University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

Whenever the question of the future course of the
family was in discussion, and whenever the investigation
was followed by gloom and despondency, George
never failed to ply his father's motto, and to dwell upon
his last declaration, that God never forsakes them, who
do not forsake themselves. “They were in health,”
he said, “and in a country where sustenance was easy
to be procured, and if they could only hit upon the
right way, some one might surely be devised, in which
they might become independent of Hercules Pindall,
and every body, and take care of themselves.” The
grand burden of their conversations was to search for
this way.

The inquirer after the secret of perpetual motion,
the chemist inquiring after the transmuting secret, that
will turn lead to gold, the student whipping up his powers
to put the finish to an invention that will bring him
fame and fortune, know but little of the heart-wearing
study of this family, to start in some track, by which
they might obtain sufficient money to clothe the family,
and pay the doctor's bill and the taxes. Destitute as
they were, these bills were presented, and payment
pressed with persevering importunity. In discoursing
every evening upon this theme, Madam Mason, George,
and Eliza were of course the chief speakers, though
Henry, Thomas, and William, often made their speech,
and threw their light upon the subject. These discussions
were pursued with the more earnestness and interest,
inasmuch as the speakers considered themselves
urged to these inquiries by the mournful consideration,
that in so doing they were fulfilling the last wish and
charge of their deceased head. His spirit was considered

as one of the number, still pressing the grand maxim
of his life, “never to despond,” and urging them to
task their inventive powers to the utmost to find some
branch of industry, in pursuing which, they might obtain
a decent livelihood. If the reader would not have
felt a smile out of place in this family, he could not have
restrained a smile at hearing some of the propositions
of the junior members of this singular debating society.
Henry proposed the mystery of bird-catching, and sending
cages of mocking-birds, red-birds, parroquets, and
turtle-doves to New-Orleans for sale. Thomas was for
applying their exertions to the gathering reed-canes,
and sending them to the Northern manufacturers for
weavers' sleys. George had high hopes from a chemical
composition for ink and blacking, which he expected
to complete from the vegetables of the country.
Mrs. Mason and Eliza limited their projects to the
tried and simple experiment of raising cotton, and spinning
night and day to clothe themselves, and manufacture
a little surplus for sale. A thousand inconveniences
attended every experiment, as preliminary difficulties.
The proposer was generally overwhelmed by
the objections of the next speaker. One project was
abandoned to find difficulties equally insuperable, appended
to another. Night after night, and week after
week, wore away in the unprofitable speculations of
theory. The debating society generally retired from
the evening fire to their beds, their brain dry and exhausted
by useless reaching for some practicable project,
and their hearts sunk with the discouraging impression,
that nothing was before them but the same
hopeless poverty.

But when their supper of milk, corn-bread, and
sweet potatoes was finished, and they were again assembled
about the evening fire, the repetition of the
ancient maxim, “never despair,” like a voice from
heaven, renewed their courage and strength for a new
discussion. Success, as it ought, ultimately attended

these counsels. The post-master, on the bank of the
river, had noticed George, and had inquired into the
circumstances and character of the family. He was a
man, who had both understanding and a heart. He
never, it is true, had proposed to himself to be a Mecænas,
or to establish a manufacturing village. But if
we could know all the good thoughts that pass in the
minds of humble and undistinguished people, who expect
neither notoriety nor advantage from those thoughts,
we could not but think better of the species and human
nature. While this family was wearying itself in fruitless
attempts to invent some kind of pursuit in which
to employ their industry, he had more than once been
occupied in the benevolent desire to be useful to them.
As a foretaste of good will to them, he was in the habit
of sending George the newspapers and pamphlets, that
came to his office, after he had perused them. These
were beneficial to them in a hundred ways. They
taught the children to read. In an imperfect degree
they supplied the want of books. They learned from
them the events, passions, and employments of the
great world. The thousand projects and discoveries of
manufacturing inventiveness were brought to their view.
They could thus trace the range of other minds in the
same inquiries, which themselves were pursuing with
so much interest. Among other inventions in manufactures,
they noted with keen interest, that the town from
which they had emigrated, had become famous for the
manufacture of a new kind of grass-bonners, in imitation
of Leghorn straw. A premium of fifty dollars had
been obtained by a school-mate of Eliza's, for a bonnet
of this kind, which had sold for thirty dollars beside.
Eighty dollars for a single bonnet, and that made by a
girl neither older, nor more ingenious, than herself! In
fact the whole family, from constantly seeing the manufacture
going on about them, while in New-England,
had become familiar with all the mysteries of cutting,
splitting, bleaching, and platting straw, and with every
stage of the operation, from cutting the grain to arranging
the artificial flowers on the finished bonnet.
From a dissertation upon the kind of grass, used in
this manufacture, George was confident, that it was
none other, than the identical crab-grass, which was
such an abundant and troublesome inmate in their corn-field.
So impatient were they all, to satisfy themselves
upon this point, that immediately after reading the article
in question, George and Henry sallied out with a
light, at ten in the evening, to gather some of the crab-grass,
and to satisfy themselves, as to its capabilities for
this manufacture. The article was still unharmed by
the frost, though so late in the season, and Madam Mason
and Eliza found it to succeed, on experiment, beyond
their most sanguine expectations. They retired
to rest, full of cheerful and golden dreams, even Eliza
dreaming, that the children were all clad in new suits
with shoes and stockings, and that she and her mother
were once more fine.

This was a project for immediate and earnest trial.
Sufficient quantities of the grass were collected from
the field. George and the boys concluded to try their
skill upon the coarser manufacture of Vevay straw-hats
for gentlemen, of which some for domestic use were
already made in the settlement. Plenty of the finest
oat-straw for that purpose was readily obtained in the
settlement. In the papers, too, were minute dissertations
upon rearing the silk-worm, and the making of
silk. The woods about them abounded in mulberry-trees,
and there were acres covered with young and
thrifty ones, such as were represented to be in the right
stage, to furnish tender leaves for feeding the silk-worm.
Eggs for rearing the worms were offered gratuitously,
to encourage this species of industry. Behold the
promise of pleasant, practicable, and profitable labor,
both for winter and summer. The adventurer, whose
ticket has obtained the fortunate prize of fifty thousand
dollars may feel more intoxicating enjoyment, in the

first raptures of success, but we question if his meditations,
on the whole, are as calm, tranquillizing, salutary,
and enduring, as were the anticipations of this family,
in laying out their plans of future industry and success.

