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Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015
https://archive.org/details/historicalcollec24unse
THE "ELMWOOD" MANSION, TOPSFIELD
This house faces the Common and was built in 1808 for Billy Emerson, the uncle of the authoress who lived nearby. The end
NEAREST THE STREET IS OF BRICK, AND INCORPORATED |N THE STRUCTURE, AT THE REAR, ARE THE KITCHEN AND STUDY OF THE REV. JOHN EMERSON HOUSE WHICH WAS ERECTED ABOUT 1733.
THE
HISTORICAL
COLLECTIONS
OF THE
TOPSFIELD HISTORICAL SOCIETY
VOL. XXIV
1919
TOPSFIELD, MASS. PUBLISHED BY THE SOCIETY.
1919
GEORGE FRANCIS DOW Editor
THE PERKINS PRESS
£opffteft
MASS.
CONTENTS
THE EMERSON-BALCH-JORDAN HOUSE Frontispiece
OFFICERS OF THE SOCIETY, 1918 - - - iv
ANNUAL REPORT OF THE SECRETARY FOR THE YEAR
ENDING DEC. 3 1, 1918 V
ANNUAL REPORT OF THE TREASURER FOR THE YEAR
ENDING DEC. 3 1 , 1918 - - - - vii
ANNUAL REPORT ON THE BUILDING FUND - Vlii
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE, A TALE OF
TOPSFIELD, BY MRS. HARRIET J. HOLMES - I REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS, 1 843 - 7 1
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS - 76
TOPSFIELD SELECTMEN’S RECORDS, 1704-1730 - 9°
NEWSPAPER ITEMS RELATING TO TOPSFIELD, COPIED
by GEORGE FRANCIS DOW ( Continued ) - 1 13
COURT RECORDS RELATING TO TOPSFIELD ( 1 668- 1 669)
ABSTRACTED BY GEORGE FRANCIS DOW - 1 27
TOPSFIELD VITAL STATISTICS, 1918 - - I41
CHRONOLOGY OF EVENTS, 19 1 8 - - - 144
BUILDINGS CONSTRUCTED, 1918 - - - 144
OFFICERS
OF THE
TOPSFIELD HISTORICAL SOCIETY
1918
PRESIDENT
Charles Joel Peabody
VICE-PRESIDENT
Thomas Emerson Proctor
SECRETARY AND TREASURER
George Francis Dow
CURATOR
Albert M. Dodge
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
Charles Joel Peabody, ex-officio Thomas Emerson Proctor, ex-officio George Francis Dow, ex-officio Franklin Balch W. Pitman Gould Leone P. Welch Arthur H. Wellman
ANNUAL REPORT
OF THE SECRETARY OF THE
TOPSFIELD HISTORICAL SOCIETY
FOR THE YEAR ENDING DEC. 3 1, 1918.
The membership of the Society on December 31, 1918 was 241. Three names have been proposed for member- ship during the year, twenty have been dropped for non- payment of the annual dues, none have resigned and three have died, viz. Miss Elizabeth Chase, Thomas D. Connolly of Beverly Farms, and Joseph F. Smith, President of the Mormon Church, Salt Lake City, who had been a member of the Society since 1902 and whose ancestors lived in Topsfield.
For the first time in the history of the Society the annual meeting was postponed on account of inclement weather and the meeting in May, at which were to be read the sev- eral papers presented at the 75th anniversary of the dedi- cation of the Congregational Meeting House, was ad- journed on account of small attendance.
Aside from the contributions of personal service to the necessities of the Great War and the demands of civilian service, the enthusiasm and activity of the town during the past year has found vent through various forms of hos- pital aid and in working for the physical comfort of the soldiers in service, so that interest in historical work and in the meetings of this Society has marked a low ebb. This organization, however, with the coming of peace can step into its proper position and record what has taken place for the benefit of future generations. In a forthcoming volume of the Historical Collections it is proposed to print a full account of the activities of the town of Topsfield : — a list of those inducted into the service, with biographical details; the organization of the Home Guard; and com- plete statistics of all activities in aid and hospital work.
VI
ANNUAL REPORT OF THE SECRETARY.
Largely because our local printer, Perkins, was drafted into the service, but little progress has been made in print- ing Vol. 23. of the Historical Collections.
Mr. Sheahan continues as custodian of the Capen House on terms advantageous to the Society. During the fall, on his return from a tour of observation with the Am- erican and English naval forces, he very kindly consented to deliver a free lecture in the Town Hall under the aus- pices of this Society. The advertising matter was printed and about to be posted when the authorities placed a ban upon public meetings because of the prevailing influenza. At a later date the proposed lecture was again postponed because of Mr. Sheahan’s sudden departure for California, and here the matter rests at present.
One hundred dollars has been paid on account of the Capen House note, reducing the amount to $1500.00. The comfortable cash balance now in the treasury, to- gether with forthcoming dividends and rentals should make possible the payment of another installment during the coming year.
The Capen House is in first class condition and repair. Recently it has supplied structural information to the committee in charge of the restoration of the house given to the newly organized Rowley Historical Society. A portion of the land adjoining the Capen House again has been used for war gardens.
Respectfully submitted,
George Francis Dow,
Secretary .
ANNUAL REPORT OF THE TREASURER
vii
ANNUAL REPORT OF THE TREASURER
OF THE
TopsfielcL Historical Society
FOR THE YEAR ENDING DEC. 31, 1 91 8 RECEIPTS
Jan. i, 1918. Balance cash on hand $i 07
Hist. Colls, sold at .50c. 9 00
“ “ bindings sold at .35c. 5 95
Annual dues 18 00
$34 02
PAYMENTS
Expenses at annual meeting Postage
Misc. printing, notices, etc.
$ 98 1 73
8 09 $10 80
Jan. 1, 1919. Balance cash on hand
23 22
Respectfully submitted,
George Francis Dow,
Treasurer.
Approved,
W. Pitman Gould,
Auditor.
REPORT ON THE BUILDING FUND
viii
Topsfield Historical Society
TREASURER’S REPORT ON THE BUILDING FUND
FOR THE YEAR ENDING DEC. 31, I91 8.
Jan. i, 1918
RECEIPTS
Jan. 1, 1919
|
Balance cash on hand |
$80 20 |
|
|
Dividends U. Shoe Mach. Co. |
||
|
including extra dividend |
135 00 |
|
|
Rent of Capen house (Mr. Sheahan) |
120 00 |
$335 2© |
|
PAYMENTS |
||
|
Interest on note |
$80 00 |
|
|
Paid on account principal of note |
100 00 |
|
|
Repairs, Capen House |
2 20 |
|
|
Insurance ($1500) on Capen House |
17 25 |
|
|
Printing Volume 23 Hist. Coll. |
27 97 |
|
|
2 reams paper stock for Vol. 23, Hist. |
||
|
Colls. |
24 00 |
$251 42 |
|
Balance cash on hand |
$83 78 |
STATEMENT
On hand 45 shares U. Shoe Mach. Co
common stock (market value 45%) $2,447 5°
Less note $1,500. at 5 per cent. $1,500 00
Value of Fund $947 50
Parson Capen house and 1 1-5 acre
land (cost) $2,100 00
Restoration and furnishings $2,461 12
$4,561 12
Respectfully submitted,
George Francis Dow,
Treasurer.
Approved,
W. Pitman Gould,
A uditor.
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE
BY MRS. HARRIET J. (EMERSON) HOLMES.*
Chapter i.
One was a stern and stal worth man And a mighty charger rode,
The other was a graceful youth Who a chestnut steed bestrode.
One evening in the spring of 1813, two horsemen were seen riding along the road leading from Wenham to Tops- field. The elder of the two was a man of Herculean pro- portions, and his age was apparently forty-five; his coun- tenance expressed that sort of lofty daring, that look of defiance, which is ever seen in those conscious of their physical strength and who are accustomed to overcome every obstacle that obstructs their path. He was mounted upon a large and strong horse of jetty blackness, an ani- mal that seemed made on purpose to carry the gigantic form of his master. This formidable personage was at- tired in a surtout of brown cloth and a cap of dark fur, both much the worse for wear, which showed that he thought as little of his costume as of the dangers that be-
*Mrs. Harriet Josephine (Emerson) Holmes, was the daughter of Joseph and Lydia (Burrill) Emerson and was born in Jan., 1813 in the house facing the Topsfield Common which is now owned and occupied by Willard Emery. She was an only child and was educated at Brad- ford Academy. While visiting relatives in Baltimore, Md., she fell under Roman Catholic influences and after a time accepted that faith and set up a small altar in her home in Topsfield. She was possessed of rather unusual literary ability and numerous examples of her prose and verse are preserved. She also calculated the time of an approach - ing eclipse and in other ways exhibited mathematical genius. In 1836 she married Charles H. Holmes, Esq., a lawyer, son of Hon. John Holmes, the first United States senator from Maine (see Topsfield Historical Collections, Vol. 1 1, pp. 88-105). They had no children and she died Sept. 17, 1849, aged 36 years.
(1)
2
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
set his way. His companion was a young man who had seen some twenty-three summers. He was of the middie height and well if not strongly made, his countenance ex- pressed all the courage and firmness without the rough- ness so conspicuous in the face of the elder rider, and those who observed the determined glance of his dark blue eye learned at once that it was no poltroon with whom they had to deal. He managed with perfect equestrian skill the high spirited chestnut steed upon which he sat with the ease and grace of an Arab. He wore the drab great coat with many capes in so much repute by the gallants of that period, a cap of the richest seal skin was worn so as to display to the best advantage the dark brown hair, that clustered thickly round his smooth high fore- head, and bespoke him as careful of his personal appear- ance as his fellow traveller was neglectful. Yet now it could be seen that nothing of so trifling a nature occupied his mind. There was a cloud of sorrow upon his open, manly brow, and his thin and firmly closed mouth be- tokened a resolution of character which that feature alone can express.
They had pursued their way sometime without speak- ing, the gray twilight of evening had darkened into night, not a star was to be seen, and every moment seemed to render the path more and more obscure. They loosened the bridles upon the necks of their horses, trusting entire- ly to their sagacity to keep the road, for it was not then the well beaten and well fenced thoroughfare of the present day. The elder rider who had been moving slowly along to indulge the reveries of his companion, now suddenly struck spurs to his horse and calling to the young man to follow, darted forward at a furious rate.
“Why, Uncle John,” cried the youth as he regained the side of that powerful horseman, “Why, Uncle John, you ride as though you were flying from the arch-fiend him- self, what is the cause of this sudden haste, no enemy in the rear I trust?*' “Fiend, enemy," exclaimed the elder, I never encountered the one or fled from the other — no ! but I tell you this will be a stormy night and the sooner we reach Uncle Tom’s the better; ten minutes hard riding
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
3
will bring us to his door, and then Blackbird,” he said patting the neck of his horse, “you shall be well bedded and fed.” “Well, I care not,” said the young man, “how the elements rage to-night, but God grant that all may be quiet to-morrow.”
No other word was spoken until they arrived at a spa- cious and richly built mansion,* surrounded by out-build- ings of every description, denoting the wealth and impor- tance of the owner.
“Here we are at last,” said the elder gentleman, spring- ing from his horse, and winding the bridle round one of the posts of a shed that stood at the entrance of the yard. His companion followed his example and then both entered a large old-fashioned kitchen to which they had been guided by the light of an enormous peat fire that was brightly glowing in the wide chimney. It was the hour of supper and some half score of stout, rough looking men were seated at a long pine table apparently doing ample justice to the abundant but coarse fare that was before them.
By the fire-place stood two other domestics, who would have attracted the attention of the new comers had they been strangers at the house. One of them was a middle- aged negressf whose form it must be confessed approached more to embonpoint than was consistent with the rules of female loveliness, but her face was good for one of her race, and her teeth many a fine lady might have been excused for envying them. She was dressed in a short gown or jacket of coarse cloth, with petticoat and apron of the same material, a checkered handkerchief was bound round her head, and from her ears were suspended large hoops of gold. She was indeed no inconsiderable personage in that numerous household. But he who stood beside her might well have been taken for some goblin sprite, so dis- torted, so almost hideous was his appearance. His long,
^Hereafter characterized as “Elmwood” and undoubtedly the Billy Emerson place facing the Common and now owned by Mr. and Mrs. C. F. Jordan. Billy Emerson was Mrs. Holmes’ uncle.
fProbably Phillis Emerson, a colored servant in the Emerson fam- ily who died July 9, 1851, aged 73 years.
4
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE
flat head was set awry upon his round broad shoulders, he was short and corpulent, his limbs were crooked, and his ankle was in the very centre of his foot. His thick coarse features were void of all expression and he was continu- ally rolling up his large goggle eyes in a manner really frightful. He wore, for it would be a thousand pities in these dress loving days to neglect to describe the attire of a character so original, he wore a pair of cast-off sheep- skin breeches, which had not improved in their appearance since they came into his possession, a dark blue coat minus the skirts, that had also seen much service as the elbows most plainly attested, a pair of boots much down at the heels and appearing particularly anxious to aid his stock- ings in displaying his bare toes; these with a crownless and almost rimless hat completed the costume of this gro- tesque figure.
As the travellers entered, these two descendants, prob- ably of some African hero, were busily engaged in raking from the ashes numberless potatoes, which after being brushed with a wing were added to the other fare upon the table.
Such was the scene that met the eyes of our horsemen, but the careless glance they cast around, the look of recog- nition and the familiar, “How are ye Phil,” bestowed upon the sable female, and the order to her companion to see well to their horses, showed they were anything but strangers at the house.
“And what sends old Big-Fist here to-night,” said Phillis, for such was the name of the negress, as the travellers en- tered the sitting room of her master, “What in the devil’s name sends him here. I shall have to fry more bacon for his tarnal supper than wrould feed ten men and a bull dog.” Then turning to her companion and addressing him by the name of Phut, she ordered him to light a lantern and do as he had been bidden. Phut slowly obeyed muttering all the time about having so many masters and mistresses, and then raising his voice, he declared he was Mr. Jo’s boy and need not mind anybody but him unless he had a mind to.
“Hold your tongue you black imp of Satan, and be off about your business,” said a tall lantern-jawed man, who
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
5
had just risen from the table, and whom his comrades had addressed by the name of Healy.* “Hold your tongue and be off, and see you give them horses as much grain as they’ll eat for I reckon their mettle will be tried to-morrow.” “And who asked you to put in your oar old Jack o’lantern,” said the negress, “and what right I should like to know have you to reckon about what don’t consarn you.” “What don’t consarn me,” returned Healy, “it consarns me as much as anybody, and aint all the newspapers full of it, and every child knows that Thornton Stanly will be taken out of jail to morrow and sent to Boston to be tried for his life; but I guess John Power and Stanly’s brother Ben and some others richer and craftier than they, know a few and it’s my opinion that Thornton Stanly will never be hung in these States.” “And it’s mine,” said Phillis, “that you had better give your red rug a holyday, for if John Power was to hear you talk so free, he’d depopulate your clam-shell mighty quick.” “That would not be such a dreadful easy matter,” said Healy, displaying as he spoke two rows of thickly set double teeth, and stooping down he seized with those teeth an iron kettle filled with water, that hung over the fire, and lifting it from the hook he placed it upon the hearth with the greatest apparent ease. “How say you now,” shouted he. “I conclude it would take more then one blow of Johnny’s fist, strong as it is, to make me a toothless mumbler.” “Yes that it would,” simultaneously exclaimed his associates, who had all risen from the table during his debate with Phillis and had wit- nessed in amazement his strong and dexterous feat.
As they seated themselves around the blazing hearth, their conversation began gradually to return to the trial of Stanly, and the chances of his acquittal or escape. But Phillis invariably checked all allusion to the affair in any shape and though she herself would occasionly let fall both hints and guesses she did not choose to extend the same lib- erty to others. Having been born and reared in the family, she imagined she had a right to a greater knowledge of her master’s affairs, than would be proper for any hired person in his numerous establishment to possess, however faithful they might be, and therefore while she was present
*Levi Healey married Lucy Welch and died in 1824.
6
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
they were obliged to amuse themselves with conversation less annoying to their despotic friend of the dishcloth ; for no monarch ever believed more firmly in his right to the crown he wore than Phil believed in the justice of her claim to the sovereignty of that kitchen.
Chapter ii.
Frank hospitality they found,
And friends both true and bold,
Who fearlessly would danger dare Or aid them with their gold.
In an apartment serving both as sleeping room and par- lour, sat our two friends with Mr. and Mrs. Elmwood the master and mistress of the mansion and grouped around in the various postures of domestic ease were seen two fine looking men and several females. The younger part of the family had retired to rest, save one'tall, delicate looking girl of seventeen, whose eyes constantly strayed from the book she was reading and rested with looks of admiration upon the handsome person and fashionable costume of the young Stanly who sat with his head rest- ing upon his hand and for once in his life totally uncon- scious of the presence of beauty.
In one corner of the room was the bed, with its cover- ing and curtains of green damask, a round oaken table serving all the purposes of a centre-table of the present day, stood beneath a large looking-glass with a broad ma- hogany frame surmounted by a spread eagle gilt in the best fashion of olden time. Upon the table stood a silver tankard of cider from which Power at short intervals quaffed large draughts. Directly in front of a huge fire made of the stumps of trees, sat the master of the house, and though he could call full many an acre of forest land his own he still preserved the economical habits of his youth, that he might bequeath a rich inheritance to the sons of whom he was so proud. He was a man with whom time had gently dealt, and none to have looked upon his brightly animat- ed countenance, still bearing the marks of that beauty for which in youth he had been remarked, and his light brown hair yet scarcely tinged with grey, would have imagined
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
7
that he had seen the snows of more than seventy winters. At his right hand in a high-backed and cushioned chair sat his wife, a woman whose dignified manners and noble physiognomy told at once of a mind of no common order.
The voice of Phil was now heard from the kitchen call- ing the name of Abram,* at which an old man in the garb of a domestic, who had been sitting on a low stool in a recess at one side of the wide chimney, alternately engaged in caressing a large black mastiff that couched at his feet, and in replenishing the fire, the last which he did much oftener than was necessary from an ample pile of fuel be- side him, now arose and his form and features as plainly proclaimed his Dutch origin as the merry smile and kind word of Mr. Elmwood, “They can do nothing without us, can they Abram?” told that he was at once a priv- ileged and favourite servant. And if ever devotion to a master’s interests and love for his person should gain for man the confidence and esteem of his employer none mer- ited it more than this faithful namesake of the great He- brew patriarch. He obeyed the peremptory summons he had just received, and left the room with a low bow and an unintelligible, “no shir,” unintelligible at least to those who were unaccustomed to his half Dutch and broken English jargon. He soon returned and busied himself in making ready the table to receive the supper prepared in Phil’s best style. Phil prided herself upon her skill in cooking and no French artiste would have been more of- fended to have had his abilities a la cuisine questioned than our sable friend. It is true Phil's manner of prepar- ing her dishes was somewhat different from the souvenirs of the great masters in the art of French gastronomic; but what of that, the customs of their respective countries were also different, in her own way Phil was inimitable and she hesitated not to affirm, that she could boil beef, dress calf’s head and clean vegetables with anybody, she did not care who, and this evening she had given suffici- ent proof of her dexterity in frying bacon and sausages, for a large dish of each now smoked on the table, a tempt-
*Abraham Brevet, “a foreigner from Holland, resident in this town for several years,” died of consumption in 1816 aged about 60 years.
8
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
in g sight to the palate of Power, who had already com- menced attacks upon the savoring viands for neither trouble nor danger deprived him of appetite. Not so Stanly; he could scarcely be prevailed upon to take even a cup of tea his mind was so harrassed by grief and fear; but it was not the fear of a coward, but of an anxious and all daring brother.
