University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

The agricultural part of Madam L—'s possessions, or
as it is styled in New-England “landed estate,” was situated
in one of the smaller towns in the vicinity of that
where she resided. It was under the care of a farmer of
undoubted integrity, and industry, who rendered her, with
great punctuality, her stipulated share of its products.
His father had been, for many years, tenant of the same
estate. After him a younger son succeeded to this trust,
but died at an early age. The present occupant, being
the only remaining branch of the family, and feeling an
affection for the abode of his infancy, returned from “upcountry,”
where, to use his own expression, he had “moved
to make room for brother Zedekiah;” and resumed with
delight the culture of those fields, where he had “drivteam
when a leetle boy.”

Madam L— had often taken pleasure in his conversation,
which was marked with that plain common-sense,

which seems the birthright of the New-England farmer,
while the simplicity of his opinions on some subjects,
and the oddity of his dialect, administered to her entertainment.

Calling one morning on his patroness, for whom he
cherished a respect, almost bordering upon adoration, he
was requested to walk into her parlour. This he had ever
refused to do, under pretence that his “shoes were clumsy,
and he was afraid of meeting some of the gentlefolks,
whose ways he was not used to.” But she being somewhat
indisposed, and declining to go into her kitchen, he
appeared at the door, with a well meant bow, which the
dandies of the present day, who deal principally in nods
and shrugs, might consider a semi-prostration. The revolution,
which in giving us liberty, obliterated almost
every vestige of the politenes of the “old school,” had
not then done its work completely. Individuals were
found, forty years since, in every grade of society, who,
having been educated when a bow was not an offence to
fashion, nor respect for age a relic of monarchy, continued
the exercise of both, without being hooted at as aristocrats,
or “quizzed” as antidiluvians.

Farmer Larkin was dressed in a suit of stout cloth,
whose deep brown colour was produced by an infusion of
the bark of the butternut. It had grown the preceding
summer upon his own sheep, and after sustaining many
processes of mutation in the domestic laboratory, now appeared
upon his own person. The mail of Diomede was

not more invulnerable to the shafts of the Trojans, than
this to the attacks of winter; and if a crevice ever appeared
in it, the arts of housewifery were in instant requisition,
like “armourer accomplishing the knight, with
busy hammers closing rivets up.”

A neat broad brimmed hat, which his father had worn
on great occasions for half a score of years, a drab coloured
great-coat, with deep cuffs, and huge buttons, both
taken from the Sunday wardrobe, out of reverence to
“the Lady,” and vast shoes of the skin of that animal
whom the Brahmins worship, completed his array. His
countenance, where the blasts of winter, and heats of summer
had long set their seal, exhibited that decision, and
contempt of bodily hardship, which in ancient Sparta
was dignified as a virtue. It also displayed that mixture
of sobriety with contentment, resting on the basis of moderated
desires, and humble piety, which often gives the
agriculturist of our country a dignity, which Sparta in
her pride never knew.

Mr. Larkin, at entering the apartment, seemed desirous
to make his way on that narrow stripe of the floor, which
in those days was always permitted to surround the carpet.
At length a large table, which he doubted whether
it were decorous for him to move, obstructed his course,
and he exclaimed with some perplexity,—

“I must tread on the kiverlid.” The Lady suppressing
a smile, said,—

“I beg, good Mr. Larkin, that you would step on the

coverlet. It would save Beulah some labour, who prides
herself on the whiteness of the floor, which she daily
scours.”

Thus assured, he made one or two strides towards a
chair which she placed for him, walking on tiptoe,
and murmuring with some regret, as he rested his heels
upon the hearth,—

“Your ha-ath too, is as clean as a cheeny tea-cup,
Ma'am. I hate to put my coarse huffs on it. But I ha'nt
been used to seein' kiverlids spread on the floor to walk on.
We are glad to get 'em to kiver us up with a nights.
This looks like a boughten one,” he added, examining
the figure, and feeling its texture. “'Tis exceedin' curous.
They must have had a pretty many treadles in the
loom, that wove this.”

