University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

Leaving Duncan Powell to enter upon his career as a cadet; and
Kate, while she suffered herself to be gratified by his weekly visits
from the Post, to mourn over the destiny which compelled her to
crush her love for Paul in her heart—a passion which grew with
each day of his absence—we shall follow the discarded lover. On
his arrival at the landing at Fishkill the boat was in sight, gallantly
bearing down the river, with streamers flying, a train of murky smoke
rolling along the air, and with her spacious decks crowded with passengers.
She stopped just long enough for him with half a dozen others
to get on board, when again she pursued her swift and majestic
course through the Highlands. On one side lay the terraced city of
Newberg, on the opposite the pleasant shores of Dutchess county,
while below them as they advanced, towered `Break Neck,' `Bull,' and
`Old Cro'nest,' their summits dyed scarlet, gold, and orange, under
the gorgeous pencil of an October frost. As the boat entered the
amphitheatre amid these mountain shores, the passengers stood in
silent admiring groups, gazing in awe upon the sublime scene through
which they were borne. Paul retired to the side of the deck which
looked towards his home and Rock Hall. As the boat swept past
he could distinctly discern Duncan walking upon the lawn with
Kate and her father, and occasionally stopping to look at the boat.
He thought, but he could not distinctly see for tears, that she raised
her handkerchief, while Duncan waved his hat, he thought as much
in triumph as in adieu! He did not acknowledge the greeting, and
was turning bitterly away, when his eye was attracted by a figure
on the shore and a waving handkerchief. He was passing his native
cottage, and his mother was sending her whole heart towards him
in that silent and touching signal. He instantly condemned himself
for thinking more of one whom he believed had cruelly trifled with
him, than of his devoted parent; and placing himself upon a con
spicuous part of the boat he took off his hat and waved it with a
full heart, till her figure and the fluttering signal of her parting
blessing was lost in the dimness of distance: and from that moment
he resolved, for her sake, to acquit himself in the busy world of
action upon which he was about to enter, like a man—like a son
of whom she would one day be proud! Would that such good resolutions
had been adhered to, when, amid the trials, temptations,
and evils of a metropolitan life, they were at length brought to that
severe test, that must one day try all good resolves, and virtuous
plans of conduct.

At West Point they stopped to receive and land passengers, and
then, amid the crash of martial music heard from the plains above,
moved onward. The beauty of this port, situated amid the most
sublime river scenery, drew forth from the travellers and foreign
voyagers on the deck expressions of admiration, in which Paul,
whose attention was now diverted from himself and his own griefs,
returned to the scenes and persons around. Fort Putnam, the finest
old ruin in America, frowned down upon them from its embattled
cliff, and the garden of Kosciusco peered in romantic beauty from
the wild and picturesque shore, upon which it slept—a sweet
seclusion, to which many a loving pair, retiring from the gayety and
warlike splendor of the Plains, have made pilgrimage. Further
down, they passed the white cascades, called `Buttermilk Falls,'
which came tumbling like a river of snow adown an irregular cliff,
affording to the voyager a singularly beautiful object, contrasting
the dark forests of the scene around. Still the steamer kept on her
way through this deep and sublime river-gorge, with cliff-browed
mountains overhanging on either side, and, both behind and before,
locking the Hudson like a lake. The fortresses of Montgomery and
Clinton, and opposite the quarters of the traitor Arnold, with the

low point whence he embarked in his boat to flee to the British
sloop of war, were all objects of interest; and as this was Paul's
first voyage down the river, he listened with deep attention to the
passengers as they pointed out these important historical features
of the scene. Singsing, with its hill-side village and vast prison-buildings,
with Tarry Town, where Andre was taken, and Tappan,
on the opposite shore, where he suffered death, were objects that
drew his attention; and with others he strained his eyes as a passenger
on board pointed to a tree, two miles distant, which waved
over his grave. Lower down, the handsome and tasteful seat of
Washington Irving drew many an eye; and silent, gazing homage
was paid by every intelligent passenger, as each crowded to the side
where lay `Sleepy Hollow,' to the genius of the author of the
`Sketch Book.' At length the Palisadoes appeared, rising from the
river side in a majestic line of cliff, and stretching for leagues like
some vast wall reared by Titans. At length, passing the verdant
site of Fort Lee, the city began to open to the eye, heralded by crowds
of vessels from the ship to the sloop that thronged the water; by
numerous villas that thickly lined the beautiful shores; and the
frequent travellers in carriages, on horseback and afoot, that passed
along the dusty road that run parallel with the river. The suburbs
were soon abreast; and masses of buildings, half hidden by the
masts of tiers of shipping that lined the wharves, with towers,
domes, and spires rising in the air, with a loud roaring sound like the
rumble of thunder in the distance, told Paul that he was at New
York! Before he quite recovered from his bewildered emotions, at
the novelty of all he saw, in the new scene upon which he had
entered, the boat had come to the wharf and the passengers began
to crowd on shore. For a moment he stood under a painful sense
of loneliness, seeing all leaving as if to a waiting and welcoming
home. He soon recovered his firmness and also left the boat with
his bundle beneath his arm. His mother had given him a letter to
his uncle, which he now took from his pocket to examine the address.
It was as follows: `Job Haskell, Printer, No. 19, Ann street.
New York City.' Paul inquired of a man, with a whip in his hand,
for Ann street, who readily replied,

`Get in my carriage, yer honor, and it's there I'll be with ye in a
jiffy. What number, honey?'

