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A 
LONG LOOK AHEAD;
oR7
~Ie  ~irst    Itroke  atbie   te   Wast.
BY A. S. ROE,
AUTHOR OF "dJAMES MONTJOY; OR, I'VE BEEN THINKING," "TO LOVE
AND TO BE LOVED," ETC.
NEW YORK:
J. C. DERBY, 119 NASSAU STREET.
BOSTON: PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO.
CINCINNATI: H. W. DERBY.
1855.




Entered, according to Act of Con/gress, inl the.ear 1855, by
J. C. DER BY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the
Southern District of New York.
STERROTYPED BY                                PRINTRaD BY
THOMAS  B. SMITH,,                         PUDNEY &-c RUSSELL,
216 William St., N. Y.                        79 John Street.




PRE F ACE.
HAVING an errand one day, a short distance from my place of
residence, I jumped into my one-horse wagon, and had just
passed from the yard into the highway, when a gentleman on
foot, with a small carpet-bag in his hand, attracted my notice,
and as he was proceeding in the direction I was going, I asked
hiln, according to country civility,
"If he would like to ride for a short distance?"
" I should be very glad to, sir."
Immediately a quantity of old boots and shoes were thrust one
side, to make room for the feet of the stranger; for, to tell the
whole truth, I was on my way to our parish cobbler, with some
half-dozen pairs of youngsters' understrappers that needed " seeing to."
"'Can you tell me, sir," said the gentleman, as he took hisseat, and laid his carpet-bag down before him, " whereabouts
the author of James Mountjoy lives? as I am told his residence
is somewhere in this vicinity."
" That is the place, sir, which you have just passed."
The gentleman turned round, and gazed for some time, being
only able to catch occasional glimpses of the 1house through the
thick foliage of the trees, amid which it stood. And then, after
satisfying his curiosity, began to descant upon the merits of the
work, having, probably, not the most distant idea that its author
was beside him. Being somewhat of a bashful temperament,
especially when not well dressed, as was certainly the case just
then, having dropped my hoe in the garden, and taken the reins
just as I was, it was not very clear what was duty, whether to
sit incognito, and listen to a stranger's remarks about one's own
production —or just to tell him, " unauthorly," as I then appeared, the simple truth. The latter seemed the most honest course,




Pi                   PREFACE.
and was at once adopted. What passed need not be repeated
here; but when I reached my place of destination, and we were
about to part, he grasped my hand, with the cordiality of an old
friend.
"You cannot tell, my dear sir, the pleasure which this short
interview has given me; it has gratified a strong desire which
I have had ever since reading your book."
Now, there is no fiction about this, but only one among many
kindred tokens in my own experience as an author. It may
savor a little of self-complacency to some who cannot enter into
the feelings of those who send forth the nurslings of their mind
and heart abroad upon the changeful sea of public taste. But
let such keep in mind, that gold is not the only stimulus which
nerves to the patient toil of many months-unseen-unknownby the lone fireside-in the still watches of the night, and
through the long day. To know that we have made a lodgement in the heart —to feel assured that throughout our extended
country, and in foreign lands, we have touched the chord that
vibrates in unison with our own sympathies-and would feel
the friendly grasp of the hand, and see the eye kindling with
emotion, as we met, far distant from our homes, those who have
embalmed our names as household words —is a part of our reward, which the poorest of us would hardly part with for a
much greater amount of dollars and cents than the most favored
have received.
And now, as I am about to send forth another production of
my pen, I feel that there is due from me to those who by their
expressions of regard have stimulated to the effort, a word in
salutation.  I cannot take you by the hand, nor shall we very
likely meet, for I mingle not with the busy crowd, and the spot
of country where I live is one side of the great highways of
travel, so that few are the chances that we shall ever see each
other face to face. But, if your heart can find anything in the
pages of this book that it admires —if the time spent in its perusal
shall not be judged by you as wasted-and if, when you lay it
down, any feeling of interest for the writer is excited, just think
that you can number him among your friends, if you wish to.




A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
OR,
THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.
CHAPTER I.
"WELL, Charlie, I think you have been silent long enough.
You wanted me to come down with you, and see the old
place; and here you have been sitting on this log, and looking, and looking, without saying a word, this half hour."
" Well, Guss, and if I should sit here until the sun went
down, and the stars came out and set again, I should, all the
time, have enough to occupy my thoughts. But it is not very
civil to you, I must confess. I have been thinking, though,
about a matter that concerns you as well as myself."
"1 hope it has not been about old times. You look so
very sober, that one would imagine you were raking up
everything that had been amiss in your past life. I should
let old things be old things, Charlie."
" And so I mean to, Guss, although as to that matter, I believe I never went very far astray. I loved a frolic with the
young fellows once in awhile, and, perhaps, went to a few
more balls than our good uncle and aunt approved; and, perhaps, if they had said less on the subject, it would have been
quite as well, for there is a perverse will in me, that fights
for its own way the more it is opposed."
"You come round right, at last, though."
"Well, I hope there is some stronger principle now, to
aid me in counteracting what is evil. But I have been thinking, just now, more about the future than the past."
" There is not much use in that-at least there is no use




8              A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
in being so sober about it. We can't do much with the future,
anyhow."
"We must make our plans for all that, Guss-for the
future is before us, and we have got to meet it. But if I
must tell you at once, I have been thinking about setting up
for ourselves, here on this old place."
" Dear brother Charles, I beg of you to pause before you
get your mind too strongly set about such a plan. Only
think of the place and its condition-just open your eyes, and
look at it; see this old rookery of a house, looking more like
a stone cemetery, than a place to live in; and that old barn,
one door fairly off the hinges, another hanging by only one,
the boards in many places gone altogether. and others slapping about by every blast that comes along. Old Grumby
lived here, until even he could stand it no longer; and if he,
with his great boys to help him, could n't get pork and Indian meal enough to stand them through the year, what
could we get, do you think?"
"' What you say is all true, Guss; the place looks full as
bad as you describe it, and the Grumbys were fairly starved
out of it. But the difficulty there is very evident-they will
ever grow poorer, the longer they live, no matter where they
may be located;:they have neither industry, patience, fru,
gality, nor ambition-in poverty and wretchedness, they
will probably live and die. Let us not, dear brother, despise our inheritance, because such persons have done no better upon it."
" Well, Charlie, let out your thoughts. You know there
is but one track for us both. I shall stick to you, let things
go as they may."
"And I to you, Guss. We are alone upon the earth, as
to assistance from any human being, and we don't want it.
Feeling, as I now do, with the strength of manhood in my
arm, I ask no aid. But let us just look at the matter. Here
we have fifty acres of land, all our own; ten acres of it are
good wood land,-forty acres of it we can cultivate. Some
of it, indeed, has been worn out, but the greater part suffers
more from want of tillage than from too much."
"That is very likely, at least it has rather a wild look,
the most of it."
" Yes, that's true: the bushes have got a little too much




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.            9
the upper hand, in some places. But for all that I cannot
but believe, with this spot of land free from all incumbrance,
ourselves owing nobody a dollar-with our physical strength,
and the advantages we have had for education, that we can establish ourselves here, and in time gather around us all the comforts of a home. And where could we find a prettier spot?"
Augustus, the younger brother, made no reply, but cast a
look over the place, as though wishing to be assured of the
correctness of his brother's closing remark.
Whoever has travelled through that part of Connecticut
which borders upon Long Island Sound, must doubtless have
been struck with the picturesque beauty of those numerous
indentations, or openings, through which the waters of the
sea find access into the lower lands, winding, sometimes by
different channels, through the long stretch of meadows, and,
at last, uniting so as to form a little inland bay, where sloops
can find shelter from the storms, and unload and receive
their cargoes, beside the old mill, or the unpretending storehouse. The gentle slope of the land on either side of these
openings, the clumps of trees that spot them over, with the
snug dwellings clustering beneath, and the blue waters extending as far as the eye can reach, form altogether a home view
scarcely exceeded by any portion of our beautiful country.
It was within the bounds of one of these snuggeries that
the little farm these brothers owned was situated. It lay
pleasantly fronting one of the arms of the creek which curved
gracefilly before it, rising, as it stretched back from the
marsh, by a very gentle slope.
As their eyes wandered from spot to spot, either upon
their own land, or their neighbors', a new and strange interest
began to arise in their minds. Hitherto they had regarded
it, with the old stone building and dilapidated barn, as but
a useless possession. It had never yielded them any profit,
and they would, doubtless, have sold it, had they been of age,
for a small part of its real value. From time to time, indeed, they had come to look at it just as they had now. It
was all that had been left to them, from the wreck of what
had once been a good estate. It was all which they could
call their own-it was associated with their days of childhood. They had never, indeed, lived on this spot-it was a
piece of land disconnected with their early homestead. But
1*




10             A LONG LOOK AREAD;
they had always known it as their property, and therefore
felt, on that account, an especial interest in occasionally
walking over the fields, and strolling through the woods, or
even hanging around the old buildings.
But, never before, had it seemed to them as now. The
very idea which had been started, of their going to work
upon it-of their making a home of it-however discouraging, to one of them at least, had still a charm about it, and
the whole aspect of the place, and its scenery, were changed.
It was some time before either of them spoke. But
Augustus at length asked,
"Well, Charlie, when do you think of commencing operations?"'
"Right off."
Augustus looked at him a moment, to see whether he was
in earnest, and then burst into a hearty laugh. Charles, full
of life himself, and as ready to be pleased with trifles as his
brother, joined with him. He well knew how ridiculous the
idea must present itself to one who had not formed any definite plan, and, entering into his brother's feelings, enjoyed,
perhaps as much as he did, the preposterous suggestion.
For awhile, they gave vent to the explosion of their mirth,
until, at length, Augustus recovered himself enough to askhe did it with great difficulty, however,"Which place shall we begin to keep house in?-the
house or the barn?" and another fit of laughter made the
tears start from their eves.
" Who will keep house for us? We had better get old
Grumby back, and go board with him." Between each
question, new peals of laughter arose, until the whole matter
seemed to be got up for a joke, and to end there. Charles,
however, had not been thinking in vain; he had thoroughly
surveyed his ground, and all his plans were laid, even to
minutiae. As soon, therefore, as he' had given full play to
his lighter feelings, he commenced unfolding them.
"I don't wonder at your laughing, Guss, viewing it as you
do; it musta appear ridiculous indeed. I have, I can assure
you, no idea at present of occupying our mansion, or any of
the outhouses. I have, I think you will allow, a much bet.
ter plan than that. You know the widow Casey, or Aunt
Casey, as we call her, lives close by. She has no one with




OR, TIE FIRST STROKE AND TIE  LAST.    11
her, but her little daughter Hetty. She is poor, and her
house is small, but she is very neat, and a good cook, and
what is better, a good Christian woman. She has always
appeared to be very fond of us, and I have thought of proposing to her, that we should live with her in this way-that
we should have a room there to sleep; we have bedding of
our own, you know. Then, that we should buy all the provision necessary for the family, while she did the cooking,
and attended to our room, &c."
Augustus had lost all inclination to laugh, and his countenance shone with delight.
" That would be the thing, Charlie; most capital. We
should feel so at home there; and if we were sick, there is
no one living we could so trust ourselves with. But will it
not be very expensive buying everything so for all the family?"
" All the family will only be four of us, and the expense
will not be so much as you think for. Of course you know
we must have a cow, and we must have a yoke of oxen.
The cow I can get for twenty-five dollars, and the cattle and
second hand-cart I can get for one hundred dollars; and
clothes we have got enough to last us through the season; so
that my two hundred dollars, which I have saved, will be
enough to give us a start."
" And my fifty."
"Well, if we want it, we shall have enough to start upon,
and to keep us for six months, in which time, you know, if
we have any crops, they will be available."
"Well, Charlie, you are not apt to make wild calculations; but if this can be done, and Aunt Casey will take us,
it will be the happiest day I have seen in this world yet.
Oh, how snug it might be; you could have all your books
there, and when we were not at work, we could be reading;
and you can have your guitar, and I my violin, and no one
to trouble us, and we could feel at home. When shall we
see Aunt Casey about it?"
" Right off."
Aunt Casey, as the young men called her, was the widow
of a seafaring man, who, as is most generally the case, left
nothing behind him at his death, or next to nothing; all his
property being the house she occupied, a small tenement,
with about an acre of ground attached to it.




