The silence, which lasted a moment or two, was broken by Mr. Mather, who remarked that the providence of God had furnished a theme for reflection, which was fitted to impress the mind with the instability of earth and all earthly things. It was a voice ofadmonition which could not be disregarded. When pestilence and famine were abroad in the land, the means of at least temporary relief were possessed. But when the pillars of the world were moved and its foundations upheaved by unseen and terrible agents; it was then every earthly refuge was vain. 'But,' he continued, 'there is one hiding place which, in the midst of every convulsion, is safe for the believer. Time has not reached it with his consuming hand; tempests have beat upon it in vain; pestilence, famine or earthquake can never waste its strength; it shall survive the ruin of earth, the wreck of planets, and a dissolving universe. This refuge is the 'Rock of ages;' here are towers of strength and palaces of hope, built on foundations which rest on the throne of God. The voice we have just heard is the voice of a father telling us to hide in these chambers of his grace, 'until the indignation be overpast;' it is but a louder echo of his mercy, warning us that earth must pass away with a great noise, and the elements melt with fervent heat; and, at the same time, assuring us that, though the mountains depart and the hills be removed, his loving kindness shall not depart from his people.'
Such was a part of the extempore address, which the interesting circumstances of the evening called forth. It was followed by a fervent prayer, and a train of salutary reflections occupied the minds of the party, as they dispersed to their several homes.
'What an unfortunate evening we have had!' said Strale to Lyford, on their return home; 'every thing has gone wrong. Trellison was in the wrong place, the wine went the wrong way, and the earthquake came at the wrong time.'
'Hush, Walter; you speak too lightly on this latter point. All the trifles of the evening vanished from my mind when the earthquake voice of my Maker spoke to me of a coming judgment, and a crashing world. Why is it, Walter, that we think so little of our future destiny? Why do we build our hopes on a world we must leave so soon?'
'I know it is a fitting time to think, James,' said Strale; 'I would that sensible objects had less effect upon me; but so it is, Lyford, and I cannot help it. I thought more of myown misfortunes this evening than any thing else. Even the earthquake scarcely diverted my thoughts from that unfortunate overthrow, which I verily believe was caused by Trellison.'
'It is vain and foolish, Walter, to dwell upon such trifles. I am no enemy, as you well know, to social pleasures, but at such an hour as this, I am sorry your mind is not better occupied. It is now nearly midnight, the way is solitary, and its very silence seems to me ominous and impressive: these leafless trees, all nature hushed and dead, the voice which has just issued from the groaning earth,—all these speak to us of our mortality, warn us of the flight of time, and throw around us the dim figures and solemn images of a coming hereafter.'
'You are superstitious to-night, James. I do not mean to say your views in the main are not reasonable and right, but there is a tinge of melancholy in your language and manner, which is hardly natural. I wish to be as religious as you are, but not quite so grave, for gravity you know has little to do with my constitution. We are now nearlyhome, and when we get there I will converse with you on religion if you wish, but not exactly in this way.'
At this moment they entered a narrow turn in the road, which was lined on either side by a dense forest for nearly a mile; the large tangled bushes formed the only fence, and the way was so nearly open, that any one coming from the woods might enter it with little obstruction. The night was extremely dark, and not even a star was visible; the young travellers, however, were provided with a small lantern, which was a very important guide in this stage of their walk. A slight rustling in the woods had once or twice arrested the attention of James, who remarked that he could hardly account for it at that hour of the night, and at this season of the year.
'The wind may produce it,' said Strale; 'the imagination may produce it; and possibly, Lyford, the Salem witches may be dancing about in the woods. By the way, I wonder Cotton Mather said nothing about these rumors from Salem; he is just the man to believe them. Do you think it possible he knows nothing of the story?'
'Very possible, indeed; for it attracts verylittle notice, and is in fact very little known. Mr. Mather is inclined to superstition, but I hardly think he believes in ghosts and witches. I am quite sure his father would not sanction such folly, and the father and son are not much inclined to differ in opinion.'
'I have no very high opinion of Cotton Mather. He may be a good man; he is certainly forcible and impressive in the pulpit; and it is thought his rising greatness will soon eclipse that of his father; but in my belief Dr. Mather, if not a greater man, is a far better one, and the son, with all his eccentric brilliancy, can never rival the father. He is headstrong, violent, and intolerant. I hope the President will soon return, and keep his son from meddling with college affairs.'
'He will soon be here,' said Lyford; 'and in my opinion he will come the messenger of good to these colonies; he will obtain for this Puritan community from the Prince of Orange, what the bigotry and pride of the Stuarts would never grant. No man's return to Boston can be so welcome as that of Dr. Mather.'
The conversation was interrupted by a sound in the woods, resembling the tread of footsteps among the tangled bushes. Walterproposed to walk in the direction indicated by the noise, and ascertain if possible the cause. Lyford, however, objected, and thought it best not to separate; for a little of the superstition which such circumstances might readily occasion, had now affected the minds of both, but particularly that of Lyford. They walked silently along for a moment or two, when a sudden flash was seen, which was followed by a quick, sharp report, like that of a rifle, and the rustling of the bushes over the way indicated that they were torn and rent by a shower of lead. Another flash succeeded, when a shot struck the hand of Strale, and passed off into the neighboring woods.
'There are no witches here,' said Strale; 'there is too much cold lead to come from the gun of a witch; look at my hand, Lyford, and be thankful as I am it was not my head.'
'This is no time to look at heads or hands,' said Lyford, 'but to escape the loss of both, if we can'; and he instantly extinguished the lamp, and suppressing the voice of Walter, who was about to speak, they moved along as silently as possible, and in half an hour entered the college gate.
These singular events, following each otherso rapidly, made a strong impression on the minds of both Strale and Lyford. It was impossible not to connect them in some shape with Trellison, and yet there was a boldness and audacity in the affair, which was hardly consistent with his reputation for caution and cunning. It was too late to do any thing about it that night, and after an examination of the wound of Strale, which proved very slight, a few simple remedies were applied, and they retired for such rest as the exciting scenes of the evening might allow.