`Nineteen.'

`It's there ye 'll be in a whist! Get in, darlint!'

Paul thanked him, thinking the New York people very civil, and
complied; and was soon whirled up Courtland street amid a noise
of wheels, a shouting of voices, and a miscellaneous congregation
of sights and sounds such as he had never before any conception of.
In a few minutes the carriage stopped, the steps rattled down, and,
as the door was thrown open, he saw before him a sign on which
was the name of `J. Haskell, Job Printer.'

`Yes, this is the place,' he said, taking his bundle and getting out.
`I am very much obliged to you, sir. Will you take this?'

`Divil a bit. It's four sixpences, divil a less.'

`Do you charge me, then?' inquired Paul, the truth flashing upon
him; though he knew in the country that it was common for the
people to give persons a lift in their wagons for nothing, if they
were seeking any place.

`Charge is it? A quarther, divil less.'

`Here it is,' said Paul, reluctantly paying from his limited store
the amount, and resolving the next time politely to decline all such
civil invitations to ride in a city.

Mr. Job Haskell was seated near an open window of his printing
office, correcting a proof, when the carriage stopped below. He
glanced out, and, seeing a young man alight with a bundle beneath
his arm, resumed his occupation. He was a stout-framed, hard-featured
man, with a forbidding countenance, yet having an expression
of intellect and talent. He was seated at an old bespattered
pine-table, dressed in a coarse, well-inked linen jacket, with a blotted
proof-sheet of some school-book before him. Several journey,
men were at work at their cases around, and a short, be-inked little
urchin, was grinding printer's ink on a large slab. At intervals Mr.
Haskell would look up and glance around his printing office with
the austere aspect of a man in authority, and then go on with his
work. Mr. Haskell was a member of a Christian denomination,
and not low in eminence therein. He was one of those erring men,
who believe baptism to be regeneration, and that there is no need of
a change after this rite. In his opinion, the drops of baptismal
water, that sprinkled his infant brow, were seeds of holiness, that,
having once fallen into the soil, would grow up and bring forth the
fruits of a sanctified life. So he took no pains to sanctify himself,
and the weeds of evil flourished in his heart without trimming or
cutting down. Religious affections he placed in rapturous devotion,
in heat and ecstatic energy in prayer, in which he was much gifted;
and all he aimed at was, to pray with passion and think of heaven
with pleasure; while he cultivated neither charity towards men nor
true humility. He was one of those professing Christians, who
would consecrate their vices, hallow their corrupt affections, and
sanctify their bad passions; whose morose tempers and sullen pride
must pass for Christian severity; whose fierce wrath and bitter rage
against their enemies must be called holy zeal; whose hatred of
other denominations, and whose wrath and bitterness in denouncing
them, must have the name of Christian courage and firmness. Ig
norant that true religion is a real participation of the divine nature
—the image of God drawn upon the soul, he thus rendered his
basest nature subservient to the most holy profession, and walked
among men a painted hypocrite!

Such was the individual who, three years before, wrote to Mrs.
Tatnall that he would take her son, his nephew, as an apprentice.
Lest Mr. Haskell should be suspected of a charitable intention we
would state, that he was very much in want of a house and market
boy, and believed he could not do better than secure such a
useful person in his household as his sister's son; for, thought he,
being a relation, I can do with him just as I please; his frequent
experience having told him, that boys who were not related did not
make very obedient kitchen apprentices. The delay on the part of
the widow in sending her son had at length displeased him, inasmuch
as his kind intentions towards his nephew, in behalf of his
domestic education, were likely to be defeated. At length he had
given up all hopes of the desired acquisition, when the door of his
printing office opened, and a slender, light-complexioned, but handsome,
intelligent looking youth, about eighteen entered, and looked
about him with an hesitating survey of the busy scene. Mr. Haskell
glanced up from his proofs, and fixing upon him his hard gray eyes,
seemed to ask what his business was. Paul's dress was a plain
suit of blue, and from something in its style and in his air it was
evident to the journeymen, that the young man was country bred
and fresh in town. Paul was abashed by the attention drawn upon
him; and his eyes falling upon Mr. Haskell, who was now looking
him full in the face, he advanced to the table, and asked if that gentleman
was in.