12             A LONG LOOK AHETAD;
The house, though small, and what might be called a poor
one, was still a home for her and her little daughter, and
she clung to it, even under many disadvantages. It was
situated at quite a distance from the village; and, dependent
as she was upon her own exertions for a living, it was a
great labor for her to travel to and fro, with a little knitting,
or sewing, or some work of that kind, and likewise to bring
so far all the little supplies she needed; and sometimes, the
difficulties she encountered, in her efforts to make an honest
living, made a deep impression, and filled her with desponding thoughts. The world looked very dark to her ahead,
and the few bright spots she could look back upon were almost obscured by the heavy mists that surrounded them.
She had toiled hard, and gained little. She had shed many
tears, and could remember but few smiling hours, since the
sunny days of childhood.
That morning she had been upon a long and very muddy
walk, and returned to her cottage wearied in mind and body.
She had accomplished only part of her errand, and was
mourning at the prospect of another weary travel on the
morrow, when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching; and hastily wiping away the tears, stroked down her
clean white apron, put aside a stray chair, and looked round
the room to see if everything was in order.
"Aunt Casey, good afternoon to you. Why, what's the
matter? you look sad. Is Hetty sick?"
"Why, boys, where have you come from? Augustus
how do you do? and oh my! how you have grown! Why,
Charlie, if you aint a full-grown man. Do come and sit
down, and let me see you a little while. It seems so good
to see anything, or anybody'I ever loved, or that ever loved
me."
"Well, aunty, we have no kind of objections to sitting
down, and letting you take a good long look. But, first,
you must tell me what makes you look so sad. I always
thought that you could put a cheerful face on, let the world
go as it might."
"Did you? Well, I know, in the main, I have tried to be
cheerful, and to put the best face on to things. But, somehow, it all looks so desperate now, that I feel about to give
up;" and the old lady had to'put her apron to her eyes.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THIE LAST.    13
She could think much longer about her troubles, than she
could talk about them.
"Put down, put down! Aunty, come, none of that; how
do you know but I have a plan to propose to you, that will
be just what you would like? How would it suit you to
take Augustus and me as boarders?"
" You, dear children! why, how could the like of me make
you comfortable? Our provision here, you know, is hard to
come by, and I aint no stock on hand, and no means to get
any. And then the house is so small, and the place so lonesome like, you would clean git tired out, and homesick."
" Not in your company, aunt Casey, and a smile on your
face. But I want you to listen to my whole story, and then,
when I have told it, you can say just what you think about
it."
And Charles related to her the substance of the conversation he had held with his brother, stating fully what he
wished, and how it was to be accomplished.
The widow'scountenance cleared up rapidly, as he proceeded, until a bright smile broke out upon it, and a tear of
gladness fell from her eye.
" And can all this be true? and shall I ever see you two
boys living under my roof; and all so snug and comfortable?"
"And you are perfectly willing that we should undertake
it, aunty?"
"Oh, yes, I am willing enough; all I'm afraid of is, something will turn up to stop it; it's too good to be true. And
when do you mean to begin, boys?"'
" Right off. We shall be here, bag and baggage, to-morrow morning. And now, aunty, as we have quite a distance
to walk, and plenty of business on hand, we will just take a
glass of your good spring water, and be off."
The old lady jumped up, and opening a small, clean cupboard, took out a very large flowered tumbler, and running
to the back part of the house, returned with the cool, delicious
beverage, clear as crystal, and the drops already falling from
the outside of the glass.
The next morning was a lovely April day, and the widow
was up with the first streak of light. For there was a great
work to be done that morning; the house was to be cleaned
throughout; not that it really needed any such operation




14             A LONG LOOK AHE1AD;
performed upon its spotless floors and wainscotting, but
she thought it did; and as soon as the little breakfast-table
was cleared off, the scrubbing commenced, and by the middle
of the forenoon, she had gone through with the whole process,
not excepting the little front porch; and then she and Hetty
went to sweeping the grass around it, and to picking up any
stray thing that might be in sight.
The house was rather a small concern, and finished in
plain seaman style; and yet it had a pleasant air about it,
both within and without. The principal room had windows
on three of its sides, with two doors opening without-one
on the east upon the porch, which ran the whole length of
its front, and another on the south, and which was, in general, the most used. The porch alluded to was an indispensable attachment to all houses built by seamen; being
in fact their chief place of abode, when on shore. Sheltered
from the sun by its roof, the Old Salt can sit there at his
ease, and mend his fishing-tackle, or smoke his pipe in full
view of all that is passing on the water.
A shed, likewise, ran along the south side of the house,
protecting their room from the direct rays of the sun, and
adding much to the appearance of comfort, which, in spite
of its plain finish, the little domicil presented. A large fireplace occupied the centre of the room, with doors opening
into small bed-rooms, one on each side of the chimney; that
on the south was occupied by the widow and her daughter,
and the other was now to be given up to the young men.
As soon.as everything was in order, Aunt Casey sat down
and began to look out for signs of her guests; but it was not
until the middle of the afternoon, that the lumbering of a
cart was heard through the edge of the woods, which ran between the house and the highway, and almost secluded the
former from view.
"They are coming, mother," said Hetty; "but, oh me!
what a load they've got; just see, mother."
" Where the massy's will we put it all l but it's the bed
that heaps up so."
"Shall I drive. to the south door, aunty? " said Charles,
calling at some little distance.
" Yes, it will be the handiest place; but what upon earth
have you got there? and are those your oxen, Charlie?"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    15
" Oxen, cart, and all that's in it, aunty; and it is all our
own, and paid for too."
It was the bed, as Aunt Casey had said, which " made such
a heap." But as soon as that was off, and carried into its
place, such a variety was presented to view, as the good
woman had never dreamt of having under her roof at one
time; and as the different articles were brought in, and put
away into some of the hiding places, of which the house had
a good supply, exclamations of wonder were constantly
breaking forth.
"Why, what upon earth! if he ain't gone and got two
barrels of wheat flour? Why, you darling, we shan't want
so much for cake and pies, for two years."
" Yes, but you see, aunty, I don't design it alone for pies
and cake. There is no great difference in prices, and I think
wheat bread is a little easier made, and a little better, don't
you think so, when it is made, than rye. In those two bags
you will find some rye, and-some Indian, in case you might
want to give us a treat of slapjacks."
" Well, well, darling, I've nothing to say, I'm  sure, but
try to do the best with the good things you've got; but
what is in these kegs?"
"That smallest keg, aunty, is white sugar, that is for our
tea, and that half barrel is brown, and there is a half barrel
of molasses-I remembered that you knew how to make excellent hop beer in summer time; and that small keg is
lamp oil, and here is a keg' of some very fine salt pork, and
the other is fish; and there are four hams, and two pieces
of dried beef; and now, aunty, don't you think we can stand
it for six months? We shan't starve within that time, shall
we."
And Aunt Casey sat herself down, in her little rocking
chair, and, instead of crying, went off into a little short
laugh, shaking her sides, and chuckling to herself in the fullness of her delight and wonder, at finding so many good
things, so unexpectedly placed under her control.
" And here, aunty, is a little package of spices of different
kinds; all these I give now into your charge. This little roll
contains two or three table cloths,-just let us see, aunty,
how they will fit the round table; and the old lady, a little
recovered from her fit of laughing, jumped up, and shaking




16             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
-her sides as she went, took down the table from its stand by
-the wall, and spread out its broad round face in the middle
of the room. In a moment the cloth was laid over it, and
she had like to have sat down again, and gone to laughing,
but Charles interrupted her, by taking from its envelope a
good-sized lamp, made of thick glass, placing it on the middle of the table.
" There, aunty, how will that do?"  But there was no reply, other than a short dry shaking kind of giggle, that set
Charles into a good round laugh, and Augustus and Hetty
joining in, the little room, for awhile, was musical with their
happy voices.
At about the setting of the sun, the young men came in
from the barn, whither they had been to provide a place for
their oxen, and the sight which met them, on entering the
cottage, was enough of itself to have given them an appetite
without their exercise and long fast. For there stood the
round table, with its snow-white cover, the plates, and
knives, and forks, shining their best, the tea-tray holding a
small pile of cups and saucers, and a little pot-bellied silver
teapot, shining brightly, with milk pitcher and slop bowl to
match.
Charles stood a moment, admiring the arrangement, and
then cast a significant glance at Aunt Casey.
"Where have they come from, aunty?"
"You remember them, don't you?";' I remember something very much like them, my mother's
present to you, when you was married?"
" And this is the first and only time they have ever been
used; sometimes, when I have been put to straits, I have
thought of selling them. But now, I am so glad I have n't;
they will make the tea relish, won't they, dear?"
No one knew better than Aunt Casey how to prepare a
good meal, if the materials were only on hand; and now
she had done her best. The flour proved itself to be of the
first quality, and as she took off from the griddle a fine puffy
short-cake, and broke it in pieces,. and piled it up on the
bread plate, she could not help saying to Hetty:
" Wheat flour does make prettier short-cake than rye; and
now, dear, put on that slice of broiled ham, and lay the eggs
around the platter, and put that right before Mr. Charles'




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    17
place, and I will fill up this teapot. Oh dear! how reviving
it smells; it's good tea I'11 warrant you."
And all at once the table was filled with its dainties, and
the chairs,placed around it, and Charles and his brother
neatly dressed, as though about to go into company, entered
and took their seats. A moment Aunt Casey sat with her
hands folded upon her lap. She knew not exactly the feelings of Charles, nor whether, with all his good qualities, he
had any sense of his duty to God. She had hoped so, but
she knew not.
But as he took his seat, he humbly bowed his head, and
asked a blessing on their meal. It was enough; her heart
was filled: she could ask for nothing more.
" Well, aunty," said Charles, as finishing his meal, he drew
away from the table, " if all the articles prove as good as
these we have had samples of to-night, we shall be fortunate;
this is the best meal I have eaten for many a day."
" Or I either," said Augustus, who, not much given to conversation, except on extra occasions, put in a word.
"Well, there is one thing about it all, aunty, we can use
them with the satisfaction of knowing that they are paid for;
and if I live, I never mean to eat anything but what is paid
for."
"You are right there, child; I've known many families
come to ruin by keeping a book at this store, and a book at
that. Things was plenty enough for a time, but the books
eat'em up."
" Well, we will see to it, aunty, that we shan't be eat up
that way, anyhow. But are we not to have our lamp this
evening 2"
" Oh, la! yes; but I thought maybe you was going out —
I see you all dressed up so."
"I dress myself, aunty, for my own pleasure, and all the
rest of you; don't you like to see me in a snug rig l"
"And that I do. Dress makes a great difference in most
anybody, but I was thinking how it makes you look like
your uncle the minister. I never saw him but once, but I
thought I never saw so fine a looking man."
Charles little thought of his question leading to such a termination, nor had Aunt Casey the most distant idea that




18            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
her reply might have been construed into flattery. She
merely spoke as she thought.
And if the uncle of Charles Lovell was a finer looking man
than his nephew, no wonder that one sight of him had impressed Aunt Casejr so sensibly.
Charles was but twenty-one, and yet to all appearance the
full proportions of the man had been obtained. His broad,
round chest, and well-fitted limbs, seemed calculated for toil
and endurance, and the sprightliness of his step, and the elasticity of his motions, seemed to make active exercise a
pleasure.
The countenance of Charles Lovell would not have found
favor in the eyes of many of the softer sex. It was not distinguished for heavy eyebrows, thick whiskers, a square chin,
or rolling lips. It was not a pretty face, with very clear red
and white upon the cheeks, and fine arches over the eyes, and
ruby lips, and flowing hair, curling behind the ears.
It was a countenance that beamed upon you with truth
and earnestness. His clear, hazel eye, seemed a perfect
window to the inner man; it could bear to be looked into,
for there was nothing within to be concealed; and the
feelings which sparkled from it were those which find a
response in true and loving hearts. His hair was dark; his
forehead open; his nose slightly arched; his mouth well
set; —but you thought not of them: every feature seemed
to be just right, as a part of the manly fellow, and you as
much expected to hear from him sentiments that were noble
and pure, and to find in him truth and virtue, as you would
to inhale from the rose its rich perfume.
But we have left Aunt Casey lighting her lamp. It took,
indeed, a little longer to perform the operation at first, as all
lamps do; but when once fairly a going,.and placed in the
middle of the round table, which itself shone in all the glitter
of the wax polish which Aunt Casey had that day put upon
it, the whole set out was very satisfactory.
"And now, aunty, you must know that my motto is'right off;' and, as I told you yesterday, it would give me
great pleasure to assist Hetty with her arithmetic and geography, or anything that she wishes to learn.'here will be
room enough for us all round the table; you can have your




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    19
sewing, and Hetty her books, and Guss, too, if he wishes,but he seems to be busy with his fiddle-strings to-night."
"I am going to have a tune on the stoop directly; the
moon is just rising, and I have eaten such a hearty supper,
that I feel more like playing than reading."
That evening was but a specimen of a great many happy
ones, spent in that little room; and when Charles, at the
close of it, took down the old Bible, and after reading a chapter, knelt with them before the throne of grace, Aunt Casey
felt too happy to go to sleep; but long after they had all retired, she sat watching the moonlight on the water, and
thinking how strangely, how very strangely, things had
turned up. " Heaven," she said, "seemed to have come
right down upon her all of a sudden."




20             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER II.
IN order to enjoy the pure delights of the country, the
heart must be free from corroding care, as well as from the
deadening influence of vice. To look abroad at the early
dawn, and drink in the opening beauties of the waking day,
to quaff, with delight, the freshness of nature, as the dews
are dripping from tree and flower, the heart must be fresh
from communion with its God, and feel that nature's opening beauties are but a reflection of His image.
As Charles Lovell came upon the front stoop of the cot-,tage, fully rigged for the labors of the day, the scene that
spread before him was indeed a treat to an admirer of nature. Streaks of light were stealing up from the eastern
horizon, and the fleecy clouds that lingered upon the sky
grew brighter every instant. A slight mist hung upon the
marshes, and almost imperceptibly was moving upward.
Like a long mirror lay the still water, not a breath to ripple
its surface, and hardly enough to move the fog, which in
spots spread from the marsh across its surface.
A sloop lay at anchor, with her sails partly hoisted, and
waiting for the turn of the tide. The cocks were crowing
merrily, and for miles across the water, from some barn
yard, would distinctly come their clarion notes: while all
around, from every bush and tree, the little birds sang joyfully, most joyfully, on this beauteous spring morning.
Again and again, Charles turned his eye from point to
point, over the fair panorama, watching each new phase of
the advancing day with quickened interest, and his heart
rejoiced in all the tokens of his Father's power and love,
that met his eye; and he felt how happy was his lot, how
privileged to labor, where all about him told him only of
his God.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    21
At this same moment, while this youth is thus drinking
in pure and refreshing thoughts, inspired by the beauties of
the coming day, at no great distance, and almost in sight
from the point of view where he stands, another youth, but
a few months his elder, has taken a glimpse of the same
scenery-the same bright fleecy clouds, the same creeping
mist, the same glassy river, but with far different feelings.
He has not just risen from refreshing slumber, but from the
card table, where, with boon companions from the city. he
has spent the night. They have come about him as vultures
for their prey, for he has just received his inheritance, a
princely fortune. They are at a fashionable hotel, erected
in a conspicuous place, where those who think they love the
country, congregate in crowds during its hottest months.
He has purchased a building site, and is preparing to erect a
showy house, his country mansion.
He has chosen this region, because his eye has fallen upon
a beautiful young creature, whose guardians reside in the
vicinity, and he is doing all that wealth will enable him to
do, to dazzle her with its glitter, and get within his grasp
her pure and trusting heart. He looks with a sour aspect
at the breaking day, and drawing the curtain to shut out its
light, goes cursing to his bed, to dream away till noon, those
hours which should have been devoted to some manly purpose. The lines of these two youths will soon draw nigh together; but their views, their feelings, their intents for life,
are widely separate, as earth and heaven.
"And now, Guss, we must begin the tussle,".said Charles
to his brother, as they stepped from the house together.
They were dressed alike, each with a short check shirt, and
overalls of the same, good stout gloves on their hands, and
boots properly prepared to resist the water, with which the
surface of the earth was then plentifully supplied.
"And I think," said Charles, " that our first work must
be to put our barn into some decent condition, if that is possible. Shall we go there first?":
" I think, first, we had better go and fix up our fence, on
that farthest lot; it must be our pasture this summer, and
it will not be much benefited by having a drove of cattle
trampling over it, wet as it now is."
"No, that will never do," said Charles, springing to the