The trials and efforts of Madam Mason and her
daughter were commenced with the morning light, and
scarcely relinquished until midnight. Their slender
fingers were guided by all the skill, derived from practice
in New-England, by way of amusement, and by
having been reared where such operations and pursuits
were familiar, and carried on by every one about them.
It is true, they did not succeed to their minds at once.
But active and ingenious people, who are in earnest,
and determined not to be discouraged, seldom fail in
such efforts, and soon improve upon their first attempts.
As faith in religion can remove mountains, so courage,
patience, industry, and perseverance conquer all
difficulties in practice. The inexperienced manufacturers
made many mistakes, and slow progress at first.
But in the course of the winter, the mother and daughter
had made two grass bonnets, of which the first might
be said to be quite tolerable, and the last even beautiful,
in comparison with Leghorn straws. George and his
brothers, in the same interval, had completed eight gentlemen's
straw hats, which were considered merchantable,
besides one, of a less perfect workmanship and the
fruit of their first essays and experiments, for each one
of their own number. The last half-dozen were wrought
with considerable ingenuity and neatness. In the same
period, they had made considerable preparation for the
manufacture of silk, in which they were favored by
their friend, the postmaster, who not only furnished
them with all his printed information, in relation to this
business, but franked their letters, requesting eggs, and
had the pleasure of learning that their requests were
granted, and the eggs forwarded according to their
desire.

March had come again; but the venerated head of
the family would come no more, to enjoy with his dear
family the pleasure of seeing the brooks tufted with the
beautiful blossoms of the meadow-pink, and the woods
rendered gay with the opening flowers of the red-bud.
But these harbingers of spring admonished them, in
compliance with his last wishes, to begin their preparations
for subsistence through the coming year. It was
necessary that the field should be ploughed this season.
The frank deportment and the persevering industry of
George had so far won upon the good feelings of the
planters about them, that two of the richest offered to
send their slaves and teams to plough his field. It was
regarded in the family as a gift from heaven; for they
could not expect a second crop, without ploughing;
neither had they been able to devise any possible means
of hiring it done. It inspired them with new courage,
and was regarded as an omen of future good fortune.

This grand difficulty overcome, it was proposed, that
before planting, George and Henry should carry the
fruits of their winter's industry to the village on the
banks for sale, at the time, when they were advertised
by the papers, that a steam-boat would arrive there from
New-Orleans. It seemed, though they admitted a
slender one, the only chance that offered for a market
for their bonnets and hats. They had made some efforts,
indeed, to sell these articles to some of their more
opulent neighbours. They had even offered the best
bonnet for the ploughing of their field. But such is the
effect of prejudice, that these men found the bonnets
and hats mean and coarse, compared with much meaner
and coarser hats and bonnets bought from the stores.
An impartial eye could have seen at once the superiority
of their articles. But these had been made at home
and under their eye, and without mystery, and by a
destitute family with worn and patched garments and
bare feet. Those that they purchased from the stores,
were far-fetched and dear-bought. So true is it, that

manufactures, like prophets, are not like to be honored
in their own country. It is human nature, to undervalue
what grows up under our own eye. Of all this Mrs.
Mason was fully aware. Hero and emperor, as George
was, in her eye, she was aware, that he was an inexperienced
trader; that his market was a most unpromising
one, and she allowed herself to indulge but very slender
hopes from the proposed excursion to the river. But
there was neither shoe nor stocking in the family.
Notwithstanding the mending and patching of decency
and honest pride, their last dress was rapidly verging
to rags. They already hid themselves from their neighbours
as they passed. As the mother made her last
arrangements for the departure of her boys on this
excursion, it was with many prayers and tears. Nevertheless,
the grand maxim of her dear departed husband,
“never to despair,” came to her thoughts, as though it
were his spirit hovering near to cheer them. Her last
and best exertions were made to render them as neat
and decent in their appearance, as circumstances would
admit. But though their clothes were so patched and
seamed, that the original material and the ground color
could be hardly discerned, it was manifest that they
were children of a mother who had been used to decency
and respectable society. After giving them all the
counsels of maternal apprehension and forecast, after
long and laborious dictation, what was to be said and
done, in various supposed cases, she did up the venture
in two bundles in the only two decent handkerchiefs
remaining in the family, the larger to be borne by
George, and the smaller by Henry; she kissed them both,
suppressed her starting tears, and trusting the return
purchases, if they made sales, entirely to the judgment
of George, and his knowledge of what they needed
most, she sent them forth. An India merchant, who fits
out a ship carrying specie to China, knows nothing of
the anxious solicitudes of this mother in the case. The
poor widow, who sends her only son on a voyage, and
raises her last dollar to fix him out with an adventure,
can understand the case better.

The younger boys and Eliza were in high spirits, and
tripped along with them to the steps that led out of the
field. She gave them many counsels in relation to the
pretty articles, which she wished them to bring back. At
the steps she kissed them, shook hands with them, and
again and again wished them a good voyage, which was
earnestly echoed by the younger ones, and they set
forth alone.

I know not how the reader feels, but I feel as much
interest in the march of these barefooted boys along the
deep forest, as I do in reading about the adevntures
and ridiculous distresses of fine dressed lords and ladies.
Of all stupid things in our world, it is the most stupid,
as we have before remarked, that the great mass of
readers should have thought, that there was no dignity
nor interest in any adventures, but those of men that
have fine houses and coaches. There are only a few
hundreds of the former in our whole country. There
are a million who can claim the alliance of kindred
fortune with George and Henry. The movements of
human nature are just as strong in them, and if we
would study them, would be found possessing as high
an interest as those of the former.

