two,
she opened her eyes with a smile, and said; "I love every-
body,"— closing them again, to relapse into the partially uncon-
scious state.
" Don't let any one look sad," she would often say— "there
should be none but cheerful faces in a sick-room " — and lovingly
we tried to follow her wishes. Remembering her own words in
her "Daily Counsellor " —
" Smile on the dying friend,"
we strove to repress our tears, that no signs of our "selfish
grief" should "chain the glad spirit" of the "ascending saint."
After this period of quiet came a season of restlessness — a
longing to go " somewhere "—she could not tell where. Then
we used to lift her from her bed, and placing her in a large
rocking-chair, draw her gently through into an adjoining cham-
ber, where she would sit by the open window, sometimes for
two or three hours, looking out upon the grass and trees. Then,
if she felt able, I used to read her letters to her, and tell her of
the friends who had called to inquire for her. We used to make
the room bright with pictures and flowers, and the change
seemed always to refresh her. Once or twice each day she was
thus taken from her sick-room, and she was able to sit up every
day but the one immediately preceding her death.
LETTERS OF LIFE. 409
How precious are the memories of those last sacred weeks
to all those whose privilege it was to share them! I can never
be thankful enough that I was able to be with her from the first
of March until her death, with the exception of four weeks,
when she seemed to be so much better. "With the aid of her
faithful colored servant, who rendered most afiectionate service
by night and by day, I had the great comfort of ministering to
her throughout her last illness. Towards its close three dear
friends shared with me, in turn, these oflBces of love. Bringing
their cheerful smiles into the sick-chamber, and ever welcomed
there with smiles, the intercourse seemed hke that of those only
a "little lower than the angels." For the last ten days of her
life we had the aid of a most excellent and tender nurse, whose
experience and untiring care made her a comfort to us all. Her
kind physician and friend visited her twice each day, and my
mother never failed to be cheered by his coming.
But while her bodily presence faded away from us, becoming
daily more shadowy and spirit-like, her soul, as it drew nearer
the world of love, seemed more than ever to overflow with love
for others. The kind thoughtfulness which she had always
shown to all who were sick or suffering, was returned fourfold
into her own bosom. Almost hourly came from beloved friends
messages and tokens of affection ; the choicest flowers, the most
delicious fruits, every thing that could delight the eye or tempt
the palate. She was scarcely able to taste any of the many
delicacies bestowed upon her, and it was her chief joy in those
days of weakness to arrange for their distribution among such
of her friends as were invalids.
" What is there to-day for me to send ? " she would ask al-
most every morning— and then would often cause herself to be
18
410 LETTERS OF LIFE.
bolstered uj) in bed, to write some little mcBsage to go with the
gift, procions love tokens, which coming from her failing hand
mnst be over dear to those who received them. The last letter
whicli slic wrote, bearing date of May 25th, was addressed to
her old and valued friend, the Rev. Charles Cleveland, of Bos-
ton, a few lines to enclose a sum of money for a person in need.
The chirography, usually so fair, l)etrayed the feebleness of the
hand that strove to guide the pen ; but the heart was still strong
in its love of doing good. "Always remember," she said more
than once, " always remember there is no pleasure in this life sb
great as that of doing good."
And surely no one was ever better fitted to give such coun-
sel. There is a little, old-fashioned account-book still in exist-
ence, commenced in 1811, when, from her engagement as a
teacher, she first had an income of her own. There the plan
was marked out, that one-tenth of all that she received should
be given in charity — a plan from which she never deviated
throughout her life, except to enlarge the measure of her gifts.
She had proved what Goldsmith calls "the luxury of doing
good ; " and desired, with her last words, to commend it to
others.
On Sunday, May 28th, the Sunday after Ascension, she re-
ceived for the last time, gi'eatly to her comfort, the Holy Com-
munion from the hands of her rector, the Eev. Dr. George
Clark. At the close of the day we knelt around her bed,
knowing that on earth we should drink of that cup together
no more. As we joined in the hymn " Trisagion," it seemed
almost as if we could hear the voice of the heavenly host, with
whom the beloved one was so soon to worship. Blessed com-
mnnion of saints ! which becomes more and more dear as those
LETTERS OF LIFE. 411
whom we love are taken from our sight, hringing strength to
stricken hearts in the thought of unending reunion in the
Father's house above.
Reference has been made in the preceding pages to the
pleasure which my mother found, many years since, in a short
time spent in the study of Hebrew. She alluded to it during
the last week of her life. She had been speaking of her trans-
lation of the book of Jonah, and said : •' I liked my own trans-
lation, it seemed so vivid. I have been thinking of one verse in
particular—' In the fainting away of my life, I will think upon
Jehovah, and He shaU send forth strength for me from His
Holy Temple.' "
As she grew weaker she slept much of the time, but when
aroused her mind was clear ; and whenever she spoke, it was
with her own peculiar smile, which all who knew her will
recall. On the last Sunday of her life, June 4th, as she sat by
the window, we read at her request the Psalter for the day, and
the little poem in her " Daily Counsellor," and offered the beau-
tiful prayer for the Church militant, all of which she was able
to enjoy.
