 | CHAPTER IX. The chainbearer, or, The Littlepage manuscripts |  |
9. CHAPTER IX.
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men:
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.”
Shakspeare.
“This, then, is Ravensnest!” I exclaimed, after gazing
on the scene for several minutes in silence; “the estate
left me by my grandfather, and where events once occurred
that are still spoken of in my family as some of the most
momentous in its history; events, Susquesus, in which you
were an actor.”
The Indian made a low interjection, but it is not probable
he fully understood me. What was there so remarkable in
a savage inroad, a house besieged, men slain and scalps
taken, that he should remember such things for a quarter
of a century!
“I do not see the 'Nest, itself, Trueflint,” I added; “the
house in which my grandfather once lived.”
The Onondago did not speak, but he pointed with a finger
in a north-easterly direction, making the action distinct and
impressive, as is usual with his people. I knew the place
by the descriptions I had heard, though it was now mouldering,
and had gone far into decay. Logs piled up green, and
confined in such a structure, will last some thirty or forty
years, according to the nature of the trees from which they
come, and the manner in which they have been covered.
At that distance, I could not well distinguish how far, or
how much, time had done its work; but I fancied I knew
enough of such matters to understand I was not to expect
in the Nest a very comfortable home. A family dwelt in
the old place, and I had seen some cheeses that had been
was a large and seemingly a flourishing orchard, and the
fields looked well; but, as for the house, at that distance it
appeared sombre, dark, and was barely to be distinguished
by its form and chimneys, from any other pile of logs.
I was struck with the silent, dreamy, sabbath-like air of
the fields, far and near. With the exception of a few half-naked
children who were visible around the dwellings to
which we were the closest, not a human being could I discover.
The fields were tenantless, so far as men were concerned,
though a good many horned cattle were to be seen
grazing.
“My tenants are not without stock, I find, Trueflint,” I
remarked. “There are plenty of cattle in the pastures.”
“You see, all young;” answered the Onondago. “War
do dat. Kill ole one for soldier.”
“By the way, as this settlement escaped plunder, I should
think its people may have done something by selling supplies
to the army. Provisions of all kinds were very high and
scarce, I remember, when we met Burgoyne.”
“Sartain. Your people sell both side—good trade, den.
Feed Yankees—feed Yengeese.”
“Well, I make no doubt it was so; for the husbandman
is not very apt to hesitate when he can get a good price;
and if he were, the conscience of the drover would stand
between him and treason. But, where are all the men of
this country? I do not see a single man, far or near.”
“No see him?—Dere,” answered the Indian, pointing in
the direction of the hamlet. “Squire light Council-Fire to-day,
s'pose, and make speech.”
“True enough—there they are, gathered about the school-house.
But, whom do you mean by the 'squire, who is so
fond of making speeches?”
“Ole schoolmaster. Come from salt lake—great friend
of grandfather.”
“Oh! Mr. Newcome, my agent — true; I might have
known that he was king of the settlement. Well, Trueflint,
let us go on; and when we reach the tavern, we shall be
able to learn what the Great Council is about. Say nothing
of my business; for it will be pleasant to look on a little,
before I speak myself.”
The Indian arose, and led the way down the height, following
a foot-path with which he appeared to be familiar.
In a few minutes we were in a highway, and at no great
distance from the hamlet. I had laid aside most of the dress
that it was the fashion of gentlemen to wear in 1784, and
put on a hunting-shirt and leggings, as more fitting attire
for the woods; consequently it would not have been easy
for one who was not in the secret to imagine that he who
arrived on foot, in such a garb, carrying his fowling-piece,
and accompanied by an Indian, was the owner of the estate.
I had sent no recent notice of my intended arrival; and, as
we went along, I took a fancy to get a faint glimpse of things
incognito. In order to do this, it might be necessary to say
a word more to the Indian.
“Susquesus,” I added, as we drew near the school-house,
which stood betwen us and the tavern, “I hope you have
understood me — there is no need of telling any one who I
am. If asked, you can answer I am your friend. That
will be true, as you will find as long as you live.”
“Good — young chief got eyes; want to look wid 'em,
himself. Good — Susquesus know.”
In another minute we stopped in the crowd, before the
door of the school-house. The Indian was so well known,
and so often at the 'Nest, that his appearance excited no
attention. Some important business appeared on the carpet,
for there was much caucusing, much private conversation,
many eager faces, and much putting together of heads.