It was a beautiful March morning when they started, and
the swelling buds of the Spice-Wood filled the air with
aromatic fragrance. Wherever they crossed a run with a
southern exposure, they saw the delicious meadow-pink
and the red-bud in flower. The beauty of the day, that inexplicable
spirit of freshness and joy to the whole creation,
which spring diffuses over earth and through air, and with
which it fills every thing that has life with gaiety and
songs; the alcove of branches in the grand forest through
which they passed, just beginning to be tinged with
countless points of green; every thing on their way was
of a freshness to cheer every thing but despair. They,
too, were full of the freshness and buoyancy of youthful

existence, and the sweet illusions of hope were diffused
over their minds. They walked almost with a bound.
They whistled, and sung, as an echo to the songs of the
forest, and for the first six miles of their way, no doubts
or fears had mingled with their expectations. But we
all of us from four to fourscore are creatures of the
elements; our joys and our sorrows, the fabric of a
passing remembrance, a floating cloud, a change in the
temperature; and the sunshine of the mind vanishes
with that of the sky. Before they reached the river,
the sun rode high, and the day was sultry. They had
become weary, and the excess of morning gaiety and
hope was gone. For a couple of hours they had lived
too fast, and the revulsion of discouragement followed.
Whoever had met them at that time, would have noted
in their weary and listless step, and their dejected countenances,
that their sanguine anticipations were gone.
Henry began very frankly to confess his doubts and discouragements.
George in heart was as much discouraged,
as his brother; but he had practically and thorougly
learned the hard lesson of putting a good face upon a
hopeless project. So he put himself, to his utmost ingenuity,
to prove to his brother, that nobody could ever
hope to succeed in any project with a sad countenance,
and a discouraged look. “If we do not look cheerful and
full of hope, when we arrive,” said he, “that alone would
spoil our market. If I were going to the gallows, I
would strive to put a good face upon it.” He then exerted
his utmost ingenuity to prove to his brother, that
they actually would do well. Children are easy to convince,
especially when they wish to be convinced.
While they rested a few moments, he entreated his
brother to look cheerful, and by making such efforts
with him actually became so himself. More of the
secret of success in life lies in this thing, than many
readers imagine.

They arose, resuming their morning faces, and marched
on, whistling and singing, until they arrived at the

river. The steam-boat had just fired its cannon, and
swept to the bank in all the pageantry of display, as
they arrived. It may be imagined, what an imposing
spectacle it presented to boys, who for so many months
had seen nothing but log-cabins and trees. Hundreds
of waggish boat-men were raising the wind on the deck,
and seventy-five or eighty gaily dressed cabin-passengers
sprang ashore, as soon as the plank was put out.
A trading-boat was moored a few rods above them.
George considered this a good omen. The people on
those boats are known to be traders and traffickers, who
deal in every thing. Besides, it was to remain there
two days, whereas the steam-boat was only to take in
wood and a few passengers, and would depart in a couple
of hours; of course the first trading essay of the
two boys would be made upon the steam-boot. It will
be seen that it was but an unpromising business for two
ragged boys to carry such articles, as hats and bonnets
for sale on board such a steam-boat, returning from New-Orleans,
crowded with passengers, some of them dandies,
some of them belles, many of them empty, heartless,
and unfeeling, most of them in a careless, tooth-pick
frame, and scarcely one of them disposed to offer
a fair chance to the intended speculation of the boys.
True, they were boys with fine faces, and keen observers
might easily have noted, that they were not common
boys. But who of the card-playing people, and the
vain women on board the steam-boat, yawning with ennui,
and greedy only for some kind of heartless distraction,
would inspect them close enough to look beyond
their first appearance and their rags? Besides, all
that could be supposed capable of such a purchase,
had been to the great mart of finery, New-Orleans, and
would little think of supplying themselves with any
thing they had overlooked there, in such a place as this.
All these thoughts were sufficiently obvious even to the
inexperience of George. His heart palpitated. His
mouth was dry, and as he gave his hand to his brother
Henry, to lead him along the plank on board the boat,
his very hand was covered with a cold sweat. Never
had the poor lad more urgent occasion for his motto,
“Don't give up the ship.” He assumed the courage
of desperation, and walked up to a tall gentleman with
an air of patronage and authority, who seemed to be a
kind of chief gallant among the ladies. “Will you please
to have any of our hats and bonnets, sir?” said he.

The gentleman answered carelessly, but kindly,
“My boys, I have no need of either.” But, as if struck
with the singularity of the offer of such articles in such
a place; “let us look at them though,” he continued;
“what kind of hats and bonnets do you make here?”
To have a chance to display his articles was an unexpected
advantage, and no small point gained. So he
very modestly undid his handkerchiefs, and spread his
hats and bonnets before the gentleman. It is more
than probable, that he had made the proposition to the
boys merely to bring about a conversation with the ladies.
“Come, and look, ladies,” said he. “Why, they are fine.
Upon my word, if we have not come all the way from
New-Orleans to a bonnet-market at the Iron Banks!
Who made these articles?” he continued, handling them
rather rudely. “My mother, and myself,” answered
George, firmly. “Please not to rumple them, sir.”

By this time a circle was formed round the boys and
their articles. Any person, who has witnessed such a
scene, knows how little feeling there is in such cases.
Some of the ladies showed their wit, by laughing at the
bonnets. Another took one of them up and ran to the
mirror, screwing it sidewise on ther head, and giving
herself a great many pretty airs in this ridiculous position,
well pleased to have gained the general laugh of
the gentlemen. George felt every ill-natured remark
upon his hats and bonnets, as he would have felt an
insult upon his mother, and every rude pull upon his
bonnets, as though it were upon his heart-strings. His
temper,—for he was a high-spirited boy,—was fifty times