22             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
top of the stone fence, " that will never do; I wonder who
can be so uncivil around here, as to turn such a drove of
cattle out at this season of the year, before one can have a
chance to fix the fences: there must he a dozen head of
them."
" I will soon have them out, while you go and be making
some figures around the old barn. It will need some study.
ing out, I guess; it looks like a puzzler to me." So Charles
continued his way to the barn, and Augustus, starting off on
a run, soon came up with the intruders. There were, indeed, a dozen of them, and so accustomed did the cattle
seem to be to the premises, that it was some time before
they could be made to comprehend the fact that they were
intruders. A few well-directed stones, however, sent them
off at last, the way they had come, and a good frolic they
made of it, kicking up their heels, and flirting their tails in
the air, as though the whole matter was a joke. On coming
to the opening by which the cattle had gone out, a person
came out into the lot, close to Augustus, and demanded in
a peremptory tone,
"What do you mean by meddling with those cattle? who
are you 2"
"I1 think, sir, I had better ask you that question, for if
you are the owner of those cattle, I must request of you to
take care of them."
"None of your impudence, sir, none of your impudence."
And the man bristled up to Augustus, apparently about to
deal him a blow.
Although the stranger was a large man, and Augustus but
a good-sized youth of eighteen, he manifested no fear, but
stood and surveyed him with perfect composure.
"Perhaps, sir, before you proceed any further, it may be
well for you to know, that I am on my own ground, and that
both you and your cattle too are intruders."
"That's right, my young man, that's right, stand up for
your own, like a man. Aint I glad that the owner of this
property has come at last to see to it."
Augustus turned his head towards the new speaker, and
perceived a portly gentlemah, advancing from the fence, near
which they were standing. He appeared to have passed the
meridian of life, and yet was doubtless not a very old man,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    23
for his step was quite elastic, although he walked at a moderate and even pace. His dress distinguished him as one
who did not properly belong to the working class, for he
wore rather a broad-skirted coat, with small clothes, and silk
stockings, and a slight sprinkling of powder on his hair.
His countenance beamed with kindness, although there was
evidently a flush upon it, as if under some little excitement.
He had a gold-headed cane in his hand, and by his side
walked a large black dog.
" I say, I am right glad, my young gentleman, to hear you
assert your rights as an owner; that fellow has practiced imposition long enough, and it has been a torment to my spirit."
If ever the demon of rage was depicted upon a human
face, it was at that moment painted on his, who had so rudely addressed Augustus. His eyes.glared wildly, his nostrils
expanded, his mouth was distorted, and his cheek assumed a
purple hue. At once he started fiercely towards the old gentleman.
Augustus sprang in the same direction, for he was not of a
temper to see one injured, that had interfered in his favor.
"Don't be alarmed, my young friend, I am pretty well
protected." And Augustus saw, indeed, that he was so, for
the dog was near his master, and had his eye firmly and
fiercely fixed on the enraged man, and evidently needed but
a word of encouragement to have made short work of the
matter.
"It's well you stopped when you did; Rover would like
no better sport than a short tussle. I rather think he bears
no good will to you."
The man had indeed come to a sudden stand-still, and even
thought it prudent to retreat a few steps, and contented- himself with threatening all manner of evil, in the shape of
prosecutions against both the parties, besides letting off oaths
enough to have satisfied any sea captain, in a gale of wind.
Augustus, thinking that he had better work to do than
stand and listen to his profanity, at once proceeded towards
the opening of the fence, with the design of fixing it, so as to
prevent any further annoyance from the cattle. His opponent, however, advanced with him to the fence, talking in a
very angry tone.
"I warn you, at your peril, not to put up a single rail or




24             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
pole there. This is highway, it's been so ever since I've
been here, and it shall be kept so. Put it up, and I'11 take
it down; and prosecute, if you will, and we'll see who has
got most money to spend in the law."
"I am not going to law with you," replied Augustus, " nor
am I going to impound your cattle, if they get in here; but I
shall fix the fence, and if you or any one else attempts to
prevent me, and gets injured in the attempt, you or he may
prosecute as soon as you please."
With that he commenced placing a pole, which he had
dragged from a heap that lay near by, and was in the act
of laying it on the fence, when the other seized it, and endeavored to displace it. Augustus was now excited to the
very extent of endurance, and springing at the offender,
wrested the pole from his grasp, and, in some way, he
scarcely knew how, sent him reeling on to his own premises,
where he finally came up on his back.
" And you served the puppy right at last; he is thoroughly frightened now, see how he goes, and you have not laid
your hand on him either; he has played the bully hero long
enough. Old Grumby was afraid of him, and more than
half his pasturing was upon your land. He is too mean to
live in the country; he would like to establish a right of
way across your lot, in order to save him a few rods of
fence. But I've kept a look out upon him. I knew that
you boys were away and might possibly never live here,
but it would be a great damage to the property; so every
year, unknown to him, I have had the fence put up, and have
evidence of his pulling it down, so you need n't fear his threats
about the law."
"I thank you much, sir, both for my brother, and myself;
but, surely, the man could not be so unjust and ungenerous
as to wish thus to injure us."
"Ay, you are a young man, or you would not talk so.
What does such a man care for but his own interest? But
I must say, you won't find many such in the country.
Though they are more troublesome here than elsewhere,
the country is meant for peace and good will. We are all
here in a measure dependent on one another, and one good
turn deserves another. But I will tell you, for your comfort, that fellow is about leaving us; he has made himself so




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    25
many enemies, that he finds it very uncomfortable being
among us, and so he is going back to the city where he came
from."
Charles had not noticed the doings of his brother, from the
fact that he had been very much occupied. Things looked
so much worse than he expected, that he began to be utterly
hopeless as to his ability to fix the barn in any way that
would make it serviceable. At first he thought to begin
and straighten the yard, for the fence around it stood every
way but the right; one post leaned too far in, and another
too far out; in one length there were only two rails, and in
another two boards. The gate was wanting, its place being
filled by two long poles. The yard itself appeared to have
been made the receptacle for all the broken posts, and rails,
and pieces of board, that do so wonderfully accumulate on
a farm, but have no business in a barn yard.
"It is a much more desperate case than I thought for.
I fear the whole concern is past redemption; and without a
barn, I may as well stop where I am. I have no means to
build a new one, that is sure. I fear I have been too sanguine."
"Well done, talking to yourself, ha! ha! ha! How are
you, Lovell?"
"Why, Slocum, is this you!  Where have you come
from?"
" It's me, myself; how are you? looking at the old place,
ha?"
"Yes, I'm looking at it, but the more I look, the worse it
seems."
" Pull it down, then, and let me build you a new one, ha!
ha! ha!"
"We could pull it down easy enough, I think, if that was
all. But as to building a new one, it can't be done. I have
no money."
"How is the frame? aint that pretty stiff?"  And Slocum, as he was called, walked up towards it, looking along
its front, and was about to proceed to the other side of it,
when A-ugustus, and the old gentleman who had befriended
him, came up.
" Your brother tells me," at the same time giving his
hand to Charles, " that you are about to do something with
2




2 6            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
this old place, and I am very glad, for it can do nobody any
good in its present shape. Are you going to build a new one 2"
"I am not able to do it, sir."
"That is spoken like a man; and so you are thinking how
to make the best of this. Where's that fellow I thought I
saw here? Ay, old ha! ha! ha! there you are: come along,
and say what is best to be done here. That frame looks
straight."
" That is what I was just going to say, colonel. I should n't
wonder if it was in a pretty sound state."
" You should n't wonder! go right inside then, and look."
With a good hearty laugh, Slocum entered the building
followed by Charles.'That Slocum is a real smart fellow, and he has a warm
and honest heart. He is a noble, generous soul. He has a
foolish way of laughing, but he is a good workman, and understands work in the country. You know there is a great
deal in that, or you will know it if you live long enough.
Get some of these fellows from the city to do a job for you,
and there will be as many ends to it as there are legs to a
centipede. They would want you to put a mould board,
all planed and fluted, to a cow stable floor, and they would
fix one part so as to unfix another, and before you know it,
you've got to make all new to match, or have your place
look like mother Bunch's petticoat, new before and ragged
behind."
Augustus smiled at the old gentleman's simile, but he
manifested such a hearty interest in their affairs, that his
heart began already to yield him the respect due to a friend.
"Well, ha! ha! ha! what's the report?"
"I guess she'11 go."7
"The frame," said Charles, addressing his brother, "seems
to be quite sound and straight."
"There is no difficulty then whatever. Slocum, you tell
these young gentlemen what is to be done, and in the cheapest way, you hear?"
"I have, colonel."
"Mr. Slocum tells me, sir," and Charles slightly bowed
to the old gentleman, " that he has engaged to work for you
for the next ten days. Could you conveniently allow him to
spend a couple of days for us, before he commences your job?"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    27
The old gentleman put his hand on Charles' shoulder,
"I was just going to propose to you that very thing; you
need this work done soon, for you must soon be at other
work, and I only wish I was young enough to come and give
you a lift. But you shall have help; our motto in the country is,'hang together-a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull
together.'"
"Ha! ha! ha! that's a good notion. Colonel, you send
some of your boys along after to-morrow, and we will all
see what we can do."
"I will see they're here. Anything that I can do to give
a boust to them that are just beginning the tug of life, I am
glad to do-if its only stopping villains from taking advantages," giving a sly look at Augustus; and then bowing very
politely, and being bowed to as politely in return by the
young gentlemen, he called his dog and was about to proceed on his way, when appearing to recollect something, he
turned to Charles,
" You are strangers here, are you not 2"
" Somewhat so, sir; we were born in a distant part of
this town, but have been brought up elsewhere.'"
" You see that chimney rising just above the hill there?"
pointing with his cane.
"I do, sir."
" That is my house, and when you can make it convenient
to call, I shall be happy to see you. But where under the
heaven, do you live here? not surely in that stone building?"
" Oh no, sir, we live with Mrs. Casey, just round in the
woods here."
"Well, well, well, that will do. Mrs. Casey is a good
woman. I wish there were no worse folks in the world than
she."
As the old gentleman went on his way, Charles could not
but admire the dignity of his carriage, as he had the apparent kindness of his heart.
"That is the finest looking old gentleman I ever saw.
How neatly he is dressed, and how well he manages that
gold-headed cane."
"He is as good as he looks-he would walk a mile any
time to help a neighbor, young or old."




28             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Has he boys of his own?"
" He has but one child, a daughter, and a fine one she is,
as pretty as a pink, and as kind a heart as the old man has.
No, he has no boys of his own; but if he only speaks the
word, more than a dozen fellows that he has helped, in one
way or another, will jump to do what he says."
"He must be a very happy man."
"I rather guess he is. But come, Charlie, now to business. The best thing for you and Guss to do right off, is
just to go at the old thing, and strip her clean, take off every
board on the building as careful as you can, and then we will
see what can be done; it will take you to-day and to-morrow, tight work, and next day I'11 be on, ha! ha! ha!"
The pulling off of old boards and piling them away, the
picking up of rubbish, and clearing off a mass of unsightly
materials, makes rather a dry and dusty subject for the pen,
but to these young men it was a work full of inspiration.
The timbers appeared in such a sound condition, and the
fiame so little out of plumb in any part, that the prospect
brightened before them continually, of having it put into a
condition to suit their purpose.
"And what is this?" said Augustus, as he had just taken
off some boards that exposed a part of the building which
they could not get at before, " there seems to be some kind
of lumber." Charles at once came by his side.
"It must be the shingles old Grumby was to purchase
with our half of the corn last year. I supposed he had sold
the corn for his own use."
" It is n't best to judge too soon, is it Charlie?"
"No, nor to judge the poor too hardly; the old man
bought the shingles, but probably had not means enough to
have them put on-there are quite a number of bundles."
"Enough to shingle it anew."
"I judge not; but there will be enough to make it perfectly tight."
So soon as they had exposed the frame fully to view, the
brothers made a thorough examination, and to their amazement found nothing wanting but one new sill.
This, a few hours enabled them to procure from their own
woods; a fine oak tree was felled, the branches lopped off,
and the trunk cut off the required length, and by their oxen




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    29
soon drawn to the place where it could be prepared for its
destination.
Slocum came at the appointed time, and soon showed his
skill in making old things new. Boards were turned inside
out, and end for end, any way to make a snug fit; doors
were hung straight, and well secured with large wooden
bolts; the windows swung upon hinges, and fastened with
hooks, enough of both articles having been found among the
old rubbish. The roof could defy-the rains, and the fence
around the yard was straight, and made of uniform materials.
It took a complete week of working days before the whole
was finished; and on the two last days six strong-handed
young men labored cheerfully, refusing at the close to take
one cent as remuneration.
" You are entirely welcome to all we've done; we have
all had the same turn done for us, and maybe shall want it
again some time, and may have to call upon you to put
your shoulder to the wheel."
"And I promise you," said Charles, speaking with much
earnestness, "both shoulders, and both hands, and a right
good will into the bargain."
And with light and happy hearts, much happier than
money could have made them, off they started. They had
done a deed of kindness, they had helped a brother youth in
his first tussle with life, and they had received the cordial
grasp of his hand, and the warm thanks of his heart. Their
own hearts were lighter and happier too, and they have
bound him to themselves by an enduring cord. These deeds
of mutual charity, blest country life, are all thine own.'" And now," said Charles to his brother, as they were
standing together, and looking up at the building, "I have
another notion which I mean to carry out at our first leisure.
The barn is now whole and straight, and fit for use, but the
boards, you see, are of different colors, and it don't look as
well as it really deserves to. I was reading'last evening of
a wash, easily and cheaply made, that will resist the weather,
and can be prepared of any color. As soon as we can,'after
getting our oats in, and our corn and potatoes planted, we
will fix some, and paint it."
One evening, just as he was about to stop his labors for
the day, being alone at one end of the lot, his brother having




