University of Virginia Library

MARGARET TO ANNA.

Our excursion was rich and blest indeed. In New-York,
we saw the room where I was born, and the bed even whereon
my father and mother died. Nimrod was with us and
showed us every thing. The Clergyman who married my
dear parents is dead, but in Baltimore we found his daughter,
who bore me to her father's, and nourished me like a
mother. My grandfather's abode, the shop where my mother
tended, the room where she slept, we saw. In one of the
cemetries their graves were shown to us, near that of my grandmother;
the monument bore the names, Gottfried Brückmann,
and Jane Girardeau. My grandfather, when he knew not
where I was, became sorrowful on his daughter's account, and
had her remains removed where they now lie. My dear, dear
mother! The inscription says she was twenty years old; so
near her poor orphan daughter's age! New fountains of grief
are opened in my soul. I am persuaded the pale beautiful

lady of my childhood dreams, was none other than my mother.
She has watched over her child, she has blessed the earth-wanderer!—We
went up the Hudson, whither Nimrod and Ben
Bolter carried me; we stopped at the same landing-place; we
found the Irish woman who nursed me, and I was glad to be
able to repay her kindness. We went to Windenboro, Rose's
native town, but found little to relieve the impressions that may
have occupied us. To our inquiries about their old minister
we received but few warm-hearted replies. The successor of
Mr. Elphiston, while he preaches a milder form of dogma, exhibits
less benignity of feeling. I hesitated about speaking of
these things to Rose; but she said she could bear anything,
that that part of herself once devoted to these painful reminiscences,
through successive processes of anguish, remorse and
penitence, had become hollow.

We have a manuscript life of my father, done in English,
with my mother's correction; also, in several forms, my
mother's hand-writing. We possess likewise several letters
from Margaret Bruneau to Gottfried Brückmann, and some of
his to her, which Mr. Evelyn found in Rubillaud. The clothes
of my father and mother, his flute, violin and several other
little things are here. Mr. Evelyn visited the grave of Margaret
Bruneau, which he found covered with flowers. Her letters
are full of sweet simplicity and holy love. All whom he saw
extolled her virtues. In Pyrmont, he found a brother of my
father's, whom we hope to be able to persuade to come to
America. Withal, in our travels we heard of a German soldier
in the interior of Pennsylvania, who served in the same
corps with my father. Him also we visited. I have been
travelling in search of my childhood! An unknown history
opens to me. I have been living here how unconsciously with
Ma, who is the cousin of my mother. Yet she has treated me
as her own child. I was confided especially to the care of
Chilion, whom Nimrod told my mother about. How well he
executed his charge! The change in my grandfather's name,
and that of Nimrod, prevented all recognizances for many
years. I know not that Ma ever understood the relation subsisting
between us. This past, how precious to me! Hidden
event scattered over many years, and many countries, become
a part of my biography. It has taken a whole century to give
me birth! Time, like mother Carey's chickens, bides the
blast, rocks on the gulphy wave, bearing her eggs under her
wings, which she deposits at length on the broody shore. In
me shall these transactions be cherished into life! Do I deprecate

the evil that has befallen me and mine; that shed itself
on these by-gone years? Dust sometimes falls with the purest
snow discoloring the face of Winter, but it enriches the growth
and enhances the beauty of Spring. Shall I become better, as
a new season of existence opens to me?