At the table presided a lady of tall form and singularly striking countenance. She was the wife of Robert, Mr. Elm- wood’s eldest son, a woman of a wonderfully strong mind and equally strong feelings. In early youth she had been handsome and she claimed descent from one of our old charter governors, even the good and venerable Brad- street.* Unaccomplished and unacquainted with fashion- able life as the daughter of a New England farmer of that day must necessarily have been, yet such was the innate dignity of her character that she could have mingled with the first and proudest of the land and have commanded their attention and respect.
By the side of her mother-in-law sat the wife of Josephf the cadet of the family, and the open expression of her features was the index of her frank and artless nature. The long curls of her dark auburn hair shaded a face, consid- ered by her husband at least as the perfection of female lovliness, and if not a beautiful it was without debate an amiable countenance, and her form rounded and full might have vied with the Medicean Venus in symmetry and beauty. She was busily plying her needle, in the use of which she was well skilled, while her husband a tall, broad shouldered man of gentlemanly bearing and in expression and features resembling his mother more than any of her sons, was standing by the fire with his eyes resting upon Stanly whom he was earnestly but courteously pressing to join Power in taking some food. But Stanly could not eat, he was restlessly waiting for Power to finish his repast, that he might open the subject nearest his heart, the fate
*Billy Emerson married Ruth Bradstreet in 1791.
fjoseph Emerson, the father of the authoress, was the youngest son of Thomas and Lydia (Porter) Emerson. Lydia Porter came from Wenham. Joseph Emerson married Lydia Burrill of Salem.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
9
of his imprisoned brother. He arose and crossed the room and seated himself by his aged aunt. She took his hand in hers; she breathed words of comfort into his ear and those words were to his sorrowing heart as a healing balsam poured into the wounds of a bleeding man. He felt the truth of every word she spoke, for she was a wom- an famed to sway the minds and regulate the thoughts of others. None could see her without feeling her superiority, none could converse with her without being quickly aware of the strength of her intellect, the correctness of her judgment and that wisdom which is derived from on High. And now she calmed the fears and soothed the grief of that afflicted and affectionate youth and earnestly entreat- ed him to put his trust in Heaven and his eye brightened and his heart grew lighter. Such is the influence a virtu- ous and high souled woman possesses over the mind of man.
Robert Elmwood now entered the room ; he had left it immediately on the entrance of the guests saying that he would see that their horses were well cared for and he had remained in the stable all the while superintending the cleaning and bedding of his friends’ steeds. If there was anything that he coveted on earth, it was all the fine horses he chanced to see, and never was there a better judge of those noble animals; his knowledge in that particular might have excited the envy of the horse-loving, horse- racing Nobles of the horse-breeding Isle of Britain. He seated himself by the fire and his appearance was that of a man with whom the world went well; nor had he then encountered any of those trials, which in after life, silvered his hair, furrowed his brow and rent his heart now joyous with kind feelings and uninterrupted prosperity. He was a man of short stature, but well formed and his features were regular and even handsome and their expression de- noted the kind husband and indulgent father. There was a merry glance in his eye which said he loved a pleasant joke, and a shrewd expression in his features that accord- ed well with the reputation he had gained of always mak- ing a good bargain. He possessed by far the mildest temper of any of his race and nature and education had
IO
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
combined to render him the poor man’s friend. This be- nevolent trait of character he shared in common with the rest of his family. Their home like the convents and cas- tles of feudal story was ever open to the needy, friendless stranger.
“The poor their generous bounty blest
And travellers ’neath their roof found rest.”
A smile now played round the mouth of Robert Elm- wood and brightened his eye as turning to Power who had not yet finished his repast he complimented him upon the strength and beauty of his favorite horse. “Yes, yes 1” returned Power, while his stern features were for a mo- ment softened by a pleasant smile. “Yes, Blackbird is a treasure indeed, he is the only animal I ever owned that could sustain my gigantic frame with ease and he carries me just as easily as common horses carry boys, and I would not part with him for the best charger in Bonaparte’s sta- bles.”
“The ruling passion strong even in this extremity,” said Mr. Elmwood addressing Stanly, “Robert talks of horses with the same zest that Henri the third of France did of dogs. Well, they are both manly tastes and need cause no man to blush, and though your cousin’s conversation just now might have seemed to you just a little mal a proper yet trust me my dear boy,” and the kind old man laid his hand affectionately on Stanly’s shoulder, “that he is as in- terested in Thornton’s fate as the rest of us and will be as ready to aid you with heart, hand and head ; in the latter old and experienced as I am I yield the palm to him, he can plan like the first Casar, and Power there can execute deeds that might dim the fame of the knights of Romance. Now as soon as the table is cleared and the servants re- tired we will mature the plans for tomorrow.
Abram with the aid of another domestic soon removed the dishes, and after heaping on the fire an armful of wood quitted the room, and Mr. Elmwood again addressing Stanly inquired in what way he intended to effect Thorn- ton’s escape. “You know,” continued he, “that you may command my services to the utmost, ’tis true I am old and my frame is weak, but my soul is as firm and resolute
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
1 1
as in the days of my early manhood ; then I could have aided you with an arm of strength and sinews of iron. Oh ! that I could be, were it but for a day, as I was when I fought by the side of my brave Commander Sir William Pepperell, at the seige of Louisburg. Then should my arm united with Powers; soon free your beloved brother from his dark and dismal abode and place him in safety far from here. But it may not be, I am old and my hand once so strong is now powerless as an infant’s; but I have wealth, I have men, I have horses, all these you may command and I have strong and fearless sons who will stand by you until death. Fear not, you will succeed, let the deed but be executed boldly and all will then be well, rescue him my brave boy and leave the rest to us. We will baffle his pursuers though they see with the eye of the hawk and have the scent of the blood hound. No vile cord shall ever touch the neck of one who claims me as kinsman while I have gold to spend or men to do my bidding.” “Nor, by Heav- en,” exclaimed Stanly rising with kindling eye and dilat- ed frame, “shall one who calls me brother be arraigned before any earthly tribunal while I have hand to grasp a dagger, draw the trigger of a pistol, or a drop of blood to shed. We can at least die together, and I would a thous- and times rather die myself, a thousand times rather see him fall at my side mortally wounded than have him tried for a crime so base as treason. Now our plan is this. To- morrow morning' at break of day we shall depart for the jail at Ipswich. We shall arrive there before the officers. We shall request the jailor to permit us to have a parting interview with Thornton, and as he leads the way to my brother’s cell, Uncle John is to secure him while I am to take the keys and having liberated Thornton we shall mount and fly.” “A bold plan my daring boy and God grant that you may succeed ; but what is to become of your Uncle John, left as he will be without a horse or any means of escape that I can see,” said Mr. Elmwood. “I shall take the liberty,” answered Power, “to knock the breath out of the jailor’s body, and then I shall walk out in pre- cisely the same manner as I walked in. I can take care of myself so never fear for me.” “I declare cousin John,”
12
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
exclaimed Joseph, “You are just one of those people whom nothing can appall and you rush into danger with as much sang-froid as the rest of us would go to dinner.”
The night wore on and not one of the inmates of that room retired to rest, for they were all anxiously maturing the plans for the escape of their imprisoned relative. About midnight every appearance of a storm disappeared. The dark clouds rolled away from the moon’s bright face and as her silvery beams shown through the casement and lighted up the room a ray of hope illumined the grief darkened heart of Stanly, for like all imaginative and en- thusiastic persons he was not entirely free from supersti- tious fancies, and he now regarded this sudden change in the face of nature as an omen of success.
At earliest dawn Power and Stanly departed to per- form their bold and hazardous undertaking. As they mounted and rode off, Abram who had led their horses to the door and wished them every good fortune in the best English he could command, now looked after them and cursing them deeply in his native tongue for keeping “old Shir,” up all night, hitched up his inexpressibles and en- tered the house. To judge from reported appearances Abram had not then patronized the convenient fashion of wearing suspenders but whether he cased his limbs in as many garments as his countrymen whom Irving has described tradition has not informed us.
He hastened to the sitting room and was making his report when Mr. Elmwood interrupted him with “And did Jim Reilly go with them as I directed.” “He is just put- ting the saddle on Brown Bess and will overtake them in five minutes,” answered the old Dutchman as he turned to leave the room.
“Yes that he will,” said Robert who was dosing by the fire but who was aroused at the name of his favorite horse. “Yes, that he will, for she is as gentle as a lamb and as fleet as a roe-buck so never fear for him.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
13
Chapter iii.
Within a prisoner’s narrow cell O’er which close guard they keep,
On a hard couch a manly heart Is hushed in quiet sleep.
The bright sun of a clear spring morning shone through the grated window of a cell in Ipswich jail and threw its rosy light on the pale features of a young man who was quietly sleeping on his narrow but far from comfortless couch. One could have seen at a glance that an attempt had been made to render this dreary abode as comfortable as possible. A table at the foot of the bed was covered with various books, and on an open Bible lay a small bou- quet of fading flowers culled doubtless from the monthly rose bushes and other house plants of some gentle and kind hearted maiden. As the brilliant rays rested a moment on the sleeper’s face, in whom my readers have of course recognized the elder Stanly, he opened his eyes and gaz- ing for a moment wildly around, quickly sprang up and began to make a hasty but yet careful toilette. He was a young man of some twenty-five years, of a slight but firmly knit frame, and the whole contour of his head and features would have been noble in the extreme had it not been for a strange expression of hauteur and scorn that was sometimes observable in his deep black eyes, and in the sarcastic smile of his finely shaped lips.
The jailor appearing with his breakfast made a kind en- quiry for his health, some casual remark on the beauty of the morning, and then adding that the carriage would probably soon arrive, he relocked the door of the cell and left the inmate to partake his morning meal in silence and alone. He appeared to relish his repast with quite as much appetite as if no threatening cloud hung over his head. After he had finished doing ample justice to the substantial viands of the breakfast tray he took from his pocket a small gold watch to which was attached a heavy golden chain where amid the seals was seen suspended a richly jeweled ring so small that it could but have graced the taper fingers of some lovely dame. Having carefully wound up this little time-telling companion he fixed his
4
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
eyes upon its face and his features wore a deeper look of anxiety than had yet appeared upon them. He seemed to be waiting for some long expected moment for though he had appeared calm and resigned during his imprison- ment it was rather in the sure hope of a rescue at last by his friends than of an acquittal by his country should he once be placed at the bar, for though innocent he well knew what very slight evidence he could adduce to prove the important fact. His eye and cheek grew bright as he heard steps in the passage for he confidently supposed it to be his deliverers as in the many interviews he had had with his numerous friends while in prison strong hopes of escape had always been held out to him until he was all but sure of the certainty of the event. But when the bolts were withdrawn and the door slowly opening, displayed not his deliverers (for his brother’s plan detailed in the preceeding chapter had been made known to him), but the strange faces and official dresses of the officers who were to be his escort to Boston. A livid paleness over- spread his features and his agitation was plainly visible; but in an instant he was again self possessed, conscious if one plan failed, his daring brother would adopt another and more successful one, And if the servants of the law noticed his momentary embarrassment, they most prob- ably attributed it to any cause save the right and courte- ously attending him to the carriage in waiting, they soon left the prison behind and were on their way to Boston.
Thornton Stanly had had the misfortune to lose his father in early youth and therefore had been left with his younger brother Benjamin to the guidance of a good, but perhaps too fond mother. Neither of the boys had ever known anything of paternal discipline and having been cast while very young into the world’s great theatre, they had begun to act for themselves before they were suffici- ently experienced to avoid the many snares that are ever placed to entrap the unwary, and though far from being dissipated they were often rash and thoughtless.
A distant relative in the West Indies had recently died and on opening his will it was ascertained that a part of his fortune had been bequeathed to Thornton Stanly, who
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
15
was immediately informed of the fact by his kinsman’s executor. This occurred during our war with England in 1812. Notwithstanding the danger he. fitted out a small vessel in order to proceed to Cuba; but unfortunately he incurred the suspicions of some person in power who from some trifling circumstance suspected him of holding secret intercourse with some British men-of-war anchored off our coasts. It was even rumoured that he had caused fresh pro- visions to be conveyed to them. He was closely watched and had hardly left the harbour when he was followed and captured. Knowing that all his papers would be seized and having some of a private nature that he felt unwilling to have exposed he thoughtlessly destroyed them and having been observed, it was a most suspicious circum- stance, and though perfectly innocent of the crime of which he was accused, he was instantly arrested and thrown into prison.
Should he have a trial there was but little hope of prov- ing his innocence and both his brother and himself it would seem trusted more to their own skilful devices than to the Heavenly Protector of the innocent and hence the detailed plan of escape had been determined upon.
The carriage had scarcely left the prison when Power and young Stanly dismounted at the gate and learning that Thornton had already gone they concealed every appearance of disappointment and merely regretting their misfortune in not being able to see him and bid him adieu they mounted their horses and were turning away when the good natured jailor begged their attention and kindly reminded them, that as the carriage had been gone so short a time and as the travelling was so very bad they could easily overtake it, and without doubt the officers would permit them at least a few words of farewell. Cour- teously thanking him they turned about and putting spurs to their horses they hastened to a small house at the far part of the town belonging to Mr. Elmwood and to which Jim Reilly had been directed to proceed there to await further orders. This house was situated on the confines of a large tract of land belonging to the same owner and sometimes used as a pasture for cattle and horses which
1 6
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
he often had driven there in large droves, when they came from the country, until he could profitably dispose of them in some other way.
This domicil was inhabited by a woman of strong sense and singular habits and of whose early life nothing what- ever was known. She had resided there several years and never appeared to grow an}' older; but the reason of that might have been that she looked as old as she could when she came to dwell in that lonely place. She lived entirely alone, unless her pigs, her chickens and her old grey cat could be called company and she appeared to be wholly devoted to the interests of her landlord, indeed she seemed to care for no human being but Mr. Elmwood or those with whom he was in some way connected; but whether this devotedness proceeded from the fact that he allowed her rent free the little dwelling which she deemed her castle and as much land around it as she pleased to have cultivated or from some other cause none could tell; but true it was she lived a sad and lonely life and yet she al- ways served most cheerfully any of Mr. Elmwood’s people when they came with or to take away his horned and four- footed property. The name of this old dame was Judith Wilson and on the eventful morning already named she was seated at her wheel beside a blazing fire attentively listening to many of the foregoing facts related with true Irish pathos by no less a personage than Jim Reilly him- self who had safely arrived some minutes before and hav- ing made Brown Bess as comfortable as circumstances would permit was now exerting all his loquacious powers to entertain Mrs. Wilson and enlighten her as I have just said upon Thornton Stanly’s gloomy affairs.
He was most comfortably seated in a rocking chair at the opposite side of the fire place, occasionally helping himself to a nicely wiped golden russet from a tray of that fruit placed on a wooden block beside him. Jim Reilly had all the quick wit and apparent simplicity so often ob- servable in the natives of the Emerald Isle and he had now been a member of Mr. Elmwood’s household for sev- eral months. The year before, Robert Elmwood being in Montreal, had rendered some trifling assistance to Jim’s
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
I 7
grandfather, an old Irishman in needy circumstances, who having paid nature’s last debt a few days before young Elmwood left Canada, his grandson having no tie to bind him to his northern home and having been nurtured in a United Irishman’s hereditary hatred to England he deter- mined to follow his benefactor to this paradise of adventur- ers, this home of freedom the Utopia of the oppressed and so for some time he had been a supernumerary or sort of horse-boy about the stables of the homestead.
“But tell me Jim,” said Mrs. Wilson continuing the con- versation, “pray tell me, why did not Mr. Power let you wait nearer the jail instead of sending you clear away up here? They will sartinly catch him before he is half way between there and this !”
“Don’t you believe any such thing,” returned Master Reilly whose faith in Power’s prowess was not to be shaken, “its myself knows Mr. Power and sure he’s stronger nor any three men you’ll find in these parts.”
“Yes, yes ! I know he has great strength,” said Mrs. Wilson, “but still ’tis such an awful daring thing, and only think if they should chance to be too late, if Thornton should be gone, what will they do then, can you tell me that?”
“Well them mem I cannot,” replied Jim, “but I just sup- pose its me thought mem, that they will be coming up here and then its themselves will invint another bould plan and outwit the divils of officers yet.”
“And is the young gentleman so very handsome,” in- quired Judith, “and did a beautiful young lady his cousin want to go into prison and let him escape in her clothes?” “That’s it,” said Jim, “he’s as fine a chap as my two eyes ever seen. I drove the old gentleman and lady over to see him one day and I went into the cell with them and I had a good look at him and a tall man he is with eyes bright as the stars in a could night and hair for all the world as black and shiny as a blackbird’s coat, and he’s a proud, grand way of his own ; faith I don’t think the likes of him was ever made to be hung at all at all, bad luck to the theives that tuck him. Sure they might have known by the look he had that he was a gentleman and above a small
i8
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
thing; but them chaps of the law never knows nothing, and the lady mem, yes mem, she is his cousin and a born beauty I hear tell with a bould heart in her bosom. Its little she’d fear a prison so him she loved was out of it ; but they say mem, its another one has his heart entirely; but sure his beautiful cousin never heard of it, ’twould break her heart they say. But mem, the saints be good to us mem ! don’t you hear the tramp of horses, and Holy Mary be near us’tis themselves, they’re riding for the bare life," cried Jim, as he sprang up and rushed to the door. “And oh murther, murther ! Judith they have not got him, they have not got him, oh what will we do?” It was indeed as Jim declared, both Power and Stanly were approaching at a rapid pace and in another moment they had dismount- ed at Judith’s door and throwing their horses’ bridles into Jim’s hand they entered the house without uttering a single word, where Jim after securing their horses immediately followed them. He found them moodily seated in front of the fire while Judith stood leaning anxiously against the window waiting for them to speak. Power was the first to break silence, which he did with a loud oath and “What is to be done now I should like to know. I don’t much like being led up here a wild goose chase and I wish people would plan matters better, before they select me to execute them ; but something must be done and that right soon so the quicker another plan is formed the better, for you know as well as I do that Thornton must be rescued before he reaches Boston if he is rescued at all, so you had better look to it.” “Now may God have mercy upon me,” said the almost distracted Stanly; “but as you say Uncle John, something must be done immediately, I would I could imagine what?” “Pardon me gentlemen,” said Mrs. Wil- son coming forward and speaking for the first time since their arrival. “Pardon me gentlemen for intruding my poor opinion upon you, but you know the old saying that two heads are better than one, and a woman’s advice may sometimes be taken with advantage; but what I would say is this. The carriage must or that is will probably pass through Hamilton and Wenham on the way to Boston, and you know that the travelling is so very bad that at
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
19
best, they can but get on very slowly. They will also be obliged to stop at the tavern in Hamilton to rest their horses; and I have been thinking that if Jim could but reach there first and be there when your brother arrives he has less wit than I have given him credit for if he can- not find a way to speak to Mr. Stanly and bid him stop at Wenham to which place you must hasten with all speed and once in your own house you can certainly think of and contrive some plan to secrete him or get him away by the time he arrives.” “That is indeed a bright thought of yours, Judith/’ said Benjamin Stanly, “if Jim could only be at Hamilton in time.” “I will see to that,” returned Mrs. Wilson, “I can tell him of a way across the hills, that will enable him to reach there before your brother, for the carriage road is as muddy as it can be, so they must proceed but slowly while Jim will be able to pass almost dry-shod across the path that I shall point out to him, and it is be- sides several miles nearer. Now you have not a moment to lose, mount your horses instantly and be gone.” “You are indeed right,” said young Stanly and turning to Jim who was leaving the room to see to the horses, he placed a piece of gold in his hand, saying “if you succeed in speaking to Thornton it shall never be forgotten. Then again addressing Mrs. Wilson he added, “It is to you, my good woman, that I must now trust to direct Jim how to proceed.” “I will indeed do my best and now may God bless you,” said the faithful creature as they stood together a moment at her humble door. Then Power and Stanly with a hasty farewell mounted and rode away, while Mrs. Wilson took Jim into the house to give him the necessary instructions for his present undertaking, a rather difficult one it would seem for a lad of fifteen, but Jim as I have already said hid a great deal of shrewdness under an ap- pearance of rustic simplicity.