The next day the story was rife in Cambridge, and a strong excitement was produced throughout the town. Trellison was at once suspected, and as his dislike to Strale was well known, a legal investigation was proposed, and immediately carried into effect; not, however, without a strong remonstrance from Walter and his friend, who were disposed to let the affair drop. A warrant was immediately issued for the apprehension of Trellison, but before it could be served, he was warned of the movements against him, and advised to make his escape. This he refused to do, and declared himself ready for immediate trial. Accordingly, when the officerappeared, he accompanied him to a magistrate, and the investigation proceeded in regular form.
All the evidence against Trellison was circumstantial, and rested mainly on two facts; one of these was his inveterate dislike of Strale, which, with all his caution, he had been unable to conceal; the other was the very late hour of his return, and his disturbed and agitated manner, which was remarked by several persons, as soon as he entered his lodgings. In his defence, he stated very forcibly his objections to the first branch of evidence, declaring that nothing less than madness could prompt even an enemy to a kind of revenge which was so rash, and must recoil so soon on the aggressor. He explained the lateness of his return by saying that he walked with one of the young ladies for nearly half an hour before he left Boston, and on taking his leave, he came home on the public road, and was himself surprised, on his arrival, at the lateness of the hour.
The magistrate demanded the name of the young lady, as her evidence might be important in the case.
Trellison replied, that he should give it withreluctance, but would do it, if the requirement was mandatory.
The magistrate repeated the question, and insisted on a prompt reply.
'The name of the lady,' said Trellison, 'is Miss Graham.'
Walter started at this annunciation, and the blood rushed to his face; but he recovered himself in a moment, and the sudden flush escaped the notice of all excepting Trellison.
The magistrate thought it necessary to send for Miss Graham, and ordered that Trellison should be held in custody till the next day, when Miss Graham's evidence would be taken, and all the parties should have a fair hearing.
Strale and Lyford now requested that Trellison might be liberated on his own bail. They also stated the complaint had been made against their wishes, and they believed the evidence was such as did not warrant his committal. But the magistrate immediately ordered Trellison to prison, and rebuked the young students for meddling with his official duties. The public feeling was very strong against Trellison, and scarcely any doubt remained, that on the next day he would beconvicted of an aggravated assault, with intent to murder.
At this stage of the business, to the surprise of all, two young men, members of college, appeared and declared themselves the parties in fault. They stated, that having been in Roxbury the preceding afternoon on a shooting excursion, they had taken supper at an inn on their way home, and after supper several persons came in, and the evening was occupied in card-playing and wine-drinking; the wine proved too strong for them, so much so as to make them wholly unconscious of the earthquake, the news of which surprised them, the next day. On their return home at a late hour, they saw a long distance behind them a light, which they supposed proceeded from the lantern of some members of college. They had now partially recovered from the effects of the wine, and on seeing this light, they resolved to play off a joke, and accordingly went into the neighboring woods and waited till the students came up; they then fired successively, aiming at the bushes a few rods in advance of the travellers. The guns were loaded with buckshot only, but they supposed the unsteadiness of their aimproceeded from the fumes of wine, and on hearing Strale remark that his hand was wounded, and seeing him by the light of the lantern hold it up to his companion, they feared the joke had been carried too far, and after waiting till the road was still, they went home.
This relation established the innocence of Trellison beyond all doubt, and very much to the annoyance of several officious individuals who had prejudged the case, and fully believed in his guilt. Walter and Lyford shared too in the awkwardness and confusion that followed. All they could do was to make a full apology, and express their deep regret at the course which had been taken. Trellison bowed haughtily, but in such a manner as to show that the offence would not readily be forgiven. The two young men who had made confession, were held to bail for subsequent examination, and the parties soon after dispersed.
A few days after the adventure in the woods, Lyford obtained leave to visit his friends in Hadley. At that time such a journey was no small affair; and the road was so new, so little travelled, and the settlements on the way were so thinly scattered, that it required a good deal of preparation, and was usually performed on horseback. There were no inns on the road, except a small house in the settlement at Worcester, and a log cabin in the neighborhood of Brookfield, where food and lodging might be had.
The journey was undertaken in company with a friend, and the ride of four days among the forests of New England was characterized by a variety of romantic and pleasing incidents. It was not without peril of life and limb, for the road was often precipitous, andthough sometimes travelled in sleighs and wheel carriages, these conveyances were little adapted to its rugged surface, and afforded small comfort to their riders. The road was perfectly known to Lyford, and the scenery on the way was so picturesque and beautiful that he often paused in admiration on some of the cliffs over which his path led him, and gazed long and with lively interest at those wild and rugged features of nature which the labor of man has since softened into the calmer lineaments of pleasant meadows, flourishing gardens and cultivated fields.
The village of Hadley had been the residence of the venerated Gen. Goffe. Every incident in his grandfather's history, every spot which the illustrious exile loved, was dear to the memory of Lyford. In their early childhood, James and his sister were the solace of many a weary hour, and threw around the aged patriot the last gleams of sunshine which fell on his troubled career. Every one loved the old man; and the mandate of the royal Stuart and his bribe of gold were of no force among the peaceful villagers, who well knew the veteran's retreat, and could never be persuaded, by promise or threat,to betray him. The sympathies of the community in which he lived were wholly on his side, and all those friendly offices which affection could suggest, or kindness confer, were liberally bestowed. But the tyrannical Charles was then in the zenith of his power, and the last days of Goffe were imbittered by the tidings of his constant and successful aggressions on the laws and liberties of England. Whatever were his errors in pronouncing judgment upon the only Stuart who commands the sympathy and affection of posterity, it is certain that Gen. Goffe deplored the necessity of such a sacrifice, and acted under a strong, but misguided sense of duty. His name is yet held in honored and grateful remembrance; his ashes rest in a land where no kingly prerogative tramples with its iron foot on the sacred rights of man, and where the blessed vision that shone so brightly on his eye, is a living and glorious reality.