Our house is begun, but it must necessarily move on slowly.
We hope to be able to go into it, or some part of it, in the
course of twelve or fourteen months. It stands on the Delectable
Way, near the Eastern margin of the Pond. It will command
a more extensive Western view than we now enjoy,
taking in the whole length of the Pond, the Brandon hills, and
Umkiddin. Through avenues that we shall cut in the Maples
will be seen the Village, the River, the Meadows, the champagne
country and mountains beyond. At the South will be
opened the valley of Mill Brook and the neighboring highlands.
The space between the house and Butternut is to be converted
into a garden. It is to be constructed of granite, of which an
abundance, and that of the finest quality, is found in the neighborhood.
We have an architect from New York, Mr. Palmer
from the Ledge is master workman. Of the style I shall say
but little, nor repeat the discussions we have had on the subject.
Mr. Evelyn knew more of the world, and it was right I
should yield to him. His travels abroad have tinged, and perhaps
moulded his taste. It will have, I fancy, a slightly castellated
appearance; so at least it looks on paper. It is to be
two stories high, and ample in all its appointments. Mr.
Evelyn talks of effect, the high grounds, woods, and all that;
entire simplicity he objects to. Without ever giving any reflection
to the matter, I found Master Elliman had in fact indoctrinated
me with a love of the plain Grecian. But not as a
dwelling-house, and here, Mr. Evelyn says, only as a Temple
or Church. We are to have a room for Music and Art, one
for Natural History and Philosophy, a Library, Conservatory,
Aviary, and all that, and a plenty of rooms for our friends.
There are also extensive barns and out-houses. We have
gained a title to the whole of Mons Christi, by purchasing the
complete environs of the Pond, and a square mile of territory
on the North and West. We are clearing away woods, and
bringing many acres of excellent soil under cultivation. There
are nearly one hundred men employed in all departments, and,
if you will believe it, I do not think they consume more than
three gallons of spirit a day. We are widening and grading
the Delectable Way into a carriage road. Pa and Hash have

both left off drinking, and are busy and happy as need be.
Hash and Sibyl Radney will be married as soon as we shall
have finished their house. Hash superintends the farm; Nimrod
and Rhody are anxious to remove here; it is his ambition
to take care of the barn and horses. He has become our jockey,
and went out lately and made us a purchase of some beautiful
Narragansetts with draught and carriage horses. Master Elliman
comes up, stares about, applies his red handkerchief to his
nostrils, and the other day frankly confessed there were realities
in the universe. People from the Village, Avernus, and all
parts, visit us, and gaze wonderingly upon our works. Joyce
Dooly, the Fortune-teller, was here the other day with her five
black cats. She mounted a rock, in presence of the multitude,
and harangued them, declaiming on her own merits.
She said she had brought about this change, had foretold it
all, and seen it in her cats. Rufus Palmer, who is really a
genius, is engaged on statuary, from plates Mr. Evelyn brought
from Europe.

Side by side, in the midst of the noise of hammers, the
shouting of teamsters, on the beach, lie in lonely silence my
canoe and Chilion's fishboat. His viol hangs in our room, unlike
St. Dunstan's, it makes no music! In Nova Zembla, it
is reported, men's words are wont to be frozen in the air, and
at the thaw may be heard. In a cold grave, and colder world
are all Chilion's sweet melodies frozen, will they ever be heard
again?

They are building a Church in the Village. We furnished
the balance of the subscription for that purpose, and they have
adopted a model suggested by Mr. Evelyn. The Church will
suit me, it is pure, that is to say, elegant, Grecian. It is now
decided to form a new society, and one with which Mr. Evelyn
has connected himself. It is called Christ-Church. The house
stands on the East side of the Green, under two stately elms;
and forms a prominent object from our dwelling. The Free
Masons, in full company and costume, laid the corner stone.
Deacon Hadlock, the main pillar of the old Church, is inconsolable,
and inapproachable. Mr. Evelyn went to see him, but
he would not be persuaded. We offered them a sum of money
towards rebuilding the old Meeting-house, but it was rejected.
I need not tell you all the gossip that is afloat between the two
societies, or write how our people say the others are endeavoring
things to their prejudice. There is probably some wrong
feeling on both sides. The Master was here to-day, and said

they had had several meetings of the old Church, reported
grievances, appointed committees, and ordered an examination
of the derelicts; and finally excommunicated Deacon Ramsdill
and Esq. Weeks, and suspended Judge Morgridge and
Esq. Beach. He laughed himself into a perfect dry convulsion
fit, when he told me. “That android sanctissimus,” said he,
referring to the Rev. Dr. Brimmerly of Kidderminster, “is
moving.” That gentleman, he said, had held several private
conferences with Parson Welles. Reports unfavorable to the
reputation of Mrs. Wiswall, who has taken a house in town,
and of Bertha, and also of Rose, have reached here, and we
are called a harboring place of unprincipled persons, a community
of —

Deacon Ramsdill was here this afternoon; he has not been
deprived of his good cheer. “They have picked us out,” said
he, “and thrown us to the hogs. But arter all,” he added,
“rotten apples are the sweetest.”