The Lady remarked that the use of carpets, like other
luxuries, was gaining ground too rapidly among those who
were often deficient in real comfort. “Silks and satins
put out the kitchen-fire, as a wise man has said.”

“Ay, Ma'am, he answered, just so I tell my young gals,
when they get a teasin' their mammy, for somethin' fine
and gay. See to your under-riggin', I tell 'em, and keep
yourselves whole and neat. It's as much as I can do, to
get along, says I, in any comfortable kind of a way with
such a snarl on ye. And if there was'nt so many, says I,
and I was a monied man, ye should not go a flauntin'
around with your top-knots, for there's no use in 'em, but
to make young folks vain, and silly ones stare. If ye larn

to be extravagant, ye'll be likely to be old gals all your
days, for men are afeard to marry women who spend
money, and never make it.”

The Lady expressed her approbation of his correct
judgment, and inquired after the welfare of his family.

“All stout and hearty, thank'e Ma'am. My wife sent
compliments to you, and Molly tell'd me to say, that she
was a thousand times beholden to you, for your good present.
She, and all on 'em, wishes you a happy NewYear.”

“I thank them for their kind recollections. Molly, I
think, is the plump girl with such rosy cheeks.”

“Why, as for that matter, they're all in the same situation,
as plump as patridges, and swarmin' round like bees.
Molly's the oldest on 'em, and as fat as butter. She'll be
fourteen years old, come the tenth day o' February—and
that will be Sabba-day arter next. She weighs about twice
as much as you do, Ma'am, I guess. She's rather more
stocky than her mother, and I hope will be as smart for
bizness. She'll spin her run o' tow-yarn, or woollen,
afore dinner; and she has wove six yards a day, of yard-wide
sheetin'. She takes in weavin', when any body will
hire it done, and so buys herself her bettermost cloes,
which is a help to me. Jehoiakim, the oldest boy—he's
named arter his grandaddy—and is a stout, stirrin' youngster.
He'll hoe nearabout as much corn in an hour, as I
can; and cold winter days, he'll chop and sled wood
through the snow, without frettin' a bit. But I s'pose 'tant

right and fittin' to brag about my children, Ma'am. It
seems as if I thought my geese were all swans.”

“It gives me pleasure, my good friend, to hear of the
welfare of your family, and the habits of industry in which
you are training them. I hope that you are also careful,
that their minds are stored with useful knowledge.”

“O yes Ma'am. They all go to the deestrict-school,
more than ha-af o' the winter; though it's nigh upon two
mild from the house. In the summer time, it's kept a leetle
spell by a woman—and then the younger ones go, to
keep 'em out o' the way o' them who are glad to work at
home. I s'pose they larn somethin' about sewin' and
readin'. But Tim, the third child, he's the boy for larnin'.
He took a prodigious likin' to books, when he was a
baby; and if you only show'd him one, he'd put it rite into
his mouth, and stop squallin.' He 'ant but eleven year
old now; and when he gets a newspaper, there's no whoa
to him, no more than to our black ox when he sees the haystack,
till he's read it clear through, advertisements and
all. The Master says that he's the smartest of all the
boys about spellin', and now he takes to cypherin' marvellously.
So that I don't know but sometime or other,
he may be hired to keep our deestrict-school. But I
hope my heart a'nt lifted up with pride, at sich great
prospects, for I know that “God resisteth the proud, and
giveth grace unto the humble.”

“I trust you will always remember that humility is
necessary to our religion. But it is equally your duty to

receive the gifts of God with gratitude, and to enjoy them
with a cheerful spirit. I know not that I recollect the
names of all your children.”