During Lyford's absence, his sister returned to Salem, and Walter applied himself with new vigor to his studies. Before Mary left Boston, however, their mutual vows had been pledged, with the full consent of Walter's parents, whose reply to his earnest requestwas as kind and affectionate as he could desire. Strale had never requested Miss Graham to explain the circumstances of Trellison's long interview with her on his way home from Mr. Elliott's, but as she was aware of the difficulties which occurred at Cambridge on the next day, and of the singular and suspicious attitude in which Trellison's declaration had placed her, she now thought it proper to make Walter acquainted with all the facts in the case. It appeared that Mr. Trellison had long persisted in a class of attentions which were exceedingly annoying and disagreeable, and Miss Graham determined to accept his offer to accompany her home, with a view to put a final end to his importunities. On this occasion Trellison again renewed his request, that she would so far permit his attentions as to allow him the hope of a future union, declaring that his love was stronger than death, and that no conceivable suffering could be equal to that which must follow the abandonment of his hope. Miss Graham had long known the strength of his attachment, and in reply assured him that in many points he possessed her esteem and respect, but beyond that, she could give no response to his feelings,and begged he would cease his attentions, declaring once for all, that all hope and expectation on his part were entirely groundless, and must terminate, as her affections were already fixed upon another, and his duty to himself and to her required that he should no longer molest her with such attentions as she could never reciprocate.
The result of this interview accounted for the haggard and troubled appearance of Trellison on his return to Cambridge. It was a fatal blow to his hopes, it struck deeply at his pride, and aroused a train of reflections and purposes which, under various disguises, were so interwoven with the severity of his religious views, as to conceal from him in part their real turpitude. He could not forgive Strale for supplanting him, as he supposed, in Mary's love. He began to think Miss Graham herself was not the angelic being his fancy had pictured, and a feeling of bitterness against both soon passed over his mind, which he chose to indulge, as furnishing some antidote to the disappointment and shame which had nearly overwhelmed him.
It was now the clear sunshine of happiness with Walter. His long cherished object hadbeen attained, and he looked forward with pride and pleasure to the day when he could call Miss Graham his own, and present her to his parents as the object of his warmest love.
Mary, too, was happy; but there was one blot in the beautiful picture she was contemplating. Strale was not decidedly religious. His principles were firm, his views of religion serious and respectful; but this was not sufficient or satisfactory. She was desirous most of all, that he might possess that inestimable pearl, which he who obtains will never give up, and he who refuses to seek will never obtain. Her conversations with Walter on religious subjects were frequent and serious; and every day, while they were together, she had the happiness to find him more deeply interested, and more determined that his future well being should become a matter of personal concern and solicitude.
On the last evening before Mary left Boston, the conversation was more than usually interesting. The day had been clear and cold—there was little snow on the ground, but it presented a smooth surface of ice over which they found a pleasant walk on the borders of the forest which then occupied, in thewildness of its original growth, the present site of the Boston common. The moonlight was falling among the trees, and was also reflected from the ice and snow, whose beautiful expanse was visible on the south. The subject of conversation was the character of New-England piety. Walter had serious objections to its general features, which he thought were unnatural and unwarranted by the scriptures. He objected to its harshness and severity, its alliance to bigotry and superstition, its restraint upon the buoyancy and cheerfulness of youth, and its rigid demands upon the time and attention of its professors.
'These, Mary,' said he, 'are difficulties which I cannot get over. Surely religion was never intended to strip the world of its beauty and clothe it in unnatural gloom. It must animate all our joyous sensibilities, and not suppress them—it must give us bright pictures of the future life, and not such as will cast shadows and gloom over the present.'
'Religion, Walter,' replied Mary, 'must strip the world of its false beauty, and present it in its true light. It must frown upon every sensibility, however joyous, which is sinful. It claims our supreme regard, and demandsthe first place in our pursuits, the first in our affections. The beauty and color of the richest wine are often heightened by the poisonous drug—shall we therefore press the chalice to our lips? Will you not agree with me that most of that which charms the youthful mind is false and illusive?'
'I have often found it so. But on the other hand, is there no excess in religious sensibility? Do not insanity and despair sometimes follow in the train of excited apprehensions of future wrath, and is not the imagination often terrified and distracted by groundless alarms?'
'This excess of sensibility is not peculiar to religious subjects. The intense application of the mind to any subject of absorbing interest will often destroy its balance, and unfit it for usefulness and happiness. How is it with the men of pleasure, of wealth, of talent and fame? Are they not overthrown sometimes by the excitement of their several vocations? And can religion, Walter, which is of all themes the most exciting, be always contemplated with such calmness as never to distract the mind?'
'It is not religion, dear Mary, that I object to; but to those distorted and unnatural shapeswhich it seems to wear in the community. Look now at the strange delusion which prevails at Salem. Under color of religion, several innocent persons have been imprisoned, charged with crimes which they cannot commit if they would; and yet we are told the interests of true religion require their punishment.'
'These are the excrescences of religion,' replied Mary, 'not the thing itself. As to the witch stories, and the proceedings of the magistrates, there is folly enough about them; but I am quite sure no part of it is to be laid to religion. Superstition affects all minds more or less. It has a most powerful agency in the papal church, and is an important part of the machinery by which that evil system is supported. I believe there is less of it here than elsewhere; and yet if its elements are once in commotion, there is no absolute protection against its power. Not many years since several persons were punished in England for witchcraft, and it is unfortunate that the relations between the physical and mental states are not better understood. The ignorant and credulous too often mistake the disorders of their minds for the influence of mysteriousspirits and malignant demons, and for want of a just discrimination, the most disastrous results will sometimes follow.'