ready to burst forth. But he saw, that all depended
upon self-possession. So he swallowed his words, and
attempted to conceal the palpitations of his heart, as they
agitated his tattered jacket, and bade himself be calm.
Some tumbled over his hats, remarking, that they showed
an astonishing ingenuity, and began to ask questions
about a family, that could originate such manufactures
in such a place. To all these questions George and
even Henry had such modest, prompt, and proper answers,
that persons of much thought and feeling would
naturally have been aroused to an interest in them.
But, unfortunately, there is little of the kind to be expected
in such circumstances. In such places they
generally prefer to show their own wit and talent at
ridicule, rather than exercise consideration and benevolence
to little paupers like these. There was, in particular,
a forward young lady with a fine complexion, who
was pretty, conceited, and vain, the belle and the wit of
her village, when at home, and she had been a third-rate
blue-stocking even at New-Orleans; she was, moreover,
wealthy and dressed as fine as colors, ribbands, and
lace could make her. She made such ridiculous efforts
to squeeze the handsomest bonnet over her huge combs
upon her head, as made Henry cry out in terror, “that
she would spoil the bonnet.” A lady of more character
and consideration saw, and pitied the distress of the
boy, and begged her, if she did not wish to purchase it,
at least to return it without injury. This polite and
proper rebuke piqued her, nor was it the first time she
had been piqued with this lady of superior understanding,
during this trip. She returned the bonnet to George,
comparing it with her own Leghorn, however, as she
returned it. Her own was certainly a meaner bonnet,
though dizzened with ornaments and artificial flowers.
“You see, my boy,” said she, holding her own beside his,
“that I should hardly want to buy such a thing, as this.
Still, as you seem to be poor, I will give you half a dollar.”
At the same time she offered him one from her
splendid purse. Half dollars had been rare visitants
with George, and he thought how much it would purchase
for his mother. A glow passed over his cheek.
He knew not, whether the feeling were pride, resentment,
or proper spirit. He was not casuist enough to
decide in a moment, whether he ought or ought not to
refuse the money. But he answered promptly, “Thank
you, ma'am; I should be glad to sell, but I did not come
to beg. As you do'nt find my bonnets worth buying, I
will go.” An answer so proper from a boy so young
and so dressed, produced an instant and unexpected
impression. It did the business for George. It aroused
attention, and created instant sympathy. The considerate
lady, who had spoken before, whispered a person
who seemed to be her brother, and a momentary consultation
ensued between them, and the gentlemen
and ladies in general. The gentleman came forward,
and asked George the price of his bonnets and his hats.
“Six dollars for the one, four for the other, and seventy-five
cents for each of the hats;” was the answer.
The gentleman remarked, as one who was a judge, that
the best bonnet was a fine one, and ought to sell for
more than the price asked. He proposed to buy it, and
dispose of it in a lottery, to which there was an assent
by general acclamation. He paid George six dollars,
and took the bonnet. I dare affirm, that receiving these
six dollars made him happier than Napoleon was, when,
amidst all the splendors of Paris, and the acclamations
of marshals and nobles and conquered kings, he put on
the imperial crown. The example was contagious.
All at once it was discovered, that the hats were light
and fine for the approaching summer. The story of the
cleverness of the poor boys ran through the crowd.
Strong feeling, excited in their favour, gave them credit
for even more than they possessed. In a few minutes
George had sold five of his hats.

Delighted beyond measure, he skipped up the ladder
among the hundreds, who were crowded on the

deck. There was no hope for the sale of the remaining
grass-bonnet among the plain and hardy fellows
there. But no one laughed at him for being ragged,
and he sold another of his straw hats. The bell rung
for all on shore to come on board, and all on board,
that did not belong there, to be off. The cannon fired,
and George was admonished, that the steam-boat was
getting under way. He carefully led his brother Henry
ashore, and with feelings very different from those
with which he came on board. He had in hand ten
dollars and a half, and to him it was the treasure of the
Indies. The boys were now in a frame of mind to be
delighted with seeing the gay steam-boat, with her colors
raised and her pennons flying, moving majestically
round, as the wheels began to throw up the foam, and
as she began to take her strong march against the current
of the mighty stream.

There still remained one bonnet and two hats. The
boys had now acquired confidence from success, and
they walked up the stream a few paces, to where the
trading-boat was moored. The two partners, who managed
it, probably took them to be boys bringing eggs
on board for sale. One of them held out his hand, to
lead them aboard.

“What do you ask for your eggs?” was the question.

“We have none to sell,” answered George, “but an
imitation Leghorn bonnet, and a couple of gentlemen's
straw hats.”

The traders were shrewd fellows from Connecticut,
whose business on the river, as they phrased it with
the true northern accent, was “trading and trafficking,”
and to whom no article of barter came amiss. Like
the people in the steam-boat, their curiosity was excited
by having such articles offered there, in a region,
where they had been accustomed to suppose nothing
was manufactured. These knowing traders examined
the articles with seeming carelessness, but they comprehended

the character and circumstances of the boys
in a moment, learned that they were Yankess, and
perceived, that they offered their articles cheap. They
ascertained, too, at once, that they had money, which
they wished to expend in purchases. Such an opportunity
to “trade and traffic” was not to be lost.

The sight of so many goods, arranged for show and
effect, and with many a gaudy article on the external
part of the shelves, to strike the eye, could not fail to
arrest the admiration of the boys from the woods.
Henry held up his hands, exclaiming, “Oh! brother,
brother, what would I give to carry home some of
these fine things to mother and the children. Dear
George, you must buy some of these things for them.”

After a little pretended difficulty about the price, the
traders purchased the remaining bonnet and hats. But
it was part of the contract, that the boys were to receive
their pay in goods, and moreover, to expend
their money in purchases there, they engaging to furnish
every article as cheap as could be bought at the
stores. Sorry I am to say, that George, with all his
natural cleverness and quickness, had better thrown his
articles into the river, than have dealt with one of these
traders. But one of the traders was endowed with a
heart and a conscience, strange as it may seem, in his
case. The artless story of the boys had moved his
pity and his feelings. He was determined, that no advantage
should be taken of their youth and inexperience.
He called his partner aside, and told him as
much. The younger of the traders remonstrated, but
being the inferior partner, was oblighed to yield, while
the elder dealt with them. The whole amount of the
purchase was to be sixteen dollars. The trader made
many considerate and kind inquiries with a sincere
view to inform himself, what they most needed at home.
It was a business of extreme perplexity with George,
to decide between conflicting claims in their purchases.
He went on shore with Henry to consult with him on