While the public mind was thus agitated, few were disposed
to take any particular notice of me, though I had not stood
long in the outer edge of the crowd, which may have contained
sixty or seventy men, besides quite as many well-grown
lads, before I overheard an interrogatory put, as to who I
was, and whether I had “a right to a vote.” My curiosity
was a good deal excited, and I was on the point of asking
some explanation, when a man appeared in the door of the
school-house, who laid the whole matter bare, in a speech.
This person had a shrivelled, care-worn, but keen look, and
was somewhat better dressed than most around him, though
not particularly elegant, or even very neat, in his toilette.
He was grey-headed, of a small, thin figure, and might have
been drawing hard upon sixty. He spoke in a deliberate,
business in which he was engaged, but in a very decided
Connecticut accent. I say Connecticut, in contradistinction
to that of New England generally; for while the eastern
States have many common peculiarities in this way, a nice
and practised ear can tell a Rhode-Islander from a Massachusetts
man, and a Connecticut man from either. As the
orator opened his mouth to remove a chew of tobacco previously
to opening it to speak, a murmur near me said —
“hist! there's the squire; now, we shall get suthin'.” This,
then, was Mr. Jason Newcome. my agent, and the principal
resident in the settlement.
“Fellow-citizens” — Mr. Newcome commenced — “you
are assembled this day, on a most important, and I may
say, trying occasion; an occasion calculated to exercise all
our spirits. Your business is to decide on the denomination
of the church-building, that you are about to erect; and the
futur' welfare of your souls may, in one sense, be said to be
interested in your decision. Your deliberations have already
been opened by prayer; and now you are about to come to
a final vote. Differences of opinion have, and do exist
among you; but differences of opinion exist everywhere.
They belong to liberty, the blessings of which are not to be
enj'yed without full and free differences of opinion. Religious
liberty demands differences of opinion, as a body
might say; and without them, there would be no religious
liberty. You all know the weighty reason there is for
coming to some conclusion speedily. The owner of the sile
will make his appearance this summer, and his family are
all of a desperate tendency towards an idolatrous church,
which is unpleasant to most of you. To prevent any consequences,
therefore, from his interference, we ought to decide
at once, and not only have the house raised, but ruffed in
afore he arrives. Among ourselves, however, we have been
somewhat divided, and that is a different matter. On the
former votes, it has stood twenty-six for congregational to
twenty-five presbytery, fourteen methodist, nine baptist,
three universal, and one episcopal. Now, nothin' is clearer
than that the majority ought to rule, and that it is the duty
of the minority to submit. My first decision, as moderator,
was that the congregationals have it by a majority of one;
ready to hear reason, and to take the view that twenty-six
is not a majority, but a plurality, as it is called. As twenty-six,
or twenty-five, however, is a majority over nine, and
over three, and over one, taking their numbers singly or
together, your committee report that the baptists, universals
and episcopals ought to be dropped, and that the next vote,
now to be taken, shall be confined to the three highest
numbers; that is to say, to the congregationals, the presbyterians
and the methodists. Everybody has a right to vote
for which he pleases, provided he vote for one of them three.
I suppose I am understood, and shall now put the question,
unless some gentleman has any remarks to make.”
“Mr. Moderator,” cried out a burly, hearty-looking yeoman,
from the crowd—“is it in order now, to speak?”
“Quite so, sir—order, gentlemen, order—major Hosmer
is up.”
Up we all were, if standing on one's feet be up; but the
word was parliamentary, and it appeared to be understood.
“Mr. Moderator, I am of the Baptist order, and I do not
think the decision just; sin' it compels us Baptists to vote
for a denomination we don't like, or not to vote at all.”
“But, you will allow that the majority ought to rule?”
interrupted the chair.
“Sartain — I agree to that; for that is part of my religion,
too,” returned the old yeoman, heartily, and with an
air of perfect good faith — “the majority ought to rule; but
I do not see that a majority is in favour of the Congregationals
any more than it is of the Baptists.”
“We will put it to vote ag'in, major, just for your satisfaction,”
returned Mr. Newcome, with an air of great candour
and moderation. “Gentlemen; those of you who are
in favour of the Baptists not being included in the next vote
for denomination, will please to hold up your hands.”