30             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
gone to attend to their few chores, Charles was startled by
hearing his name called rather loudly, and looking whence
the sound came, he saw a cane waving in the air, as though
beckoning him towards it. Although the person who wielded it was hidden from his view by a stone fence, he was well
assured who the individual must be, as the wall formed the
dividing line between his farm and that of Colonel Johnson,
the old gentleman already introduced to the reader. At
once he hastened to the spot.
"You will excuse me, Mr. Lovell, for calling you so unceremoniously, but I had no other way to get at you; the
gate is away round the other side, my man is busy with his
chores, and as to climbing this wall, at my time of day, it is
out of the question."'" No apology is at all required, sir; I am but too happy
to come at your bidding, and shall be glad to know how I
can serve you."
" Well, I will tell you. I expect a couple of young friends
to spend the evening at my house, and as they are the kind
of folks I think you will fancy, I have brought a request from
my daughter, that you favor us with your company."
Charles was taken by surprise, but he felt that it would be
uncivil to say No.
"You do me great honor, sir, in thus distinguishing a
stranger. I certainly cannot deny myself the pleasure of
accepting your invitation."
"1 That is like a man again. But let me tell you one
thing, you are not so much a stranger as you think for. I've
watched you pretty closely; I have had my eye on you; but
mind, and be with us this evening, and come in good season
too."
As old Colonel Johnson will be often brought into notice
in the course of our story, it may not be out of place to give
the reader an idea of the domicil he inhabited, and his style
of living. The man himself will be better understood as he
appears in the scenes where he may bear a part.
It is an undeniable fact, that our ancestors had a better
taste in the matter of constructing a home for life, than we
of the present generation. Their edifice combined the beautiful and the enduring, and even conveyed the idea that for
more than one generation did the builder erect the mansion




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.           31
that was to cluster the gems of his heart. It was no tawdry
affair, got up for the purpose of attracting the gaze of the
traveller, but a substantial resting place that could stand unshaken, amid the howling storm, and in spite of the wear
and tear of time, even to a very old age, retain its respectability and usefulness.
The home of the Colonel had been erected by his father,
in the days of his youth, and for aught that man could see,
was as likely tocontinue, unshorn of its strength, for an hundred years to come. It was a substantial brick ediflce, with
heavy cornices under its eaves, and heavy mouldings over
its windows, and heavy pillars supporting the massive roof
that sheltered its wide porch before the front door; and the
door itself; divided into upper and lower, with its deep
mouldings and heavy iron knocker, loolkeel strong  enough to
be a barrier against the rage of the elemaents, or any other
unwelcome intruder. It seemed to say, when barred, to all
without, "Those sheltered here may sleep in safety."  It
was placed a little back from the road, allowing a neat court
yard in front, and was shaded by trees, that had doubtless
been growing ever since the foundations of the house were
laid. It was two stories in height, and not very deep, but
that deficiency was supplied by an ample addition to the
rear, in which seemed to be combined all the little snuggeries that are so essential to the term  comfort, as applied
to a dwelling. Beside the court-yard, which projected a little
on each side of its wide front, ran a carriage-way, leading
back to ample barns, sufficiently in the rear of the house to
allow of a good-sized garden, into which, from  one door of
the dwelling, its inmates might at once enter, and be among
the flowers and fruits, with which it abounded.
Just as the twilight was becoming sufficiently dim to require the aid of lamps, Charles lifted the heavy knocker on
the colonel's door, and was received by the old gentleman
himself, and welcomed by a hearty shake of the hand.
"Just in time, my dear young fellow, just in time, walk
in." Charles had barely time by the aid of the lamp to admire the ample proportions of the hall, and the broad low
stairs springing from  it, with their heavy balustrade and
fluted rails, ere he was taken by the arm, and ushered into
the parlor.




32            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Lucy, my dear, I have the pleasure of introducing to
you Mr. Charles Lovell —my daughter, Mr. Lovell."
The young lady was seated beside a small table, highly
polished, and just in the act of pouring out the tea. She
rose and received him with such a cordial tone, and such a
winning smile, that he could not help feeling that some herald must have preceded him, and won an interest for him
with the fair lady.
" The Rev. Mr. Jamieson, our minister-Mr. Lovell, Mr.
Jamieson. But perhaps you have met before, as I find our
friend here, though of the blue order, favors us with his company on the sabbath."  Charles smiled.
"I have not before had the pleasure of an introduction,
although I cannot feel that Mr. Jamieson is quite a stranger
to me."
"Nor you to me, sir," replied the reverend gentleman,
" for I have noticed your attendance upon our services, and
should have called upon you before if our good friend here
had not promised me that we should meet here. Allow me,
IMr Lovell, to introduce to you my friend Lieutenant Montague, of the navy. You see" (speaking to the officer) " I
have to give your title, as you do not carry your orders with
you.."
" Not when off duty, sir; but perhaps I ought to carry
some of my insignia about me, that I may not be mistaken
for a landsmlan, and shame my friends by my ignorance.
Sailors, you know, are not expected to be very learned."
"That is all very well spoken, but I shall not treat you as
you deserve just now, by proclaiming your excellences."
This produced a hearty laugh on the part of the colonel,
and a pleasant smile from AMiss Lucy, and at once drove
from the mind of Cilarles all that stiffness attendant upon a
first introduction.
As the colonel was a great stickler for old customs when
they could as well be maintained as not, the handing round
of tea was one that he had always kept up. He had an idea
that it was a more sociable way of doing things, and perhaps
he thought it a little more genteel.
Whatever its effect in general, certainly there was on that
occasion no lack of social' converse.
For some time the young clergyman and Charles had




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    33
quite a tite-d-tete upon some subject, in which both seemed
much interested, with a word occasionally thrown in by the
old gentleman, as their remarks might reach his ear. While
the lieutenant and Miss Lucy were throwing playful shots at
each other, on a subject of apparently minor importance, but
upon which they differed. The old gentleman at length
caught the run of their argument and broke in upon them.
"You may just stop trying your battery, Lucy, upon
Lieutenant Montague; he is a heretic bred and born. I have
no doubt now, much as he loves his friend here, our clergyman, he thinks it a sin for him to wear a gown, and had
rather see him go into the pulpit &ith a pea-jacket on."
" Oh, my dear sir, not so bad as that. I appeal to Miss
Lucy."
" Oh no, father, he has no objections to the gown; I think
he rather prefers it."
"' Then its the prayers; he don't like the prayers, I know he
don't, for when I handed him the book last sabbath, he never
said amen once. I suppose he thought it would be like hallooing'ship ahoy,' or saying'ay, ay, sir."'
A hearty laugh followed this remark, both upon the part
of the old gentleman and all the company. It had the effect,
however, of drawing the conversation to a single topic.
" I think," said Mr. Jamieson, "I can answer for Lieutenant Montague on this subject. He has not much objection
to our forms-he only fears their tendency, and we should
all regret it, could we believe that they hindered the worship
of the heart."' Asking pardon of you, reverend sir, that savors a little-a little too much of the blue Presbyterian cant."
A smile was upon every countenance, for all understood
the speaker well.
"Now, take the whole mass of you together; Presbyterians, Methodists, Congregationalists, and what not. and you
are always dinging about the heart. No matter how you
say your prayers, on your feet, or on your knees, or lying
downl half asleep, or on your head, so as you pray from the
heart it is all well and good."
" Or clinging to a rope at the mast head, with the waves
raging beneath, and the winds howling around you."
"But that's another case; prayer is very like to come out




84             A LONG LOOK AREAD;
of a man, pretty natural and pretty sincere, at such a time,
at least it would out of me, but that aint the thing. I say
there is very great fitness in having the worship of our God
conducted in a solemn and careful manner, where everything
is prepared reverently before hand. I don't like this one
jumping up, and that one jumping up, and rattling off a
prayer, sometimes with one idea, and sometimes with none
at all, while the rest will, some of them, be leaning down,
some standing bolt upright, and some staring round to see
what the rest are about."
" Oh, father! father! it is so long since you have been in
any other church besides your own, that you have forgotten,
and your remembrance must be of some irregular proceeding a long time ago."
"Well, Col. Johnson," replied the lieutenant, " I am free
to acknowledge that there are some parts of our service that
I could wish were different. Many of our public prayers
are too long, and not sufficiently reverent, and many appear
more like addresses to the people than supplication to Heaven, and there may not be apparent reverence enough among
the people, but still there may be as much purity of heart
as where there is more external propriety."
" There you have it again-your heart piety. If a man
has got any piety at all, won't he show it out 2"
"Allow mC ~ol. Johnson," said M[r. Jamieson, "to suggest that, perhaps, no one can be a correct judge of a denomination with which he is not connected. I believe both you
and myself have lamented over this fact, in reference to misconceptions, which have taken possession of even many otherwise intelligent people, and which have created, at least, an
external coldness, if they have not turned aside the charity
of their heart from us."
"Heart again; well, well, my dear sir, I don't know but
you are right. I do believe there is a deal of uncharitableness going the round among us all. I hope we shall all turn
out better in the end, than we give one another credit for
here; if we don't, it will be a bad business for the most of
us."
" And I think, father, we have canvassed this matter long
enough, and with your leave I would ask Mr. Montague a
question, in reference to the gentlemen who are, it is said,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    35
about locating in this vicinity. I have been just inquiring
of Mr. Lovell, but it seems they are strangers to him. Do
you know them?"
" I have been introduced to one of them in the city-the
one who has purchased Roder's Point. He is said to be
very wealthy-he has just came into possession of his estate.
I think a friend of his is also looking out for a building spot."
" It will be quite an advantage to our place, or rather to
its vicinity, to have gentlemen of wealth coming into the
region."
" That depends, ray dear, upon the kind of men they are;
one good, honest, industrious working man, is better for the
country than half a dozen men, with a million a piece, who
could do nothing but set an example of extravagance to our
young farmers, and teach them to gamble and violate the
sabbath."
"And I fear very much, from what I have seen, that one
of them, at least, is not in a very fair way to make a very
useful citizen."
" Then we don't want him. A man who possesses wealth,
possesses power; but it is power to do evil as well as good.
If they are coming here to put up their fine houses, as mere
places for summer resort, where they can idle away their
time in fishing and hunting, and carousing at our taverns, and
spending their sabbaths in dissipation with thir comnpanions
from the city, who come out on that day as atay ol leisure;
in fine, when men of wealth come into the country, in order
that they may act without restraint, I say we want them
not; their fine houses may please the fancy of those who
look at them as they sail along our shores, or travel through
our roads, but one had better have good log huts, put up by
hard-working honest young men-they would look a hundred
times handsomer to me."
" Well done, father, why you are getting beyond yourself;
you have rio idea how eloquent you are."'
"I think, Miss Johnson, he could not be eloquent in a
better cause. The country seems to me, when I retire into
it, after mingling with the crowds in our own cities, or those
of foreign lands, to be the natural abode of purity, peace,
and contentment, and those must necessarily have for their
companions industry, sobriety, and religion. The country




136            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
needs no ornament that man can add. The beauties are the
result of a divine skill, they are complete in themselves;
but to be enjoyed the mind must be in harmony with them."' And," said Mr. Jamieson, his bright eye kindling with
the theme, " how much they lose who forget the fine sentiment you have just expressed. That in obeying the precepts
of our Saviour the mind is brought into that peaceful state,
which fits it to enjoy the beauties of nature. Obedience acts
upon the mind like an inspiration; the very airs of heaven
play around the senses of one whose heart is fresh from
communion with its God."
Charles was deeply moved, for the sentiments just expressed were fully his own, and his heart served to be drawn
very near to both the speakers. And Lucy, too, from some
caus.e, must have sympathized most deeply, for when the reverend gentleman paused, Charles, who sat near to her, observed a tear to start, and lose itself somewhere on her beautiful face.
As the evening was drawing to a close, the little party
made a movement for separating.
" One moment if you please, gentlemen. Lucy, my dear,
the prayer book, if you please," and as his daughter came
with it, he merely pointed her to Mr. Jamieson. The reverend gentleman arose, and gracefully took it from her, and
turning at once to the psaltery read an evening psalm, and
then all prostrating themselves in worship, he laid the closed
book as he did so on the chair before him, and offered up
in simple, unaffected language, a prayer suited to the occasion.
Whether the old gentleman recognized it or not as an extemporaneous effusion, he failed not to respond the amen in a
good full voice. It had been a pleasant interview, and it
closed as all social scenes should close.
"And now, my young friend, since you have found the
way here," at the same time taking the hand of Lovell in
both of his, " let us see you often, and I ask it not in comp]iment, but with all sincerity."
Charles replied as well as his excited feelings would permit, for the whole scene had been so agreeable, so much to
his mind, and so unexpected, and the prospect of being a welcome guest among such friends was so pleasant to contemplate, that he felt it indeed to be an era in his life.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    87
As the three gentlemen walked along on the road, which
led by the residence of young Lovell, their conversation was
interrupted by the trampling of horses' feet, and presently
one came out from the woods, at some distance ahead, and
crossing the road, stopped at the opening of a narrow lane.
One of the riders sprung from the horse, evidently a female,
and started off in much haste down the lane. The man
paused a moment, and then came rapidly forwards on the
road, by the side of which the gentlemen were walking.
As he approached, they could see him draw his cloak around
him more closely, so as completely to screen his countenance.
" What is it," said Lieutenant Montague, " which so distinguishes each individual from another, that whether we perceive his features or not, if we have been in the habit of seeing him, we can recognize him, either by some peculiarity in
his walk, or in his manner of sitting, or even of wearing his
clothes. Now, that man I am very sure I know, merely by
the way in which he wears his hat, and carries his head. I
don't much like the fact of his hiding his face from us."
"Perhaps he merely shields himself from the night air."
"Thank you, Jamieson, for reminding me of an important
principle,-to think no evil."
"I hope you do not suppose that I intended to administer
a reproof."
" By no means; and if you did, I should consider it but
the privilege of a friend. But do you leave us here, Mr.
Lovell?"
"My home is just behind this clump of trees, so lonely
that it is easily hidden."
" If what I hear of it be true, it is one that neither you nor
your friends need be ashamed of."
"Neither am I, sir, but enjoy it, I have no doubt, much
more than many do a palace. But may I not hope to see
you there?" addressing Mr. Jamieson.
" You may, my dear sir, and that very shortly. I fear
only I shall be tempted to come too often."
L" And you too, sir. Is this to be our last interview?"
turning to the officer.
" Not if you will allow me to visit you;" and taking the
hand of Lovell, "I meet with too few congenial spirits as
yourself and my friend here, not to wish to enjoy your com



38             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
pany while I may. May I come when I please? Will you
treat me without ceremony l?"
" Without ceremony I promise you, beyond what we exercise towards each other. I hold that proper ceremony
tends to strengthen friendship, and make its communings
more agreeable."
"' I cordially agree with you in that. I will come, you may
depend upon it."
The three friends parted, for so they might now be called;
Charles crossing through the grove, and they winding along
the road that led towards the village.