points, that pride forbade him to mention before the
traders. After all, it would have occupied all the day,
to fix on the specific articles to purchase, had it not
been necessary, that he should decide in season to return
home that night. The important selections at
length, after much doubt and solicitude, and aided by
the honest and more decided judgment of the trader,
were made. They consisted of patterns for a chintz
dress for the mother and daughter, a pair of shoes for
each, and patterns for a domestic cotton dress for each
of the children beside. Two dollars, that remained,
were bestowed in coffee and sugar, luxuries that had
not been tasted in the family, since the first month
after their arrival in the country. The trader had not
only given them the full value of their money and articles,
but had generously allowed them more, and in
the noble spirit of saving their feelings, and wishing
them to receive it, not as a gift, but as a purchase.
The whole amount, when done up in a bundle, was no
inconsiderable package, and constituted a burden too
heavy for their strength and the distance they had to
travel that night. Fortunately a neighbour from the
settlement was in at the river, carrying out a load of
articles in his horse-wagon to the settlement. He offered
to take their package, and even themselves back
again. But as his wagon was heavily loaded, and inconvenient,
and uncomfortable, as a vehicle, they thankfuly
accepted the offer for the transport of their package,
preferring themselves to return on foot, as they
came.

This matter arranged, away marched the boys for
home, with hearts as light as a feather. It was cheering
to hear their young voices echoing in songs through
the woods, as they walked briskly onward. The still
dusk of a March sunset overtook them, before they
reached home. It happened in this case, as it always
happens, that too high a flood of joy is succeeded in
the mind by an ebb of sadness. The solemn sensations

of decaying light in the forests, weariness and the reaction
of feelings, that had been too highly excited, drew
from Henry, with a long sigh, as they rested for a moment,
this remark:

“Dear George, it takes away all my gladness in carrying
our fine things home, to think that my poor, dear
father is gone, never to come back. Oh! I would
give all this world that he were only alive, and well;
what we have got would render him so happy! Oh!
how glad he would be to see that we are able to make
ourselves comfortable and take care of ourselves! I
shall never see him more, and I care nothing about all
we have bought.”

As this thought came over him, in all its bitterness,
his surcharged heart found vent to its feelings in a burst
of weeping. George was not a little proud of his reputation
for philosophy, but he had been brooding in his
mind over the same gloomy train of remembrance, and
this ill-timed remark of his brother, the echo of his own
thoughts, so nearly vanquished him, that he was obliged
to turn away to conceal the tears, that were forming in
his own eyes. While they were thus crying in company,
their neighbour's wagon came up with them.
His company, and the view of their package introduced
a new train of thought. They were still two miles
from home, and as the wagon parted from their path
there, and took another direction, it become necessary,
that they should take their package themselves.
It was heavy; but it was a precious burden,
and they wiped their eyes, as George thanked the
neighbour, and bent his neck to it. As he became
weary under his proud burden, Henry shouldered it,
and staggered on a quarter of a mile, when George resumed
it. In this way, they arrived in view of the
house. Twilight was just fading. The wooden shutters
were not closed, and a bright light gleamed from
the house. The sweet and subdued voice of the mother
and daughter was heard within, singing the evening

hymn. They distinctly heard the burden of the closing
stanza,
The family dog received them with his caresses at the
door. The two boys threw down their package, as
they entered, and rushing to the arms of their mother,
made no effort to restrain tears of joy. They both sobbed
together, “Father, dear father, if you were only
here!” But the happy tears, and kisses, and embraces,
that ensued, were only those of tenderness and joy.
They all agreed, that if his spirit could be among them,
it would only be to chide them for any other feelings,
than those of gladness on this occasion.

And now, after a half an hour spent in this way,
came on, of course, the happy business of unrolling the
goods and displaying the individual character of their
purchases. My reader may have seen a lady in her
birth-night ball-dress. He may have seen a dandy
sport a suit of clothes in an entire new fashion. He
may have imagined high degrees of gratified pride and
joy on occasions, which he has seen, or of which he
may have read. But I question, if he has ever seen,
or read of a more real, heart-felt, and honest exultation
and joy, than that of this family. Ah! my dear reader,
I hope you do not know by experience, as these poor
people did, that it is bitter privation, that teaches us the
value of things; that it is poverty which instructs us to
be content, and glad, with a little. Who can tell the
gladness of heart of this mother and daughter, that they
should be once more decently clad, and in a garb to
be seen! The two boys were exulting proudly in
their own wisdom, cleverness, and management, and as
a spice of evil mixes with all our good, I much fear,
there was in their hearts a dawning feeling, like
that of the exulting monarch, who said, “Is not this
great Babylon, which I have built?” Add to this
the gratified pride of the mother, in seeing this proof of
the premature industry and capacity of her children;

and in witnessing the fulfilment of her departed husband's
prediction, “that God would never forsake them,
if they did not forsake themselves.” One of the most
insupportable burdens of extreme poverty was not
only thrown off, but a prospect opened of a constant
remedy of the same kind for the future. It is not
necessary, that the parties should be kings, or rulers, or
rich, or distinguished, to be capable of all the joy and
all the sorrow, which our nature is susceptible of experiencing.
I dare affirm, that this family, for the first
hour of unrolling these articles, and examining their excellence,
and exclaiming, as well they might, at their
cheapness, and making their arrangements for the share
which each one of the family should have of them, and
in the anticipated joy of the smartness of their appearance
in their new dress, and listening to the story of
the sales and purchases, was one of the happiest for the
time that existed in our world.

Mrs. Mason, too, had, like her two sons, her painful
revulsion, after the first burst of joy. She remembered
the eye that used to kindle with such intense affection
at seeing the happiness of his family. She remembered
him on whose bosom she had divided her joys and sorrows.
She remembered his satisfied look, as he saw
his children happily seated round the evening fire.
She felt, too, how happy this evening would have made
him. It was in vain, that she said to herself, that his
ashes only remained with them, under the sycamore,
and that his spirit was in heaven, and infinitely above
such poor and trifling joys. She was after all but a
frail being of flesh; and unavailing longing for his loved
society, to share the happiness of that evening, brought
bitterness in the midst of her joy. “Some natural tears
she dropp'd, but wip'd them soon.” Coffee was prepared,
the first they had tasted for a year, and the exhilirating
beverage had a relish which they cannot
know, to whom it is a daily repast.