'I am ashamed to confess, Mary, that my own experience goes to confirm the truth of your remarks. I am not wholly free from superstitious feelings. There have been times in my life when I was ready to start at the fall of a leaf, and have felt an undefinable and mysterious awe, for which I could trace no sufficient cause. I have been at times almost ready to sympathize with those who look at the blooming of a flower out of its season, or the sudden blighting of blossoms on the tree, as intimations of death or some other calamity. I remember a family of six brothers in Virginia, the youngest ten years of age, and all of them in sound and vigorous health. A number of peach trees in fine condition were growing in front of the house. They were very remarkable for the abundance and excellence of their fruit. Early in the spring before I left, those trees were observed to be full of blossoms, when suddenly, and without apparent cause, the bloom of three of them was blighted, and in a few weeks they died. Soon after I reachedBoston I was informed by letter, that three of those brothers were successively seized with fever and died. Was not this, Mary, a shadow of things to come, a significant token of the desolation which so soon fell upon the family? Was it not at least remarkable in its circumstances?'
'Just now, Walter, you seemed to warn me against superstition, and then suggested a train of thought which could not fail to awaken it, if I had any. Indeed, Walter, I have no belief in its being a wonder, even as you state it. What is more common than for a peach tree to be full of blossoms, and then suddenly die. A worm at the root, a thousand blighting influences, are constantly at work to undermine its little life; and if the incident contains an impressive lesson, it does not warrant us in believing it the design of Providence to reveal thereby the deaths which soon after occurred.'
'You are not so credulous even, as I am,' said Walter, 'and I certainly am not so religious as you are. This would seem to prove there is no tendency in your religion to blend itself with superstition. It is therefore but reasonable that I should give up this point. Yet thatsuperstition now reigns to an alarming degree in this very religious community is not to be denied. The singular antics and wild fancies of those who are so strangely affected, will easily satisfy the multitude of the presence and power of evil spirits; and where shall we look for a remedy? Now, strange as it may seem to you, it is my belief, if public amusements were introduced, assemblies for dancing, and even theatrical exhibitions, these would do more to banish the delusion than any thing else. The truth is, I hear so many strange things, so well accredited from sources so respectable, that I half believe Satan has been let loose upon the community, and is moulding the opinions and conduct of men according to his own will.'
'The measures you propose, to drive him off,' said Mary, laughing, 'would rather induce him to stay. He is said to be very much at home in places where these amusements abound. Nevertheless, if I were sure he would be so well satisfied with the means you propose, as to let go his hold upon the fancies of the community, I think we might be gainers by the exchange. It would be substituting the lesser for the greater evil.'
'What surprises me most,' said Walter, 'is the ready credence which is given to those who say they are affected by witches. Judge Sewall, who is certainly a wise and cool tempered man, Gov. Stoughton, and other distinguished men, are firm believers in the reality of these affections; and there is even now an appeal to the Mosaic scriptures to punish witches with death. One of its commands, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,' is quoted as a divine warrant for judicial proceedings; and such is the zeal manifested in the cause, I fear it will lead to the death of those individuals who are now in prison.'
'Well, Walter, whatever comes of it, do not, I pray you, impute it to religion. It has nothing to do with it. Some of the most pious in the land are doing all in their power to divert the public feeling into a different channel. There is Mr. Higginson, my own minister, of Salem, venerable and beloved by all; Mr. Willard, here, Mr. Brattle and Mr. Leverett, the latter your own tutor at Cambridge; all these, and many others, though to some extent believers in witchcraft, are entirely opposed to the interference of the law, and think the evil will soon cure itself. Letus trust in Providence that all will come right. And for you, dear Walter, I dread the thought that this mental epidemic should lead you to distrust for a moment the efficacy and power of the gospel. Believe it, Walter, for it is assuredly true: the gospel, received and trusted, is the best remedy for every mental and moral disorder.'
'It would be happy for me, dear Mary, could the same christian graces which adorn your character, shine forth in mine. I know that true piety towards God is my only safeguard from the ills of life, my only hope for the life to come. I believe in the great truths you profess. I long to experience their power in my own heart, and whatever sacrifice of the world it may cost, I hope through the mercy of a Redeemer, I shall be his willing and obedient disciple.'
The conversation closed as they reached the door of Mr. Hallam, with whose family Mary was to spend the last night of her stay in Boston.
It was not surprising that a superstition so unwarrantable should give to a mind like Strale's, false and unfavorable notions of religion. He imputed the delusion to what hethought the sternness and severity of the popular religious feeling, not considering that a simple analysis of the mind will develope a multitude of causes, upon which the imputation may far more justly rest. The conversation we have related tended very much to dispel this error, and in the painful scenes which were soon to be developed, he was enabled to distinguish with great accuracy between the religious principle and the wild and dreadful fanaticism with which it was attended.
It was now the latter end of February, 1692. The winter had been cold, and the ground since December had most of the time been covered with snow. Our young friend, James Lyford, we left in Hadley. He was spending a few weeks in the family of Mr. Temple, who in the days of General Goffe was his intimate friend, and by his generosity and personal society had contributed greatly to the quiet and happiness of the exiled patriot. James had spent his early youth in Hadley, and a thousand pleasant associations were connected with its natural scenery, and the localities and friends of his childhood. The little time allowed for his visit, passed rapidly away, and his engagements at college required his return early in March. He wished also to spend a few days in Worcester on hisreturn, to see a friend who had just located in that new settlement. One of Mr. Temple's sons, named Henry, a lad of fourteen years of age, was permitted to accompany him.
The little fellow had heard much of Boston, and longed to see a place which contained so many objects to gratify curiosity. The notions of the peaceful villagers of Hadley, in those days, were confined very much to their own beautiful territories, and they never thought of visiting Boston except for purposes of business, and having supplied their wants, which were few and simple, they always gladly returned to their homes, and in the community of friendship and good will, together with the christian sympathy which pervaded their little settlement, they found a degree of contentment and happiness, to which wealth, fashion and luxury can never attain.
'Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,Their sober wishes never learned to stray;Along the cool, sequestered vale of life,They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.'
'Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,Their sober wishes never learned to stray;Along the cool, sequestered vale of life,They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.'
'Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,Their sober wishes never learned to stray;Along the cool, sequestered vale of life,They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.'
'Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool, sequestered vale of life,
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.'
But the youth of Hadley were not always satisfied with the quiet scenes of rural life. The fame of Boston, its high buildings,crowded market, the steeples and bells of the churches, the ships in the harbor, and its various objects of interest and attraction, possessed a charm which never invested their own blue hills and blooming forests. Boston at this time contained six thousand inhabitants, and was a beautiful town, covered with fine buildings, pleasant gardens, and streets ornamented by trees. Many of our young readers will remember their feelings, when for the first time they came to visit this now splendid city, and will readily imagine those of young Temple, when the same prospect, though in miniature, was held out to his eye.
It required some special preparation for a journey to Boston, the distance being one hundred miles, and through a country but little travelled, and with only two inns on the road. The sleighing was now fine, and Lyford preferred this mode of conveyance, as they had several articles to carry, which could not be taken on horseback. Mr. Temple provided them with every thing necessary for themselves, and provender for the horse; they had also materials for producing fire, an axe, and a shovel, to be used in case of snow-drifts, besides the trunk which containedLyford's clothes, and books; a rifle, with sufficient powder and ball, completed their arrangements for the journey.
Thus equipped, the two friends started on the twenty-sixth of February, and in the evening arrived at a little settlement, thirty miles from Hadley, where they passed the night. Leaving early the next morning, they hoped to reach Worcester in the evening, and they rode quietly most of the day, moving very slowly on account of the difficulties of the road, which was but slightly broken. The morning had been fine and clear, but towards noon the clouds came up, and the wind changed to northeast,—indicating one of those violent snow-storms which sometimes filled up the roads, and placed a long embargo on social intercourse. As the day declined, it began to snow, and James now urged his horse to his utmost speed, as they were far from any habitation, and there seemed no alternative, but either to get to Worcester, or perish in the woods. The snow was now falling thick and fast, with a high northeast wind directly in the faces of the travellers, and creating new obstacles to the already difficult road; the evening was at hand, and theywere still ten miles from Worcester, and so violent was the storm, that it soon became evident they could not reach the settlement. In this dilemma, they hesitated for a moment, when James recollected a kind of shed he had seen on his way up, about a mile from their present position; and being assured that the only chance for their lives was in reaching that spot, they redoubled their efforts, James clearing the way with his shovel, and Henry leading the horse, the tempest meanwhile raging with the greatest violence.
The horse was now hardly able to keep his feet, having been jaded and exhausted by incessant toil, and they were still a quarter of a mile from the shed: at this moment they reached a high drift, which it seemed impossible to pass; and Henry, worn out with cold and fatigue, could no longer make the least effort. Lyford was now in the most alarming circumstances; he was himself greatly fatigued, and his strength could not much longer sustain him. He placed Henry in the sleigh, and covered him with blankets, while he returned to the snow-drift with his shovel, and in half an hour worked through. It was now dark, and the wind had fortunately blownthe snow from the remainder of the road to the shed, which he reached, at last, nearly overcome by anxiety and fatigue. It was well they found a resting-place there, for just before them an immense snow-drift reared its white and impassable barrier, which the strength of twenty men could not sufficiently reduce, and there was no circuit by which it could be avoided.
The shed under which our travellers were now resting, was built of logs, and wholly open in front; it faced the south, and its roof, composed of lighter wood, sloped nearly to the ground. It was built merely to feed horses on their way, and furnish a convenient spot, where travellers might rest for an hour. In one corner was a rough chimney, made of stones, but there was no furniture of any description, and little shelter from rain when the wind was south; but it seemed to our travellers, in their forlorn condition, like a home of safety and rest. They were yet unable to tell what might befall them, but their first duty of devout thanksgiving to a kind and protecting Providence was immediately and gratefully performed.
The storm had now increased to a furioustempest; the wind roared among the trees, and its wild and startling echoes sounded from the valleys and rocks. Sometimes they came in the loud tones of thunder, and then in the rapid sweep of the whirlwind; and vast clouds of snow were driven along the open spaces, and piled in huge heaps near the open front of the shed, affording some additional shelter to its inmates. But the place was at best a cold and comfortless lodging: there was no wood for a fire, and only the dim candle of the lantern to afford them light. In these circumstances, Lyford made the best possible arrangements for the night: the sleigh was placed in a corner, two large blankets were extended before it and fastened to a pole, which was secured to a low beam that ran across the shed, and by a rude frame-work supported its roof. This contrivance furnished a kind of enclosure, which kept out the snow, and afforded a partial shelter for the horse as well as themselves. The poor animal, thoroughly exhausted, on being loosed from the harness, immediately laid himself down, and was covered by a blanket, and protected as far as possible from the storm. Lyford prepared a bed in the sleigh,of such materials as he could collect, and after taking some refreshment they covered themselves and went quietly to rest.
When the morning appeared, the storm was wild and fierce as ever. An immense quantity of snow had fallen, the atmosphere was filled with its driving masses, and there seemed no prospect of a favorable change. Lyford dug his way a few steps from the shed, but it was vain to contend with the furious elements, and he was glad to retreat to his forlorn shelter. By the light of day he discovered a quantity of broken wood and branches of trees, which afforded them the relief of a fire; and this was the more necessary, as the air was now excessively cold. A survey of their supplies followed, by which it appeared their corn and provisions were sufficient, with economy, for eight or ten days; the horse, however, it was necessary to keep on very short allowance, as there was little prospect that they could proceed on their journey for ten days at least.
On the third day the storm abated, and in the afternoon the sun came forth in his glory. Lyford succeeded in digging his way to a neighboring tree, and ascended to its topmostbranches, where he beheld a vast and trackless expanse of snow, which had spread over hill and valley to an average depth of nearly three feet, but which in many places was piled like mountains, and seemed to defy all the power of man to break down its barriers and force a passage.