ORg, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    39
CHAPTER III.
"WELL, SlocuLn, how are you?" said the old tavern
keeper, who owned the hotel most generally frequented by
those who came to Wellgrove, not as travellers, for it was at
some distance from the public road, but for the purpose of
spending their time in amusement. It was situated near to
the water, and was therefore convenient for fishing and shooting, as most of the wild fowl in that vicinity frequented the
creeks and marshes. It was, moreover, a pleasant retired
spot, well shaded with some large willows, and commanded
an extensive view of the Sound, and of the adjoining inlet,
and what was of some consequence to pleasure-seekers, was
very well kept. The tavern keeper was just coming from
behind his bar, and about to take his seat in the big arm
chair by the window, when he thus addressed the gentleman
named above.
" Well, Slocum, how are you? what's the news from Milton this morning?"
" Ha! ha! ha! Uncle Jo, how are you? how do you get
along in Wellgrove?"
"So so, pretty much after the old sort."
"Plenty of rich boarders this summer, ha! ha! ha!"
"Well, we've got a few, but whether they're rich or not,
I can't answer for. One thing I should'nt be afraid to swear
to."
"Ha! ha! ha! what's that?"
"That if you and I live long enough, we shall see some of'em  with very little loose change in their pockets. I'11
swear to that."
"Going it strong, eh, Uncle Jo? ha! ha! ha!'
"Well, you can see as well as I can, Slocum. Have n't
you seen Vanderbose yet?"




40             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Not I, and I've come again for to see him, I must-is he
up yet?"
"Not yet."
"When will he be up?"
The old man drew a large silver watch from his pocket,
and holding it up before the face of his visitor,
"There, by the time the big pointer and the little pointer
both get up here to the top of the hill, and stand together,
then you may expect to see him and the rest on'em come
out rubbing their eyes, and swearing about there being such
a glare of light, and asking for some morning bitters to take
the bad taste out of their mouths."
" They'd better not have taken their evening bitters, may
be, if they did n't like the taste of it in the morning- But
you aint in earnest, Uncle Jo, that they won't be out till
twelve o'clock?"'* All I know is, that they haven't yet. Why, la! Slocum, how could you get up in the morning and go about as
spry as a lamp-lighter, as you do, if you was up, maybe,
till break of day, guzzling down wine, and rattling the dice
box, or shuffling cards and dominos; you would n't feel like
work, would you?"
" You don't say? it can't be so?"
"It is none of my business to be telling tales out of
school. They board here, and pay for their rooms, and for
what they eat and drink; and when they go to their rooms
at night, and aint too noisy, it aint for me to go and knock
at their doors like a college tutor, and say'go to bed.' 
" Well, Uncle Jo, what shall I do? here have I been three
days running to see this Vanderbose. The New Yorkers,
you see, have jobbed the main house; they know what they
are about, and have a written contract, when so much of the
work is done so much of the money must be planked down,
and there is no get away from it. But here he comes to me,
and wants me to go to work, and to bring three or four good
hands with me-putting up a boat house, and a billiard
house, and a dog house, and ever so many little rookeries
round, and we've been at work pretty lively for about six
weeks, and some of the fellows want their money, and they
must have some, they want it for their families."
" Oh, la! if that's all, there can be no difficulty. He's




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    41
got money enough, so they say. He pays me regular once
a week. I tell'em all when they come,'Saturday night
must see us all square,' and they toe the mark. He'll pay
you, no danger."
"That aint the thing of it, Uncle Jo; I suppose there is no
danger in the long run, at least for some time yet, but such
fellows as Ringold and Slaton want their money; they are
good fellows to work, but they both had a long sickness last
winter, and they've got pretty much ashore, and you see he
has n't yet paid us one copper."
"Have you asked him?"
"Why, yes, I told him when I hired them for him, that'they were poor men, and would like to have their money
once a week. Well, he did n't make no reply to that, and
when I came to ask him for fifty dollars a week ago, he gave
me a kind of grave answer, and said something I did n't very
well hear, about paying when the work was done."
"Well, I don't know much about it."
"I don't see, Uncle Jo, what such folks want to come to
the country for; why don't they stay in the city, where they
can lay abed, or do what they please inside their old brick
walls. What pleasure can they take here?"
" Well, it is n't for the country, Slocum, that they come.
But the fact is, they don't know what to do with themselves.
They aint got no business-nothing in the living world to
do, but to seek their pleasure. Well, they git tired of their
balls, and'shows, and parties, and theatres, and what not,
and it's kind of fashionable, and sounds large, to have a country seat, or mansion, as they call it; and then there is another thing, they think in the country they can do jist as
they please-there aint no police to see after them, they can
spend their Sabbath lounging along shore, or lying under the trees, or drinking and carousing in their houses."
"I don't think such folks do us much good."
"Good! no-but here he comes."
From a wide passage which led into the bar-room, was
now seen approaching a young man, not much past twentyone years of age, his countenance not bad looking, and yet
not very prepossessing-in fact, but little expression to it.
He seemed, however, hardly yet in the wide-awake world;
his eyes were nearly closed; and a scowl was on his brow,




42             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
as though the broad light of the bar-room was painful. Iis
hair uncombed, stood in all directions, not at all adding to
the composure of his appearance.
A scarlet dressing-gown, and red slippers, composed the
principal part of his dress that was seen. As he entered, he
turned immediately to the bar, without saying a word, and
the old tavern keeper arose to wait upon him. He went behind his bar, placed a decanter, a tumbler, and a bottle of
bitters on the counter, and then stood looking across the
room towards Mr. Slocum, to whom he found a chance to
give a sly wink. Not a word was uttered by either party.
The gentleman helped himself to the dose he wished, and
then turning round, was about to go the way he had come,
when the landlord remarked:
"There is a man here waiting to see you."
" To see me 2"
"Yes, there he is;" with that Mr. Slocum arose, and
walked towards him.
" Good morning, sir."
The young man looked a moment as though not able to
comprehend the identity of the person before him; but after
rubbing his eyes a little, replied:
"Ah! it's you is it? how do you get along l"
"We are getting along, sir, slowly."
"You may well say slowly. I thought you would all be
done, and cleared out long ago."
"Then you must have thought we'd have wanted our pay."
"Yes, no danger of that. You fellows are greedy enough
for your pay."
" Well, I suppose we have a right to it, if we earn it"
"Earn it! Well, did you want me? be quick; I can't
stop here all day."
" Well, sir, we have been waiting these two days to put
up the boat house. You agreed to come on Monday, and
here it is Wednesday, and you have n't come yet."
" Well, suppose I have n't, and suppose I choose to keep a
parcel of fellows at work doing nothing, whose business is it
so long as I pay them for it 2"
" That's all well enough, sir; still there are other persons
waiting for us, who need our services, and it is a little pleasanter for us to be busy than idle."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    43
" Well, I'11 be there some time to day;" and he was about
to retire, when Slocum continued,
"I should like to say a little something to you about
money.")
" Well, what about it?"
" You know I told you about the last men I hired, that
they were poor, and needed their money every week."
"' Well, give it to them, that's the way my builder does.
I should be nicely set to work, settling with a parcel of laborers every time they wanted money."
" Your builder from New York is responsible alone to his
men, and his men to him. Mine is a different case. I hired
these men for your accommodation, and not mine. I get no
benefit for it, and do not feel disposed to advance money for
a rich man."
" I tell you what it is, Mister, you need n't think to hold
your head up to me with your independent airs. I shall
teach you country folks manners. You havt undertaken your
job, and you shall finish it; and when you have finished it,
you shall have your money, and not a cent shall you
have beforehand; so you hear the last I have got to say to
you."'
"You will find, though, that it is not the last that I shall
have to say to you;" and Mr. Slocum was about turning
away, when the young man came towards him in great rage.
"What was that you said, sir?"
"I said," replied Mr. Slocum, in a very calm voice, " that
it would not be the last I should have to say to you."
" And what did you mean by that, you puppy?" shaking
his fist at the same time.
"I advise you, sir, to keep your fist down, for if it should
happen to touch me even slightly, it might not so be so well
for you; and at once take back that insolent remark; take
it back quick, sir."
The young bully now began to feel that he had been too
hasty, so he began making retrograde movements towards
the passage. But the landlord stepped up and laid his hand
npon them both.
"Now you see there can't be none of this here. You,
Mr. Vanderbose, just ask his pardon for calling an honest
man a puppy-people in these parts can't stand that-or else




44              A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
I shall just leave you to his mercy; and Slocum aint a man
to he trifled with."
The young man indeed began to feel so, for he was already
under the grasp of Slocum, and he saw the fire flashing from
his eyes.
"I'11 take it, I'll take it back; let go of me, let go of me."
"Very glad to do so; and now, sir, your decision as to
the money; for after what you have said, I shall not apply
to you again, but shall leave you to settle the matter with
the sheriff."
This brought forth a long string of curses on the country,
and upon himself for even dirtying his fingers with it, until
after unloading his foul cargo, he demanded how much money
was wanted, and when told, opened his purse and handed the
fifty dollars.
" And now," said Mr. Slocum, "if you wish your work
to be done by me, you must come and give your directions,
for I have other persons who are waiting for my services."
"I suppose my money is as good as theirs."
"Perhaps it is; your manners are not, and I like not only
good pay, but civil treatment."
"That's it, that's it," said the landlord, now acting as
umpire; "you see, Mr. Vanderbose, you don't quite understand our folks; we country people feel all, that one is about
as good as another. We will do anything to serve in a civil
way, but we can't be druv-we can't be druv, no how. You
are used to have people bow and cringe for your money, and
fly at your bidding, and you get to think that if you have
only enough in your purse, earth and heaven too must both
be your humble servants. But we can't go it, sir, we can't
be druv-and you'11 find it so; so you might just as well
speak civil, and jog along quiet."
And finally, the young gentleman began to be of the same
opinion, for his deportment was much more deferential, and
he engaged in about three hours to be at his place, and attend
to their requirements; and then he shuffled off to his room,
doubtless to pour out the abundance of his wrath in deep
curses upon the country, with its hot and glaring sun, and its
impudent and self-willed people.
Roder's Point, the site which young Vanderbose had selected, was indeed one, which if not suited for a truly rural




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    45
taste, was well designed for the public gaze-being a long
tongue of land running out into the sound, with a gradual
rise from the shore, until at its highest point a considerable
eminence was attained, affording an extended view of the
water. It was a rolling plot of land, with no tree upon it,
except a few dwarf cedars sprinkled along among the rocks
that lined its base. On the very summit of vision, Mr.
Vanderbose had chosen to place his mansion, a high staring
square house, with porticos and large pillars in front and
rear, for the rear was as visible from the highways of the
land as the front was to the passers-by upon the water. A
wide hall ran through its centre, with two rooms on each
side of it, opening into the hall and communicating with each
other by folding doors; windows in abundance on every side,
and from each the same extended view, until to an observer
from within, it was evident that the grand idea of its owner
was to see and be seen as far as possible. A straight flight
of stairs conveyed you to the second story, into the same
wide hall with the same four rooms opening into it. The
kitchen and cellar, and all the et ceteras for domestic purposes, were in the basement. There were no little attachments, such as we often see connected with our snug little
country houses, conveying to the mind of the beholder ideas
of convenience -and comfort, and home enjoyment. It stood
all alone in its glory, a square well-proportioned building,
but looking as much like a place to make a home in as the
light-house that loomed up on the distant headland. Not a
tree, nor even a shrub was there to cast a shadow that a
butterfly might shelter under. These were all yet to be
planted, if at all, and how many long years must pass betfore
this vast white pile would have its comfortless aspect softened by the graceful foliage of towering trees. But it answered the design of its owner. It had a majestic appearance as it stood thus in bold relief upon the distant sky. It
would catch the eye of passengers, and through the crowded
deck of the steamers, his name would be passed as the happy
owner. A home he thought of not establishing, he merely
wanted a place to attract the admiration of the stranger, to
call his mansion, to exhibit to obsequious acquaintances, and
to revel in at his pleasure, without the annoyance of a prying neighbor. But in addition to all this, he had fallen in




46             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
love. Now, dear reader, don't be alarmed, and don't begin
to scold. We shall not indeed think hard of you if you do,
for if our estimate of his character is correct, and if we have
introduced him to you in a fair light, you might very properly turn upon us and say, "In love! fallen in love! such
a man fallen in love!" But mercy on us! how you stare!
are there not many kinds of love? Think not, gentle
reader, that we have the most distant allusion to that fire
which comes from heaven, and only kindles in a pure breastwhich throws its genial warmth through every avenue of the
heart, and before it flies away all that is selfish and debasing. Oh no! we mean no such thing. He has fallen in love
in this same way many times, and with many different objects. He fell in love with a very fine span of horses, and
because his purse was large enough he bought them. He
fell in love, too, with a dashing curricle, and he bought that;
and then a beautiful spaniel caught his eye, and because his
owner did not wish to part with him, he paid him many fold
the value of the brute; so strongly was his heart attached.
And now in the same way he has fallen in love with a very
pretty girl. Poor thing! you say, surely he does not think
to buy her!
If he gets her at all it must be in some such way. IHe
has no heart to offer in exchange for hers. No pure and generous heart, such as lovely woman fancies she obtains, when
she gives her own unselfish love to man. All he can offer is
a large rent-roll in the city; splendid rooms at the most
fashionable hotel, to spend some winter months; jewels to
adorn her person, already one of nature's most finished
pieces; an elegant carriage and fine horses to carry her in
style, the admiration of all eyes; and, lastly, and perhaps
the thing most alluring of all, this mansion on its airy height,
the proudest building in the region.
But again you say, Has she a heart? and will she be likely
to barter it for such trash? She has a heart, warm and loving, and pure as earthly innocence can be; and with one who
could command her respect, who could guide her opening
mind, who could cherish her warm affections, she would be
all that man could ask for. But she is young, scarce eighteen, an orphan, and although kind friends protect her, and
provide for her, yet no father screens her with his jealous




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    4T
eye, no mother listens to the tale of all her little feelings,
nor teaches her what woman wants to make her happy.
Poor thing! you say, and you well may; an orphan, a female
orphan, demands the sacred sympathy of all. But we are
going too fast, and must return to our story; this digression,
gentle reader, was only made for the purpose of explaining
the reason why this mansion was erected; a splendid cage
to catch some eager bird.