To make the dresses was the work of the mother

and daughter. Privation rendered this labor, which in
so many instances is considered a painful toil, a delightful
pastime. The boys, the while, were in the field,
busily engaged in planting, and delighted, on their return
from labor, to watch the progress of the important
operations within. They within, too, often came out to
observe how the labors of the field succeeded. During
this inspection, we see George in the honest pride of
head workman and overseer in this important business,
directing Henry to straighten the rows, and Thomas
to take some kernels from the hill, or add them, as he
saw the case require. These subalterns, too, had a
pride, in manifesting under the eye of their mother,
the promptness of their obedience.

The imagination of the reader may easily supply the
details of a considerable interval of time that ensued,
marked with no incident but the rejoicings of the succeeding
Sabbath, in which the family performed their
customary Sabbath solemnities, in an entire new dress
from head to foot. This was a silent joy, and a pride
inly felt; for each member of the family knew too well
the claims of self-respect, to exult externally in the display
of their finery. We should have mentioned, that
since the death of Mr. Mason, Sabbath had been in
this family, as nearly a day of the same kind of worship
as while he lived, as the case would admit. It
was in vain, that their neighbours strolled by with their
dogs and guns, and invited the boys to share with them
the pleasure and the profits of the chase. It was in
vain that even the women came past the house with
their angling rods to fish in the neighbouring creek.
The day had always been in that family consecrated to
pursuits worthy of the hopes of immortality, and these
duties, so far from being remitted after the head was
gone, were more exactly performed. The house was
that day a Sabbath-school, a place of worship, a house
of instruction in singing, and in training to all the high
thoughts and holy feelings of religion. Neither was it

a day of gloom. It had long been inculcated on this
family, as one of the first duties of the Sabbath to strive
in every way to render it a pleasant and a cheerful day
to the children. Prayers were recited, select portions
of the Scriptures read, questions propounded, and
every duty seasoned with an air of cheerfulness and joy.
The day never passed away without an affectionate remembrance
of him, whose body mouldered, indeed,
under the sycamore near them; but whose spirit, the
mother told them, was, probably, permitted that day to
descend from heaven, and to be invisibly present with
them.

The field was planted, and the corn waved in its
beauty. The showers descended, and they were again
cheered with the prospects of an ample harvest. The
materials for the labors of the winter were prepared, as
they were matured for gathering. It was a delightful
employment to tend their silk-worms. For this season
they calculated upon little more, than an experiment.
But they contemplated with untiring eagerness and unsated
pleasure the manifestations of the astonishing wisdom
and contrivance of Providence in the labors of
these humble animals. They admired the beauty of the
little silken world, in which they enclosed themselves,
and saw, in the increase of their stock, and the extension
of their labors another year, the promise not only
of pleasant employment, but of adding to their means
of support. There was certainly with them every conceivable
motive to industry. One of their most important
arrangements was, after the evening service, to settle
the business of the succeeding day, and parcel out
the amount of time, that should be appropriated to each
duty. This appreciation of time, this wise and settled
distribution of it beforehand, redeems half a life. By
rising an hour earlier than other people, and by drawing
on the evening for an hour later, and by saving two
hours every day, by having all the employments of the
day, and the length of time to be devoted to each, settled

beforehand, four hours every day were gained upon
their most industrious neighbours.

Yet, with their utmost industry, the evils of poverty
pressed hard upon them. Their sugar and coffee were
soon expended, and the privation rendered more bitter
by the inclination for it having been rekindled, and the
habit renewed by this transient indulgence. A single
dress for each of them only rendered the want of
a change more striking and painful. The doctor's bill
and the tax bill were presented anew with a sneering
remark, that “people ought to pay their debts before
they made themselves fine.” There were a hundred
other things to which they, stinted as their means had
been, had been formerly used, which were necessary to
common comfort, and the want of which was felt to be
sufficiently galling. But poor people, that have religion
and good sense, learn to bear many evils, and to
endure the want of many things, without envy or repining.
The mother nightly inculcated upon them,
that it was not only making themselves miserable, but
wicked, to fret, and murmur, because others had means
and comforts which they had not, or to harbour angry
and revengeful feelings towards even those who despised
them on account of their poverty.

The spring and the summer passed away calmly, and
without other incidents than those, every where brought
about by the silent march of time. The sun, the moon,
and stars kept their hours of rising and rest. Their
days sped in noiseless privacy, in these calm and innocent
employments. Every day added to the strength
of the children and developed the energy, firmness, and
forecast of George. Their amount of silk was laid by
for future winding. An abundant supply of the article
for the manufacture of the coming winter was provided.
At this period of hope and cheerful anticipation, a
catastrophe befel them of which they had been fore-warned,
but which yet fell upon them like a thunder-stroke.
They had been told, that they must expect

the sickness of acclimation, called “seasoning,” in the
phrase of the country. They had been too busy, too
much occupied, and too deep in schemes of the future,
to think of sickness, until it came.

The corn had just begun to whiten on the ears, and
the intense heats of summer to soften into the milder
temperature of autumn, when, at ten in the morning,
Mrs. Mason felt a chill, which compelled her to take
to her bed. Her lips and her hands had the customary
livid appearance. She had hardly lain down, before
the three younger children came in from the field, all
attacked in the same way. The little discouraged tremblers
bestowed themselves on their beds. The spasms
of the chill in each were most severe. From Madam
Mason to her youngest child, their teeth chattered, and
a kind of low, mourning neise accompanied such violent
and spasmodic shaking, as made the cabin tremble, and
their few earthern plates on the shelf, beside their beds,
were heard to clatter with the united shudderings.
Each one was under the influence of a delirious excitement,
like that of opium, and the cry of “drink! drink!”
was, uttered with the eager earnestness of a traveller,
expiring with thirst, on the parched sands of a desert.
In their wild conversations, it was affecting to hear the
younger children call upon their father, in such a variety
of tone and supplication, as would have moved a
heart of stone. A couple of hours passed in this way,
when they dozed for a few moments, and then aroused
with cheeks crimson with fever, and another kind of
delirium, attended with new tones and accents of distress.
Eliza and George were continually carrying the
water-gourds, first to one, and then to the other. The
patients seized the vessel with a convulsive grasp, and
held to it so long, that one would have thought they would
have suffocated by the eagerness and duration of their
drinking. This paroxysm endured something longer
than the former, and when this passed, a few moments
of agony succeeded; when the sweat began to start,