As Lyford descended from the tree, he saw a dark object on the snow, about a quarter of a mile distant, and in the direction of what appeared to be the road. It first seemed like the trunk of a tree, which had been burned to a coal, yet he soon perceived it had a slow motion towards him. His curiosity was strongly excited, and he gazed with increasing interest, until the outlines of a human figure were distinctly visible, as it dragged its slow pace through the heavy snow drifts towards Lyford. In about an hour from the time he was discovered, Pompey—for it was no other than he—stood before Lyford, who was extremely perplexed and surprised at his sudden appearance.
'Be this you, Massa James?' said Pompey. 'How came you up in dis tree, and among dese snow banks?'
'It will be time enough to ask thesequestions when I get out. But what brings you here, Pompey?'
'Come to find you, Massa. Went to Wooster first, but no Massa Lyford there—so I came all the way here. Will you tell me, Massa, where I get something to eat?'
'All in good time. But where did you stay last night, Pompey?—you could hardly walk a mile a day through such snow drifts as these.'
'Staid in the trunk of a tree, Massa, these two nights, and glad to get there,—snow storm drove me in. I look out to-day, and saw a man climb a tree. I thought if Pompey get to that man, he may find something better than snow to eat.'
'Hard fare, Pompey; how do you like this blessed land now?'
'Nothing but trouble in it, Massa James; kicks, prisons, and snow-storms. No such things in Virginny. Hope Massa Walter send me back before de debils carry me off. Boston and Salem full of debils as dey can hold; de women full of debils, too, and de men running as if de debils were after them. Here's a letter for you, Massa Lyford.'
James took Pompey to the shed, where thepoor negro obtained some food, and was soon in a condition to give some further account of himself. The letter he brought was from Strale, in which he requested Lyford to return without delay. He stated that universal distrust prevailed, and that consternation and dismay extended to every circle; the regular studies at college were interrupted, accusations for witchcraft were coming in from every quarter, and it was fully believed the reign of Satan had commenced. For himself, he held the popular notions in utter contempt; but it was foolish and dangerous to oppose them openly, and he begged that Lyford would not tarry at Worcester, but return at once, as his counsel and assistance might be necessary; and as no one was safe, it was better for him to be at home, where such measures might be adopted, as the course of events should require.
Walter had despatched this letter to Worcester, in the expectation that Lyford was there; but the faithful negro, finding he had not arrived, pushed on towards Hadley, until driven by the snow-storm into such shelter as he could find, when he fortunately discovered Lyford in the manner we have related.
It was impossible to leave the shed with any hope of making progress through the snow; the travellers were therefore compelled to wait for a change of weather. They succeeded in procuring wood enough in the neighborhood to keep up their fire, and by good management they were tolerably comfortable for a few days. During this time, the solitary waste was cheered by no voice or track of man; all was silent, save that now and then the loud report of Lyford's rifle, aimed at some passing wild-fowl, sent its echoes among the trees: but on the sixth day a gentle south wind sprung up, which was soon followed by a cloudy sky, and in the evening torrents of rain began to fall, which deluged the country like a flood. It continued all the next day, and it was with great difficulty a dry spot could be preserved in the shed. In the evening it cleared up; the wind suddenly changed to north-west, and became extremely cold. The next day, being the eighth from the time they first entered the shed, the travellers were again on their way over a smooth surface of snow and ice; and in two hours the little cluster of houses at the settlement, with its white church spire,greeted their eyes, and gave them promise of refreshment and rest.
Such adventures as these were very common among the pioneers of New England. Her vigorous and hardy population, despising the rigor of the climate, penetrated her deepest recesses, planted themselves in the midst of her forests, and there, rich in contentment, in honest industry and vigorous health, and above all in the unfettered exercise of the rights of conscience, they fulfilled their work on earth, and calmly and peacefully descended to their graves. Other generations like themselves have filled the land; the welcome of hospitality, the house of God, the family altar, the blessed Bible, and the thousand endearments of home and friends,—these, all these, and unnumbered other blessings, have been conferred upon New England by her primitive inhabitants, and are at once the monuments of their fidelity, and the pledges that if the sons walk in the footsteps of the fathers, she will continue to advance in national eminence and glory.
The demon of superstition was now abroad in New England. The unaccountable delusion of witchcraft so pervaded the public mind, that suspicions and jealousies were engendered among the nearest friends; perplexity and astonishment were visible in every countenance. So strange were the movements of those who were supposed to be affected by demons, and such the confessions of reputed witches, that men of sober judgment and highly gifted minds were involved in the general belief, and united in the execration of those who were believed to be confederate with Satan and his emissaries. Neither age nor rank were exempted from suspicion, and those who were charged with practicing witchcraft upon almost any testimony, were arrested and committed to prison. Many desertedtheir homes and went into other parts of the country; days of fasting and prayer were multiplied; parts of the Bible were hung around the neck, as a defence against the power of the devil; and a constant dread of the black book which was supposed to be in circulation among the witches, and was said to contain the terms of treaty with Satan, kept the minds of the credulous in constant distress and anxiety.
This delusion, it is well known, prevailed mostly in Salem and its vicinity. To the disturbed fancies of the populace, the very air was peopled with demons, and Satan, loosed from his chains, was tormenting men before their time. A few persons withstood the delusion, but it was at the peril of their lives, if they attempted open opposition: such was the popular frenzy that, if any question were raised as to the reality of these unseen agencies, it was considered a fair case for prosecution, and the bold innovator was in constant peril of reputation and life. Still there were some who had the courage to remonstrate, and who employed every art of persuasion and influence to stay the ruin which they saw was coming on the land. They also favored the escape ofmany who were accused; and, though believers themselves, to a certain extent, in this kind of Satanic influence, they always opposed those measures of cruelty and shame, in which the fatal tragedy was finally closed.
Among these benevolent and excellent men, the names of Willard of Boston, Brattle of Cambridge and Higginson of Salem are most conspicuous. These gentlemen refused all part in the witch prosecutions, and earnestly protested against bringing the crime of witchcraft before the civil tribunals, alleging that the individuals charged with this sin were in the hands of God, who alone had a right to punish them, and that the liability to mistake in the nature of the evidence, and the want of a just discrimination, on a subject so mysterious, entirely disqualified the courts to act upon such cases. Their efforts, however, were in vain; yet it may be reasonably believed that, to some extent, they were able to modify and soften the proceedings of the courts, though it was impossible to control or suppress them.