Ten minutes had hardly passed rapidly away ere Jim Reilly issued once more from beneath Judith’s rustic roof; but so metamorphosed that it would have been almost im- possible for his daily companions to have recognized him. His smart blue jacket had been laid aside for or covered with a blue striped frock; his much prized jockey cap had
20
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
been replaced by a felt hat of a light cinnamon colour and his well polished boots and plated spurs exchanged for thick brogans of cow-hide. In his hand he flourished a large oaken cudgel, to the top of which was suspended a small bundle tied in a much worn handkerchief of blue check. Where Mrs. Wilson had obtained so quickly all the wearing apparel so necessary for this disguise may at first appear a little strange; but it must be remembered that her house was constantly the resort of the people in Mr. Elmwood’s employ and they frequently left articles in her care much more valuable than the garments which she had now appropriated so unhesitatingly and conven- iently to Master Reilly’s masquerading expedition. He no longer looked the smart, frolic loving horse boy, but a raw country lad or rather a simple Irish youth just land- ed on our shores and with quick and elastic tread he soon left Mrs. Wilson’s lonely abode far behind and proceeded on his way to Hamilton with the pretended purpose of obtaining employment on some of the farms in that vicin- ity.
Chapter iv.
See, see close by, yon glitt’ring ball Suspended from a sign-post tall,
And promising to man and beast A downy bed and plenty’s feast.
The Inn or as it was ambitiously styled the Hotel, at Hamilton was a square wooden building recently erected and perfectly innocent of anything in the way of shade or floral ornament if I except six tall poplar trees and one poor lilac bush that stood in front of the house ; but a stately sign-post towering towards the sky and supporting a gilt ball of huge dimensions presented a most inviting aspect to the weary traveller, for the good fare to be ob- tained at the Golden Ball or Hamilton Hotel was a fact well established and known for many miles around. An obliging landlord and an exceedingly pretty bar-maid con- tributed not a little to the popularity of the rustic inn and it was the resort during the summer months of many a dashing blade. Its bowling alley was unrivalled and the
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
21
shooting and angling in the neighborhood everything to be desired. All these exterior advantages not to speak of the bright eyes and attractions within doors were quite enough to ensure favour in even a less enchanting region.
It was about nine o’clock on the morning already men- tioned in the foregoing chapter, that the landlord and hostler were standing idle at the front door of the Golden Ball. There was a silence of a few minutes and then the landlord who owned the high-sounding name of Douglass thus addressed his companion.
“Well Jake, if this travelling continues much longer I shall be fairly discouraged. A customer here would be almost as strange an event as a customer at the ‘Red Cow’, you remember the play you saw performed at the theatre in Boston last winter. How long is it now Jake since you took a sixpence for taking care of a gentleman’s horse?”
“Tarnation if I know,” answered Jake, “it’s a week or morel sartinly believe; but then this here going can’t last eternally so I say keep up good spirits and look for better times. And by gosh ! Mr. Douglass, there’s some sort of a traveller ; he’s no great shakes though by his looks, but some profit is better than none so may be he’ll call for something or other for he don’t walk nor look altogether like a straggler though I must agree he is drest allfired shabby.” These remarks of Mr. Jacob of the Golden Ball were elicited by his observing our friend Mas- ter Reilly who had “scorned,” to use his own phraseology, “to let the grass grow under his feet,” and who had just made his appearance proceeding leisurely along the high- way, into which he had bounded from a by-path some moments before and having taken breath he slowly ad- vanced towards the house and with the most frank and unsophisticated manner in the world bade Jake good morning and innocently inquired the name of the place and if that was the direct road to Boston. Mr. Jake po- litely replied that the name of the place was Hamilton and with equal urbanity assured him that if he followed his nose he would probably in time arrive at Boston. The acquaintance between these two worthies having thus com- menced Jim familiarly seated himself upon a rudely con-
22
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
structed wooden bench beneath one of the front windows and began to meditate upon the best method to ascertain if he had been so unfortunate as to have arrived too late, for he was enabled to pursue his conversation with the hostler without reserve as the landlord had entered the house when he saw Master Reilly approaching and was soon busily engaged with the last week’s Salem newspaper. “A fine day it is,” said Jim, addressing the hostler, and beating about the bush as the saying goes, to ascertain what he so much desired to know, “a fine day it is, but it isn’t much custom you can be having with these dirty roads.” “Oh yes,” returned Jake, “the day’ll do well enough ; all we want is a good wind to dry up the mud.” “True for you,” continued Master Reilly, “the roads are bad entirely and its me thought that but few coaches or carriages or anything of the kind pass this way at all for the place looks real lonesome like.”
“Not so lonesome as you take it for,” retorted Jake in- dignantly, “the stage passes this way once a week and no longer than yesterday a hack with two horses went by on the way to Ipswich, it didn’t stop then to be sure, but I guess it will to-day for Squire Langton said ’twas going to get that feller that is in the jail there for feeding the British and carry him on to Boston to have his trial, and the Squire said he guessed they’d be back to-day and if they do come I reckon they’ll want to stop and rest their horses for the goin is twice as bad to-day because the ground is thawed more than it was yesterday.”
This was just the information that Jim wished to obtain, so calling for a mug of cider and some crackers and cheese he sat himself down to await patiently the arrival of the expected coach and while leisurely but with much appar- ent appetite he was discussing the refreshments which had been placed before him he began with every appearance of interest to enquire of Jake if he knew of anyone of the neighboring farmers who was in need of help. Jake was about replying to this simple question when his ear caught the sound of wheels in the distance and everything was forgotten in his anxiety to obtain a sight of the approach- ing vehicle which he truly conjectured to be the long
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
23
looked for equipage and as he had predicted it drew up before the door of the Golden Ball, where the landlord stood waiting with polite attention to receive with his best possible grace its official occupants, who quickly descend- ed from the carriage and entered the house escorting Stanly between them ; while the horses were speedily un- harnessed and taken round to the stables to be groomed in Mr. Jake’s best style.
For the first time that morning Jim’s heart beat wildly, and for a moment something like a fear that he might not be able to execute his commission weighed down his spirit. But ere long a good opportunity offered for him to enter the very room where Stanly was quietly seated at the fire comfortably sipping a glass of wine and water in company with one of the officers while the other was chatting un- concernedly with the pretty bar maid. Jim’s quick eye im- mediately observed that Stanly sat directly opposite a good sized looking glass, and stepping to the fire he mod- estly asked leave to light a cigar which he held in his hand. The officer politely nodded assent when Jim bending to- wards the fire dropped the cigar close to Stanly’s foot and as he stooped to raise it he fixed his eyes for a moment earnestly upon Stanly’s face and glanced towards the mir- ror. That glance was enough for Stanly and his gaze was instantly directed to the glass while Jim glided to a closed door in the right direction and taking a piece of chalk from his pocket he wrote hastily and unobserved by any- one but Thornton, “Stop at your grandmother’s, Wenham,” and instantly erased it. ’Twas the work of a moment. He turned once more towards Stanly, exchanged another speaking glance and left the house. The prisoner found no difficulty in persuading the officers to allow him to stop at Wenham just long enough to bid his aged grandmother adieu for they passed directly in front of her door. In- deed they never so much as dreamed he could have an idea of escape so resigned did he appear and so certain did they feel that he had determined to meet his trial and trust in the justice of God and his own innocence.
In the old homestead at Wenham there was a large long room, with deep recesses in each window and a broad old
24
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
fashioned fireplace in which blazed a cheerful wood fire on the morning of which we have been speaking. In one corner of the room stood an eight-day clock cased in a richly carved mahogany frame, the golden hands of which were now pointing to the hour of ten. At one side of the hearth sat an old lady* of some seventy years, with pleas- ing delicate features and a form but slightly bowed by age and infirmity, indeed hers seemed to be a green old age although a shade of sadness just now seemed to deepen the wrinkles in her aged cheeks By her side sat a lady of dignified manners whose face at this moment was thoughtful and even sad, though one would hardly have supposed who gazed steadfastly on her features that such was their natural expression but rather that of good tem- pered cheerfulness and that an anxious and sorrowing heart now gave them the troubled look they wore. And such was indeed the truth. Her age might have been forty- five, her dress was scrupulously neat and tastefully arranged and she looked what she unquestionably was an ami- able and well-bred woman. Standing at one of the win- dows and gazing earnestly into the distant carriage road was a lady of nearly the same age and as neatly though not quite as fashionably arrayed as the matron seated at the fire by the side of the aged dame. She, too, looked sad and anxious though perhaps less so than either of her companions. She continued standing at the window for a few moments longer and then approached the fire and quietly seating herself she remarked in a low, sad tone. “They surely cannot have gone on to Boston the other way. I was so certain they would take this direction and stop here and after all it may be so now the travelling is so bad that I should not be surprised if it was noon before they arrived and I am sure I hope they will come for your sake sister Stanly, and mother, too, seems very anxious to see Thornton before his trial.” “Yes,” answered the old lady, “for you know I am too advanced in years to go as far as Boston, which both of you could do should they not consent to his seeing us here, but I thought, Mary, that
^Probably Mrs. Dorcas (Emerson) Porter, widow of Dr. Tyler Por- ter of Wenham. She was a sister of Thomas Emerson of Topsfield.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
25
your husband and Benjamin went last night to brother Tom’s so as to be at Ipswich early this morning?” “So they did, mother,” returned Mrs. Power,* “but they told me nothing of their plans nor did they do so to any one but Helen, who has as yet communicated nothing of the kind to me.”
While this conversation was taking place in the parlour, in the door-wav of a sort of portico at the back of the house stood a maiden of perhaps eighteen years. Though one must be possessed of rare skill to portray beauty with the pen, I cannot refrain from giving a faint idea at least of the loveliness of this fair girl. She could not have been called tall yet she was very slightly above the common height of women. Her skin was clear and smooth yet it could but have been likened to alabaster for her complex- ion would have been decidedly that of a brunette had not her eyes been blue, the dark blue of a starry night, and they were shaded too by the longest and most beautiful silken lashes in the wide world. Her hair was long, black and glossy and bound about her classic head in rich thick braids and her arched and curved lips were full of health and beauty. Her form was rounded and full tending a little perhaps to embonpoint but yet beautiful in its contour and every movement displayed its symmetry and grace. The expression of her face betokened a heart susceptable of the strongest feelings, for Helen Power possessed much of her father’s daring and obstinate character and occasion- ally a look so stern that it was almost masculine seemed to flash from her dark and brilliant eyes as she stood now leaning in a thoughtful and saddened mood against one of the rude pillars of that rustic porch.
Near the door and within speaking distance sat an old negroj* on a temporary seat placed beneath the wide spreading branches of a gigantic elm. Poor old man ! he had been blind many years and though he could now per-
*John Power may have been Jonathan Porter of Wenham, son of Dr. Tyler and Dorcas (Emerson) Porter; and his daughter Harriet, born in 1793, may have been the original of Helen. Jonathan Porter’s sister Mehitable, born in 1761, married Ben. Shaw of Pembroke, N. H., and had Tyler, Jones, and Benjamin who settled in eastern Maine.
f Probably Pomp Porter who died in 1833, aged 82 years.
2 6
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
form but few services for those in whose house he had been born; yet his heart was filled with love and gratitude to them because they kindly cherished him in his misfor- tune. Like all who are deprived of one sense he had cul- tivated the others until they had become remarkably acute, and his power of hearing was reall)' wonderful.
He had sat some time with his chin resting upon his stick when he suddenly started and after listening atten- tively for a moment he desired the maiden to come near- er to him. She immediately obeyed and had no sooner reached his side than Pomp exclaimed, “Gosh ! Missa Helen, ony listen. Young Massa coming and somebody with him, Mister Ben, I guess.” “Why Pomp, what do you mean,” said Helen, “I can hear nothing.” “But I do,” said Pomp, “I know the pace, ’tis Blackbird’s canter, they are coming up acrost, the back way. Misse Helen ony look,” and as he spoke two horsemen were seen rapidly approach- ing by the foot path in the meadow and in a second they had reached a small gate that led to the barns and out houses and passing hastily through they entered a small stable unseen by any eye but Helen’s who, with the swift- ness of an arrow in its flight, darted forward and was quick- ly at her father’s side.
It was an old and rather dilapidated building, which had once been a cider house and now was seldom used except occasionally to stable horses, when on some great occasion such as a wedding or maybe a funeral, the stalls in the other horse barn were all occupied. Old, worn-out implements of husbandry were scattered around, and on the whole it was a place into which no one ever thought of entering. The door was ajar and Helen pushing it open bounded forward and seized her father’s arm as he was removing the bits from Blackbird’s mouth, for short as the time had been the saddle was already on the ground. Her face was flushed with excitement and she exclaimed in a wild tone of disappointment, “Oh, father, where is Thornton? Do not say you have not rescued him.” Her father was about speaking when the younger Stanly ad- vanced and taking her hand in his he spoke thus in a low, quick tone. “Alas ! Helen, it is true we have not yet gained
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
27
our object, though we still hope to do so with a little of your assistance ere he reaches Boston. Yes, my cousin, you must aid us, so pray be calm and listen while I communi- cate to you the plan we have hastily formed/' “I will, I will.” exclaimed Helen, “for let him but be safe and I care nothing for myself.” “Well, then,” continued Stanly, “you must know that we have reason to expect that Thornton will be here ere the world is an hour older. In the mean- time you must send Pomp here with some grain for these poor beasts; and see that no one else learns aught of our return, and if you can do so without being observed bring some refreshment for ourselves. For the rest of your task, dear Hel en, may God aid and prosper you,” and he spoke a few words in a low, earnest tone, to which she eagerly listened. When he ceased speaking she turned to her father and said, “You must, dear father, allow me to tell mother of your return for I am sure we shall never suc- ceed without her good counsel and assistance.” “Oh, yes,” answered Power, “your mother and Pomp, but no one else,” and then turning to Stanly he added, “Wife will be calm though she should have to stand in the pres- ence of twenty sheriffs ; but your mother and grandmother cannot command their feelings quite so well ; so hasten, Helen, and tell Pomp to bring the grain and your mother to procure us something to eat and a flask well filled with spirit for we shall want it in that infernal damp swamp be- fore night, I can tell you.” Helen quickly obeyed and having privately informed her mother how matters stood and seen her pass quite unobserved into the old stable bearing a basket filled with the required articles, she her- self hastened to the parlour and kneeling affectionately between her grandmother and aunt, she urged them with downcast eyes and blushing cheeks to request the officers to allow her a private interview of a few moments with her cousin Thornton that she might bid him a humid adieu. They smiled sadly as they pledged their words to do as she wished and slightly rallied her upon her maiden bash- fulness; she made no reply to the forced pleasantry of their grief oppressed hearts, but arose and stood silently at the window gazing anxiously into the distance and
28
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
straining her ear to catch the first sound of approaching wheels.
The landscape was fair upon which she looked, yet she did not mark its beauty for her soul was sad and her thoughts were fixed upon the dark cloud that hung so threatening over her much loved cousin’s life.
She had stood there pale and sorrowful for at least ten minutes when she suddenly started and throwing up the window she listened intently for a moment and then ex- claimed, “I am certain I hear the sound of wheels and now I see a carriage, yes, aunt, it is Thornton, so I will hasten and tell mother that she may be at the door to receive them and, oh, do not forget to ask his keepers to let me speak to him alone if it is only for a single moment. I will wait for him in the little room next this and as it is so near they cannot surely object to his stepping in there just long enough to say farewell,” and charging them again and again to obey her behests she disappeared from the room.
After a brief pause the carriage drew up before the front door, at which Mrs. Power was standing to receive her nephew, and saying a few words of kindly welcome she led or rather preceded him, accompanied by one of the officers into the presence of his sorrowing relatives, while the other legal functionary remained behind like a faith- ful sentinel to guard the door.
When I said no eye save Helen’s saw her father and cousin enter the old dilapidated stable, I had forgotten to mention an old house-dog, that was composedly reclining in the sun not far from where old Pomp was sitting, and as he saw his master enter this long neglected place he lay for some time with his eyes fixed steadily upon the door apparently endeavouring to imagine the cause of such an unusual proceeding and as Helen returned towards the house the sagacious animal arose, walked slowly up to the door which she had neglected to close securely and pushing it open he approached and thrust his huge muzzle into his master’s hand. Power turned round and kindly patting the dog on the head he gazed fixedly into his large, bright, honest brown eyes and spoke to him as he
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
29
would have done to an intelligent human being. The noble creature returned his master’s steadfast gaze and seemed to read his very thoughts, and his sagacity was indeed most strangely displayed that very day before the set of sun and in such a manner too as to lead us to believe that if the canine race cannot understand the words addressed to them, they have oftentimes some other way of ascer- taining the wishes of those to whom they are attached. To be sure the dog in question was a most wonderful ani- mal and had again and again proved both his sagacity and fidelity. When a pup he had received the proud name of Tyrone, in honor of the truly great and justly celebrated Irish earl of that name. Power though never greatly at- tached to books had once upon a time taken up a natural history and amid the portraitures of every variety of the canine race he fixed his attention upon the representation of an Irish stag-hound of that ancient and now exceedingly rare breed and saw or fancied he saw a great resemblance between the well executed drawing and the four-footed favourite at his side, and so he immediately decided upon the high-sounding name already mentioned, but which had long since been diminished into the less euphonious cog- nomen of Ty ; and so Ty , for by that name he was best known and therefore by that name must be immortalized in story, after remaining a few moments longer by his master’s side, turned quietly away and returning to his former sunny resting place, he laid himself down to await, it would ap- pear, for the coming events, which, if such a thing could be possible, had seemed in his mind to have cast their shadows before.
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THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
Chapter V.
This was her sanctum, here she sat
And read, and thought and sometimes sigh’d ;
And here she conn’d old ballads o’er As she her busy needle ply’d.
The swamp they said was nine miles long Beside three good miles wide ;
Nor could a better place be found For fugitives to hide.