“It's no wonder that ye don't Ma'am, there's such a
neest on 'em. They're as thick as hops round the fire
this winter. There's Roxey and Reuey, they're next to
Tim, and look like twins. They pick the wool, and card
tow, and wind quills, and knit stockins and mittins for the
fokes in the house; and I've brought some down with me
to day, to see if they'll buy 'em to the marchants' shops,
and let 'em have a couple o' leetle small shawls. Then
there's Keziah, she 'ant but a trifle over six year old, and
I recken she has a kind of a hard time on't; for she takes
most o' the care o' the three youngest ones. Jehu is about
as big as she is, and pretty obstropolous, so that I have to
take him in hand, once in a while. Then there's young
Tryphena, and the baby Tryphosa, who's rather tendsome,
and Keziah's tied to 'em a'most every minute when
she 'ant abed. So her Mammy is able to see to the
cheese-tubs, for you know, sich a dairy as we have keeps
a woman pretty tight to't. There's nine o' the young
ones, Ma'am, and as I said afore, the oldest is but e'en a
just fourteen. Yet I should be sorry to have one less,
though I should work off my fingers' eends clear to the bone
to maintain 'em. I'm willin' to slave for 'em, but I mean
they shall do their part, and not grow up in idleness to
laff, and make game of their old hard-workin' parents, and

be moths in the world, arter they get to be men and
women.”

The paternal narrative was interrupted by Cuffe bearing
refreshments; for the Lady seldom permitted any one
to leave her mansion, without partaking its hospitality.
A well warmed mince-pye, and a mug of sparkling cider,
she had supposed would be useful in guarding the farmer
from the extreme cold of his ride; and he soon convinced
her, by his formidable attacks upon both, that she had not
misjudged in the question of what was palatable. After
despatching his refection, and some business respecting
the farm, he hesitated slightly and said—

“I wonder now, if you'd take it hard, Ma'am, if I
should trouble you with some o' my own family consarns,
and ax your advice about 'em, seein' you've had more
years, and experunce than I?” The Lady assured him of
her willingness both to listen, and to serve him, according
to her ability.

“Well then, it's all about my nephew, Amariah Stutson.
He's liv'd with me now goin' on ten year. About
the time o' my movin' into York State, his daddy died,
and the children was all necessiated to be put out. My
old woman, she set on me to take this boy, cause he was
her sister Jemima's son, and she always set great store by
'Mima. I tell'd her he was a spindlin', white-liver'd
thing, and never'd stand the fever and agy in the new
countries. But she kept at me, till she had her way, as
women are pretty apt to do; and he did better than I expected,

and grow'd up to a chunked, healthy youngster.
He'll be 19 year old, come next April-fool-day; and I
meant to a done well by Amariah, when he got to be of
age, and give him a decent settin' out, and then hired him
by the month, if so be that he was agreeable to't, and pay
him the money.

But he's growin` despate unstiddy of late, ever since
the judgment o' God upon our church, and congregation,
in lettin' the Methodist loose among us. You ha'nt heard
of our chastisement for our backslidins, and lukewarmness,
have ye, Ma'am? Poor Deacon Bump takes it to
heart so sadly, that he's grown as thin as a June-shad.
Why these people have hired a room rite over acrost the
way from our meetin-house, and when our worthy minister
begins the sarvice a Sabba-day mornin', they begin
what they call their exercises, and what with their
screechin' and scramin', and singin' and tumlin' down,
they make sich a racket, that it's utterly unpossible, for us
to hear any thing to be edified with. They hold out
longer than we too, and have love-feasts, and night-meetins,
and a deal that I cant make neither head nor tail on,
and I grieve to say that Amariah is gittin' bewitched arter
'em. I'm sure I don't know what religion there can be in
sich actions, and as for their lungs, if they wa'nt made o'
soal-luther, I'm sure they'd be wore into holes like a
honey-comb.”

“The Methodists, my good friend, though their manner
of worship differs from ours, must not be thought destitute

of true piety. They sometimes exhibit an excess of that
zeal, which we are reproached for being deficient in.
We should guard against condemning those, who differ
from us in opinions, or forms. They may have as much
sincerity as ourselves, and though “man judgeth according
to the outward appearance, you know who looketh upon
the heart.”