As every man present who was not a Baptist voted “ay,”
there were sixty-nine hands shown. The “no's” were then
demanded in the same way, and the Baptists got their nine
own votes, as before. Major Hosmer admitted he was satisfied,
though he looked as if there might be something wrong
in the procedure, after all. As the Baptists were the strongest
of the three excluded sects, the other two made a merit of
in a minority; and a minority, as it too often happens in
America, has very few rights.
“It now remains, gentlemen,” resumed the moderator,
who was a model of submission to the public voice, “to put
the vote, as between the Congregationals, the Presbyterians
and the Methodists. I shall first put the Congregationalists.
Those who are in favour of that sect, the old Connecticut
standing order, will please to hold up their hands.”
The tone of voice, the coaxing expression of the eye, and
the words “old Connecticut standing order,” let me at once
into the secret of the moderator's wishes. At first, but thirty-four
hands appeared; but the moderator having counted
these, he looked round the crowd until he fairly looked up
three more; after which he, honestly enough, announced
the vote to be thirty-seven for the Congregationalists. So
eleven of the thirteen of silenced sects had, most probably,
voted with the moderator. The Presbyterians came next,
and they got their own people, and two of the Baptists,
making twenty-seven in all, on a trial in their behalf. The
Methodists got only their own fourteen.
“It evidently appearing, gentlemen,” said the moderator,
“that the Methodists gain no strength, and being less than
half the Congregational vote, and much lower than the
Presbyterian, I put it to their own well-known Christian
humility, whether they ought not to withdraw!”
“Put it openly to vote, as you did ag'in us,” came out
a Baptist.
“Is that your pleasure, gentlemen? Seeing that it is, I
will now try the vote. Those who are in favour of the
Methodists withdrawing, will hold up their hands.”
Sixty-four hands were raised for, and fourteen against
the withdrawal.
“It is impossible for any religion to flourish ag'in sich a
majority,” said the moderator, with great apparent candour;
“and, though I regret it, for I sincerely wish we were strong
enough to build meetin'-houses for every denomination in
the world; but, as we are not, we must take things as they
are, and so the Methodists must withdraw. Gentlemen, the
question is now narrowed down to the Congregationals and
the Presbyterians. There is not much difference between
you ready for the question, gentlemen? No answer being
given, I shall put the vote.”
And the vote was put, the result being thirty-nine to
thirty-nine, or a tie. I could see that the moderator was
disappointed, and supposed he would claim a casting vote,
in addition to the one he had already given; but I did not
know my man. Mr. Newcome avoided all appearances of
personal authority; majorities were his cardinal rule, and
to majorities alone he would defer. Whenever he chose to
govern, it was by means of majorities. The exercise of a
power as accidentally bestowed as that of presiding officer,
might excite heart-burnings and envy; but he who went
with a majority was certain of having the weight of public
sympathies of his side. No — no — Mr. Newcombe never
had an opinion, as against numbers.
I am sorry to say that very mistaken notions of the power
of majorities are beginning to take root among us. It is
common to hear it asserted, as a political axiom, that the
majority must rule! This axiom may be innocent enough,
when its application is properly made, which is simply to
say that in the control of those interests of which the decision
is referred to majorities, majorities must rule; but, God
forbid that majorities should ever rule in all things, in this
republic or anywhere else! Such a state of things would
soon become intolerable, rendering the government that admitted
of its existence the most odious tyranny that has
been known in christendom in modern times. The government
of this country is the sway of certain great and incontestable
principles, that are just in themselves, and which
are set forth in the several constitutions, and under which
certain minor questions are periodically referred to local
majorities, as of necessity, out of the frequency of which
appeals has arisen a mistake that is getting to be dangerously
general. God forbid, I repeat, that a mere personal
majority should assume the power which alone belongs to
principles.
Mr. Newcome avoided a decision, as from the chair; but
three several times did he take the vote, and each time was
there a tie. I could now perceive that he was seriously
uneasy. Such steadiness denoted that men had made up
since one side was apparently as strong as the other. The
circumstances called for a display of democratical tactics;
and Mr. Newcome being very expert in such matters, he
could have little difficulty in getting along with the simple
people with whom he had to deal.
“You see how it is, fellow-citizens. The public has taken
sides, and formed itself into two parties. From this moment
the affair must be treated as a party question, and be decided
on party principles; though the majority must rule.