slowly at first, and without much sensation of relief.
But soon it burst from every pore, and dropped from
each particular tress of hair, as though their solid flesh
would “resolve into a dew.” This immediately
brought calmness and relief, and a delightful languor,
which they only know, who have felt it, attended by
such soothing and tranquillizing sensations, as we may
suppose to belong to the spirit of the just, after the last
struggles of escape from the prison of the flesh. But
though relieved, they were so weak, as to be unable to
rise from their beds. A thick fog rose above the tops
of the trees, and the sun went down in utter and Egyptian
darkness. What a night for this family, of which
two only of the children could walk from bed to bed of
the sick! Eliza was, as might be expected from
her age and sex, subdued and pale as death.
George felt that the grand trial of his fortitude was
come. He repeated his grand maxim, as he kindled
the evening light; told them in the common proverb,
“that the darkest time in the night was just before
morning;” talked with calmness of this sickness, as the
common course of things in the country; and remarked,
that though distressing to endure, they ought all to
be thankful, that it was by no means a dangerous disorder,
and prophesied with deep apparent conviction,
that not only would they all be shortly well from this
“seasoning,” but find it to be the harbinger of good
fortune again.

Still he was aware, that in such violent attacks,
something must be done, to arrest the fury of the disorder.
He consulted none but his sister. He made
every considerable arrangement, within the limits of
their slender means, to meet the renewal of the paroxysm,
which, he was aware, the patients must expect again
on the morrow; and he was away before the dawn in
the morning on the road to the river for the doctor.
There was now no brother Henry to accompany him,
whose prattle might serve to beguile him on the

way. The day was sultry, and the subject of his meditations
dreary and full of gloom. We need not imagine,
what he thought and felt. Courage and affection
achieve miracles. He reached the river early in the
day. The doctor could not accompany him back, but
promised, as is customary in that climate, and at that
season, to avoid heat and flies, and to save time, that
he would start for the sick family at midnight. George
was on his return by half after ten in the morning. He
had already measured half his distance home, when he
felt himself suddonly seized with a chill. So violent
was the attack, that after walking two or three minutes
under its endurance, he was obliged to stop and sit
down. Fortunately the disease had arrested him on
the bank of a rivulet and at the ford. He crawled on
his hands and knees through the mud, and reclining
over the water, drank as long as he could hold his
breath. A momentary relief flashed an impulse of
courage through his frame, that he should be able to
resume his journey. He waded through the ford, and
staggered on a few steps. All would not do. Every
thing flashed before his eyes, in long and flaky streams
of green and yellow light, succeeded by darkness. His
head swam, and thick pantings oppressed his bosom.
The poor fellow fell, but fortunately on the moss at the
foot of a sycamore. It was some minutes before he
returned to himself; and as he felt as he had never
felt before, and perceived that he was covered with a
cold and clammy sweat, his first thought was, that the
hand of death was upon him. Even then, the noble
lad thought only of the poor sufferers at home, looking
in vain through the evening and the night for his return.
It was long before he could gather strength to repeat
his adage, and resume his courage. He settled himself
as comfortably as he could, on the moss, and in a position
as convenient as might be to crawl to the stream.
It was a thought sufficiently gloomy, it must be admitted,
for such a lad to contemplate his probable chance
of expiring there in the woods, unattended and alone,
and, perhaps, be devoured by panthers, or wolves, even
before the death of nature had taken place; and leave
the sufferers at home entirely forlorn. But he said,
“Our Father, who art in heaven!” and he prayed first
for those at home, and then for himself, and laid himself
down to await the disposal of Providence. His
paroxysm was increased by his fatigue, and the want of
a bed, and the comforts, which even his home would
have afforded. He was afflicted with partial delirium
and devouring thirst. Once more he fainted in
his efforts to crawl up the bank, after drinking. It
seemed to him, indeed, on regaining his couch of moss,
that he must expire in the woods. Such was his situation,
as the dark night came upon him, and the distant
howl of the wolves rung in his ear. In the midst of his
thoughts within him, it occurred to him, that at one in
the night the doctor would pass that way, and that, by
that time, his fever would be so far abated, as that he
might be able to ride home behind him. But then it
would be necessary, that he should remain awake, or
the doctor would pass him ignorant that he was
there. The sweat soon began to flow, and he was
easy, languid, and his eyes so heavy, that sleep seemed
irresistibly to weigh upon his eye-lids. He attempted
a hundred expedients to keep himself awake. An invincible
drowsiness pressed upon him, and nature levied
her tribute. He fell into a profound sleep. The
angels of God not only guarded this pale and exhausted
lad from the wolves, but inspired pleasant dreams into
his innocent bosom. He fancied that he had just arrived
home. His mother and the children were recovered,
and were about him with kisses and caresses.
Water seemed to be handed to him, and in his eagerness
to grasp the gourd, and bring it to his lips, he
awoke himself from his dream, just as he heard the distant
trampling of the doctor approaching on horseback.

It might have startled another, to have been thus called

upon, as he passed, by a feeble human voice, imploring
aid at that hour and in that place. But the doctor
was a man of temperament, such as not to find miracles
in incidents wide from the common, and when he
learned the state of the case, it was nothing strange to
him, to find a sick lad on the way, who had just passed
the paroxysm of the ague. He made some difficulty
about taking him up behind him, remarking, that he
seemed very comfortably situated there, and that he
could notify his mother, to have him sent for in the
morning. Poor George had to exert himself to the utmost
to be taken up. But he succeeded at length, and
was carried home.