43             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER IV.
"I THINK, brother Charles," said Augustus one evening as
they were returning from the labors of the field, " we ought to
be thinking about providing ourselves with a horse; we need
not get a high-priced one, but something in the shape of a horse,
that we can at times use on the farm, or ride off with a little."
"I have been thinking of the same thing, Guss; we must
have a horse before a great while; at the distance we are
from the village, and from church, we must have some means
of conveyance. But I do not exactly agree with you about
the kind of beast. It will cost as much to keep a poor horse,
as a good one."
"Yes, but I only spoke of a poor horse, because I thought
we should not be able to pay the price for a first-rate beast."
"Well, Guss, I will tell you what I have been thinking of.
That if, when we get our crops in, we could find a first-rate
colt of about three years old, of the right breed and quality,
we could probably get it for half the price which the same
quality of horse would bring when trained, and we could
train him ourselves."
"And train him just to our mind. And I think I know
of a first-rate creature. Slocum spoke to me about it the
other day, when he was looking at our oats. He said that
Folger had a fine colt, which he would be willing to trade
either for hay or oats, and he would take them in the shock
right out of the field."
" Why did you not speak of it? you know to-morrow we
shall begin to cradle our oats."
"I will go this very evening and see Folger, if you say
so."
" And I will go and get the cow, and attend to your chores.
If you can, get Folger to bring the colt, and let us see him;




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    49
and as we shall be at work at the oats to-morrow, perhaps
we can make a bargain on the spot."
After Charles had finished his supper, he had occasion to
visit a lot on the further part of his farm, where he had heard
that a spot of fence needed attention. He repaired the trifling damage in a few minutes, and was about returning,
when his attention was arrested by perceiving a horse standing apparently tied to the fence, in a by-lane that led from
the main and travelled road; and close at hand were two
persons, a man and woman, both quite young. The female
was evidently pleading earnestly with the man, who seemed
perfectly unmoved, and kept gradually retreating from her
towards his horse, as though anxious to get away from her
importunity. Charles had some strange suspicions at once
arise in his mind. He felt very sure that this man was the
same he had seen pass, often late in the evening, now for
some months; and that young5 woman, he felt very sure, was
one that he knew or had known years ago when he and she
were boy and girl. But he could not distinguish features.
His mind was strangely excited, and he determined to see
the end. He was secured from observation by the hedge
near the fence, but he could distinctly see them, and hear the
sound of voices, although he could not distinguish words.
In the urgeincy of her plea, the female at length clasped
him by the arm, and fell upon her knees, and then a cry of
anguish arose on the still night air.  Charles trembled
through his whole frame in sympathy with that bitter cry;
but the man she grasped seemed perfectly unmoved, only
endeavoring to undo her hold. At length he drew forth what
Charles supposed was a purse, and offered her its contents.
But her cry only became more agonizing. She thrust the
offering from her with violence, and clung the closer to the
man. In an instant the wretch rudely tore himself from her
embrace, and she fell prostrate to the earth. With as much
indifference as though he had thrown off a reptile,.he mounted
his horse, and galloped down the lane, and into the highway,
and was soon out of sight. It was not in Charles' nature to
see a female in distress, and not fly to her help; and without
a thought whether his presence might or might not be welcome, he sprang over the fence, and through the hedge, and
hastened to the spot where he had seen her fall. A stone
3




50            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
wall interposed between him and the object of his search;
as he sprang over that, he stepped up with a slow pace. She
still lay there, probably just in the position she had fallen.
Charles stood and gazed at the piteous spectacle. Her face
was partly exposed, her arm merely shielding her head from
the green sward, her hair in long ringlets lay spread partly
on her arm, and partly on the ground, mingling with the
grass, that in that unfrequented pathway was of considerable
growth. She was neatly dressed, even genteelly, and beautiful was her form and face, although he could perceive that
the latter was deadly pale. He had no longer any doubts
as to whom she was; Margaret Simmons, the daughter of
the poor widow who lived at the old landing; who had once
been his playmate, whom he had occasionally bowed to, as
he had met her since taking up his abode at Aunt Casey's.
His fears for her had been excited, he scarcely knew why.
He fancied she was a little too fond of dress, a little too conscious of her powers of attraction, and a little too ready to
accept the attentions of his own sex. He had, therefore, not
taken any pains to renew their intimacy; and he had noticed
that at his last meeting with her, the salutation he received
from her was a very reserved one, as though she resented his
unmillingness to acknowledge their former intimacy.
But all other thoughts were now merged in distress for
her present condition. Hle came close to her side, andbending to the ground on one knee, called her gently by name,
but no answer was returned. Again he spoke in a louder
tone, but no sign of recognition came back. He felt her
hand, it was cold; he laid his hand against her fair cheek,
there seemed no life in either. Thoroughly aroused to do
something for her relief, if possibly life were not yet extinct,
he gently raised her from her prostrate position, and resting
her head upon his arm, rubbed her forehead, and temples,
and wrists, speaking occasionally her name, and doing whatever his judgment dictated to arouse her, and restore her
consciousness. Presently he thought there was a slight
sigh, and he redoubled his exertions; a heaving of the chest,
and a convulsive movement' of the arm, encouraged himconsciousness was returning; and that she might not be
alarmed on recognizing him, he again spoke to her and called
her by the name which he had once familiarly used:




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    51
"Margaret."
Her eye unclosed, and its gaze was fixed upon him.
" Margaret, don't be alarmed, an old friend is by you; do
you remember me?"
"Yes," she answered, but in the feeblest manner.
"You have been ill, Margaret, and as soon as you are
able, must be taken to your home."
She made no reply, but in a few moments attempted to
raise herself. Charles assisted her to an erect position, but
immediately. caught her, or she would again have fallen.
"'Margaret, you must yield yourself to my care, until
ytur strength returns; trust to me as you would to a
brother."
She burst into a flood of tears, as again her head rested
on his arm; long and bitterly she wept. Nor did Charles
attempt to restrain her, knowing as he did, that it was nature's own way for restoring the physical power which had
been laid prostrate by the agony of a bruised heart.
"I shall remember your kind attention to me, Mr. Lovell,
in this sad hour, but I feel my strength is again returning,
and I should be sorry to detain you any longer."
"But I cannot leave you, Margaret, until I see you safely
home; and. if in any way I can serve you, let me know it;
at least you must not ask me to leave you here at such a
time, and under such circumstances."
" You are very kind, and have been very kind, or I fear I
should not have survived the scene I have passed within this
last hour. But upon you, surely, I have no claim."
"'You have the same claim, Margaret, that the helpless
and the injured have on every man that has a heart to feel
and a hand to do."
"I will ask your aid then so far as the beginning of the
causeway; the distance from there to my home is short."
Few words were spoken by either, as Charles aided her
trembling frame through the lane, and across the highway,
and down upon the marsh, through which the causeway
passed to her solitary dwelling. She had gained strength,
however, as they proceeded, and when in sight of her home
released the arm of her companion.
" I shall not need your assistance any further, Mr. Lovell;
you have been very kind to me, but I have one favor more




52            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
to ask. I have been in a state of unconsciousness, I know not
whether you witnessed the scene which led to it, but' I ask
of you as a final favor, that you retain within your own bosom what has transpired."
" If you request it, I will. But can I do nothing for you?
You have no father, and your brother is but a boy; you are
in some great trouble, Margaret, and I would aid you if I
can."
" Oh, you are very kind; but I fear my wrongs cannot
be redressed by man; perhaps you may hear from me. I
cannot explain all to you now, but I would wish, if possible, that Charles Lovell might not judge hardly of me until
he knows the truth."
As she seemed desirous of returning to her home without
an attendant, Charles bowed to her and went on his way. He
he could not, however, help looking across the marsh as he
proceeded to his home, for he could by the light of the moon
perceive her in the distance, as she walked slowly along towards the old ferry-house, standing alone amid the extended
area of low land that lay beneath the higher grounds upon
which he was walking.
Aunt Casey had not lighted her lamp yet, but was sitting
on the stoop, cheerfully chatting with Hetty, and Charles,
without saying a word, took his seat near to them.
"' I guess you must be well tired with your day's work.
Augustus tells me you have got in all your hay."
"Yes, aunty, it is all in, and to-morrow we begin at our
oats; tired! well, I don't know but I am, but I had n't
thought about it until you spoke."
" I tell'd Hetty, the other day, that I wondered if you ever
did get real tired, for you never said nothing about it, and
you always walk as spry when you come home at night, as
when you went away in the morning."
"I ought to walk quicker, aunty, for I can think all the
time how nice and clean everything will look here at home,
and how pleasant it will be to wait, and dress, and sit down
to a good supper, and smell that fine tea of yours, and then
to rest out here, and enjoy a good long chit-chat."
"' But I should think you would get tired for all that. In
haying time people have to work dreadful hard."
"That is pretty much as they manage it. Augustus and




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    53
I, you know, have no one to drive us, but our own wills, and
so we just take our own time; we work steadily on, and
never mean to get more grass down at a time, than we can
take care of easily. You see I work, aunty, because I prefer
to, and expect to keep on working for many years, and therefore don't mean to wear myself out while I am young."
"You are right there, dear; oh, how many young folks
have I known just destroyed themselves by doing two days'
work in one. They will want maybe to have a holiday, or
maybe a number of them will get together, and try who can
do the most."
" I hope I shall never think of holidays, aunty, when there
is work that needs to be done, any more than a merchant
would when customers were in town. But, as I was saying,
Guss and I have worked steadily, and we have kept ahead
of our work, and have never felt driven, only about the time
of getting in our oats, and that was on account of fixing our
barn. But have you seen the barn, aunty, since we have put
that wash on 2?"
"Yes; and do you believe me, I thought as much as could
be, you'd gone and put up a new one."
" It looks better to me than a new one, because it seems
to be so much property redeemed firom destruction. I have
no doubt I enjoy it more than those from the city, who are
putting up their elegant establishments."
"It will be well for you if you always keep the same
mind. The more we get sometimes, the more we want, and
sometimes we despise what we once tried to get. I'm afraid
the elegant houses they are building, and the elegant horses
and carriages they're a drivini' round here, and the servants,
and company, and what not, will maybe do a deal of harm
to our young folks, and put high notions in their heads, and
make them uneasy. I tell'd old Colonel Johnson t'other day,
that it didn't give me no pleasure to hear that such fine
places are building, as they say there are."
" Well done, aunty, I'm afraid you think I need a little
preaching; I never heard you deliver so long a discourse betore. But you have no objections, aunty, to us country folks
making the very best of what we've got, and having things
neat and comfortable, and convenient and tasty too. Now,
don't you think that this stoop, and the house too, look all




54             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
the better for my having fixed this frame at the side, and
put these vines here?"
" Oh, la! that it does."
"And don't you think our room looks all the pleasanter
for these paper curtains I put up 2"
" Oh, la! yes; but I did n't mean the like of that. What
I mean is goin' to'xtremes; it's that goin' to'xtremes that
makes the ruination."
" Well, aunty, I don't know when I shall ever begin to
build my house, but you will see a curiosity, I guess. I mean
to have it plain, and roomy, and convenient, and home-looking, and as pretty as a box if I can; but there is no use in
talking about that for a good while to come. I have got
my barn, and got my hay in it, and there is room enough
for my oats, and my corn-stalks, and all we shall have to
put in it; and I mean to feel contented and quiet for the
present."
It was a beautiful morning when Charles and Augustus
commenced swinging their cradles among the oats; and they
felt solicitous to get down as much as they could, the air
seemed so dry and pure.
" Did you say, Guss, that Folger would be here by ten
o'clock?"
" That's what he said, but it has turned out such a hot day,
perhaps he won't feel like it; it is the warmest day I have
felt this season."
"It is rather warm, but that is not all; our labor is probably the hardest we have done yet, and it is much harder for
you than for me, as I am more used to'it. I think, Guss,
you had better stop and take the rake, and be getting it
ready to bind."
"I think you had better stop too, Charley; we have got
down nearly one-half the piece, and from the looks of things
we may expect a shower this afternoon."
Charles turned his eye to the west.
"'Ay, ay, I see. I thought to be sure we could hardly
have rain to-day. But this is August and not July."
At once, he seemed willing to yield to his brother's suggestion, and taking their cradles to the tree which shadowed a favorite spring, hung them up, while Augustus proceeded on his
way to the barn for their rakes. Charles threw his hat upon




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    55
the ground, and was about to take a drink, after his own
fashion, when a troop of riders suddenly reigned up to the
fence. There were two ladies, accompanied by a gentleman,
all mounted on fine horses, and had been riding from the appearance of their steeds at a pretty fast rate.
"' May I take the liberty of asking you, sir," said one of
the ladies, " how I can obtain a drink of that spring water.
I am so thirsty."
"I have no cup, Miss," replied Charles, "but if you
will allow me to wait upon you, I think, I can supply your
need."
"' Thank you, sir, I accept your offer."
Charles immediately selected a large plantain leaf, and
folding it so as to make quite a decent cup, dipped it into the
cool bubbling spring and presented it to the lady, who having thrown her reins upon the horse's neck, stretched out her
hands to receive it.
"But how shall I ever get it to my lips?"
"Please take hold of the corners above my hands."'
"So!"
" Yes, Miss, now you have it." The little quivering cup
was raised, and its contents quaffed at a single draught.
"Oh, most delicious! Julia, dear," addressing the other
lady apparently of her own age, neither of them probably
exceeding seventeen, "will you have a drink? But I forget," bowing pleasantly to Charles, " we are dependent upon
your services."
" And they are perfectly at your command," returning her
salutation with a graceful bow, and then addressing the other
lady, "' will you allow me to wait upon you, Miss."
She blushed deeply, and courteously declined the offer,
having been evidently checked by a word from the gentle-.
man, who was close beside her, and who seemed restless and
displeased.
"Well may I," said she, whom Charley had waited on,
"' whenever I pass this way help myself to a drink-At is so
deliciously cool. I think I can make a cup for myself next
time. Is that the spring where that little mound rises in the
shade there 2"
"' It is, Miss, and it is a great curiosity; would you like to
see it? there are few such boiling springs to be found."