On Tuesday she wrote her last message of love. It was ad-
dressed to a friend who had been dangerously ill, but was then
convalescent, and between whom and herself a peculiarly tender
sympathy had sprung up during their hours of illness. She
said : " I have had a text in my mind all day, and I wish you
would give me a card that I may write it down." She took the
card and the pencil, and wrote in her own characteristic hand,
" An Apostle hath said, ' Death worketh in us, but life in
you ' "—affixing her own initials and the date, and desiring that
it might be sent with some beautiful roses which she had been
enjoying.
412 LETTERS OF LIFE.
And now it sccmcxl as if her work on cartli was done, and
with calmness and steadfast trust slic awaited tlio will of tho
Lord. Patient and lovinp, she thought more of tho comfort of
those who watched over her than of her own. There was still
no pain, no distress, except at times a shortness of breath and
a weariness that nothing could relieve. " I am so tired, so
tired," she would say; the soul, weary of its burden of the
flesh, longed for the "rest that remaineth for the people of
God."
It was at the midnight before tho morning of Saturday, June
10th, that we knew by a change in her broatliing that tlio angels
were waiting for her. She still aroused once or twice, to take
the few drops of wine that formed her only nourishment, adding
her unfailing " Thank you." Hand in hand we went down with
her into the valley of death's shadow. The birds sang gloriously
as the day dawned, as if they knew it was for her their parting
strain. The sun of the beautiful summer morning streamed in
at the windows ; the house was filled with the odor of the vine-
blossoms, as fifteen years before it had been, when her "Faded
Hope " departed ; the holy words of prayer and the comforting
promises of God's blessed Word arose from beloved lips ; twice
the pulse ceased, and the breath stopped, and we thought that
she had entered into rest. But God had ordained that there
must yet be a struggle for the weary body to pass through — a
final conflict ere the pure spirit could be set free. Sudden and
sharp it was ; the suffering of the whole sickness seemed to
have been compressed into its last hour. But then it ceased
forever — ^no more forever the weary moaning, "so tired, so
tired " — ^no more forever of pain or distress, but perfect unend-
ing rest and peace, "for the former things have passed away."
/
3
LETTEES OF LIFE.
The struggle for breath ended, and she lay for abo
minutes in apparent unconsciousness. Then her eye lightc
with unearthly brightness, as if a glimpse had been given .^
into the world beyond. Something unseen by our mortal eyt
was doubtless revealed to her. It was but for an instant, anc
then, just at ten o'clock, without a struggle, the glad spirit was
released. " Thanks be unto God, who giveth the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ."
For a time we could not mourn. We had gone with her so
near the gates of Paradise that we seemed to have entered into
her joy. TTe could not immediately realize that we were left
behind. Then came the sense of bereavement settling slowly
down with its dull, heavy weight, to be hfted no more, until in
God's good time those parted on earth shall meet in the un-
changing Home above.
" Her ministry was o'er ;
To cheer earth's pilgrim to the sky,
To dry the tear-drop from his eye
Was hers — then to immortal joy
Kesign her brief employ,
Break her sweet harp and die."
And yet, since she must go from us, how gently and mer-
cifully was the summons sent ! Taken only a little while from
her accustomed employments, with her mind undimmed by the
touch of Time, clear and active to the last, the later years of her
life growing brighter to her as the sunbeams drew toward the
west, loving all, and beloved by all, what was there more to de-
sire ? What more could have been added, save that which she
has now received, eternal blessedness in the Paradise of God ?
Every possible tribute of respect and affection was paid to
^^ LETTERS OF LIFE.
■'^^.•mory. The bells of tho city were tolled for an honr at
^^ ' t on tho day of her death. Multitudes thronged tho house,
*^^^c they might look once more upon tho beloved face.
^" On Tuesday, Juno 13th, sho was borne for the last time to
^le church where she had worshipped so long. The officers of
tho Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the Retreat for the Insane, tho
Orphan Asylum, and the State Reform School, were there, to
testify their respect for the memory of one who had been their
benefactress and friend. A short funeral discoui'se was i)ro-
nounced by the Rev. Dr. Clark ; the choir chanted the anthem,
" I heard a voice from Heaven," and sang the hymn, " "Who are
these in bright array ? " The sublime words of the burial service
were said, and then the long procession wound slowly to tho
cemetery. With holy words of prayer the precious form wef
laid gently to its rest, "looking for the general resurrection at
the last day, and the life of the world to come."
" Oh, saintly and beloved !
The pleasant home is darkened, where thy smile
Of self-forgetfulness and sweet regard
For others' happiness, and perfect peace
Returns no more.
" Yet hast thou left behind
The living beauty of that Christian faith
Which was thy strength, and now is thy reward.
So may we keep thy pattern in our hearts,
So walk like thee, in our Redeemer's ways,
As not to miss thy mansion in the skies
When our brief task is done ! "
THE END.
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