“Land o' Goshen! why Lady! You don't think that
all the crutters, who call themselves Christians, are as
right as we, do ye? There's the Episcopalians, I went
to their church, once at the landin' a' Christmas I think
they call'd it. I took it at first, for a merry-makin', there
was so many green branches plastered up here and there;
but they kept such a perpechual jumpin' up, and sittin'
down, that afore they'd done it made my bones ache as
bad as a hard day's work. What religion there is in readin'
prayers out of a book, I never could see. Then there's
the Baptists, who think a man is to be saved, by sousing
over head and ears in cold water. But these Methodist
folks seem to me the most strangest of all. Why they
don't hold to the doctrine o' lection, and them that won't
believe the Bible, when it's as plain to 'em as the nose on
their face, have denied the faith, and are worse than an
infidel. They make a long talkin' too, about arrivin' at
parfection, and Amariah he holds forth consarnin' it. But
I'm sure he's a great deal more unparfect than he was,
when he was just a larnin' by heart in his catechise,
that “no meer man since the fall is able to keep the commandaments.”
Now, he must go racin' to all the night

meetins', and that makes my boys unstiddy, and teaze to
go long with him. They shan't stir a step while I live.
Was'nt their honoured grandaddy deacon in the Presbyterian
meetin' fifteen years and better? They sha'nt
scandalize him, while I have the rule over 'em.

But as I was a sayin' of Amariah, he tells his experunces
at their meetin's, and sometimes at twelve o'clock
at night, he'll wake up in his bed, and scrame some o'
the Methodist hymns so loud, that he sets the baby a
roarin', bein' scared, and no crutter in the house can get
one wink o' sleep till he's a mind to give over. Then if
I, or his A-ant, open our heads to say one word to him
about it, then he makes a towse, and is parsecuted, and I
s'pose tells an experunce out on't to Mr. Snortgrass, his
minister, who is a terrible tonguey man.”

“Your situation, good Mr. Larkin, requires considerable
delicacy. Yet I can assure you, that Mr. Whitfield,
the leader of a great part of the sect of Methodists, was
a man of real excellence and piety. My husband, who
was educated in the same faith which we profess, and was
sincerely attached to its precepts, possessed that liberality
of soul which I strive to imitate, and gave to differing
sects the praise of whatever virtue they displayed. Mr.
Whitfield was always an honoured guest at our house,
when he made his excursions through this part of the
country. I will relate a little anecdote of him, which
may prove to you, how much his thoughts were fixed upon
a future state. Soon after the death of our three little
sons, he breakfasted with us. Some Chocolate was

brought in, and the recollection of their fondness for that
beverage, and of their recent burial, brought tears to my
eyes. My husband explained the emotion by saying,
“she thinks of the olive-plants that once flourished around
our table, and in one week were smitten.” The Divine
for a moment raised his eyes upwards, then laying his
hand upon the head of my husband said, with a vivacity
and earnestness which characterized him, “My dear
Doctor! what a lift is this towards heaven.”

“Well Ma'am, I s'pose that was clever enough since
you think so. But most folks would say it sounded despate
like want o' feelin', not to seem to be sorry for you,
nor nothin' sich-like. Now, what would ye have me to
do about Amariah's business, for it's high time for me to
be a gittin' under way, Ma'am.”

“Mr. Larkin, your own good sense will guard you
against any violent opposition to a young man who, if he
is deceived, deserves pity, if sincere, candour. This
strong excitement will be likely to pass away, if you do
not nourish it by waking angry passions. Extremes are
not apt to be lasting, and, in any case, moderation will be
most effectual. Remember, my friend, that contention
about doctrines, is neither that love which is the evidence
of the Spirit, nor that holiness, without which no man
shall see God. And I doubt not that you will feel, after
a little more reflection, that, as long as we are so compassed
about with infirmity, we should dread to judge, lest
we also be judged, or to condemn, lest we be condemned.”