Lyford started for Boston about the tenth of March, spending but a single day at Worcester. The people at this settlement were astonished at the tidings which reached themfrom Boston and Salem; but they were fortunate enough to escape the mania, and, though disposed to the same general belief, they viewed the cases of such as were accused in a much more calm and benevolent light, and were disposed to regard them as subjects of pity and prayer rather than as outcasts from God and man. But as Lyford approached Boston, he discovered among the people a bitter hatred of the supposed witches, and a belief that no service could be more pleasing to God than to destroy them utterly from the land. He saw at once the terrible engine of power, which designing men might seize to punish private wrongs, and push their projects of revenge for real or supposed injuries. He knew the self-blinding power of the human mind, and how readily its dark purposes assume the form of religious duties and wear the counterfeit of the heavenly graces. And it was this view that filled him with apprehensions and forebodings, which neither conscious rectitude nor the power of reason could allay.
It was the first object of Lyford, after seeing Strale, to visit his sister at Salem; but as he could give no satisfactory reason for his journey, without disclosing his relation to Mary,the government of the college refused his request, and his long absence in the winter was assigned as the cause. In this dilemma, it was determined that Walter, to whom this objection did not apply, should visit Salem and ascertain the true state of things, and the danger, if any, to which Mary might be exposed. The engagement of the parties was now publicly known, and Walter's request was immediately granted.
On his arrival at Salem, which was about the latter part of March, he found such a state of consternation and terror as could scarcely be described. Witches were every where. They would flit through the streets after sunset; and at an early hour in the evening, demons, with long tails and cloven feet, were stalking about, partly concealed in mists and shadows, but taking care to show enough of their origin to keep the good people of Salem within doors after dark, and thus they had the whole promenade to themselves. Some of the old ladies averred that they were visible in the day time, and that one of them was perched in Mr. Higginson's pulpit on a Sabbath afternoon and kept the place till the good man opened the Bible and read the passage aboutresisting the devil, when he suddenly decamped, leaving behind him a long train of fire, and filling the church with the fumes of sulphur. Mr. Higginson did not, however, appear conscious of the victory he had attained; for, when told of it the next day, he remarked, that he never supposed such extraordinary power in any one passage of the Bible; but since the testimony was so clear, he hoped they now possessed the means of expelling all the evil spirits in Salem, and he prayed that his people would not fail to use these weapons, as they were certainly lawful, and their own observation had shown them to be successful.
Mary Graham had resided, for several years, in the family of Mr. Ellerson. This gentleman was of course acquainted with all the circumstances of her history, and had manifested towards her the utmost kindness and friendship. In fact, no one, at all acquainted with Miss Graham, could fail to esteem and admire her character. It had been the special care of Mrs. Ellerson to instruct her in all the pleasing accomplishments of genteel life, and at the same time, to restrain her from those amusements and follies, which dissipate themind and unfit it for religious contemplation and duty; she therefore gave, as much as possible, a serious complexion to her studies and seasons of social enjoyment. The pupil well repaid the care of the teacher, and, at the age of eighteen, beautiful, accomplished and beloved by all, she entered the best circles, and we have already had some glimpses of the virtues which adorned her character. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson had been consulted in every stage of her relations to Strale, and the affair was not concluded without their entire concurrence and approval. Walter was of course a welcome visiter at their house, whenever he had opportunity and leave of absence from college. But these seasons were necessarily very infrequent, as the college discipline allowed little time for recreation, and required a strict attention to the regular studies.
The circumstances in which Walter now found his friends, were altogether new and peculiar. A gloom was spread over the town, which was relieved by no cheerful meetings of friends, no lively airs of music, nor even the busy hum of trade. The streets of the village were silent as the fields that surrounded them, and the necessary offices of kindred andfriendship were imbittered by suspicion, and discharged with indifference and coldness. The common ties of relationship and affection were nearly dissolved, and piety itself was forced into unnatural relations with credulity and superstition.
About twenty persons were now in prison, awaiting their trial for practicing witchcraft; others were daily suspected and arrested; and there was scarcely an individual in Salem, who was not more or less under the influence of this delusion. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson were among the most incredulous; yet facts and statements were daily going the rounds, which were so well supported, and the reality of this mystical influence was so generally believed, that persons as reflecting and considerate even as they were, did not escape the incipient stages of the public malady.
The hour for tea had nearly arrived, when Walter entered the parlor of Mr. Ellerson. Mary was not at home, having engaged to pass the afternoon and evening with the Misses Higginson. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson were also absent, and Walter, after having spent an hour with Mary and her companions, and engaged to return for her in the evening,went back to await the arrival of his friends, the Ellersons. They returned about seven o'clock, and the conversation was very soon directed to the prevailing topic of the day.
'You have a strange atmosphere in Salem,' said Walter; 'every thing looks unnatural and melancholy; I hope the witches have kept away from your house, Mr. Ellerson?'
'They would not find very pleasant quarters here, Walter; but as all the other houses in town are full, they may for want of better accommodations force their way in. Their reception might be somewhat cold, but I am told they are not very scrupulous where they once get possession.'
'It is a singular business,' replied Walter; 'but the more I think of it, the stronger is my conviction that it is all a fatal delusion, foolish, wonderful, and wicked. I have no patience with such follies. I have heard to-day stranger things than I ever read in the tales of the fairies, the legends of Bagdad, or the whole system of pagan fables.'
'You are always rash, Walter. You must look at the evidence in favor of any alleged fact, however strange, before you decideagainst its truth. Have you seen any who profess to be troubled by witches?'
'I have not,' said Walter; 'but that makes no difference; the stories are incredible. There is no such influence at the present day, if there ever was.'