Eliza of course had found it necessary to instruct her
mother, as the fever returned upon the family in the
morning, what was become of George. I need
not say how they endured their severe fever that day,
or what they thought, when they found, that George
did not return at night. When he did return, he found,
that Eliza, towards night, had been attacked in her
turn, and that the family had suffered inexpressibly for
water. But they were still alive, and the sight of him
and the doctor revived their spirits. The doctor prescribed
as he thought the case required, and I am sorry
to add, that it appeared to him, to call for cheap medicines.
He was one of those physicians who make most
exertions for those who pay best. Physicians, generally,
are kind men, and there are few, who would have
left a helpless family in the woods, with the nearest
neighbour distant two miles, and each member so sick,
as to be unable to go to the spring and bring a gourd of
water for the rest, without having attempted an arrangement,
to procure some one to nurse them. But
this doctor had a thick head and an unfeeling heart.
He daily saw much misery and sickness of the same
sort, and he thought very little upon the scene before
him, except, that it afforded him little immediate prospect
of a bill. He thought in this case, I rather imagine,

if he thought at all upon the subject, that men were
made to be sick, take pills, and pay the doctor; and
as this family could not do the last, he felt it right to
hurry away to the care of some patients who could. Be
that as it may, he left the family, in which no one was
able to walk to the spring, to shift for themselves. They
had all taken medicine, and this had produced an exacerbation
of the morning attack. It was distressing to
hear their groans during the paroxysm, and their incessant
cries for drink. However Mrs. Mason and George
might be able to sustain the agony of thirst in silence,
it was an effort of self-restraint not to be expected of
the rest.

For aught that appears, they might all have expired
together, without any relief, had not Providence in its
own merciful way, sent them aid. Their nearest
neighbour had an old slave, Pompey by name, who was
a methodist professor of religion, who was really and in
good earnest religious, not from stubbornness, or laziness,
as masters are apt to charge their slaves with being, when
they pretend to that thing. Pompey had been on an errand
to the river, and had returned that way. Hearing
the groans within, he was induced to stop, and enter
the cabin. What a scene was before him! There was
none to bring them water to quench their burning thirst.
His kind heart was affected. He repaired to the
spring, and returned with a couple of gourds full of
water. He gave them drink. He opened the shutters
to ventilate the room. He cut green boughs, and
put in the windows, to keep out the sun, and admit the
coolness of the air. He grated the tender corn of the
half ripe ears, and made them gruel. He made their
beds, and aided them to change from the one to the
other, while he did it. In short, he did every thing,
which a diligent and affectionate nurse could do, with
the means of the house, and then he fell on his knees
beside their bed, and prayed with them. Nor was his
prayer less effectual in the divine ear, or less cheering

and consoling to the patients, because it was uttered in
the broken accents of an African dialect. He then sat
by them, and talked to them in his good-natured and
affectionate way, bidding them take courage, and promising
them, that he would hurry home, and ask leave of
his master to return and watch with them. And as he
was old, and as he said, of little account in the field, he
had no doubt, that his master would allow him to come
back, and stay with them. He added, “Me cure
heap people of the ague. Me know six times more
about him than the doctor. Me come and cure you
all.”

A solemn conversation between the mother and these
children on their beds ensued. The two younger children
were wild with the delirium of fever. Henry,
Eliza, and the mother were in utter despondency, and
certainly few prospects on the earth can be imagined
more gloomy than theirs. The only article in the cabin
for sustenance was corn-meal, and the alternative before
them seemed only that of perishing of sickness, or
hunger. George, though the sickest of the whole, held
fast to his grand maxim. He declared an undoubting
confidence, that things would yet go well with them.
He called them to consider, how mercifully God had
dealt with them in many respects already. From
their rich experience of the Divine mercy, in time past,
he called them to take courage for all the future.
None, but people so situated, know what invigorating
refreshment arises, to cheer despondency, and banish
despair, from one such firm and undoubting prophet of
good.

In due time Pompey came. The kind-hearted and
considerate slave had looked deeply into their condition,
and had fully espied the nakedness of the land.
From the stores of his fellow-servants he had brought a
little sugar and tea. Of his master he had begged
powder and shot. He killed squirrels and partridges in
an hour's hunt. With these and grated corn he prepared

a nutritive and rich soup. He then went along
the run, and gathered Eupatorium Perfoliatum, or
Thorough Wort. He gave each one a cup of the infusion
of those leaves, a grand remedy among the
the slaves in such cases, and perhaps the best that can
be given. The medicine operated at once powerfully,
and gently, and when the fever, and the effect of the
medicine were passed, a devouring appetite returned to
them. Nothing could be more restorative than the
soup which Pompey had prepared for them. At nine
he made tea. Their fear and dejection were dispelled,
as by a charm, and the kind black fellow was in the
midst of them, a sort of ministering angel, and enjoying
their thankfulness and their hopes, with all the sympathy
of his affectionate nature. He prayed with them
again in the earnest language of thanksgiving and praise,
and he sung his own wild hymns, as a part of the worship.
Nor did he take his sleep on his blanket beside
them on the floor, until he had ascertained, that each
one of his patients was asleep.

Next day, it is true, their fever returned, but with
symptoms of abated violence, and an hour later in the
day. The same medicine, and the same regimen were
repeated and with the same effect. The period of
fever was short, and the attack of this day comparatively
mild. The third day of his attendance, instead of
the infusion of Thorough Wort, he gave an infusion of
Dog Wood, Wild Cherry, and Yellow Poplar bark. On
the fourth day nothing of their sickness remained, but a
kind of pleasing languor, and Pompey pronounced the
fever broken, assuring them, that all that was now
necessary, was to use great caution to prevent relapse,
or in his phrase, “getting it again.” They were now
all able to help each other. Leaving them materials
for soup, and killing them an abundance of small wild
game, obtained in those woods, with but a small effort, he
left them with the tears and blessings of them that were
ready to perish, as his reward. As they shook hands

at parting, George gave him his promise, if he was ever
able, as he hoped one day to be, to purchase him and
give him his freedom. In a few days the family were
fully recovered, and resumed their usual routine of
cheerful and religious occupation and industry. They
had, indeed, incurred an additionol debt of twelve dollars
to the leaden-hearted physician, who shortly let
them know as much, by presenting his bill.