The room into which Helen Power had thus hastily re- tired, was the smallest apartment in the mansion and par ticularly appropriated to herself and in one of her playful moods she had termed it her boudoir, a name which it ever afterwards retained. Her fair hands had decorated it in such a manner as to evince a taste which, had she figured in a higher rank of life, would have rendered her noted for her graceful costume and luxurious surroundings. The floor was painted in different coloured squares in im- itation, I suppose, of the tessellated halls of ancient times, and in several places it was covered with mats of Helen’s own workmanship. Placed beneath one of the tables, two low stools wrought in tent-stitch, one representing a bright green parrot with staring eyes and the other a basket of fruit and flowers, gave evidence of her skill in needle-craft, while over the fire-place hung a large map of the world with an inscription at the top declaring it to have been executed by H. P., aged 13 years. Over an arm chair that stood in a recess at one side of the chimney, hung a piece of embroidery sacred to the memory of some long deceased relative, another proof of the fair Helen’s ac- complishments, while above the well-polished desk of black walnut hung a large water-coloured drawing of some once stately but now ruined monastery, the chef d't oeuvre of all our heroine’s performances. Upon this desk her little library was neatly arranged and her favourite writers really did credit to the young lady’s literary taste. And Rich- ardson, Ann Ratcliff, Miss Porter and Miss Burney7 might have felt not only pleased but flattered had they known the delight with which that rustic maiden had poured with beating heart and beaming eye over the pages of Sir
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
31
Charles Grandison, the Mysteries of Udolpho, the Scottish Chiefs, and Evelina. A small work-table stood beneath a looking glass that hung between two long, narrow windows that nearly reached the ground. These windows looked into a small parterre of flowers to which Helen in summer devoted much of her time. Two tall, white rose bushes that were trained against the side of the house, when adorned with their leafy treasures afforded this little sitting-room a fresh and delightful protection from the sun’s hot rays rendering quite useless the fringed curtains that now hung in snowy purity before those old fashioned and rickety casements. Helen was seated in a low and cushioned chair beside her little work-table, one hand supported her fair cheek while the other hung listlessly by her side. By the swaying of the curtain to and fro it could easily be perceived that the window near which she sat was wide open. She sat there still and motionless as a statue save when she turned one of her anxious glances towards the door leading into the adjoining room from whence the sound of several voices in the low tones of earnest con- versation were faintly heard. At length the door gently opened and as gently closed and Thornton Stanly stood before her. She started and turned pale as death, but she spoke firmly though hardly above her breath. “Be quick, Thornton, you have not a moment to lose, throw off your coat and leap from this window,” as she spoke she raised the curtain and fastened it securely above her head. “Throw off your coat I say, leap from this window and fly to the swamp. Ben is waiting for you at the alders behind the garden. Now do not hesitate but fly; it is, they say, your only chance of safety.” She had hardly spoken ere his richly braided garment was cast upon the floor and press- ing Helen one moment to his heart and imprinting a kiss more of gratitude than love upon her now burning cheek he sprang through the window and fled with the speed of a hunted deer through the garden. Helen stood for an instant unconscious of everything in the world but her cousin’s passionate embrace; but quickly collecting her scattered thoughts she noiselessly closed the window and lowered the curtain, then raising up the cast off garment
32
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
she concealed it in a dark closet. After locking the door she quitted the room and with tiptoed steps ascended the stairs and entered a chamber from one of the windows of which she could easily witness the scene enacting without. She had hardly reached and softly opened the casement when she beheld Thornton, followed by his brother, emerge from behind the alders and with the speed of lightning take the path leading towards the swamp. In hot pursuit, a few steps behind, was the officer who had been left to guard the door, and who had instantly recognized Stanly as he saw him leap the garden wall without hat or coat and continue his daring and unlooked for flight. With a loud shout to his companion, who in the parlour was much too busily engaged with a cold chicken and a decanter of Madeira to hear such a sudden and unexpected summons, the officer darted after the fugitives and was fast gaining upon them when Power himself appeared from behind a clump of trees and seizing the legal functionary with the same ease and good will that a tiger would have pounced upon a lamb, he held him with one hand while with the other he snapped his sword in twain as though it had been a fragile hazel twig and casting it from him with the most provoking coolness he pressed his struggling prisoner in his arms in a most suffocating embrace and retained him in that enviable situation until he imagined he had given the fugitives ample time for a fair start. Then casting his thoroughly affrighted burden on the ground, with such force as for a time to render him entirely senseless, not only to tiger-like embraces but to all the other ills of life, he looked around him with inimitable composure and with long but not over hasty strides followed the path that the brothers had already taken.
Leaving the fugitives to pursue their flight and the offi- cial dignitary to recover his breath and his senses we will return to the gentleman in the parlour, who sat convers- ing with old Mrs. Power and her ladylike daughter and waiting with the utmost patience for the lovers, as he im- agined them to be, to finish their interview. But as Stanly did not reenter the room after some fifteen or twenty minutes had elapsed, the officer arose and turning to the
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
33
ladies he remarked in a tone of some surprise, “That inter- view seems somewhat of the longest. I believe I must re- mind them how quickly the time is passing,” and he ap- proached the door from which Stanly had so recently made his exit and tapped gently upon the panel ; but not receiving any answer he gave a louder rap and hearing no reply he threw it wide open and his fear and amazement was extreme to find it tenantless. “There is no one here, he has escaped,” he wildly exclaimed and rushed from the house. He flew towards the stable to which the horses had been taken and where they were now comfortably eating a feed of oats while the coachman, whom Pomp had taken it upon himself to entertain, was luxuriously reclin- ing upon a mow of hay sipping a glass of punch of his entertainer’s own skilful mixture and listening with pat- ronizing urbanity to the wise remarks of that sable worthy. Both sprung to their feet as the officer entered with the astounding intelligence of the prisoner’s escape and the peremptory order for the coachman to follow and aid him in endeavouring to discover the direction that the prisoner had taken in his flight. “Well, now, if ever,” exclaimed Jehu, addressing Pomp, after draining at a draught the smoking compound he held in his hand and deliberately depositing the empty glass upon a wooden block beside him. “Well, now, if ever I did hear the beat of that; as though it wasn’t enough for me to take care of my horses without being called on to attend to his business. But I’ll do all I can to help find the chap for if he isn’t found I guess it will go thundering hard with them that had the charge of him.” Speaking thus he quitted the stable and left Pomp to his own reflections.
He had hardly joined the officers ere they perceived approaching, with a most crestfallen air, the poor fellow who had been so roughly treated by Power. As he drew near he exclaimed in a tone more of “sorrow than of anger,” at the same time exhibiting his broken weapon, “Where have you been, and what have you been about to let your charge escape in this manner? We shall be court martialed tomorrow if we cannot recapture him, and that villainous Power is twice more deserving a prison and
34
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
a halter than the one he has aided to escape. He darted upon me like a hawk upon a chicken and seized me with about as much ease, and after snapping my sword in two and throwing it aside, he held me in his giant-like grasp till I could hardly breathe. I might as well have been in a vice; and not satisfied with all this he at last threw me upon the ground with such force as to knock all the breath from my body. I have but this moment recovered and how long I have been lying there senseless is more than I can tell.” “All this has taken place,” answered his com- panion, “in less than thirty minutes, and we must now ob- tain as much assistance as possible and instantly pursue them.” “That will not be quite as easily done as you suppose, for they fled towards the swamp* and are by this time pretty safe. They will not be soon discovered amid its many intricate and scarcely discernable pathways; but we must, as you say, hasten to do all in our power to recap- ture them.”
That day a great part of the male population of Wen- ham seemed suddenly to have disappeared and the few who remained were from their own account very far from being the hardy and able-bodied men which from their looks one would have judged them to have been. One man had gone to market, another to mill, while a third was in the woods, others had been suddenly called away on business, pressing and unlooked for, etc., etc. One stout, rosy fellow sat with his foot placed carefully in a chair having most unfortunately a few hours before been awkward enough to sprain his ankle, while another robust young farmer sturdily declared himself to be dreadful lame with the rheumatiz.
But at last, after much delay, a small company of about fifteen persons were collected together and took their way towards the swamp to do their best to discover the fugitives and reap a golden harvest as their reward, for
*Wenham swamp covers about 2000 acres and extends to the Ipswich river. It is thickly wooded and even at the present time provides a secure shelter for many wild animals. Mrs. Holmes’ hus- band once joined a party that spent many weary hours searching for a man lost in this swamp.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
35
the officers had been most liberal in their promises of a generous remuneration for their services, particularly in the event of their success.
As they were passing Power’s door, Ty, who was keep- ing guard upon the threshold, arose and instead of salut- ing them with bark or growl appeared to content himself by taking a general survey of the whole group. As he did so one of the party turning towards the officers remarked that it might not be amiss to take the dog with them as he was noted for his quick scent and true and deep-toned cry. This plan being unanimously agreed upon they whistled for the dog to follow them as they hastened on their way and Ty, contrary to his usual custom, instantly obeyed the unfamiliar call and with loud and joyous bark darted forward and took the lead towards the swamp,
Wenham swamp was then, and continues to be at the present day, a perfect labyrinth of intricate and circuitous pathways scarcely perceptable to the practiced eye of the experienced hunter, and none but a hardy woodsman would even care to venture there without a trusty guide unless, perchance, some fair Ariadne of modern times should pre- sent him with a clue of thread of virtue equal to that so celebrated in Grecian story. A thing, however, not very probable ; particularly as the ladies of the present age have frowned upon and quite discarded the old fashioned ac- complishment of spinning. But what might prove a difficult task to one totally unacquainted with the mazy windings of that marshy wilderness was a matter of com- parative ease to the three fugitives who were perfectly well acquainted with its most secret recesses, having hunted there more or less every season, from their earliest years. Being passionately attached to the hardy and manly pas- time of the chase they had often passed days and even weeks together in the pursuit of game and in exploring each hidden nook of that intricate and dismal spot.
It is not, therefore, a matter of much surprise that they should have thus easily eluded their pursuers, not a single one of whom knew enough of the place to serve as a guide, for, as I have before remarked, every man in Wenham who could have made himself useful in this capacity had either
36
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
strangely disappeared or had been suddenly disabled by some unfortunate accident from assisting in the search.
The pursuit, however, continued till the starry lamps of eve began to gem the clear blue sky, when fearful of lose- ing their way in the gloom of night, the pursuers gave the concerted signal and collected together, weary and dispirit- ed with traversing to no purpose the cold and marshy ground of the damp swamp, and directed their heavy steps homeward. Ty still remained one of the group and with outstretched tongue and panting breath really appeared to be more fatigued than any of the party. “Just look at that dog,” said one of the men, addressing the officers by the side of whom he was walking. “Just look at that in- farnal beast. I sartinly b’leve it is Satan himself. He has led us a pretty chase. We should have gained our end and catched ’em all jest as sure as anything, if it hadn’t have been for him. The plaguy critter kept us goin on the wrong track the whole time. I see it all now, as plain as day. I wonder I didn’t think more ont at the time. And I ain’t the only one that thinks so, nuther. No, not by a iug full. More than once I was all but sure that I had a glimpse of one of them, when mister four-legged devil there put his nose right into the ground and began to sniff like all nater and then he started off as quick as lightning another way, and I was fool enough to follow him. I ought to have known he’d never have helped us catch his own master, though how a dumb beast can have sech a thundering sight of cunning and be so tarnal knowing, is more than I can tell.”
This serious assertion was received with a hearty laugh by both the officers and it was several seconds ere they replied, “Why, you cannot suppose that that poor animal can understand anything about the nature of the present case?”
“Yes, but I do, though,” returned the fellow with great earnestness of manner. “I kinder suspected him all the time. I couldn’t help thinking it was strange when I see him come so quick when we whistled for him. I never knew him to foller anybody before, but his master or some of his master’s folks. He come with us on pur-
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
37
pose to mislead us, don’t you think so, Jed?” said he, turning to a tow-headed, freckled-faced fellow in a short blue frock who, with several others, had approached at the sound of the laughter and were now listening eagerly to their companion’s strange narration.
“Yes,” answered the tow-headed worthy, “I sartenly think so now and I had some misgivings then, on’y I couldn’t see, nor I can’t see now, how a dog can have such an all-fired sight of deception and understand things as regular as hu- man creturs do ; but this is the solemn truth, he cheated us jest exactly as he did you. You see, jest arter we got into the swamp, I thought I heard a sort of rustling noise jest like somebody moving bushes kind of easy, and Mose Dyer and I was just starting to see what it was when Ty, who was close to us as I am now, sartin heard it jest as plain as we did, stuck his nose rite down on the ground, and smelling along a little spell, all at once give a bark loud enough to skeer twenty raccoons, and started off on a dif- ferent track from where we heard the noise ; and he has served almost all on us the same way and we was fools enough to follow him. If he had only served one or two of us so I should not think so much of it, but since we’ve got out of the swamp I’ve heard he has been acting jest so the whole arternoon and played pretty much the same trick on almost all on us. If he hadn’t a coller on I’d shoot him as sure as my name is Jed Bixby.”*
However difficult it was to persuade the agents of the law of Tv’s sagacious and successful stratagem, it seemed to be regarded by the rest of the party as an undoubted fact. Nor could they help observing that the faithful creature ap- peared to feel that ease of mind that ever follows a duty well pefrormed. He trotted quietly on his homeward way, hardly deigning to notice, as he passed, the cats in the window-sills and door steps, although with elevated backs they spit at him in that particularly spiteful manner so peculiar to the feline race. He took not the slightest notice of the insults he received ; he was in a most philo- sophic mood ; he seemed to feel that he had accomplished a great object ; that he had nothing more to do at present,
*Bixby has been a common name in Topsfield and vicinity.
38
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
at least. He, therefore, returned home with a heart at peace with all created things and having allayed his thirst at the horse trough, which seemed to have been filled with fresh water for his especial accommodation, he sought his treasure-house of hidden bones and after partaking of a substantial repast repaired to his kennel beside the back porch and laid himself down to repose, his last waking thought being probably the proud and triumphant one of having outwitted fifteen men.
It was about ten o’clock at night, the search for the fugitives had been suspended until the coming morn, when a single horseman crossed the narrow causey* between Topsfield and Wenham and spurring his horse hastily for- ward soon reached a thick grove of pines that ornamented one side of the road. He was a man in the prime of life, and his bold and manly bearing, united to his matchless horsemanship, proclaimed him one of Nature’s unmistak- able nobles. He reined up his horse at the entrance of the thicket and whistled low and cautiously. The next instant a man emerged from a covert of bushes leading three horses by their bridles.
“Well, Abram,” said the horseman, “have you heard nothing of them? This is certainly the place that Helen’s note requested us to repair to. There can be no mistake, can there?” But ere the old man could reply, the sound of feet, stepping softly along the damp ground, was heard and the three fugitives appeared, travel-worn and weary, their clothes covered with mud and torn in various places.
“Indeed, cousin Joseph,! this is very kind in you,” said Thornton, who was the first to speak, “and pray tell us have you been able at such short notice to find us a place of refuge? Any shelter, so it be but a safe one, will be prized by us after such a day as this has been.”
“Come, make haste and mount,” said Joseph Elmwood, in a cheerful and encouraging tone, “and I will guide you to a place of safety, if nothing more. Power knows the ground well, for he has visited it many a time and oft in his cattle
*Known as “Wenham Casey” as early as 1659 and still a causeway and the road between Wenham and Topsfield.
fjoseph Emerson, the father of the authoress.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
39
trading and hunting expeditions. The devil himself would never think of looking for you in the domicil of good old Stephen Peters and his thrifty and labour-loving wife.” “Money-loving, you had better say,” interposed Power, who was just preparing to mount a strong, rough looking carriage horse, without any other furniture than a rude bridle and a folded blanket girded upon his back instead of a saddle, and the horses of his two young relatives were caparisoned in exactly the same unpretending manner.
“Are saddles so scarce in your parts, Jo, that you can equip your steed with nothing better than these ragged blankets? And this infernal beast, too, has a hide as rough as a buffalo’s, while Ben and Thornton’s horses look as though they had been rubbed down with silk handker- chiefs for the last six hours.”
“You can see wonderfully well, by star-light,” said Elm- wood, laughing. “We feared your Herculean limbs would crush a common horse and so we sent and had old stout- foot fed and curried for your especial accommodation; and as to the blankets, I intend to turn all three of the horses into the Hovey fields after you have dismount- ed at Peters’ door. So you see saddles and martingales would be in the way. We must be cautious, you know. I have always heard, and begin to believe, that discretion is the better part of valor.”
“Well ! well !” cried Power, “all I hope is, that old skin- flint Peters’ wife will give us something to eat. If she at- tempts to starve me, I’ll have her roasted, the old sinner, on her own hearthstone. But where is Abram? He must not walk home. I’d rather do it myself, although I’m not and never was much of a foot-pad.”
“Many thanks for your disinterested and philanthropic intentions,” said Joseph Elmwood, “but you are saved from doing such penance, for this night, at least. Shut is waiting in a cross road not far from here with a horse and wagon and the old Dutchman will find him soon if he has not already done so and they will both be sound asleep in their beds ere I reach home, I daresay.”
They now urged their horses to their utmost speed and thus rode on for several miles without speaking, until Elm-
40
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,,
wood, who acted as guide, turned from the highway ?nto a narrow and grass-grown lane* and passing through a pair of bars, already down, entered with his companions a dark wood of oak and maple. Pausing for some seconds to take breath and continuing their way at a slower pace, Elmwood resumed the conversation by turning to Thorn- ton and bidding him in a merry tone to beware of the fascinations of the fair Betsy, the only child of Farmer Peters and the undoubted heiress of all his worldly wealth.
“An heiress did you say/’ said Benjamin Stanly, speak- ing now for the first time during their ride. “Well, if she is pretty, ’twill at all events make the time we must pass there appear a little less dull, if nothing more.”
“You had better take care how you manage, my worthy friend,” said Power, “for though the girl herself may be an affable little divil enough, her mother is a regular fury, with an eye like a hawk and — but, no matter, don’t attempt to strike upon a flirtation there, that is my advice. All I hope is, that the young woman may prove a good cook and the old one less niggardly than report allows; but no more of this for here we are,” and as he spoke they emerged from the wood and crossing a little ford found themselves in front of a comfortable looking farm housef situated in the sheltered nook of a little valley surrounded by high hills and altogether one of the most out of the way and complete hiding places in the whole world. A venerable old man, with white hair, stood at the door to receive them. Joseph Elmwood seeing them at last in safety, and the horses turned loose into a pasture of his own near by, put his gallant bay once more to his mettle and reached home as it were with a bound.
*The private road or way that leaves Haverhill Street, Topsfield, on the left, soon after crossing Gallop’s bridge on the way to George- town. This formerly led to the Stephen Perley house beside Pye brook.
■f-The Stephen Perley house destroyed by fire in 1867.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
41
Chapter VI.
Around the earth still night had thrown Her mantle dark and drear,
But in the sky unnumbered stars Were shining bright and clear.
There was, at the time of which I am writing, in the now rich and populous town of Danvers, one of those comfort- able old farm-houses so rapidly disappearing from the land. It stood some hundred yards from the high road, surrounded on all sides by fertile meadows and highly cultivated uplands. A stately grove of noble oaks reared their lofty heads in the background while in front of the mansion a clear bright stream wound through the adjoin- ing fields.
The out-buildings were all in good repair and a small dwelling had been erected near by for the especial accommodation of labourers employed on the domain. Everything around denoted a careful and thrifty if not an opulent landholder and the whole had an air of comfort and respectability that well compensated for its deficiency in fashionable elegance.
It was near nine o’clock in the evening, a day or two after the events recorded in our last chapter, and the master of the above named mansion was about retiring to rest. He was a man near forty years of age and above the middle height, with the breadth of chest and squareness of proportion which ever indicates great physical strength. His stern features, bronzed by weather and exposure, were well formed and the frank expression of his counten- ance was prepossessing in the extreme. He had laid aside his coat and vest and now stood in his loose trousers of grey cloth, gazing with a fond and paternal look upon two fair-haired little girls who were sleeping in a cot at one corner of the room. He bent down his head and imprint- ed a kiss on each blooming cheek, then turning to his wife, a good looking matron about his own age, who was sitting in a low nursery chair lulling to sleep their young- est hope, another little girl of some ten months old, he
42
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
said, “Well, Hester, the law hounds have left us in peace at least; yet it is strange they have not thought of looking for him here. They have searched father’s house twice and ransacked the domicils of every one of his tenants far and near.”
So spoke Thomas, the second son of our old friend Mr. Elmwood,* but he had hardly uttered the above words of self congratulation ere the sound of horses trotting brisk- ly was heard and a moment after three men mounted and armed crossed the little bridge in front of the house and stopping before the front door one of them rapped loudly upon it with the head of a heavy riding whip.