56             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Don't be impatient," said the lovely girl, looking towards her companions. " I won't hinder you but a minute."
And she was about to spring from her horse, when Charles,
who had just thrown off the two rails, which formed the
fence on the top of the stone wall, interposed,' A moment, ZMiss; rein your horse by this wall, it will
afford you a convenient place to alight."
"And to get on again, too; but you have thrown down
your fence now to accommodate me."
" Oh, that is of no consequence; it is rather an uneven
horseblock; may I assist you?"  The frank girl accepted
his hand at once, and springing to the ground, was in an instant beside the little fountain.
"' Oh, how beautiful! how brilliantly clear! a boiling spring
indeed, and the whole of the white sand at the bottom is in
motion. But this is not all nature, you have helped it a little 2" looking at Charles.
" I have put the curb in, and arranged the turf in the
vicinity, and guided the little stream to please my fancy."
"One, two, three little pools, or, springs besides! then
the one from which you gave me drink was neither of these
that attracted my attention as I rode by."
" I gave it to you from the fountain itself, the purest and
the coolest."
And while she spoke to him, and he to her, her bright, soft,
hazel eye was steadily fixed upon him, and yet there seemed
not the slightest approach to forwardness, but as if she felt
herself to be in the presence of one who bore upon his fine
face, and in his courteous manners, the mark of the true gentleman, and therefore her own pure mind felt free to indulge
without restraint in communing with him.
"Come, Addie, we are waiting."
"I am coming;" and accepting the hand of her rustic gallant, was on the wall, a i1 in the saddle, in an instant.
She bowed her head, and smiled her thanks, which was so
handsomely responded to by Charles, that her companion
xwas evidently taken by surprise; and although the gentleman
who kept close beside her, did not deign to turn his head that
way, she did and very gracefully saluted him as they started
Charles sat down by the spring in a strange kind of flutter,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    57
thinking over all he had said and done, and all that had been
said to him. How pleasantly she accosted him! how delighted with the cup and the water! how ready to examine
the spring! how gracefully and frankly she accepted his attentions! how perfectly natural seemed every word and act!
But these were not all. The loveliest countenance he had
ever beheld had just been beaming upon him, with its bright
smile, kindling apparently at what he had said, or at something in connection with him. And when the smile passed
off, there was an earnest, serious gaze, a look that almost had
a tinge of sadness-the slightest shadow on her sweet fair
brow that he felt to have a power, he never knew that woman
possessed before. It went directly to his heart, and kindled
an intense desire to do anything that she might ask, to do it
with alacrity and delight. And then, strange effect of the
imagination! he fancied a peculiar expression in her last
look, as though it spoke of an interest in him —mad and
foolish youth!  0, Charley-, we should not have suspected
you to be thus open to delusion. But there he sat by the
spring, as lost to the business of the day, as if there were no
oats to be gathered, no shower to be feared, and even no
such thing as a colt in the world.
"' You seem to be pretty busy thinking."
"O, is that you, Augustus! do you know who those folks
are that you met 2"'" No; nor I should n't want to know who the man is. I
guess he is some upstart."
" Why."
"I heard one of the ladies' reply to some ugly remark he
had made, I suppose, about you; for I saw that they stopped
here.' You may if you please,' said she,' call him a clod.
hopper, but I never in my life felt more sensibly that I was
in the presence of a true gentleman.' But here comes Folger." Charles sprang to his feet; all his feelings of interest
for the colt reviving at the mentiontf his owner's name.
There is something peculiarly attractive to a man in the
ownership of a horse, and especially his first horse. There is
no animal, not excepting the dog, who seems so nearly allied to man. His intelligent eye and ear, his lofty carriage,
his free and graceful motion, his vast strength, his obedient
temper, and his indispensible use, all endear him to us. We




58             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
love to look at his fine proportions, to take in the inspiration
of his energy and power. We love to feel our power over
him, and think more highly of ourselves, as we bound through
the air upon his back, and guide him, and curb him at our will.
Mr. Folger was on horseback, and the colt was beside him
held by a halter. He was of a dark chestnut color, his mane
and tail a shade lighter, and disposed to curl. His body was
well put together, round and snug, his chest full and broad,
his legs straight and well set, with a white streak around one
fore-foot, his neck and head slender, with a bright, clear, kind
eye, and a white star in his forehead.
The owner, who, although keeper of a tavern, was no
horse-jockey, said nothing, while the young men were looking at all points of the horse, but handing the halter to Augustus, allowed them to satisfy themselves in every respect.
"iHe looks well enough," said Charles, coming up to Mr.
Folger, as though he wished to hear his account of him.
" He is a colt; has never had a bit in his mouth. I have
not broken him yet, because he is too young to be put to
hard service. If I was to get him so as to be driven, my
boys would have him off, and perhaps in one day ruin him.
I have, therefore, let him remain, except merely halter breaking him, and you see you can do what you please with him;
he will lead like an old horse."
" Will he not be too young for us to use?"
"He is too young for anybody to use much; he ought
to be bitted and broken, and used a little every day, until
he is under perfect control. It will take a year at least to
get a horse trained as I should wish. I should think if you
wished to train a horse for your future use, and to train
one to your mind; if you wish a horse that has kind feelings, and likes to be petted and made much of; I don't
know where you can find such another, for he has the very
best blood in him; his mother would all but talk."
As Charles had every reason to believe what was told
him, he invited Mr. Folger to alight, and walk into the oat
field.
" I told Mr. Slocum that I was willing- to trade either for
hay or oats, but would prefer oats, and would like them unthreshed. My price for the colt is fifty dollars. How many
acres have you in oats 2'"




OR., THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    59
"' A little over six acres."
" They will yield about thirty bushels to the acre, some a
little more, and some not quite so much. You have cut down
the best of them. I have noticed the field while they have
been growing. I will tell you at once what I will do; you
shall cut and bind, and shock up one half the piece; you
have pretty much one half cut now; and I will come with
my teams, and take it away, and you shall have the colt."
The brothers looked steadily at each other a moment.
"Just as you say, Guss."
"Just as you say, Charley; I'm agreed if you are."
"It is a bargain, sir."
"When shall I send my teams?"
"This afternoon, as soon as you please; we shall go to
binding immediately."
As there was no time to be lost in looking at their prize
then, Augustus ran with him to the stable, and in a few moments they were binding away in earnest; but it looked
rather discouraging; three acres all spread out on the ground
to be raked and bound, and carried together, and in two hours
a load to be ready.
"Hulloa, boys, what are you up to, ha! ha! ha!"
"Slocum! I declare," said Augustus to, his brother, "and
who has he got with him?"
"You want any help, boys?"
"We should like some help, but we should n't dare to ask
you."
"WThy not? ha! ha! ha!"
" We should get no chance to repay you; we are not
joiners, you know."
" You aint, ha! well, no matter for that; where's your
other rake? here, Joe, you and Guss rake, and Charley and I
will bind; now work away, boys, for we shall be after you."
And "' work away" it was; the rakes flew, and the little
heaps rolled together in rapid succession, and the binders
kept close behind them, and not allowing the space to increase that separated them from each other.
"You see I met Folger up street away, and says he, we've
traded for the colt. Glad of that, says I. And I am to take
the oats, but I must hurry home, says he, and send the teams
along, for there will be rain before night. So on I came;




60             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
I was going to the colonels to set Joe at a little job, so I
looked over here and see what was going on; says I, Joe,
those fellows want help; the colonel won't scold much, I
guess, ha! ha! ha! Come, boys, we are gaining on you."
" We'll risk it, bind away as fast you like, we'll keep you
going."
" Well, I don't know, Slocum, how I shall ever return this
favor, for I have never been in quite such a pinch before; I
have wasted a little time this morning."
" You can't have wasted much, Charley, if you and Guss
have cut all these down to-day."
" We have."
" You have done well; but it will be a great thing for you
to get them bound up, and ready for Folger's teams. And as
to paying me-I'il get mly pay out of you yet, in some way,
ha! ha! ha!"
An hour and a half steady work, with the speed which
they held, made a very sensible gain upon the piece.
"' And now," said Charles, " it is half-past twelve, we will
run down to dinner, it will be all ready, and then Augustus
and I can finish it."
" I shan't leave you, boys, in such a drive, no how; and if
you will let me give you a little advice, as an old manager, it
i; this —don't let us all stop and go to dinner. There will
be driving times pretty soon, you will see, for Folger will
send all his teams together; he can see as well as any one
that rain is brewing, and it will be here by the middle of the
afternoon, and Folger won't'wish to have his oats wet. If
you want to eat, let Guss run down and bring up a bite, I'll
set Joe to throwing the sheaves into heaps ready for shocking, and you and I will take the rakes, and get a good parcel
raked up, then no matter what comes, we can be ready
for it."
No time was lost in arguing, so Augustus went off with
right good will to obtain the supplies. He could not come
back, however, quite so fast as he went, for Aunt Casey had
foirly loaded him down. She heard how it was, and determinied, for the honor of the house, that there should be no
swLi.t, even the white table cloth and all.
cell, well, ha! ha! ha! well done, Aunt Casey, if here
aint dinner enough for a dozen; I tell you what, boys, if you




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND TIE LAST.    61
live so every day I should like to come and board with
yOU."
It did, indeed, look refreshing to a hungry man, for Augustus had, according to the old lady's instructions, spread out
the cloth halfway, and there stood a plate with slices of cold
boiled ham, and cold boiled pork, a dish of mashed potatoes, good thick slices of fine white bread, a roll of butter,
and two dried apple pies. The spring was close at hand, and
cups were plenty; there was no lack of appetite, and before
all were satisfied, it was very evident that Aunt Casey was
not a bad calculator as to the ability of four stout young
men. There was, however, some to spare.
Things turned out pretty much as Slocum had said. By
two o'clock three double teams were passing into the field,
and the work of loading commenced. While one of the
teams was loading, one of the three teamsters went lustily
to work with the binders; all were in fine glee, and it would
have been impossible to tell from the interest manifested by
each, who were the individuals to be benefited, and probably there was no difference in their feelings. The circumstances had excited each one. A quantity of grain was to
be secured, and a dark cloud was gradually rising in the west,
and occasionally a low distant murmur could be heard, the
faint echo of the far-off thunder.
Two loads have at last left the field, and nothing now remains to be done but to despatch the third and last. The
raking and binding are finished, and all the hands in the field
are busy besides the loaders, with gathering into shocks,-and
that is soon completed.
i' WTell, Charley, we'11 go now."
Charles came up almost out of breath.
" Mr. Slocum, what shall I do or say to you? we never
should have done the thing without you."
"I knew you would n't, ha! ha! ha! I knew you would n't,
and so I was determined to stick by you. We must go up
to the colonel's now-but here is the old fellow himself."
"Ay, ay, I've had my eye on you; I've had my eye on
you-a pretty fellow you are! I've seen you."
"Well, colonel, you see I found the boys here had got into a
little scrape, and you know I must help folks when they get
into a pinch, ha! ha! ha! But I'm going right up now."