`That is my name,' replied the job printer, in a gruff tone.

`Then I have a letter for you,' said Paul, who instantly conceived
in his heart a dislike to his uncle, from whose looks he augured
nothing very pleasant in his career of apprentice under him. But
Paul had a firm heart and was not faint in spirit; and he awaited
with a quiet demeanor the perusal of the letter.

`Humph! hum! So you are my sister's son,' he said, holding up
the brief epistle and gazing upon his nephew with a flushed and
angry brow while he awaited his answer.

`Yes, sir,' replied Paul.

`You should have been here three years ago, sir! What have you
been doing?'

`Attending school and living with my mother.'

`Idling and bird-shooting, I'll be bound! Spending your time in
wickedness and sin when you should have been learning an honest
trade! How old are you?'

`Eighteen.'

`A pretty time of life to come to be apprenticed! Well, sir, what
do you expect?'

`At least to be treated civilly,' replied Paul, with a heightened
color in his cheek; for all this conversation had passed within
hearing of every one in the office, while many a side smile betrayed
the interest of the listeners.

`Civilly,' repeated Mr. Haskell, dropping his pen and pushing his
chair back. `This is the way my sister has brought you up, eh?
Yes, I'll treat you civilly! You shan't complain! Three years to
twenty-one! Yes, you shall find me civil, lad, I assure you!' and
Mr. Haskell grinned like a lynx `I will have your indentures made
out and sent to your mother to sign.'

Paul was about to reply, that he would not occasion him that
trouble, for that he would seek employment with some one else,
when he recollected his mother, his own destitution of friends, in a
large and strange city, and was silent. He had confidence in himself,
that, however tyrannical his uncle might be, he could bear with
him for his mother's sake.

`How long have you been in the city?' asked Mr. Haskell, not
unimpressed with the quiet firmness of his nephew.

`I have just arrived.'

`In that carriage, that came to the door?'

`Yes, sir.'

An indescribable sneer graced the lips of the uncle as he said,

`Very good! I see how you have been brought up by your foolish
mother. I'll cure you of riding in carriages before you have been
with me long. Now go to work!'

`What shall I do, sir?' inquired Paul, feeling as if he would like
to have his uncle at the top of `Break Neck Hill,' with fair field and
no favor.

`First take off your coat!'

Paul obeyed, without a word or look of dissent.

`Now pick up that pi!'

`What pie?' asked our hero, looking around for it.

`That heap of type! Assort it, each letter by itself; and, by the
time you have got through, it will be time for you to go to my house
with me; once you know the printing office and the house you have
taken two steps towards making yourself useful.'

Paul quietly applied himself to his task, though sadly puzzled
with his unpracticed eyes, to distinguish one letter from another.
His firmness and bearing had enlisted in his behalf the good wishes
and sympathies of those in the office, which to a new apprentice is
a great point gained. At length Mr. Haskell informed him, that he
must go with him. Paul followed him through several streets to

his residence in an obscure part of the city, and was there shown a
small section of the garret boarded off, which he was told he was to
occupy as his chamber. The meal was prefaced by a grace five
minutes in length, and closed by thanks as long, Mr. Haskell never
losing an opportunity of displaying his gifts in prayer. Before bed-time
he was compelled to read a long chapter in the old Testament,
while his pious uncle and aunt — who was a `help,' meet for him
—sung a psalm of thirteen six-line verses. Then followed a prayer,
in which the godly printer wandered all over creation, and was three-quarters
of an hour getting back to his own household concerns.
Paul was particularly edified by his holy petitions in his own behalf.
When the prayer was ended, Mr. Haskell resumed his seat, and,
placing his hands across his eyes, groaned several times aloud.

He was disturbed by a knock at his door. He opened it, and beheld
a poor woman standing without, holding an infant in her arms!

`Sir,' she said, in a pitiful tone, that Paul long remembered; `for
the love of God let me have a little milk for my child! It is perishing,
and I have so long been without food that I have no longer
any sustenance for it!'

`Begone from my door, woman,' said Mr. Haskell, slamming the
door to in her face. `The House of Correction should look after
such people,' he added, as he reëntered.

`Perhaps her child was really perishing,' said Paul, rising up.

`What, sir? Do you mean to dictate to me?' retorted his uncle,
angrily.

`I shall at least see if she does not want assistance! I thought,
sir, you were a member of a church?'

`So I am, sir!' answered Mr. Haskell, with suppressed rage; `but
is that any reason I should beggar myself to help vagrants! Go to
bed, sir! I see I have got to keep a tight rein over you!'