“Well, wife, here they come after all. I was wishing myself joy for our escape too soon,” he exclaimed in a tone of pique. “And here they are thundering at the door there; they will certainly wake the children. Give me the light.” He took the candle from his wife’s hand and descending the stairs, he threw wide the door and de- manded with a calm, but stern voice if they had any busi- ness with him, or for what cause they had honored him at that time of night with their company. Meanwhile his better half, with that earnest thirst for knowledge said to be so peculiar to our sex, quietly placed the sleeping in- fant on the bed and gently opening the entry window lent an attentive ear to the following dialogue.
“I am very sorry,” said he, who appeared to be the chief of the party, addressing Mr. Elmwood, “I am very sorry to put you to any inconvenience, Sir, and still more so to disturb the repose of your family, but I feel assured that you are too good a citizen to obstruct a legal warrant for the arrest of a traitor to his country, however nearly ah lied to you he may be by the ties of friendship or of blood.”
“Then, if I understand aright,” said Elmwood, “you are in pursuit of my cousin Thornton Stanly, who, if I have been informed correctly, escaped from prison several days since.”
*Capt. Thomas Emerson, a brother of Billy Emerson of Topsfield, lived in that part of Danvers which is now the city of Peabody. He owned a large farm previously the property of Richard Derby, the Salem merchant. Captain Emerson died in 1814, aged 46 years.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
43
“It is true,” answered the sheriff, “he has indeed given ns the slip and we have been instructed to search every place where there is the least probability of his being con- cealed.”
“Well, gentleman,” returned Elmwood, in a frank and truthful tone, “my children are asleep and my wife is not the most courageous woman in the world, so, if you please, I had much rather they should not be disturbed, but I will pledge you my word as a gentleman and man of honor that the persons of whom you are in search are not now and have not been for many months under my roof. I have, however, one communication to make to you to which you may perchance attach some importance. Some one last night entered my stable and took from it two of the smartest horses in the United States, and by this time, the riders, if they took that direction, may be half way to Canada.”
“Ah ! this is important information, indeed,” said the sheriff. “Will you have the goodness to describe the horses that we be enabled the more easily to trace them.”
“Willingly,” said Mr. Elmwood, with a peculiar smile which a shrewd observer would have noticed. “One of them was a dark chestnut thoroughbred with long shag- gy fetlocks; he had not a spot or blemish about him; my brother brought him from Quebec not two years ago and if his value was in question, four hundred dollars would not purchase him. The other was an iron grey, strong and fleet enough for anything. She was bred somewhere in Vermont. I have owned her three years and never found her equal for gentleness and speed.”
“And so you think they have fled towards Canada,” said the sheriff, “Well, really, I have thought of that more than once, myself, and if it is the case the sooner we are on their track the better,” and without another word save a hurried good night he mounted his horse and all three rode rapidly away greatly delighted with the important information they had obtained.
Elmwood looked after them till a turn of the road hid them from his sight, then entering the house he carefully bolted the door and ascended the stairs apparently ex-
44
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
ceedingly well pleased at the termination of a visit from which he had anticipated not a little vexation. He had no sooner reentered his wife’s sleeping room than she ex- claimed, “Why, good gracious ! Mr. Elmwood, what did you mean? I thought True had taken the horses to that pasture of yours on one of the islands in Cape Ann har- bour.”
“Well, so he has,” returned Mr. Elmwood, with a sang- froid that quite astounded his worthy dame. “Why so he has, and what then?”
“What then,” cried she, “what a heathen you must be to ask such a question. What did you tell those officers, I should like to know.”
“Tell them,” interposed Elmwood, “why, I told them the truth. Some one did enter my stable last night. True entered it and took out the two horses I described. That, I am sure, was no lie, and I told the sheriff, you heard me it seems with your own ears, that he could attach what- ever importance he pleased to the fact, and what I added was also the truth that if the horses had been turned in that direction and pushed to their utmost speed they might now be nearly half way to Montreal ; and I still maintain that they have strength and wind enough for anything.”
“Yes! yes!” returned his conscientious lady, “but you intended to deceive.”
“That, I am willing to grant,” replied her liege-lord, “it was a ruse de guerre, as the French say; perhaps it was wrong, a trick beneath a gentleman and unworthy of me. All I can say in my defence is that I stated a certain fact from which they drew a wrong inference.”
“And you meant they should,” said Mrs. Elmwood earnestly, “and” —
“Stop, stop, wife,” interrupted her husband, laughing heartily at her serious face and earnest manners, “and de- fer your lecture upon moral philosophy until you have a lazier or to say the least a less sleepy audience,” and so saying he kissed her affectionately as the surest way of making peace, then throwing himself on the bed his head had scarcely pressed his pillow ere he sank into that sweet and dreamless slumber known to few save the hardy and guileless-hearted tillers of the soil.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
45
Chapter VII.
’Twas morn, and like a blushing bride Young Spring was smiling in her pride.
So bright and tranquil was the hour
It seemed to chain e’en passion’s power.
The sun had but just risen, yet all was bustle and activity in the kitchen and about the stables of old Mr. Elmwood, for he was one of those old-fashioned people who firmly believed in Doctor Franklin’s maxim of “early to bed and early to rise.” Several different figures were seen employed in the stable yard. One was our old friend Jim Reilly, who stood in his shirt sleeves, a curry-comb in his hand, which he was dexterously useing about Hunter, Joseph Elmwood’s favorite horse. Nearby stood another well groomed animal with the harness on and just ready to be attached to a handsome gig that two boys were clearing from mud by the pump. Jim’s companion was a man about fifty years old, of a strong clownish figure, of coarse yet not entirely unpleasing features, and clad in a well- worn suit of homespun cloth that had once been of a brownish green, but long wear and not the most careful usage rendered it almost impossible for one then to im- agine the original tint. He sat quite at his ease upon a wooden block by the horse trough, industriously scraping the bark from several small twigs cut from a certain shrub that all persons skilled in the veterinary art believed to be possessed of great medicinal virtue.
Peter Twist was the great cattle doctor of that region and Mr. Elmwood, being such a great landholder and dealing so extensively in such neat merchandise, generally found employment for the worthy farrier during nearly the whole year, and thus, at all times, Mr. Elmwood’s kitchen was his very constant and most assuredly his favourite abiding place. From the above named bark, which he was carefully preserving upon a large chip be- side him, he intended to concoct a tea which he affirmed would perform wonders; that is, it would perfectly and almost immediately restore health to a certain ox that had
46
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
been for some days placed on the sick list. At this time his tongue was quite as busily employed as his hands in maintaining a spirited conversation with Master Reilly, who had, as we have seen, risen already to be a rather im- portant person in Mr. Elmwood’s establishment and now began to be regarded with a certain degree of envy, by not a few of the older but less favoured domestics.
“I s’pose you see that ’ere notice, don’t ye?” said Mr. Twist, addressing Jim after a short pause and pointing with his jack-knife to a printed placard that was conspicuously fastened upon the stable door, offering a reward of five hundred dollars for the arrest of Thornton Stanly and giving full description of his person, etc., etc. “I say, I s’pose you see that ’ere notice? Well, now, folks say you know a darned sight more about that ’ere chap that the writin up there pictures out; a’most anybody that ain’t no way related to him; so, you see, you’ve only to say what you do know, jest give the wink in the right way, and pocket five hundred dollars — pretty little sum. Why, it would make you most as big a gentleman as you think you be !”
The curry-comb dropped from Jim’s hand as with angry eye and burning cheek he gazed upon his compan- ion and exclaimed, “Its little ye know Jim Reilly, Mr. Twist, or understand the heart that is in his bosom av ye think he’d demean himself to be an informer; and well as he loves fine clothes and a merry time, he’d beg the rags to cover him and the honest bit and sup to keep the life within him before he’d black his soul and stain his fingers wid the price of blood. Sure, every penny of that same is blood money, and to betray who is it that ye spake of but the kith and kin of him whose hand has fid me and whose heart has stood to me and me old grand- father before me. Gould and idleness may make a villin, but it never made a gentleman. It’s little peace or rest in this world I’d have, did I do a deed like that and then my death-bed — ”
Here he was interrupted by a loud laugh from Peter, who exclaimed, “Your death-bed ! why what do you mean. Your a popish Roman Catholic ain’t you? and can get your sin pardoned anytime for a four-pence.”
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
47
“My sins pardoned, is it,” Jim returned, with a look where scorn and pity for such ignorance were strangely blended, “My sins pardoned indeed ! Its little you know of the holy sacrament of penance and the mysteries of religion or ye’d not spake in that way of sacred things. But it’s no good I’ll get by convarsing wid the likes of ye, black-hearted heretic that ye are, and see, too, the young Master is coming, so ye’d better whist entirely.”
The last word had hardly passed his lips when Joseph Elmwood entered the yard accompanied by a fine looking fellow of twenty-five, the owner of the gig, into which he gaily sprung and taking the reins he pitched each of the boys in attendance a pittance and waited till Jim had placed a saddle on Hunter’s back into which young Elm- wood having lightly vaulted they dashed through the gate into the highroad and were out of sight in an instant.
They had not proceeded far ere they drew in their reins and trotting slowly along, side by side, they conversed in low earnest tones till they stopped at a substantial pair of bars at the entrance of a pathway made through a thick wood of stately pines.
“And so you say there has been no plan of escape as yet decided upon,” said the gentleman in the gig to Joseph Elmwood as they were about to separate. “Well ! well l it must be dull enough for the poor fellows to be cooped up there in not the pleasantest cage in the world. And Power, I suppose, frets and rages like a caged tiger, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, Power is not there now,” replied Joseph Elmwood, “only the two brothers. He brooked his confinement a whole night and day and then he swore he would stay there no longer; so off he went, I am sure I know not where. But he is one perfectly competent to take care of himself so I have no fears for him, and for the others — Ben is in no danger at all, we can secrete him, easily enough, and if we could only see Thornton once safely over Haver- hill bridge, the greatest obstacle would be surmounted, and many a disguise has been proposed, from a tin pedlar to a distressed and sorrowing widow begging her way from Boston to her friends in New Hampshire. But we have
48
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
at last enlisted our worthy and mischief-loving cousin Phineas Packard, in our cause and I rather think that his inventive genius will suggest some good plan which he has ample abilities to execute. Old Peters begins to be anxious to have his premises vacated. He says he feels as though his head was in a lion’s mouth.”
“A pleasant situation that, to be in,” said Capt. Freeman, for by that appelation the gallant in the gig was usually designated, “a very pleasant situation indeed. I don’t envy the old gentleman, his feelings by day or his dreams by night in such a frame of mind. But you think there is no danger of my losing my way or missing the house? I think you said there were but two dwellings anywhere in this region.”
“No danger in the world,” said young Elmwood, “and if you are observed you will probably be supposed to be a suitor to that fair heiress, farmer Peters’ only child, the lovely Betsy, and so a pleasant morning to you and good success attend your expedition,” and thus saying, he spurred Hunter gaily along the high road while Freeman entered the wood on his way to the homestead of old Stephen Peters.
Peters’ nearest and indeed only neighbor was good old Mr. Hovey* who had from time immemorial rented an adjoining farm belonging to Mr. Elmwood who was any- thing but a severe landlord. It was the common saying that Hovey generally paid his rent in poultry, but some- times in cucumbers. True, it is, that he lived quite at his ease, being allowed to exchange his old worn-out cattle for young and strong ones and to act in all things
*The Ivory Hovey house, a two-story dwelling, forty feet in length, formerly stood beside Pye brook, on what has long been known as Hovey Plains on Haverhill street, at a point about half way between Bixby’s corner and the Deland house. The house was built about 1700 and was destroyed Jan. 2, 1821 by a fire that caught in the brick oven. It was then occupied by Timothy Emerson, formerly of Not- tingham-West, N. H., who had married Huldah, daughter of Aaron and Sarah (Perley) Hovey. Her brother Ivory Hovey, with his wife Sarah, lived in this house until his death in 1816. The farm then was bought by Billy and Joseph Emerson, respectively the uncle and father of the authoress. The Stephen Perley place was located a short distance to the westward across Pye brook.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
49
pretty much in accordance with his own will and pleasure. It is no wonder then, that he regarded Mr. Elmwood as the seigneur bountiful of the world — his world, the little town of T[opsfield]. His family consisted of his wife and three daughters, two well-grown girls, the fruit of a former marriage, and a little lass of ten years, the only child of his present wife and the spoiled pet and plaything of them all.
The house was a dwelling of two stories; in good re- pair, beautifully situated at the foot of a gently declining hill, while a clear, bright stream, that separated the two farms, went murmuring before the door which in pleasant weather always stood invitingly open. Everything looked more than usually cheerful in the porch and roomy kitchen, the fine morning of which I have already spoken.
Old Mr. Hovey was ploughing in a field near by and his young fresh-looking wife sat spinning before the door, while at her feet was her little girl in a gown of red home- spun, her flaxen hair neatly combed, braided and tied in a club at the back of her head. She was picking over a sieve of just-gathered dandelions and cowslips which were soon to be transferred to a pot that was boiling over the fire and which were intended as a relish to their frugal noonday meal. The two elder girls, arrayed in dresses of dark blue calico, with aprons and Vandykes of the same fabric, were carding tow near the window. The three all had been listening to a tale which Mrs. Hovey had related with wonderful volubility. She was skilled in legendary lore and her fame as a story-teller, in more senses than one, was acknowledged far and near. She had hardly finished one very entertaining narrative, where hobgoblins and mer- maids acted a conspicuous part, ere her auditors with that craving appetite the marvelous always excites, earnestly entreated for another just like the one she had been tell- ing. The fictitious stores and entertaining powers of Mrs. Hovey were never exhausted and when they heard her declare that she would not “touch to tell another story the whole day for she could not bear to keep her tongue a- going,” they gave up the story but insisted upon a ballad instead.
So
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
“Yes, do, Mam,” said little Sally, “do please to sing that pretty song you sung ’tother day when we had the party; the one, I mean, about the squire and the lady with yeller gold hair.”
Mrs. Hovey’s voice might have rivalled a crow’s, yet this was her: I mean, one of her weak points — she was a good singer in her own opinion — and after some little hesi- tation and a few apologies about hoarseness — she had heard somewhere that good singers always made excuses about a cold — she began to sing the following very pa- thetic ballad :
“The squire lean’d ’gainst a tall elm tree While close unto his side,
His coal-black steed a waiting stood For him to mount and ride.
But his thoughts away were wand’ring To where a maiden fair,
Beside a stream each morn did braid Her golden yellow hair.
Her cheeks were like the damask rose,
Her eyes as violet blue,
And ’neath her snowy breast there beat A kindly heart and true.”
The remainder of this poetical effusion they were not destined that morning to hear, for little Sally jumping up, clapped her hands and cried, “Do mam, only look ; look Polly, look Mother, only see what a handsome horse and shay is coming over the bridge and a proper pretty gen- tleman, too, in it, ain’t he, mam? I wonder who ’tis, for ’taint nary one of the Mr. Elmwood’s.”
By this time three female heads were at the window curiously gazing at the approaching stranger and his styl- ish equipage. Little Sally stood at the door and received Capt. Freeman’s polite bow with a modest and not un- graceful curtesy as she naively asked if he wanted to see father.
“Yes, my little dear,” said the frank-hearted sailor, “I wish to see your father if his name is Peters — Stephen Peters, and if not, will you be kind enough to direct me to his house for I begin to imagine that I have taken the wrong road?”
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
5 1
“You are not much out of your way, sir,” said Mrs. Hovey, now stepping forward. “You can see the smoke of the chimney from here and you have only to cross the brook a little higher up and you will see a cartroad that will lead you right straight up to the door.”
The gallant Captain thanked her very politely for her information and finding the right pathway at last he drove forward some hundred rods and having ascended a slight declivity he stopped his horse and throwing back the top of his gig he beheld as fair a prospect of rural beauty as mortal ever gazed upon, a highly cultivated vale, well wooded and generously watered was surrounded by high hills of picturesque beauty just assuming the emerald mantle of spring. Not far distant the smoke issuing from farmer Peters’ chimney was seen curling up towards the sky, while the humble abode from which he had just turned, appeared in all its quiet beauty. The branches of the trees that waved above the sloping roof were just putting forth their buds promising ere long to afford abundant and shady foliage. At the east side of the house was the newly ploughed garden through which a strutting, yet chivalrous chanticleer, was escorting a whole bevy of hens, while in the barnyard, a turkey cock was showing his pride, with Sultan-like importance, to the feathered beauties of his rustic harem. Gracefully bathing in the clear bright brook were a flock of snowy geese attended by a grey gander, a very Methuselah in age, and to complete the picture, a noble-looking drake, with all an Admiral’s pride, was superintending the aquatic evolutions of about twenty well-fed ducks, while two slate-colored and three snow-white doves, the peculiar property of little Sally, were cooing on the ridgepole of the barn. The charming landscape and the picture of quiet happiness it presented made the worthy son of Neptune half resolve to forsake the sea and make love to the fair heiress to whom he was soon to be introduced ; in short, to turn farmer at once and court the favour not only of Venus and Cupid, but of Ceres, Pomona and Flora.
The noise of Captain Freeman’s wheels had hardly died away in the distance ere the eldest Miss Hovey ex-
52
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
claimed, “I declare, I don’t b’leve a grain but what that ’ere feller is gone over there a sparking. I’ve a good mind to make some arrand over there a purpose to see.” This pro- posal seemed to meet the unanimous approbation of the whole party.
‘‘Look here, you !” said Mrs. Hovey, addressing in this familiar style her daughters, “Look here, you ! That is a real bright thought of Polly’s and there’s the reel we bor- rowed over there the other day; carry that home and ask Mrs. Peters if she won’t lend us her quill wheel. I wonder if Bets was expecting him,” continued Mrs. H., in a meditative tone, “I wonder if she was expecting him. If she warn’t, I guess he won’t think she is much of a beauty if he catches her in the suds; but if she know’d of his coming I spose she’ll be all dressed up as fine as a butterfly. She’s got a real slick cinnamon-colored silk gown and a lilac crepe one, too. I wonder which one she’ll have on. But, after all, I don’t b’leve she’ll ever set as much by this one as she does by young Doc. Royal;* everybody says she’s certainly after him.”
“But lord, marm, what a proper rich man this one must be,” said Martha. “He had on the beautifulest clothes and a ruffled shirt as fine as silk and as white as snow. And did you mind his bosom pin? ’twas the best of gold, I guess.”
“Yes, I minded it,” said Mrs. Hovey, “and I took par- ticular notice besides of his great gold watch-chain. All them folks that live in lower towns spend a sight of money for dress. He’ll be too grand and dashing for the old folks, I reckon. They’ll be afraid of his spending their money; the money they been so many years scraping together. Well ! well ! when folks are so awful stingy as she has always been, their property, so I have always heard say, will go like dew before the sun.”
Polly now appeared, reel in hand and a cotton hand- kerchief tied over her head to preserve her complexion. As she crossed the threshold and departed on her visit of discovery, she declared with a determination worthy of a
*Dr. Royal Augustus Merriam, born in Topsfield in 1786, began the practice of medicine there in 1813.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
53
better cause, that she would find out all about it before she came back just as sure as her name was Polly Hovey.
Leaving the curious Miss Polly to pursue her way in haste or at leisure as it may have seemed best to her fair self, we will at once take a peep at the domicil to which she is proceeding. Everything in and about the abode of Mr. Peters* denoted great neatness and not less frugality, while even a certain degree of taste was here and there perceptable, indicating plainly a woman’s presence and care. On each side of the front door were several tall lilac trees, with red and white rosebushes interspersed be- tween. Peony roots too, were seen just peeping from the ground, while in a sheltered and sunny nook at one corner of the house some snowdrops and pansies were blooming in early pride. In the window of an apartment, serving usually as parlour, kitchen and hall, bloomed a monthly rose, treasured with great care by Miss Betsy her- self and deemed by all, her especial pet and delight.