Oh! here, neighbour Willis; will you just step over to my
house, and ask Miss Newcome (Anglice, Mrs. Newcome)
to hand you the last volume of the State Laws? Perhaps
they have a word to say in the matter.” Here neighbour
Willis did as desired, and moved out of the crowd. As I
afterwards discovered, he was a warm presbyterian, who
happened, unfortunately for his sect, to stand so directly
before the moderator, as unavoidably to catch his eye. I
suspected that 'squire Newcome would now call a vote on
the main question. But I did not know my man. This
would have been too palpably a trick, and he carefully
avoided committing the blunder. There was plenty of time,
since the moderator knew his wife could not very readily
find a book he had lent to a magistrate in another settlement
twenty miles off; so that he did not hesitate to have a little
private conversation with one or two of his friends.
“Not to be losing time, Mr. Moderator,” said one of
'squire Newcome's confidants, “I will move you that it is
the sense of this meeting, that the government of churches
by means of a presbytery is anti-republican, opposed to our
glorious institutions, and at variance with the best interests
of the human family. I submit the question to the public
without debate, being content to know the unbiassed sentiments
of my fellow-citizens on the subject.”
The question was duly seconded and put, the result being
thirty-nine for, and thirty-eight against; or a majority of
one, that Presbyterian rule was anti-republican. This was
a great coup de maitre. Having settled that it was opposed
to the institutions to have a presbytery, a great deal was
gained towards establishing another denomination in the
settlement. No religion can maintain itself against political
men's minds and pockets.
It is odd enough that, while all sects agree in saying that
the Christian religion comes from God, and that its dogmas
are to be received as the laws of Infinite Wisdom, men
should be found sufficiently illogical, or sufficiently presumptuous,
to imagine that any, the least of its rules, are to
be impaired or strengthened by their dissemblance or their
conformity to any provisions of human institutions. As well
might it be admitted at once, that Christianity is not of divine
origin, or the still more extravagant position be assumed,
that the polity which God himself has established can be
amended by any of the narrow and short-sighted devices
of man. Nevertheless, it is not to be concealed, that here,
as elsewhere, churches are fashioned to suit the institutions,
and not the institutions to suit the church.
Having achieved so much success, the moderator's confidant
pushed his advantage.
“Mr. Moderator,” he continued, “as this question has
altogether assumed a party character, it is manifestly proper
that the party which has the majority should not be encumbered
in its proceedings by the movements of the minority.
Presbytery has been denounced by this meeting, and its
friends stand in the light of a defeated party at a State
election. They can have nothin' to do with the government.
I move, therefore, that those who are opposed to presbytery
go into caucus, in order to appoint a committee to recommend
to the majority a denomination which will be acceptable
to the people of Ravensnest. I hope the motion will be
put without debate. The subject is a religious one, and it is
unwise to awaken strife on anything at all connected with
religion.”
Alas! alas! How much injury has been done to the cause
of Christianity, how much wrong to the laws of God, and
even to good morals, by appeals of this nature, that are intended
to smother inquiry, and force down on the timid, the
schemes of the designing and fraudulent! Integrity is ever
simple and frank; while the devil resorts to these plans of
plausible forbearance and seeming concessions, in order to
veil his nefarious devices.
The thing took, however; for popular bodies, once under
helm; the strength of the current always giving additional
power to that material portion of the ship. The motion was
accordingly seconded and put. As there was no debate,
which had been made to appear anti-religious, the result
was precisely the same as on the last question. In other
words, there was one majority for disfranchising just one-half
the meeting, counting the above man; and this, too, on
the principle that the majority ought to rule. After this, the
caucus-people went into the school-house, where it was understood
a committee of twenty-six was appointed, to recommend
a denomination to the majority. This committee, so
respectable in its character, and of so much influence by its
numbers, was not slow in acting. As became its moral
weight, it unanimously reported that the congregational
polity was the one most acceptable to the people of Ravensnest.
This report was accepted by acclamation, and the
caucus adjourned sine die.
The moderator now called the whole meeting to order,
again.
“Mr. Moderator,” said the confidant, “it is time that this
community should come to some conclusion, in the premises.
It has been agitated long enough, in its religious
feelings, and further delay might lead to unpleasant and
lasting divisions. I therefore move that it is the sense of
this meetin' that the people of Ravensnest ardently wish to
see the new meetin'-us, which is about to be raised, devoted
and set apart for the services of the Congregational church,
and that a Congregational church be organized, and a Congregational
pastor duly called. I trust this question, like
all the others, will be passed in perfect harmony, and without
debate, as becomes the solemn business we are on.”