Paul had no alternative but to obey. The next morning Mr.
Haskell found a coroner's inquest sitting before his door upon the
body of a dead infant, while the mother was relating to the indignant
passers-by how she had been turned from the door. Mr. Haskell
felt nothing for the mother, nor remorse for what he had been guilty
of; but he was troubled lest the matter should get to the church.
But when a man's standing for piety is once established by an artful
system of hypocrisy, the church is slow to bring any thing to his
charge; though for a professed Christian to turn a deaf ear to the
petitions of want and penury, deserves the severest reproof of the
Christian denomination to which he belongs. Mr. Haskell was not
troubled by his church, and hardened himself in his wickedness.

It is not our intention to follow Paul step by step through his
apprenticeship. Hardship, privation, and insult, endured with a
patience truly heroic, characterized the first two years of his career.
Notwithstanding all the drawbacks to his obtaining a knowledge
of his trade, he speedily acquired it. He had rebelled at house service
and conquered; and in many points acted with a fearless
independence of his uncle, which made him his most hostile enemy.
But what was less to be borne, he had so repeatedly detected and exposed
his hypocrisy, that Mr. Haskell stood in continual fear of him;
and was induced, oftener than he otherwise would have done, to act
up to his profession.

The two years had not passed without effecting a change in
Paul's character. This change was not for the better. The little
happiness and repose he found in the dwelling of his uncle, led him
to keep as much from home as possible. He resorted to engine clubs,
where he spent the evenings in card-playing, smoking and drinking;
and being of a bold, resolute character, he became a leading
member. He sang well, was witty and convivial, and at length got
to be called a `first rate fellow!' He gradually departed from the
rules of conduct his mother had inculcated, and seldom resorted to
church on the Sabbath, which he spent in excursions to the Islands
or Hoboken. He now seldom wrote to his mother; and at length
his uncle, finding him beyond his control, gave him up his indentures,
one day, after a sharp quarrel had occurred between them.
We are sorry to have to record this rebellious and reckless spirit of
our hero; but he had at length become so dissipated as to spend
every night abroad, and to be the chief in every revel among the
wild and riotous of his companions. For a young man, who chooses
to throw himself away, New York affords every facility for the
accomplishment of his object. In addition to the causes we have
given, which led to his dissipation, had been the example and society
of Duncan Powell, who, after Paul had been a year with his uncle,
visited the city and stopped at the City Hotel. He sought Paul out,
for old friendship's sake, and invited him to dine with him. Here
Paul was introduced to a set of young men above his ordinary associates,
and being tempted by the fascinations of their society, joined
them in a night of revelling and debauchery. The visit of Duncan
was prolonged for three weeks, during which period he initiated
Paul into all the extravagant and expensive pleasures of the town.
Some of the most dangerous of Duncan's friends became Paul's
companions after he left, and their society soon unfitted him for his
occupation, which he now began to view as low and degrading. He
felt keenly the mortification of being without the means of indulging
in all the gay amusements of his new associates; while they,
ignorant of his pursuit, for he was well dressed, and a pleasant
companion, and had, besides, been introduced by the rich Duncan
Powell, became quite fond of his company, and thus assisted in his
ruin. He was, however, compelled, for the want of money, to withdraw
himself from their circle, which he did do; but with a decided
and unconquerable distaste to his trade. He became attached to a
courtezan, whose extravagances he supplied by gambling and even
by forging his uncle's name. He got into debt, and, having other
associates, became intimate with fashionable and dissolute clerks.
At length he neglected his duties, and acquired such habits of
promenading Broadway, and Sunday driving, as to lead to the rupture
between him and his uncle. It is possible, if Mr. Haskell had
been a different man, Paul might have manifested an opposite character;
but the conduct of others can never be advanced as a plea
for evil conduct in ourselves: besides, it will be remembered, Paul
had yielded to temptation before he left his Highland home. Perhaps,
too, his unrequired love might have made him indifferent to character
and led him to reckless indulgence, for he had heard of Durcan's
intimacy with Catharine Ogilvie, whom he ceased not to love.

Among other attachments and associations of this now reckless
young man, was a boat club, of which he was a member. It was
originally composed of nine young men of steady character, who
formed the club for the purpose of exercise and recreation. But by
degrees unprincipled young men became attached to it, or some of
those in it, at first moral, had become dissipated; and having been
guilty of certain lawless acts, at length the remainder withdrew,
leaving Paul, and four other companions, about as dissolute as he
himself had become. This was but the week before his uncle threw
him up his indentures, and banished him from his house. It was a
little more than two years after Paul's coming to the city, when he
left his uncle's abode. It was the twilight of an August evening,
and the lamps were just being lighted. Sending his baggage before
him he took his way towards a third rate hotel in Greenwich street.
He had not above three dollars in the world, but, as he had now
launched upon the current of adventure, he did not trouble himself
about the present low state of his finances. Arriving at the place
he took a room; and then, with the free sensation of being his own
master, he sallied forth into the streets, and, mingling with the hurrying
crowds, sought the rendezvous of his boat-club companions.