Capt. Freeman on his arrival had been immediately ush- ered into the presence of the concealed fugitives. His gig had been wheeled under a sort of shed, which had for thirty years protected from the weather Mrs. Peters old square-top chaise that looked, beside the new and stylish gig, like an antiquated milkmaid beside a young and fashionable city belle, and a barefooted boy was watering his horse from a washtub that stood by the well.
*The Stephen Perley house was located near Pye brook, on a pri- vate way that leads from Haverhill street near Gallup’s bridge. The house was built before 1781 and was destroyed by fire in 1867. He married Elizabeth Gould and had three daughters, Betsy, the oldest, here being immortalized. She died unmarried, in 1819, aged 34 years. The farm was sold at auction in 1867 and Mrs. Holmes’ hus- band composed a poetical advertisement for the auction, which began as follows: —
“The Heirs of Stephen Perley say On Thursday, 23d of May,
At 10 A.M., they’ll sell th’ estate Of Stephen P., of Topsfield late.
This farm lies in a quiet nook,
Almost surrounded by Pye Brook,
Save on the line to this abode,
Along Low’s mill and Boxford Road.”
54
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
The old farmer sat at an open door in the back of the house, commanding a full view of his extensive cornfield where the red-winged blackbirds were holding high fes- tival and enjoying a luxurious feast in spite of more than one scarecrow and greatly to the annoyance of the worthy Mrs. P., who had more than once reminded her lord that it would be much more to his profit, and the respectability of his appearence, if he would take his gun and shoot the pesky critters instead of sitting there doing nothing but smoke his pipe and doze away his precious time. If she had only been a man, things would have been managed very differently. He still smoked on, giving little heed to the above eloquent tirade; indeed he had become so ac- customed to that amiable lady’s volubility that it grew at last to be a kind of lullaby. Two grey cats were reposing upon a mat at his feet, for Mrs. Peters thought a dog both a useless and expensive animal. Though the old gentle- man was kindly allowed to pet alternately her tabby and his daughter Betsy, he willingly would have extended his kindness to the shoeless urchin at the well, had his amiable spouse permitted it, but this she sturdily forbid, peremp- torly asserting that the least indulgence would make him both impudent and lazy. He once had called her a Tar- tar. This was an affront that she could neither forget or forgive, and Heaven knows and earth can witness that if severe management and short commons would have made a boy industrious or well-mannered, that little fellow would have been a prodigy indeed. No eastern Nabob ever felt more happy and never half so rich as did that neglected child on that, to him, ever to be remembered morning as he stood with Freeman beside the well, for when the gen- erous-hearted sailor threw him the reins and his eyes fell upon his tattered garb and meager face, he could not re- sist the impulse to place in his little toil-hardened hand a silver five-franc piece. Never before had the poor lad imagined, even in his brightest dreams, that he could be the honest possessor of such a glittering treasure.
The oven at one side of the wide fireplace was heating and Mrs. Peters and her daughter were busy about the usual preparation for baking. The door leading into the
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
55
best room on the ground floor was ajar and through the opening could be perceived the old beaufat well filled with old china, while here and there an antique piece of silver, such as a can or cream pitcher, was ostentatiously displayed. A glimpse, too, could be obtained of the bed with its snowy drapery and counterpain on which was care- lessly thrown the hat and riding whip of the recently ar- rived guest. The room occupied by the fugitives was in the second story and in a more secluded part of the house.
The mistress of the mansion kept constantly bustling from the kitchen to the buttery, now warning her daughter to use less of this and then to be more prudent of that, and not unfrequently addressing a word or two of not the gentlest import to the philosophic Stephen who bore it all with the most praiseworthy patience as long as she did not strike the pipe from his mouth or disturb the re- pose of his feline friends. She was a woman somewhat below the middle height and not far from fifty years of age. Her hair, plentifully sprinkled with silver threads, she wore neatly braided and bound in a sort of club at the back of her head and over it was drawn a close linen cap with a border of most quaker-like simplicity. Her dress, a gown of some dark stuff, had seen its best days many years ago if one might judge from the numerous darns that covered it like thick embroidery. Her features were strongly marked, especially the mouth, and her eyes were of a clear bright blue. Her parsimony was the theme of all her gossipping acquaintance, yet she could at times make even great sacrifices for those she loved and espe- cially for those who were connected with her by the ties of blood. With all her sternness one could easily per- ceive that a kindly heart beat sometimes within her heart.
Though but distantly related to young Stanly they in- curred no small risk in sheltering one whom the law had declared a traitor to his country. It is true they believed him to be perfectly innocent of the crime of which he was accused, yet had it been directly otherwise they would probably have acted the same in order to save the family from the deep disgrace of the hangman’s cord. They all knew perfectly well the danger they incurred, yet, with
56
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
all her fretting, Mrs. Peters would have been equally will- ing with her husband to have defended with her life, had such a thing been necessary, the safety of those who had so confidently sheltered themselves beneath her roof. It is true, Mrs. P., often regretted, in not the softest words, their perilous situation and complained unceasingly about what she considered the enormous consumption of the dainties she was daily preparing to tempt the appetites and cheer the dreary hours of her prisoner guests. She also was never tired of giving lessons in economy to her daughter, who, to do the young lady justice, was almost as liberal as her mother was parsimonious.
“There, there, Betsy ,” said Mrs. Peters in a tone of warn- ing to her daughter, “three eggs is a great plenty for that pudding. You’r awful extravagent in eggs and — ”
In whatever else her lavish expenditure needed reprov- ing, Betsy at that time was not destined to learn, for the good lady caught sight of Miss Hovey advancing towards the house and instantly exclaimed, “If there ain’t Poll Hovey coming right straight here, and jest as like as not she mistrusts something. She’s a dreadful curious gal, eternally peeking her nose where she’s no business to. I really b’leve everything will be all brought out and — Oh la sus ! I do wish folks would let me have a little peace. Shut the door, Betsy, that leads into the fire room. Oh la sus ! what put into her head to come gadding over here? To gawk round, I s’pose, with her great wall-eyes, and to see all that is to be seen. Mr. Peters,” said she, changing her tone to one key or two lower and milder, “there’s Polly coming; do wake up and move round and let her pass. Mr. Peters always takes up the whole doorway,” said his affectionate dame, as Miss Hovey entered the kitchen and laid down the reel she had borrowed some months before, and then she added, “Oh la sus ! I’m so — jest tired to death. Your marm, pretty well, ain’t she, and the rest of your folks?”
“Oh, yes’um, the’re all pretty smart. Where’s Betsy ? Oh, there she is,” said Miss Polly, looking round, and to her great surprise the young heiress was neither arrayed in the cinnamon-colored silk nor the lilac crepe, but in
BV MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
57
her usual dress of dark calico, the sleeves partially rolled up and the front breadth of her gown protected by a clean checked apron.
Betsy Peters was not a beauty. She had never even dreamed of being a belle, but she was a good daughter, a kind friend, and an obliging neighbour. Her education was superior to that of the farmers’ daughters with whom she associated and on the whole she was not an entirely unattractive person. From her modest, sensible demean- our and exceedingly quiet manner, the young Stanlys judged on their first introduction that it would be quite useless for them to attempt to strike up a flirtation with her in order to beguile their time and ere they had been the inmates of her father’s house many hours they began to regard her as a kind friend, an affectionate sister.
No allusion being made by any of the family to their unexpected visitor, Miss Polly’s curiosity could be re- strained no longer so she asked, looking archly at Betsy, “Why — Why ain’t you in the fire room along with your beau? I expected to find you all dressed up as smart as a carrot. He’s a real handsome fellow. Ye see, I know all about it so you need not look so strange. He stopped at our house to find out the way here.”
“Oh,” said Betsy, smiling, “the gentleman in the gig you mean, I suppose; but indeed you have no reason in the world to imagine he is a beau of mine.”
“Why, what is he here for if he ain’t arter you?” Polly rudely exclaimed, and then she added, “Pm sure I don’t see what else he could want clear away up here in the woods.”
“You forget,” said Betsy, blushing slightly at the decep- tion she was useing, “you forget that father has two fine colts that will make a splendid pair of carriage horses one of these days. What would you say if he had heard of them and had made a journey here on purpose to see them? To such a gentleman as the stranger appears to be they must be a much greater attraction than a country girl like me.”
“Well, now, I vum ! I never once thought of that,” said Polly. “So you don’t even know his name nor where he’s
58
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
from and I all the time thinking he was a spark of your'n. I suppose he's out in the paster now looking at the critters, ain’t he?”
“I really do not know exactly where he is,” said Betsy, “but if he is out there you cannot help meeting him on your way home and perhaps he may take a fancy to you.”
“There ain’t much chance of that,” Miss Hovey humbly replied. “There ain't much chance of that, but if I was only a little handsomer and had a little more laming I’d sartenly set my cap for him.”
Whether the desire of meeting the handsome Captain influenced Miss Polly or that she deemed a longer visit unnecessary, having acquired all the information she was likely to obtain, I cannot say, but ere many minutes elapsed she took her departure entirely forgetting to ask for the quill-wheel.
The day at last passed away and in the grey twilight of a foggy evening, a single pedestrian was seen to cross a log thrown over the ford-way, forming a very primitive bridge for foot passengers, and proceed towards the house. He was received at the door by Stephen himself and was immediately conducted by him into the presence of his prisoner guests and their sea-faring friend. He at once advanced cordially towards them and warmly shook the hand of each, then throwing off a well-worn hat and ample cloak of dark camlet, he displayed the tall, bony figure of a man in the prime of life, with a countenance where good sense and cunning were strangely blended.
Phineas Packard, for such was the stranger’s name, was a singular compound of good and evil. He could be faith- ful and true when he chose to be so and even his enemies acknowledged that he possessed honor enough never to betray a trust. He took especial delight and a certain pride in outwitting his neighbors, and to plan and execute a stratagem had been his favourite pastime from his earli- est years to the present hour. Not long after his arrival, a light, one-horse wagon, driving rapidly up, stopped in front of the house and a young lad springing nimbly to the ground, rapped gently at the window with his riding- whip. The door was quickly opened by Mr. Peters and
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
59
the candle in his hand revealed to him the features of Master Reilly. They exchanged a few words in a low tone when Jim turned and taking from the wagon a large and securely bound package he consigned it to the old man’s care. Then with a hearty “Good night,” he sprung once more into his seat and cracking his whip, his horse’s speed and the darkness of the night soon hid him from view.
The bundle was immediately taken to the chamber where in full conclave sat the four gentleman already men- tioned. Nor had the door hardly closed upon them ere the contents were displayed upon the floor. Whatever they were they seemed to afford the beholders much amuse- ment for repeated shouts of ringing laughter resounded through the house much to the disturbance of its drowsy mistress who always retired early and who more than once exclaimed, as the merry sounds reached her ears, — - “Oh la sus ! what a noise they do make. I can’t sleep no more than a toad under a horse. They act, to be sure, jest exactly like folks that expect to be hung every mo- ment. Oh la sus! what terrible little consideration some folks have.”
The laughter at last ceased. Steps were heard descend- ing the stairs and ere a minute Freeman and Packard is- sued from the house, the former offering the latter a seat in his gig which had been for some time in waiting. The hour was too late for such an offer to be refused and they were soon seated side by side driving rapidly away leav- ing drowsy Mrs. Peters to enjoy her slumbers, no longer disturbed by their uncontrolled and roystering merriment.
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THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
Chapter VIII.
And none like him a stratagem So artfully could plan.
And then, the same to execute,
He was the very man.
The town clock of Haverhill was just striking eight, an evening or two after the events last related, when an old, yet respectable, square-top chaise, drawn by a large, fat, sleek-looking horse, was driven over the bridge ; and stop- ping long enough to pay the toll, advanced slowly along the streets and drew up before the door of the best and most frequented inn. A hostler advanced to take charge of the equipage as a tall, thin, muscular man, wearing the long-skirted brown coat and broad-brimmed hat of a Quaker, alighted and assisted to the ground a lady arrayed in the simple garb of the same sect. They entered the house and the gentleman hastened to secure a room for the night, while the lady seated herself before the fire in a little parlour adjoining the bar-room where several men sat smoking, talking, and ocasionally refreshing them- selves from a large pitcher that stood on a table near the fire stove. The lady was much wrapped up and complete- ly protected from the chill evening air. She wore a dress of some thick dark material, and over it was thrown a short cloak of drab broadcloth, the head of which was drawn closely over a hood of brownish silk from which was sus- pended a black veil of impenetrable thickness entirely concealing her face which besides was muffled in a linen cambrick handkerchief, as if fearful of the ague or tooth- ache.
She sat several minutes gazing intently at the cheerful blaze, then raising her veil she fixed her eyes upon a pla- card placed conspicuously over the mantel-piece and read there, printed in large letters, the words, “High Treason. Five hundred dollars reward.” And then followed a de- scription of Thornton Stanly, his age, height, look and gesture. The lady instantly let fall her veil as footsteps sounded in the room, but it was her companion who, with
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
6l
the landlord, had just entered to assure her that an apart- ment with a good fire blazing in the chimney was in read- iness to receive her.
“But won’t your lady take something before she retires,” said the worthy publican, addressing the owner or rather the wearer of the broad-brim. “Won’t your lady take a little something, for the evening is pretty chilly.”
“Thou hearest the question, Ruth, will it be thy pleas- ure?” But before he could finish, the lady seized his arm and murmuring a hasty negative expressed a desire to be shown to her chamber without delay.
“She has been suffering severely with the tooth-ache,” said the gentleman, in an apologetic tone, “and I suppose she needeth a little rest at the present moment more than any thing else. By the by, I will myself take her a cup of tea. A husband, after all, is the best attendant his wife can have when she is a little indisposed.”
“Oh, certainly, certainly !” replied the host, and marshal- ing the way he ushered them into a very prettily or at least comfortably furnished room with a good fire blazing on the clean, homelike looking hearth.
The door closed and the travellers remained alone. For several minutes they stood leaning against the chimney as if absorbed in a trance of thought. At length the lady started into consciousness and throwing off her cloak and laying aside her hood and muffler, displayed a face, the features of which were handsome though strongly marked and altogether too masculine for a woman. Her long, dark hair was parted on her forehead and combed smooth' ly into a knot at the back of her head and then confined beneath a lawn cap of the simplest form, and her hands, though large, were white and finely shaped. She was very tall but one could judge but little of the beauty of her form it was so shrouded in her dark stuff dress.
“It will hardly be prudent,” said she, laying her hand on her companion’s shoulder and smiling somewhat sadly as she met his earnest gaze, “It will hardly be prudent for me to disrobe, for a full description of my beautiful self when arrayed in male attire, hangs over the chimney in the little parlour below stairs, so I had best sleep, for
62
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
sleep I must, in all this paraphernalia, to guard against any surprise, not to speak of the difficulty I should have in the morning to don these troublesome habiliments again should I denude myself of them now. The greatest annoyance is this confounded wig. Should it chance to get awry, I fear my skill would hardly suffice to set it right. And, alas! I shall have no longer the fair Betsy’s skilful hand to assist me.”
“Yes, I certainly think you are right,” said the gentle- man, in whom my readers have of course recognized Packard. “I think you are right, though I do not appre- hend any danger. So after you have taken a cup or two of tea — it is, you know, exceedingly indecorous for ladies, especially for the members of the society, the female ones I mean, to which we at present belong, to allow their ruby lips to sip any beverage more exhilerating than good green tea — so, I say, after you have taken one or two cups, I will lock the door, put the key in my pocket, go down and join the group around the bar. I may possibly learn something that it may be important for us to know.
Phineas Packard was soon seated in the bar room, a little apart from the company before assembled there. He alternately smoked his pipe and sipped his brandy and water which, to do justice to his discretion, I must add that this evening he had prepared much weaker than usual.
He sat there sometime listening, with grave and silent bearing, to the merry tale, the rustic joke, or the gay, light song of a group of idlers in the far corner of the room, while a little knot of politicians round the fire were dis- cussing the affairs of the nation with statesman-like im- portance save now and then when one, more excitable than the rest, would spring to his feet and with all the elo- quence of a village Cicero harangue his companions with a volubility as wild as it was bewildering.
Packard divided his attention pretty equally between the above named parties till quite dispairing of learning any- thing at all useful to or connected with his present plans, he arose to retire, when two weary-looking and travel-stained strangers entered and advancing directly to the bar they ordered a hot supper and a bed for the night.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES-.
63
Room for the new comers, who appeared to be well- known to many present, was soon made at the fire and each of them drawing a chair near the cheerful blaze they seated themselves down quietly to await the good things already preparing. One could easily perceive by a cer- tain air of importance, even more than slightly percept- able in their demeanour, that they were official dignitaries of no little consequence in their own eyes and Packard soon learned they were two of the High Sheriff’s most trusty and trusted Deputies.
“Well, boys,” said a little old man with piercing blue eyes, though his hair was as white as snow, and who had taken an active part in the late political debate, “Well, boys, what success did you meet with? Have you gained the reward by nabbing the traitor at last?”
“Nabbed him !” repeated both the officers in a breath, “Nabbed him !” continued the tallest of the two, his asso- ciate appearing really too fatigued to join in the conver- sation, “Nabbed him, indeed ! Catch a weazle asleep, that's all, if you can. One might as well look for a needle in a stack of hay, as for anybody that the Elmwoods un- dertake to conceal. There’s the old man; can ride from Boston to Canada, and stop at his own house every night,* and there's John Elmwood, his third son, living in Ver- mont, with more farms and horses than you can shake a stick at. We searched more than a dozen farms belonging to one or the other of them and had our labour for our pains. Stanly never cleared out this way and if he did he’s in Canada, long ago. The government had better send now and search the south. We’ve given the north a pretty good ransacking. But here comes the supper and if you never saw a couple of hungry wolves eat why here’s the sight for you now.”
Packard, greatly delighted with what he had heard, soon retired to communicate the pleasing intelligence to his supposed wife. The coast was clear at least in the direc- tion that they were to journey, and the next morning ere the sun had risen, they were on their way. They travelled
*This was true of Billy Emerson of Topsfield, who was a very large landowner and extensive cattle and sheep trader with Canada.
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THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
leisurely along, all sense of danger past, and towards even- ing they found themselves ascending the steep and dreary hills of Gilmanton. A little after dark they drove up to a handsome, newly erected mansion, at the door of which a gentleman and lady were standing as if in expectation of their arrival. Their horse was taken by a stout negro to the stable and they were ushered, with many cordial words of hearty welcome, into a pleasant looking parlour where a table was spread in readiness to receive the plen- tiful supper prepared on purpose to cheer and refresh them after their long and tedious journey.
Chapter IX.
Triumphant, peace proclaiming bell,
Freedom is in thy voice.
The prisoner’s drooping heart doth swell,
And in thy tones rejoice.
About nine months had passed since the last events re- corded in our story. It was evening, the air was cold and chill, and a mantle of newly-fallen snow covered the hard, frozen ground. The stars shone with intense brilliancy and a crescent moon added new beauty to the scene. All day the bells of New England had been ringing their merriest peals. Peace ! peace ! was in this joyful sound of those now silver-toned yet often solemn monitors and a grateful thankfulness and triumphant joy filled, as one heart, the entire nation.