'I am going this evening, Walter,' said Mr. Ellerson, 'to see for myself. There is a reputed witch, and a person said to be afflicted by her, who reside about half a mile from us. I shall be glad if you will go with me.'
'Nothing will please me better,' said Walter. 'I have often felt the influence of Satan, but have never seen him, and if he now makes his appearance in this gross, terrestrial atmosphere, I would like to know if my senses can discern him. I think we shall see he has many ways of making fools of even sober and considerate men.'
In a short time they set off, and a walk of ten minutes among the pleasant gardens and cottages of Salem, brought them to a house, where a crowd of people had gathered to witness the visible power of devils over men. As they entered the room, a female dressed in the rustic fashion of the country, was seated in a chair before them. She was paleand silent, but there was a wildness in her appearance, and a fierce expression in her eye, which indicated that strange elements were at work, suppressed for the time, but liable to act at any moment with fearful energy. A supposed witch was presently conducted into the room. She was an old lady, of tottering gait, and apparently in very feeble health, but perfectly self-possessed and quiet. At sight of her, the afflicted person sprang into the air, and uttering the wildest cries, she raved about the room, and was hardly restrained by the force of two men from escaping to the street. In a moment more, she sat down with comparative tranquillity; but again her frame was agitated, and she was suddenly lifted with no visible effort, and seemed for a moment suspended in the air; then falling on the floor, she was quiet a little while, when she gradually assumed a sitting posture, and began to reason with some master demon, and called upon the witch to cease her torment.
'I have nothing to do with your torment,' said the old lady.
'Then it is Satan that does it, by your means,' said the girl.
'I have nothing to do with Satan, and know not what your torments are,' was the reply.
'That is the way Satan blinds you. When you are gone, I have no suffering.'
'You have greatly wronged me,' replied the lady; 'and on this account I have no doubt my presence is painful to you. I hope God will forgive you, and restore that reason, which in his inscrutable wisdom he has taken away.'
The old lady was now removed from the room, when the afflicted person relapsed into a state of quiet, which was of course attributed to the absence of the exciting cause.
'This is a juggler's game, Mr. Ellerson,' said Walter; 'that person accused is no more a witch than I am. If it be not an intended cheat, it is a diseased mind, or a nervous irritability, which has been trained into a system, and acts with some regularity. These people are some of them knaves, and most of the remainder are fools; the reputed witch is the only one in her right mind.'
'I cannot decide so readily as you. There is some evidence in the Scriptures of the reality of visible, Satanic influence, but I am inclined to believe there has been little, if any of it, since the Christian era; but how that female preserves her stationary posture in theair, with no visible support, I cannot imagine. If you, Walter, are wise on this point, I wish you would enlighten me.'
'There is some mystery in it,' said Strale, 'but so there is in every thing. To believe such follies we must renounce common sense, and I had almost said a belief in a beneficent Providence. I have seen persons poised on the fingers of others, in such a manner as to be apparently unaffected by gravitation; the cause, no one explains; but if such cases are scrutinized, it will doubtless be found they are perfectly consistent with natural laws. Think you, Mr. Ellerson, it is possible that the devil has such power on earth?'
'He is the prince of the power of the air,' replied Mr. Ellerson. 'We know that in the time of Christ, he did exercise power over the bodies and minds of men, and may it not be impious in us to deny that he has such influence now, though it may be in less degree?'
'I would not be impious or irreverent on this or any other subject,' rejoined Walter; 'yet there are so many natural causes, which may account for these things, that I am very slow to attribute them to the agency of Satan. I believe a limited power over man is possessed bythe arch apostate, but it seems to me the period of its physical developement was confined to the early ages of the Christian church, just as the age of miracles was measured and limited by the necessities of the church. I doubt not he retains power to tempt men. I have felt it myself, alas! too often; but, Mr. Ellerson, since I have known Mary, she has led me to a brighter path of contemplation and hope. I would be no visionary theorist; I would be an humble, serious, every-day Christian.'
'Such, dear Walter, I would have you to be. Such, indeed, I trust you are,' replied Mr. Ellerson. 'True piety enlightens as well as purifies; and let not, I pray you, this mysterious delusion, for such I must regard it, disturb your faith in that Gospel, which must be your only hope, for time and eternity. What will be the issue of these troubles, no one can tell. A dark cloud has come over the land; when it shall pass away is known only to Him, to whom darkness and the day are alike.'
They had now reached Mr. Ellerson's dwelling. It was a beautiful habitation, and the moon was shining brightly over the garden and a neighboring grove, and falling in placid radiance on a little stream which glided throughthe field. That spot is now covered by mansions of opulence and comparative grandeur; but the romance of the scene has passed away, the white fence of the garden is broken down; the bed of the stream is covered by the green earth, and the moonbeams shine over the works of taste and art; but not with the simplicity and grace in which they danced upon the forest oak and the tangled grove.
Walter remained a few days at Salem, and notwithstanding the state of things around him, it was one of the happiest periods of his life: another and a sweeter illusion occupied his mind; the bright pictures of coming days, undefaced by a single visible stain, passed in rapid succession before his charmed imagination; the hopes of future years gathered in beautiful groups on his eye, while he felt that the lovely object, around which these visions were glittering, would soon be his own.
During this brief period, the conversation of the two friends was devoted mainly to the subject of religion. The holy influences of the Gospel had found their way to the mind and heart of Strale. He saw in a new light the wonderful scheme of redemption; he admired and adored the grace which had made him apartaker of its blessings, and he resolved that his whole future life should illustrate its excellence and glory.
We need not speak of the joy that glowed in the heart of Mary, as she beheld and admired the change. Her cup of worldly happiness was full to overflowing; she looked even upon the distracted community around her in a calm reliance on Him who controls the tempest and stills its rage; but she saw not the dark cloud that was even then gathering in her sky; she heard not the dashing of those waves, which were soon to ingulf her dearest hopes. The song of the sirens was too sweet to be hushed by the distant thunder, and her unconscious feet were already treading on the fatal shore.