The question was taken, and the old majority of one was
found to be in its favour. Just as Mr. Moderator meekly
announced the result, his messenger appeared in the crowd,
bawling out, “'Squire, Miss Newcome says she can't noway
find the volum', which she kind o' thinks you 've lent.”
“Bless me! so I have!” exclaimed the surprised magistrate.
“It 's not in the settlement, I declare; but it 's of no
importance now, as a majority has fairly decided. Fellow-citizens,
we have been dealing with the most important interest
and well-being. Unanimity is very desirable on such a
question; and, as it is to be presumed no one will oppose
the pop'lar will, I shall now put the question to vote for the
purpose of obtaining that unanimity. Those who are in
favour of the Congregationals, or who ardently wish that
denomination, will hold up their hands.”
About three-fourths of the hands went up, at once. Cries
of “unanimity—unanimity”—followed, until one hand after
another went up, and I counted seventy-three. The remaining
voters continued recusant; but as no question was
taken on the other side, the vote may be said to have been
a very decided one, if not positively unanimous. The moderator
and two or three of his friends made short speeches,
commending the liberality of a part of the citizens, and
congratulating all, when the meeting was adjourned.
Such were the facts attending the establishment of the
Congregational church, in the settlement of Ravensnest, on
purely republican principles; the question having been
carried unanimously in favour of that denomination, although
fifty-two votes out of seventy-eight were pretty evidently
opposed to it! But republican principles were properly
maintained, and the matter was settled; the people having
solemnly decided that they ardently wished for a church
that, in truth, they did not desire at all.
No complaints were made, on the spot at least. The
crowd dispersed, and as Mr. Newcome walked through it,
with the air of a beaten, rather than of a successful man, I
came under his observation for the first time. He examined
me keenly, and I saw a certain air of doubt and misgiving
in his manner. Just at that moment, however, and before
he had time to put a question, Jaap drove up in the wagon,
and the negro was an old acquaintance, having often been
at the 'Nest, and knowing the 'squire for more than a quarter
of a century. This explained the whole affair, a certain
mixed resemblance to both father and mother which I am
said to bear, probably aiding in making the truth more apparent.
Mr. Newcome was startled — that was apparent in his
countenance—but he was, nevertheless, self-possessed. Approaching,
who I was.
“This is major Littlepage, I s'pose,” he said. “I can
see a good deal of the gin'ral in you, as I know'd your
father, when a young man; and something of Herman Mordaunt,
your mother's father. How long is it sin' your arrival,
major Littlepage?”
“But a few minutes,” I answered, evasively. “You see
my wagon and servant, there, and we are fresh from Albany.
My arrival has been opportune, as all my tenants must be
collected here, at this moment.”
“Why, yes sir, yes; here are pretty much the whull of
them. We have had a little meetin' to-day, to decide on the
natur' of our religion, as one might say. I s'pose the major
didn't get here until matters were coming to a head?”
“You are quite right, Mr. Newcome — matters were
coming to a head, as you say, before I got on the ground.”
The 'squire was a good deal relieved at this, for his conscience
doubtless pricked him a little on the subject of the
allusion he had made to me, and my own denomination.
As for myself, I was not sorry to have got so early behind
the curtain, as to the character of my agent. It was pretty
clear he was playing his own game, as to some things, and
it might be necessary for me to see that this propensity did
not extend itself into other concerns. It is true, my mind
was made up to change him, but there were long and intricate
accounts to settle.
“Yes, sir, religion is an interest of the greatest importance
to man's welfare, and it has b'en (Anglice, been) too
long neglected among us,” continued the late moderator.
“You see, yonder, the frame for a meetin'-us, the first that
was ever commenced in this settlement, and it is our intention
to put it up this a'ternoon. The bents are all ready.
The pike poles are placed, and all is waiting for the word
to `heave.' You 'll perceive, 'squire, it was judicious to go
to a sartain p'int, afore we concluded on the denomination.
Up to that p'int every man would nat'rally work as if he
was workin' for his own order; and we 've seen the benefit
of such policy, as there you can see the clap-boards planed,
the sash made and glazed, stuff cut for pews, and everything
ready to put together. The very nails and paints are bought
put together and finish off, and preach.”
“Why did you not erect the edifice, and `finish off,' as
you call it, before you came to the test-vote, that I perceive
you have just taken?”