In a spacious chamber, wainscotted with some dark wood, in the old house at Wenham, sat a lady not entirely unknown to our readers. It was nearly midnight and though Mrs. Power was alone, the thoughts of retiring to rest seemed, from her occupation, to be the farthest from her mind. A boiling tea kettle hung over a good fire that was blazing on the neatly swept hearth at one side of which, in most inviting proximity, stood a large arm chair near a little table furnished with a tea equipage and several viands, too substantial for the appetite of a lady, especially at that time of night. The room was simply though very comfortably furnished — the floor cov-
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
65
ered with a thick homemade carpet, and the bed shroud- ed in curtains of deep green morean. Having prepared her tea and arranged and rearranged everything on the table some half-dozen times and looked more than once at the pies warming on trivets in the corner, she stepped to the door and opening it gently she appeared to listen anxiously for several minutes, then having satisfied herself that all was quiet below, she shut and relocked it and re- turned to her place at the fire. She waited a little longer and then falling on her knees she prayed silently and fer- vently till the old house clock told the hour of twelve. As the last sound died away she rose and moving the bed- stead several feet from the wall she bent down and raising the carpet slightly from the floor, touched a spring and a door in the ceiling, so perfectly concealed that it could be discovered only with the aid of a microscope, opened noise- lessly and the tall athletic figure of Power stepped forth into the chamber. He was paler and thinner than when introduced to the reader, but in other respects unchanged. He affectionately embraced his wife and then devoted himself to the supper with an appetite that confinement and danger had in vain endeavoured to diminish. Having satisfied the demands of Nature he leaned back in his easy chair and placing his feet on the mantel-piece — a favour- ite attitude of his, by the way — he said, looking earnestly at his wife, “Why, Mary, what has happened? I have not seen such a smile on your lip and such a look of hap- piness on your face for many a month. What is it wife?”
“Have you not heard the bell ringing all day?” she in her turn inquired, and then she added, “Peace is declared, and so, dear husband, you at last are free, at least, or will be so in a few days. When I heard the news, at first I almost fainted. I thought such joyful intelligence was too good to be believed. Yet it is true, for the bells have been ringing all day and now bonfires are blazing on all the hills.”
“Oh, yes,” answered Power, and his stern features soft- ened and reflected the expression of happiness, brightening his wife’s sedate and placid face, “Oh, yes, I heard the bell, but I never once dreamed that it could be for peace.
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THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
But tell me, has my sister never yet received a letter from either of her boys? It is strange that they have never written.”
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Power, “I forgot to tell you, a letter came yesterday. It seems that Thornton, after remaining some time in Gilmanton with our cousin Elmwood Power and his young and lovely wife, arrayed himself in the dress of a Quaker, the very garb worn by the worthy Phineas, for ought I know to the contrary, and mounting a good strong hackney, wended his way at leisure through the wilds of Maine ’till he reached New Brunswick, where he was joined by his brother. Ben, you know, escaped in the disguise of a drover, Uncle Elmwood providing the cattle. They seem very anxious to have their mother with them, so I suppose she will soon leave us, as the trav- elling will be uninterrupted, now hostilities have ceased. Thornton, I think, wrote something about Ben’s being married to a young lady of Gilmanton, now visiting in Halifax.”
“Well,” said Power, taking a candle from the table and lighting a cigar, “all I hope is one thing and that is, that they have done searching this house. I trembled for you, Mary, every time the law-sharks came. I trembled, I say, and yet it was not from fear.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Power, laughing, “I have really become used to it, for at one time there was a perfect campaign of marching, counter-marching and surprises. I never was much troubled but once, and that was after you were seen walking that moonlight night in the garden. It was very careless in you and indiscreet in me. I ought not to have consented. They searched more thoroughly than they ever did before. They sounded the ceiling, too, but without making any discovery. The last time they were here, Pomp’s patience became entirely exhausted and he expostulated with them on the folly of their disturbing a peaceable family every night or two, in language not the mildest, I can assure you.”
“And Ty,” said Power, “does he not suspect? The rascal knows everything.”
“Yes, I really think he knows you are here,” said Mrs.
BY MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
67
Power, “indeed, I am quite sure of it, for he never leaves the entry while the investigation is going on. He stretches himself out on the mat and appears to be waiting until he is wanted ; and while I am here he always remains outside the door, though he never offers to enter. He is, indeed, a wonderful creature and since his performance in the swamp he is regarded as a kind of wizard by the good people in the neighbourhood.”
“Call him in and let me see him,” said Power.
“No! No! That will never do,” said his wife, smiling, “you would make too much noise. The house would be waked and your retreat discovered in no time. No! No! Wait a few days longer and then — and then Power will be himself again.”
They sat and chatted thus till the first blush of morn- ing began to tinge with roseate hue the azure sky, when Power reentered again his narrow prison, which for nine months had been his home, unknown to any living being but his faithful wife and, it may be, his equally faithful dog. For nine months his wife concealed him there and cared for all his wants. This closet probably had been made when the house was built, for the purpose of secret- ing treasure, and none knew of it, save the owner and the workman who constructed it, ’till it accidently had been discovered by Mrs. Power, some years before, while she was busily engaged about her annual spring cleaning. She kept the secret, she hardly knew why, and her doing so, eventually furnished her with the means of providing for her husband a secure retreat unknown to any human being but herself.
Having carefully concealed every vestage of the late supper and restored the room to its usual neat and pre- cise appearance, she descended the stairs and entered her little bedroom to seek a few moments repose before com- mencing the labours of the day. Her sleep was calm and tranquil, more so, indeed, than it had been for a long time, for she believed that her greatest care was soon to be re- moved, like a mighty weight from her heart, and that ere long she should see in his old place at their social and hospitable board, the father of her children, the husband of her youth.
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THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE,
Chapter X.
I know this written tale is true,
So reader, I have nought to do,
But a concluding word to say And cast my scuttling pen away.
It was a calm, but dark and chilly afternoon in the au- tumn of 1815, when three gentlemen were seated in a room of small dimensions in one of the best inns that the now city of Portland could then boast. They sat at a small table placed before the ample hearth where a fire of large logs of maple threw its cheerful gleam over their persons and on the dinner table which stood apart retaining the remains of their recent feast. On the table, round which they were grouped, stood several decanters flanked by three huge glass goblets. From these circumstances, taken together, the cheerfulness and frequently the boisterous mirth of the party was not much to be wondered at. They all three wore the air of men who had met together for the express purpose of amusement and to interchange kind words and friendly greetings.
“Indeed, Power,” said Thornton Stanly, resuming the conversation after a few moments silence, “Indeed, Power, I do not at all like to hear you say that there is no com- pensation. Yet, that is not the word I ought to have used. Kindness, like yours, cannot be compensated, but can I not, in some way, oblige you? Is there no way left for me to evince my gratitude?”
“Yes, there is one way,” said Power, emptying his glass and leisurely refilling it again. “Yes, there is one way.” “Oh ! Name it ! Name it !” cried the brothers in a breath. “Oh, name it, dear Uncle, and — ”
“Well ! Well !” said Power interrupting them. “Well ! Well ! I’ll tell you and you’ll both agree to oblige me won’t ye?”
“Certainly, certainly, how can you doubt us?” they ex- claimed simultaneously, “only point out the way, only tell us how we can do so.”
By MRS. HARRIET EMERSON HOLMES.
69
“Let the subject drop forever/’ answered Power. “Let the subject drop forever for I wish to talk of something else. Besides, I tell you. it’s reward enough for me to see you both looking so finely and to hear, though I don’t believe more than half you say about it, that you have each been so fortunate as to obtain such a paragon for a wife. Young husbands are always fools. But Thornton, that was a capital letter you wrote to the Governor. I never thought much of your abilities as a letter-writer till then. But, by Jupiter! that was just the thing. I seldom look at the papers, but really, I read that document from be- ginning to end. Ben, you’re a lawyer, yet you’ll pardon me, I trust, if I say one thing and that is — that I think the trial by jury which has been so lauded for several centur- ies, is a great abuse. Now the trial by single combat was to my mind much more consistent, both with justice and Christianity. There, God himself, decided the question. He nerved the arm of the innocent, while he paralyzed that of the guilty. You know the Bible says that ‘the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong’ — and if I had only have believed you as innocent, some years ago, as I do now, I should have left your cause with Heaven and your country, for after all, on second thought, I’m convinced that God will direct the opinions of twelve men as He would nerve with might the weak arm of the inno- cent combatant, so as to the interposition of Heaven there can be no difference whatever, only, the fighting would be more to my taste, that’s all.”
“No doubt of it, whatever,” exclaimed Ben, laughing heartily. “No doubt of it at all. But indeed, Uncle, I had no idea that you were so conversant with the sacred writings, and such a reasoner, too. There was no sophis- try in that last remark of yours — none at all. Why, you would have made a distinguished Judge had you only studied jurisprudence.”
“No ! No ! Nephew, you need not laugh. I leave law, latin, and devilment to the better deserving. But I must ring for Blackbird to be saddled, for I hope to ride twenty miles on my homeward way ere moon-rise.”
Many were the kind remembrances to old friends, with
;o
THORNTON STANLY OR THE RESCUE.
which Power was intrusted, as the three stood side by side at the inn door awaiting Blackbird’s appearance; and Thornton, taking from his pocket book a little morocco case containing a fine gold chain of exquisite workman- ship, to which was attached a small locket of the same metal enclosing a braid of raven hair, he put it into Power’s hand and bid him request Helen to wear it as a slight token of his wife’s remembrance and gratitude.
“She took it from her own neck,” said he, “when she knew of my journey here to meet you and bade me desire you to place it in the hands of one to whom we both owe so much. And now tell me, for as yet I have not asked particularly for her, how does Helen do? Is she as beau- tiful as ever?”
“Mrs. Danforth,” said Power, smiling, and laying some emphasis on the name, “is in excellent health and she is looking very much as when you last saw her ; a little more matronly, perhaps, but that in my eyes is an improvement. I passed her door some days since on my way here and she came out, to bid me good bye, with my little grand- son, an urchin of nine months old, in her arms. But here is Blackbird, looking as he always does, fit to mount an emperor.”
“And Ty,” shouted the two, “do tell us of him.”
“Oh,” said Power, “the last I saw of him, as I turned to take a last look at home, he was performing the office of a pony for Master Johnny Danforth. He has transferred his allegiance from the old John to the young one.” And shaking his nephews' hands again and again, he vaulted lightly into his saddle and took his homeward way leaving our hero and his brother to pass a solitary evening ere they set out on the morrow to join their families, then, as now, securely resting under the protection of the British Lion.
Finis.
REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS IN
TOPSFIELD — 1843.
Chapter I.
v
SECTION i. Each school, at the commencement, shall be divided into four classes, whose studies shall be appro- priated as hereinafter named.
Sec. 2. The fourth class shall use Worcester’s Primer. Their exercises shall be as follows: 1. Pronounce words without spelling. 2. Pronouncing and spelling combined. 3. Spelling, without book, words that have been learned in the regular lesson.
SEC. 3. The third class shall read in Pierpont’s Young Reader. They shall attend to reading and spelling. The spelling book lessons, such as the key, punctuation, the use of capital letters, are to be committed to memory. This class also is expected to do something in geography and grammar.
Sec. 4. The second class shall use Worcester’s Third Book. They shall be exercised in reading, spelling, and thinking combined, and defining. The stops and marks, as they occur in the reading lessons, to be explained and learned. They will continue the study of grammar and geography: commit the grammar to memory, and learn to parse simple sentences.
Sec. 5. The first class shall read in Worcester’s Fourth Book. They shall continue the studies of the second class. The committee would recommend to such as are qualified, attention to any one or all of the following branches, viz : history, composition, book-keeping, algebra, geometry, surveying, navigation, natural philosophy, astronomy, and rhetoric.
(71)
; 72 REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS.
SEC. 6. Oral instruction shall be deemed to constitute an important part of the duties of the teacher, and shall occupy a distinct portion of time during each half day; the object being, in the simplest and most intelligible manner, to impart the full meaning and understanding of all that is read by or taught to the scholars.
SEC. 7. Writing and pen-making shall be attended to by the three upper classes, between the hours of 11 and 12 o’clock; and it is the duty of the teacher to attend to the writing and pen-making, and nothing else, during the hour above named. All writing books shall have the names and ages of the scholars written upon them.
Sec. 8. The first class shall keep arithmetical manu- scripts; and particular attention must be paid to the hand writing, spelling, use of capitals, punctuation, and neatness and order of the figures.
Chapter II.
Books to be used in the Public Shools.
Sec. I. Worcester’s Primer; National Spelling Book; Pierpont’s Young Reader; Worcester’s Third and Fourth Books; Peter Parley’s Geography; Olney’s Geography and Atlas; Greenleaf’s Introduction to the National Arith- metic; Greenleaf’s National Arithmetic ; Murray’s Gram- mar ; Murray’s Abridged Grammar ; Towndrow’s Writing Books; Goodrich’s History of the United States; Com- stock’s Philosophy ; Holbrook’s Geometry; Day’s Alge- bra; Newman’s Rhetoric; Bowditch’s Navigator; Web- ster’s Dictionary; Bible.
Chapter HI.
Sec. 1. The schools shall be kept six hours in the day. The intermission shall be one hour in the winter, and one hour and a half in the summer season.
SEC. 2. A recess of ten minutes shall be invariably allowed during the summer season, at the close of each hour, during which the scholars shall be occupied, under the direction of the teacher, in exercise and recreation in the open air.
REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS.
73
SEC. 3. The teachers shall make constant use of the black boards in the instruction of every class: — and for this purpose the committee would recommend that they follow the directions and suggestions contained in Bum- stead’s manual.
SEC. 4. Weekly reviews, and frequent recurrence to past lessons, should be required of each class. It is deemed of great importance, that there should be an appropriate time for every exercise.
SEC. 5. The scholars should be supplied by their parents, masters, or guardians with books. If they are not so supplied, it is the duty of the teacher to notify the parents, masters or guardians what books their children want. If they are not then furnished, the teacher must inform the Prudential Committee, what books are needed.
SEC. 6. Teachers shall give constant attention to the care and cleanliness of the school-houses and out-build- ings, and shall give immediate notice to the Prudential Committee, whenever any injuries have been committed, or repairs are needed. They shall also give special at- tention to the heating and ventilation of the school rooms, and shall adopt all necessary measures for the promotion of the health and comfort of the scholars.
SEC. 7. No teacher shall read any newspaper or book for his own recreation, during school hours; but shall strictly attend to the duties of the school.
SEC. 8. All the schools shall be opened, in the morning, by reading a portion of the Bible, which it is recommended should be accompanied by a devotional ex- ercise. The Bible may be read separately by the teachers or by the scholars, or by both in connection. It shall be considered the privilege of good readers in all classes, occasionally to take part in reading the Bible ; but it shall not be permitted to any scholars who do not read correct- ly to engage in this exercise. All the scholars should be furnished with Bibles, that they may be used for the open- ing exercise.
SEC. 9. Any scholar who is tardy or absent shall pro- duce a written excuse from his parent, master, or guardian, for his tardiness or absence, or be subject to correction.
7 4
REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS,
SEC. 10. When scholars are frequently absent or tardy, though they produce written excuses, they shall be report- ed to the Prudential Committee, who may admonish or suspend such scholars, or dismiss them, subject to an ap- peal to the School Committee.
SEC. II. No scholar shall be permitted to leave school before the regular hour of closing, except in case of sick- ness or some pressing emergency.
SEC. 12. The discipline to be maintained in the schools shall, as far as may be, be such as is exercised by a kind, judicious, and faithful parent in his family: and corporal punishment shall be avoided except in cases in which it is rendered absolutely necessary.
SEC. 13. Any scholar who shall be guilty of flagrant misconduct or whose example is seen to be very injurious, or whose reformation after repeated admonition appears to be hopeless, shall be subjected to such penalties as may be prescribed by the Prudential Committee, to whom the case shall be forthwith reported; subject to an appeal to the Board.
SEC. 14. It is the duty of instructors in conformity to the Laws of the Commonwealth to exert their best endeavors to impress on the minds of children and youth committed to their care and instruction, the principles of piety, justice, and a sacred regard to truth ; love to their country, humanity, and universal benevolence; sobriety, industry and frugality; chastity, moderation, and temper- ance; and those other virtues which are the ornament of human society, and the basis upon which a republican constitution is founded ; and to endeavour to lead their pupils, as their ages and capacities will admit, into a clear understanding of the tendency of the above mentioned virtues to preserve and perfect a republican constitution and secure the blessings of liberty, as well as to promote their future happiness; and also to point out to them the evil tendency of the opposite vices.
Chapter IV.
SEC. 1. At the first and monthly visits it is the duty of the School Committee to examine into the state and
REGULATIONS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. ?5
progress of the schools; to see whether the scholars are supplied with books; to see that they are classed and tasked according to these regulations; and to give such advice and encouragement to the Teacher and pupils as they may think proper.
SEC. 2. At the closing visit each class will be required to go through an examination in all the branches to which it has attended— proceeding in order from the lowest to the highest. The Teacher should refrain from prompt- ing. Questions should be put to the scholars with prompt- ness and spirit, that answers may be returned in like manner.
Sec. 3. Writing Books, Arithmetical, or other manu- scripts, should be presented to the Committee for inspec- tion at the commencement of the examination.
SEC. 4. Inquiry will be made as to the moral instruc- tion given; and also as to the manners and morals of the school. The law of the Commonwealth requires that the children shall be instructed in good behaviour.
SEC. 5. The law requires that the scholars shall be supplied with books by their parents, masters, or guardi- ans. If they are not so furnished, they shall be supplied at the expense of the town, and the cost thereof be added by the assessors to the next annual tax of such parents, masters, or guardians, unless the assessors shall be of opinion that such parent, master, or guardian, is unable to defray the expense of such books.
Adopted by the School Committee , April 1843.
JOEL LAKE, Chairman . Richard Phillips, Jr., Sedy.
The foregoing'.is a reprint of a broadside printed at the time, three copies having been found recently. — Editor.
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
The Rev. Asahel Huntington was born in Franklin, Conn., educated at Dartmouth College, and ordained pastor of the Topsfield church in 1789, where he remained until his death in 1813. He married Alethea Lord of Pomfret, Conn. Their oldest son, Elisha, was Lieutenant- Governor of Massachusetts in 1853 and one of the follow- ing letters was written by their other son, Asahel, who became Clerk of Essex County Courts and Mayor of Salem. This correspondence, etc., was found among several hundred sermons written by Mr. Huntington, which are now in the possession of the Editor.
To the legal voters in Topsfield assembled in Town- Meeting April 6th, 1801.
Gentlemen
I should be very unwilling to ask a favor of you, in this public manner, did I not view my request as perfectly reasonable.
What I ask is some allowance on account of the de- preciated value of Money.
That money is of less value, or that the general articles of consumption are much higher in price, than when I settled in this Town, is to me very evident, tho’ some, have lately said, that there is no material difference between now & then. To those who are of this opinion, I would observe, that at & after my settlement here, Indian corn was sold for 3/ pr bushel, Rye at 4/ or 4/6, Flour at 28/6 pr bbl., Butter at /yd & /8 pr lb. Labor in the best of the season was 2/ pr day. Labor by the month, for the summer season, was 30/. Wood was 9/ pr cord, & I bought english hay at 33/ at 36/ & at 40 pr ton. Let
(76)
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
77
any man look back ten or twelve years, & he will find the above statement nearly, or quite accurate. For ye last seven years, at least, there has been a very great difference in the above named & other articles of country produce. But some may say I have received compensation. I have received that which was of material advantage to me, I acknowledge, & I take this opportunity to thank my ben- efactors, whoever they are.
What I have received, in the light of compensation, is this, viz. — Six years ago last fall, & in the spring follow- ing, I was assisted by individuals in covering part of my barn, & in building a shed near the meeting-house. The whole amount contributed towards these objects was about 41 Dollr. The remaining part of ye expence I was answerable for. I also received from individuals, in labor, money, & otherwise, after the vote of 2o£ , about j£. (Of the kindness of some individuals, beside what I have now mentioned, I would not be unmindful). I have made the above statement, that what I have received, might not be under-rated, nor over-rated. Thus, Gentlemen, you have a general view of the compensation I have received for the seven or eight years past, thro* the whole of which time, money has been materially less valuable, than when I settled in this Town.