“That would have been goin' a le-e-e-tle too far, major—
a very le-e-e-tle. If you give a man too tight a hold, he
doesn't like to let go, sometimes. We talked the matter
over among us, and concluded to put the question before we
went any further. All has turned out happily, and we have
unanimously resolved to be Congregational. Unanimity in
religion is a blessed thing!”
“Do you apprehend no falling off in zeal, in consequence
of this work? no refusing to help pay the carpenters, and
painters, and priest?”
“Not much — a little, perhaps; but no great matter, I
should judge. Your own liberal example, major, has had
its influence, and I make no doubt will produce an effect.”
“My example, sir!—I do not understand you, Mr. Newcome,
never having heard of the church, until I heard your
own allusions to it, as chairman of this very meeting.”
'Squire Newcome hemmed, cleared his throat, took an
extra-sized chew of tobacco, and then felt himself equal to
attempting an answer.
“I call it your example, sir; though the authority for
what I have done came from your honoured father, general
Littlepage, as long ago as before the revolution. War-time,
you know, major, is no time for buildin' meetin'-uses; so we
concluded to defer the matter until peace. Peace we have,
and our own eends are fast approaching; and I thought if
the work was ever to be done, so that this generation should
get the benefit of it, it should be done now. I was in hopes
we should have had preachin' in the house afore your arrival,
and surprised you with the cheerin' sight of a worshipping
people on your lands. Here is your father's letter,
from which I read a paragraph to the people, half an hour
sin'.”
“I trust the people have always been worshippers, though
it may not have been in a house built expressly for the purpose.
With your permission, I will read the letter.”
This document bore the date of 1770, or fourteen years
the battle of Lexington was fought. I was a little surprised
at this, but read on. Among other things, I found
that my father had given a general consent to credit his
tenants with $500 to aid in the erection of a place of worship;
reserving to himself, as my guardian, a voice in the
choice of the denomination. I may add, here, that on examining
the leases, I found credits had been given, in 1770,
for the full amount; and that the money, or what passed
for money, the proceeds of work, produce, cattle, butter,
cheese, &c., had been in Mr. Newcome's hands the whole
of the intervening time, no doubt to his great advantage.
Thus, by a tardy appropriation of my father's bounty, the
agent was pretty certain of being able to finish the job in
hand, even admitting that some of the people should prove
restive under the recent decision.
“And the money thus appropriated has gone to its destination?”
I asked, on returning the letter.
“Every copper has thus gone, major, or will soon go.
When the First Congregational, of Ravensnest, is up, you
can contemplate the house with the satisfaction of knowing
that your own money has largely aided in the good work
of its erection. What a delightful sentiment that must
awaken! It must be a great blessin' to landlords, to be
able to remember how much of their money goes for the
good of their fellow-mortals.”
“In my case, it certainly should, as I understand my
father, and indeed have myself seen, by the accounts rendered
to me, that not one dollar of rent has ever yet left the
settlement, to go into the pocket of the owner of the estate—
nay, that the direct outlays of my grandfather were considerable,
in addition to the first cost of the patent.”
“I do not deny it, major; I do not deny it. It is quite
probable. But, you will consider what the spirit of Public
Improvement demands; and you gentlemen-proprietors
nat'rally look forward to futur' generations for your reward
—yes, sir, to futur' generations. Then will come the time
when these leased lands will turn to account, and you will
enj'y the fruits of your liberality.”
I bowed, but made no answer. By this time, the wagon
had reached the inn, and Jaap was getting out the trunk
people that their landlord had arrived, and some of the older
tenants, those who had known “Herman Mordaunt,” as
they all called my grandfather, crowded around me in a
frank, hearty manner, in which good feeling was blended
with respect. They desired to take my hand. I shook
hands with all who came, and can truly say that I took no
man's palm into my own that day, without a sentiment that
the relation of landlord and tenant was one that should induce
kind and confidential feelings. The Ravensnest property
was by no means necessary to my comfortable subsistence;
and I was really well enough disposed to look
forward, if not to “future generations,” at least to a future
day, for the advantages that were to be reaped from it. I
asked the crowd in, ordered a tub of punch made, for, in
that day, liquor was a necessary accompaniment of every
welcome, and endeavoured to make myself acceptable to
my new friends. A throng of women, of whom I have not
yet spoken, were also in attendance; and I had to go through
the ceremony of being introduced to many of the wives and
daughters of Ravensnest. On the whole, the meeting was
friendly, and my reception warm.
| CHAPTER IX. The chainbearer, or, The Littlepage manuscripts | |