Now, Gentleman, many considerations induce & encour- age me to ask your farther assistance. Laborers receive, at least, twice the sum per day or month which they did formerly. The servants of the public, in the civil line, have been generally favored with an increase of their salaries, & fees: — some an hundred per cent, some fifty. Ministers of the Gospel have also, generally been favored in this way for six, & seven years past some of them have received $o£, some $o£> & some an hundred £ per annum, in addition to their stated salaries. Beside, as to myself, if the Town will believe me, I can inform them, that the stated salaries of Ministers, in general in the circle of my acquaintance, are considerably more than mine. In this county, I know of but two ministers who have been set- tled within the last 20 years, whose means of support are not considerably better than mine.
78
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
The above considerations, & finding also my family ex- penses increased, have induced me to solicit your farther aid. I am also encouraged in my present attempt, by the belief that my request will be viewed by you all, as hav- ing reason, & justice to support it. I am also encouraged in my request, by the full belief, that were I to ask a favor of you individually, you would readily grant it. I do not remember that I have ever asked a favor of any individu- al in the Town, who did not readily grant my request. If therefore as individuals, you are thus ready to oblige, I have much to expect from you in your corporate or town capacity. You are sensible, Gentlemen, that it is now four years since anything of this kind has been attempted ; and tho’ I remember there was some opposition, at that time, to the plan of making me a consideration; yet I am persuaded, that after more mature reflection on the case, your judgment, must, by this time, have been formed in my favor.
I have only therefore, to request you to vote me such a sum, as in your judgment, I ought to receive & such a sum as you would be willing to receive were you in my case, & such, as may render my circumstances less em- barrasing.
Wishing you direction in all wisdom & righteousness; & much unanimity in all your public deliberations. I subscribe myself your servant in
the Gospel, —
Asahel Huntington
To Capt. Nathaniel Hammond.
Town Clerk of Topsfield.
To be communicated to sd Town assembled in legal Town Meeting.
The town records show that “The question was put to see if the Town will make the Revd. Asahel Huntington any consideration respecting the high price of provisions and it passed in the Negative.” — Editor .
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
7 9
From a memorandum book kept by Rev. Asahel Huntington.
John Lambert came here Saturday July 2i, 1804. Dr. to paper, .20; quills, .10; writing book, .06 ; pair of shoes, $1.00; absent at Thanksgiving, 3 weeks. December 1 5th. Received of Mrs. Lambert for John’s board, $30.00.
Lydia Emerson came here to board July 12, 1804. Left here Oct. 13, 1804. She came to board April 15, 1805 and left July 30, 1805.
John Lambert Dr. to cutting out a coat and trousers, .25; to making coat, .66|; vest, .333! pantaloons, .33; trowsers, .12^; a thick coat, .83; skein silk, .06; making round jacket, .42 ; \ yd. brown Holland, .082.
Nabby Hammond came here to board Aug. 15, 1804.
Asa Wildes came here to board Apr. 4, 1804.
May 14, 1805. Bought of Mr. Dutch 50 lb. beef at 6 cts. per lb., a barrell fish, $8.00.
Aug. 28, 1804. Betsy Searle came here to board.
June 3, 1805. George Washington Heard [son of Hon. John Heard] came here to board.
Nov. 5, 1804. Began school near the Meeting House.
June 5, 1806. Lent Mrs. Hannah Holyoke [of Box- ford] 30 dollars.
Nov. 20, 1804. I hereby acknowledge myself bound to pay Deacon John Gould Treasurer to the Library Society 20/
Mar. 3, 1806. Nathaniel Tenny began school here.
July 29, 1805. James B. Price, to \ bunch quills, $o.i2|.
Mrs. Brown, Cr. by weaving 41 yds at 4|, by spinning 2 run at 4 \= 1 6. l\ = $2.69.
Paid Coburn for Doctr. Cleaveland for carding 4 lb wool at .1 1 = .44.
Sally Andrews came here to board April 15th, 1806.
Alethea and Mary Ann boarded at Mrs. Porter’s 10 weeks. Sept. 8th, 1806.
Was absent at Election 2 weeks.
8o
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
Hitty Meriam came here to board April 2ist, 1806. Left here July 26th.
Lydia Emerson came here April 29th. Left here Aug. 9th. Boarded here 12 weeks at 125 cents per week, $15.00.
Borrowed of Doctr Cleaveland $40.50, Nov. 17, 1806.
Mar. 10, 1806. Sent 17 Dollars by David Cummings to Captn. Ziba Huntington of Lebanon, N. H., for keep- ing colt.
Dr. Cleaveland, Cr. by bottle of spirits of Turpentine, 8 lb. butter, cash 8 cents postage, 1 quart Malaga wine, J lb. Nitre, crackers, 17 cents, 2 quarts strong bier, 15 lb. Hogs lard.
Mar. 9, 1807. Nehemiah Cleaveland began school and to dine here.
Jan. 14,1807. R. Rudd, Cr. by tapping John Holland’s shoes. By tapping Wm. Jackson’s boots.
July 20, 1808. Edward A. Porter, Dr. to board, 15 weeks.
Oct. 2, 1808. Edward Horsman came here to board.
Dec. 20, 1808. Benjamin Cook came here Oct. 7th and left this day.
Nov. 19, 1805. Rev. Ebenr Dutch, Cr. by a Maple Table, $3.50 — by Bushel Rye, $1.58 — by Marble Table, $2.00.
Dec. 4, 1805. Elijah Porter came here to board. Dr. to pair shoes, $1.00 — to pair Boots, $3.20 — He left here Mar. 4, 1807. Alethea and Mary Ann [Mr. Huntington’s children?] there 56 weeks.
Mr. Huntington seems to have loaned money at various times as the following list shows.
Feb. 12, 1802. Jan. 29, 1805. May 29, 1801. Aug. 20, 1804.
Notes against Ebenezer Dutch
$250 00 350 00 150 00 71 60
<<
«<
|
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS. |
81 |
|||
|
Oct. |
10, |
1804. |
Ebenezer Dutch |
150 00 |
|
May 18, |
1805. |
i 4 |
100 00 |
|
|
July |
18, |
1803. |
Nat. Gould |
27 00 |
|
July |
7> |
1800. |
Doctr Lord |
100 00 |
|
July |
1789. |
Gurdon Huntington |
10 00 |
|
|
Sept. |
12, |
1802. |
Isah. Fuller |
60 00 |
|
Apr. |
2, |
1804. |
Sam. Hood |
42 00 |
|
Sept. 13, |
1800. |
Jacob Andrews |
23 84 |
|
|
Aug. |
8, |
1803. |
80 00 |
|
|
Feb. |
1, |
1803. |
John Gould, Springfield |
100 00 |
|
Oct. |
13, |
1802. |
Christopher Paige |
100 00 |
|
July |
J4> |
1802. |
Samuel Holyoke [of Boxford] |
61 25 |
|
May |
5> |
1797. |
Parker Cleaveland |
40 00 |
|
Mar. |
28, |
1801. |
Robert Perkins |
82 00 |
|
July Sept. |
12, |
1805. 1805. |
Luke Coffeen Gordon Dorrance, Minister of |
50 00 |
|
Windsor |
37 50 |
|||
|
Rev. Elizai Holyoke [of Box- |
||||
|
ford] |
49 00 |
|||
|
May |
7> |
1805. |
Lent Mrs. Holyoke |
10 00 |
|
Mar. 29, |
1806. |
Jacob Andrews |
50 00 |
|
|
Oct. |
9* |
l8l I. |
Aaron Barrett |
100 00 |
|
June |
6, |
l8ll. |
Theodore Cross of Wear [N. H.] |
45 00 |
|
Oct. |
26, |
l8lO. |
John Gould of Springfield |
60 92 |
|
Jonas Merriam |
20 00 |
|||
|
Oct. |
6, |
l8lO. |
Asa Towne |
30 00 |
|
Joseph Symonds |
109 00 |
|||
|
Robert Perkins |
83 00 |
|||
|
Zac Gould Jr. |
50 00 |
|||
|
Simon Gould |
10 00 |
|||
|
Asa Perkins |
50 00 |
Plainfield, July nth, 1815.
My dear son
I received your letter dated June 28th. In the reception of it I was comforted. You speak of your brother Elisha & of your sister respecting their thoughtfulness on subjects of infinite moment. I hope my dear son that your mind is impressed with some suitable sense of your lost condi-
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tion by nature, of your obligations to love God supreme- ly & to flee from sin as being committed against a being of spotless purity, & who cannot look thereon but with abhorrence & to whose view all our thoughts are naked. This is a subject I desire you may be most solicitous about. We have no encouragement for one moments delay. Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation. Seek first the kingdom of God & his righteousness & all other things shall be added unto you. It seems that you are yet undecided in your choice of the College for your education & are wishing to know my decisions in order to settle your great question. The fact is I have no particular plan as yet. My mind has been more occupied with the concerns of my friends, than with my own situation. I have a general plan in my own mind which I have men- tioned to no friend. That is to consider myself as hav- ing no fixed place of abode as long as my children are all of them unsettled in life should I live so long. I once thought that to be without a home which I could call my own must be an unpleasant state, but I find it otherwise. I hope I have profited, by a more habitual sense of my entire dependence on God for every good, which my situation is calculated to awaken. Then I feel the highest depend- ence. I see the greatest fitness in the Divine government & consequently feel the most happy. I think I wish to be where I can be most useful on the whole. At present I feel myself to be in that place. Your aunt Fuller is much better than when I wrote you. Still her health is feeble, her family large, her cares numerous, her husband much from home. Under all circumstances I feel unwilling to leave her at present. I think I shall probably tarry until the heat of summer is past. On many accounts I should be glad to be at Topsfield. I could take some care about your clothing if I were there which will not be con- venient for me here. You will want shirts and neck cloths, & other things, probably, beside a better coat. You must ask your Uncle and Aunt to look at your clothing & see what you need, and your Uncle will provide as he sees your wants are, excepting the article of stockings, that I will endeavor to provide.
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
83
Your Uncle & Aunt Douglass have been taking a trip to New York returned yesterday. Your aunt’s health which was not very good, I hope is improved by the journey. At New Haven they went on board the steam-boat for N. Y., had a pleasant passage. When at New Haven they saw your cousin William Danielson who enquired with much seeming interest about your determinations and said that he should be pleased to have you go to N. H. & should like to have you soon with him. He has a lad from Litchfield who he took for this quarter by the desire of his parents, but if he could know seasonably that you woud like to take his place he would reserve it for you. To me this would be a very happy circumstance. Were you to go the world over you could not find a room-mate more desirable to your mother. Your cousin informed your aunt D that there were funds for the purpose of as- sisting some who needed & that it might be in his power to obtain something for you. He had thought of writing to your Preceptor on the subject, I suppose to request some statement from him respecting your necessities in case you chose that college. He requested that I would write & give him information respecting you. I don’t know what to write without knowing more of your feel- ings. I wish you to decide for yourself as your Uncle seems to decline advising you which college to choose & in every- thing else ask him how it is proper to proceed, & I wish to know your determination as soon as may be. If Mr. Adams writes I wish to know it because it would be un- necessary for me to write. If you conclude to go to Han- over I shall wish to inform your cousin William. Should you go to Dartmouth I should be glad to have you come on with your brother & visit your connexions here if your uncle should think it advisable. Wherever I am I shall endeavor to have a room by myself as much as I wish, whenever my children can be with me, and endeavor to make them feel as much at home as possible. May we all learn to be contented in the state in which we are placed & learn to profit by everything that is passing be- fore us. Hitherto our situation has been ordered in great kindness. May we never forget our obligations to that
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HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
Being who governs all things. The stage will be in soon. I must close with only adding that I shall ever remember you
with tender affection.
Alethea Huntington
N. B. I wish you to superscribe your sister’s letter & send it by the first opportunity.
Mr. Asahel Huntington, Phillips Academy,
Andover, Mass.
[Mrs. Nehemiah Cleaveland to Mrs. Asahel Huntington.] Experience to Alethea.
A visit this afternoon will be very acceptable to the former from the latter, as an inducement she informs that Mr. Conant expects the singers to meet at his house this Evening in particular the Messrs Towne with their stringed instruments, viz., Bass, Counter & Treble. It is said they perform well, ask Mr. Huntington to come Tuesday, I o’clock A. M.
Newbury Port, August 9th, 1820.
My dear Mother
I reached Boston about 9 O’clock Thursday evening. Nothing transpired on the journey worth particularizing. I ought not to have said so. I had an opportunity of see- ing a most perfect contrast in two young ladies. One of them joined me at Douglass. She began to talk before she got into the stage, and kept up a continual torrent of words, as long as I had the pleasure of her company, which was about two hours. With the loquacity of the other lady, I was not at all troubled. She took the stage at Medfield and rode to Boston. She appeared remark- ably grave and dignified. She answered such questions as I asked her; and that was all. If I asked her opinion upon any subject, unless it could be expressed by yes or no, she would usually reply, I don’t know — when I am
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
85
confident she must have known, and must have had an opinion. I remained in Boston until Saturday morning, visited my friend Redman. He lives in Cambridge about a mile and a half from his shop, which is in Boston. He still carries on the business of paper-staining, his father died very suddenly in an epileptick fit. I called also upon his sister, who is married to a young merchant. I was rather unwell while in Boston and indeed have been so ever since until today. I took cold in consequence of rid- ing in the evening the day I left you. I made use of your medicine — drank two large tumblers of warm water. This experiment has confirmed my opinion very much in favour of its utility. Saturday morning I took the stage and rode as far as Lynn, where meeting with an old friend of Elisha’s, a Mr. Knight, I left the stage and rode with this gentle- man to Marblehead — found Elisha well and in good spirits, and what is even better than this, he has determined to leave Marblehead at the expiration of another quarter — and what is better even than this , he has almost come to the determination to study the profession of Physic. I think we all have cause of congratulation and joy that he is in so hopeful a way. He begins to think what he ought to have thought long ago, that he must either make a business of his present employment for life or study a pro- fession. I suggested to him what you said to me with re- gard to his visiting you at the close of the present quarter. He seemed to be of the same opinion. I think you need not look for him, until he leaves Marblehead. I called upon Mr. Cummins at Salem. He made the same pro- posal to me that he sometime since made to Doct. Cleave- land. He did not wish, he said, to interfere with any arrangements that I might have made at Newburyport, but he did wish, that in case I should conclude to take up my connexion there, I would remove to Salem. He in- troduced the subject himself. I think it will be rather a delicate business to manage and can't tell yet what course I shall pursue. I reached Topsfield on Monday, found Uncle C’s family all well. Lucy has commenced her second quarter at Salem. The prospect of settling a min- ister at T., are very encouraging. Mr. Dennis has received
86
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
an unanimous call, unanimous so far as this, that there were none who voted against him, there were two or three at the meeting who did not act at all. There is consider- able opposition to the salary, which is fixed at five hun- dred dollars. Mr. D. will give his answer next sabbath. I am authorized to state that it will be in the affirmative. The sovereign people are yet in the dark, and are forming vari- ous conjectures as to the result. You can easily surmise who my authority is. They have raised five hundred dollars by subscription, as a settlement. I remained only one day at Topsfield. Mr. Wildes has felt considerable anxiety about me. He wrote letters of enquiry both to Topsfield and Marblehead. Doctor Cleaveland holds two notes against you, the principal of both of which is six hundred and forty dollars, the amount must be about seven hundred and eighty dollars. I don’t recollect the exact date, but this calculation cannot be far out of the way. One note of $518 was given 1816 the other of $122 in 1818. I was sorry that I forgot to take your bill against Mary Ann. I hope you will find the home establishment useful and easy of operation.
Remember me affectionately to Hezekiah and Mary Ann and all friends at Killingly. I want to hear from you soon. How does the little cousin do? Does H., keep up his resolution?
Your affectionate son,
Asahel Huntington.
N. B. The enclosed letter I found in the Post Office at Topsfield. I wish H. would write me respecting Doct. C’s sheep. He seemed to be not fully decided. I told the Doct. I thought he would take them.
Mrs. Alethea Huntington,
Killingly, Con.
Topsfield, April 22, 1826.
My Dear Sister
What changing scenes and vicissitudes do we con- stantly witness and experience in our journey of life? Many solemn and affecting changes have taken place
HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
87
among our dear friends and acquaintances, since we saw each other last. Some in their narrow cells are laid till the Resurrection Morn. The evening after the death of our excellent Brother at Byfield, which solemn event had cast its gloom over every object. Lucy received a letter from her cousin Mary Ann which informed us of the Death of our Inestimable friend Mrs. Mary Warner; this was solemn tidings to me. How rapidly did my thoughts fly back to the scenes of early life. She was the companion of my childhood and youth, my sister, my Friend. You remember our early attachment to each other and the invariable friendship that subsisted between us, but I hope and trust that our loss is her unspeakable gain. It was very comforting to me to hear that she manifested such a child-like submission and Christian res- ignation to the will of her Heavenly Father in the closing scene of life; her trials have been great, but we have reason to believe they have been sanctified to her. Like- wise our excellent and tried friend the Reved Walter Lydn has closd his eyes upon all sublunary things, an event he has long been waiting for, and expecting, and I trust found him prepared for that world where there is no pain, sickness or death ; and where the tears will be forever wiped from his eyes. I think much of those dear rela- tives and friends, their earthly loss is great, but I hope they will find that divine support and consolation which the world cannot give nor take from them. We were agreeably surprised last Saturday evening on the arrival of our Con. friends. It was so totally unexpected that we could hardly believe our own eyes ; we feel grateful for a short visit, but should have been gratified had a longer one been consistant with their other engagements. Mary receivd a letter from Mary Ann last Thursday. Lucy wrote an answer to it and sent it in the mail a few hours before B. Fuller arrived; I mention the circumstance as Lucy wrote to Mary Ann a few weeks since which she says she has never received. Mary Ann appears to be in low spirits when she wrote, she says she has been troubled with a distressing cough for some time which in addition to her usually feeble health, I think must debilitate her very
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HUNTINGTON FAMILY PAPERS.
much. Perhaps there is nothing that will be more likely to recruit her strength than a journey taken leisurely. We had fully expected that Sister Douglass and Mary Ann would have come on to Topsfield as soon as the season was sufficiently advanced but Mary Ann informed us that she believed that her Aunt D., had made up her mind to continue at Plainfield this summer. I wrote to Sister Douglass a few weeks since and gave her some account of Topsfield people which I suppose she has communicated to you. I mentioned the Death of Mr. A. Fosters widow and Mr. Josiah Lambson. Mr. L’s wickness was a lung fever, terminated life in a few days. He had his reason perfectly, was alive and awake to the solemn change he was about to make of worlds, and was very anxious for the salvation of his soul, was much in prayer to God, and it is not for us to say that he was not heard and escaped even at the eleventh hour. Since that Mr. David Cummings died very suddenly of an apoplectic fit; last Sabbath Mr. Samuel Fisk died in the Alms House. We are continually reminded of our duty, to be wise, to understand, and con- sider our latter end. We hope Mary Ann will come on to Topsfield as soon as the weather and travelling will do, and why cannot her dear Mother accompany her. Be as- sured my dear sister it would be very gratifying to us all. We feel that we are entitled to a share of your company while you are in an unsettled state. We hope Sister Douglass has not wholly relinquished the idea of coming to Topsfield this Spring. We cannot but think all her friends would think it best for her. This week on Wednesday your Brother was under a necessity of going to Newbury-