62            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Well, well, Slocum, that's all right; but I've been very
angry, and if it had n't been that I saw you here working like
a good fellow for these young'friends of mine, you would
have taken it, mind me. But where is your oats a-going?"'"- Oh, we have sold it, sir; we have traded some of them
away for a colt."
" To break your necks! yes, yes; you need n't tell me; I
know all about it already, and I guess you aint far wrong,
after all. And now old ha! ha! just come along, for I must
waddle home again. That cloud begins to look rather black."
Charles and Augustus were now left alone in the field, the
last load being well on its way to a shelter.
"I think, Guss, that we shall have a hard storm, and it is
coming fast; you had better go and secure the doors and
windows of the barn, and I will carry the tools, and then we-..
Will both hasten home, for Aunt Casey is timid, you know,
and there will be no more cradling to be done to-day."
Augustus made speed towards the barn, and Charles took
a shorter cut across the field towards the house. But the
storm was much nearer than he had anticipated, for the sudden darkening of the air caused him to look up, and he saw
the huge mass of vapor that had been slowly gathering now
rolling along broken into rugged heaps, and flying as though
impelled by the force of a hurricane; he immediately hung
his cradles within the thick branches of an apple-tree, stacked
his rakes against its trunk, and then made his utmost speed
for the cottage. As he reached the gate, as though impelled
by instinct, he immediately threw down a pair of bars adjoining it, for he saw coming up the road, and on full gallop,
the two ladies who had stopped at the spring in the morning.
" They must stop here," he said to himself, " for where else
can they go for shelter?"
And he was right in his calculation, for the leader of the
two at once reined up to him. She did not appear to recognize him, but speaking as if almost out of breath:
"Good sir, can you show us to a shelter?"
"Please ride through the bars, and follow this path, and
just through the grove you will find the house. I will bethere. Have you not a gentleman with you'?"
" His horse loosened a shoe, and he was obliged to dismount; but he is coming." And as Charles looked, he saw




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    68
him just ascending a small hill. Leaving him to follow or
not as he pleased, Charles ran with speed to the house. Augustus was already there, and had assisted one of the ladies
to dismount, and Charles immediately offered his services to
the other.
"Please excuse me," said she with that sweet smile again,
"I did not recognize you at first; I was in such a flurry, for
the clouds looked so threatening, and I knew of no place for
some distance that we could get to. You must have thought
I had soon forgotten your politeness."
Charles did not reply, for the gentleman juSt then rode up
in great haste. He was very pale, but whether from fear or
displeasure, it would have been difficult to decide. He looked
up at the clouds, and then at the circumstances around him,
as much as to say, "It looks awfully black; but what kind
of a place is this to shelter in?" And Charles felt just mischievous enough to enjoy his dilemma. One of the ladies,
however, came to his aid.
"Are you not going to dismount? there is a terrible storm
coming; how fearfully it roars!"
Without replying, he jumped from his horse, and stood
beside him.
" Who is there here to take my horse? What kind of a
rookery. have you got into! is it a tavern? or what is it?"
" Oh, Julia dear, do speak to him," said her companion in
a whisper, " do ask him not to speak so."
She who was called Julia looked indeed much distressed.
She seemed to be equally sensible of the rudeness, but yet
afraid to administer reproof; blushing very deeply she ventured to say:
" HEad you not better tie your horse and come in?"
"I should advise you, sir," said Charles, who had just
come from the shed, where he had gone with Augustus to
secure the ladies' horses, "to remove your saddle under
cover, and then tie your horse,,and you have no time to
spare."::.
" Take off the saddle! I don't know anything about taking
off saddles."
" Oh! I can show you," and the lovely girl was about to
put her knowledge into practice, but Charles immediately
interposed, and the saddle was off in an instant. "You had




64             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
better tie your horse quickly, sir." But at that moment a
vivid flash of lightning, followed instantly by a deafening
peal of thunder, caused the horseman to drop his bridle, and spring into the house; Augustus happily was near
and caught the rein, as the affrighted animal was about to
tear away. Immediately the tempest came sweeping on in
its fury; there was a darkening of the air, a loud and sullen
roar, a twisting about of the limbs of the large trees, a
whirling of dust and small branches through the air, flash
after flash, and peal after peal, and then the pouring rain
dashing against the little tenement, as though it would be
beaten to the earth, or removed from its foundations.
Aunt Casey was never very courageous in thunder storms,
her plan had been generally to run to her bed and cover up;
Charles had laughed her almost out of this hablt, so that she
had braved most of the summer showers, without having
recourse to her old expedient.
But this storm was something more than common, and
the first clap of thunder not only started the young gentleman, as before stated, into the house, but also started Aunt
Casey towards her room; just as she was going, one of the
young ladies, who was called Julia, caught her arm:
" Oh, is n't it dreadful!"
Aunt Casey whispered to her, " The bed I always think
the safest place; if you are afraid, dear, come with me," and
presently they were both out of sight.
The other young lady, and she with whom we have had
most to do, appeared to be quite self-possessed, and seemed
to enjoy the very uneasy situation of their gentleman attendant, and perhaps this will be as convenient an opportunity
as we shall have to give a description of him, at least of his
dress; and in his own estimation, this seemed to be the most
important part of him. His coat was a green frock, very
tastily made, and an excellent fit, but designed no doubt as a
riding-coat, as it was shorter than was thers-y fashionable for
common wear. His trowsers were of yellow jean, or more
properly a dingy buff color; they were made to set easily
over boots, and were confined down closely by straps, and a
row of buttons, about half way from the knee to the foot.
These were of pearls, and gave a showy, and rather military
appearance, in connection with the glittering spurs. The




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    65
foot was small, and very neatly encased in morocco boots,
and from the manner of his looking at them, and twisting
them about, and thrusting them into notice, it was evident
that he prided himself much on account of them. His vest
was somewhat of the color of his pantaloons, only more delicate, both in hue and texture. It opened widely, and displayed linen of the finest texture, elaborately worked, and
faultlessly white. A splendid diamond broach shone conspicuously upon the ends of the light silk cravat, which it
seemed to confine in a smooth cross fold upon his bosom.
Watch, chains, and seals, very costly, no doubt, were drawn
across from his watch fob, and hung in full view from the
lower button of his coat; a neat riding whip, and a light
colored beaver, closes the inventory. It is said to be the
mark of a true gentleman, that however well he may be
dressed, he never appears to be conscious of it. This mark,
if a true one, it must be confessed did not characterize the
present individual, for in spite of thunder, lightning, wind,
and rain, he would find time to look down at his feet, strike
his heels with his whip, and cast his eye over the lappels of
his coat, and down into his bosom, and so on, and doubtless
had there been a looking-glass, he would have peeped into
that.
As to the man himself, he was of medium height, his hair
dark and bushy, rather neat whiskers, his face pale and thin,
and the expression tame. The color of his eyes it would be
difficult to define, as they were not very visible from a habit
of keeping them nearly closed. You have the man externally. The interior will be developed in course of time.
But while we have been attending to this description of him,
the gentleman, himself has not been either standing or sitting, for his IJkeness. He had probably not very strong
nerves, for he. appeared to be considerably excited. His
first start, asi w  have seen, brought him from the stoop into
the middle Af the room, and grasping the arm  of the lady
to whom he seemed most attentive, exclaimed:
"Don't b~& alarmed, Julia, it is terrible, aint it?"
The young lady, however she may have preferred his
attentions in quiet times, seemed now not to put much value
upon them, but rather to feel safer with Aunt Casey, and
clinging to her, retired as we have seen to snug quarters.




66             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
From the other lady, and the master of the house, Charles
Lovell, he could get no sympathy, for after the first brush
was over, they had settled down quietly in a kind of tete-4&
tMte over a volume of Johnson's Lives, which happened to be
lying there, and seemed to pay no more attention to the terrible peals of thunder that were rattling over them, than if
the whole thing had been nothing more than an April
shower.
Augustus had ensconsced himself on the stoop, and appeared to be enjoying the vagaries of the storm in a very
quiet way; so that the gentleman felt absolutely alone, and
had to amuse himself as he best could. Charles had, with
all due politeness, offered him a seat, which he declined, and
preferred standing with his hat on, as though ready for any
emergency, and he seemed to be divided between two causes
of fear,-the coming down of the old house upon his head,
and the crinkling fire without. One moment, as the wind
howled across the chimney, he would turn his head up and
look round to see what was coming, while he stood holding
the door with one hand, partly open, and ready for a spring;
and then, as a blinding flash of lightning would glare among
the trees of the little grove around the house, he would
dodge in again, and look round the room, casting his eyes
over his person, and down towards his feet, as though there
was nothing at all the matter, and no danger to be apprehended.
Charles had found time during the confusion of the shower
to slip into his little room, and exchange his check frock for
a white linen round-about, that he was in the habit of wearing in the house; and dropping his overalls, the work of a
minute, he had come out so metamorphosed that the strange
gentleman himself had to cast one or two curious glances at
him, as though uncertain what to make of him. The young
lady, too, was evidently taken by surprise; and although from
the first her conduct had been marked by the most lady-like
deport-ment towards him, yet the change in his dress was so
becoming, his fine, manly countenance, bronzed by exposure
to the sun, and his well-proportioned form, were exhibited to
such advantage in his light and airy, yet snugly-fitting garments, that whatever other feelings she might have had, it
was very evident that she derived great p'leasure from having




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    67
one whom she had boasted as a gentleman in his bearing,
appear in the present company to so much advantage. But
there were other feelings at work, too, in the young lady's
mind. She was evidently at a loss how to make things harmonize. Was this the real home of this young man? was
that old lady his mother? But she could trace no resemblance. The little case of books, too, had caught her eye.
She had seen the same elsewhere, but never before under
such a humble roof. And the guitar, which stood in one corner of the room, did he use it? or the young girl? and she
thought it could not be the latter; nor could she be his sister.
All this, however, is but fancy; we can only judge of her
thoughts by the expressive glance of her eye from him with
whom she is conversing, to these different objects, and then
back again to him. That she was interested in his conversation, she took no pains to conceal. There is a charm in a
cultivated mind, that is all powerful with the female heart;
it throws a drapery of its own fancy's weaving about the
whole person, and clothes even forbidding features with
beauty. But a cultivated mind throwing out its witching
thoughts from lips that seem made for love, and sparkling
from eyes that seem but the windows of purity and truth,
no female heart, that has in itself the holy fire, but must
kindle by it. How much was felt, how deep the admiration, and how warm the sentiment inspired, it were almost
impious to ask, and worse impiety to tell.
But was the youth a mere entertainer in this scene? and
are there no peculiar feelings working within, while he enjpS. this rare and unexpected opportunity?  The smile upon
her lip, the slight shadow on her brow, had in the morning
touched him  most strangely.  But now she sits before
him face to face; the light riding cap is thrown by, and the
whole of these fine features are shining full upon him. We
speak advisedly now, and can, without the violation of any
principle of duty, say what we know.
That there was enchantment in her presence, he had felt
during the short interview of the morning; and now he was
conscious, yes, verily he was conscious, that a chain was
winding about his heart-that a spell was upon him. He
wished the thunder and the rain to keep on their clatter, and
he dreaded every lightning up from without, for fear the




68             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
clear sky should put an end to the charm. He was deaf to
all the whisperings of reason. "An elegantly dressed young
lady, her manners more elegant than her attire; doubtless
the scion of some aristocratic stock; accustomed to all the
refinements of life, perhaps wealthy herself-how insane for
him, so far down among the ruder things of life, to dream for
an instant that she can be aught to him, but a beautiful vision
that will soon pass away forever." Thus reason whispered
to him, but he heeded not, and with all the infatuation of a
doomed man, yielded his heart; yes; strange as it may seem,
yielded his heart to the fair object, and set her image up before him, to be for life the idol of his earthly love. It was a
mad purpose we allow, and utterly at variance with his
whole character, but we cannot help it, nor can we help him;
and if he suffers for his folly, it will be no more than many
have done before him, and will doubtless do even after reading the development of his fate.
But summer showers seldom last long, and although this
had been something more than common, yet in an hour it
had spent its fury; the clouds began to break away in the
west, the rain ceased, the sun blazed forth, and set the bow
upon the eastern cloud. All was as still and bright as though
nothing had occurred.
At the first intimation that they wished to go on their way,
Charles and his brother proceeded to get their horses in
readinss.
The gentleman appeared not to be in a very amiable
humor, and yet he made great efforts to be polite to the
ladies. Whether he could have saddled his horse was  -M
doubtful, but Charles whispered to his brother, that
he had better throw it on for him. As the first horse camne
up, the gentleman called out:
" Come, Miss Julia, your horse is waiting."  She tripped
it lightly out, and looking at Charles, smiled pleasantly, and
thanked. him for all his courteous treatment.'" I fear if you
had not hastened our saddles off so quickly, our ride home
would not have been so pleasant as it now bids fair to be."
"Come, are you ready?;"
"Oh yes, I am readX, my good sir, but you know ladies
must have time to sa:;.their say out —now for it," and the
lively girl, accepting his hand, bounded to her place.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.           69
"Will you accept of my assistance?" said Charles, as the
other also came from bidding Aunt Casey good-bye.
"I will with pleasure."
"Miss Adelaide," the gentleman called out, " I will assist
you in a moment, you need n't-"
"Thank you, I am on, and never had a better mount in
my life."
Charles walked by the side of the ladies until they passed
through the bars, and then taking off his hat, made a low
obeisance. Their salutation was not less marked nor respectful. As the gentleman passed through he held out towards
Charles a piece of money.
" George, George, are you crazy!" and Miss Julia caught
his arm, "for mercy sake, don't."
Charles stood and looked at him a moment fiercely; a
rush of thoughts crowded upon him; they had been gathering force through all the time he had been under his roof;
for with all his rudeness of manner was added in Charles'
mind the strong belief that he was the miscreant whom but
the evening before he had seen maltreat a lovely female, and
leave her for aught he knew in wretchedness to die alone.
He could have torn him to the earth, and trampled him beneath his feet, if he could have forgotten his own character,
and the company upon whom the vile creature was an attendant. In a calm and steady tone he addressed him:
"Respect for myself, sir, and especially for t!se you
wait upon, prevents me from treating your i lrnce as
it deserves. Remember, sir, that money will hot always
pay for acts of kindness, nor will it always heal the wounds
of a broken heart."
He was doubtless about to answer Charles in a rude manner, for his looks betrayed great rage; but as the last sentence was uttered in an undertone, and its meaning broke
upon his mind, he seemed like one stupefied. His countenance became deadly pale, and turning his horse's head, prepared to go on his way.
Not so the young lady, who had received so much of
Charles' notice. She rode up to him:
~47 little thought, sir, when entering your hospitable roof,
that your kindness would have been thus requited;" her lip
trembled, and a tear fell upon her cheek.




70             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Charles could not reply; he was too deeply agitated, and
the lovely girl, with much emotion, continued;
" I trust you will not in your remembrance, of either my
cousin or myself, charge to us the improprieties of another."
"I assure you, Miss, not a thought but you might read
will ever pass my mind in reference to yourself," a slight
pause, "or your cousin either."
She looked steadily at him as he spoke, and for a moment
seemed to be spell-bound. Then, with that shadow on her
brow, that token of thoughts that came from her heart,
she bowed gracefully to him and departed.
Charles watched her beautiful form as she urged her horse
to overtake her companions. He knew not that he should
ever see it again; he could not hope that he would. He had
learned but little respecting her place of residence, or kindred,
but from what he had gathered he concluded that her home
was in the great city, and her stay in the country but that of
a visitor. Among its thousands there would be no doubt
splendid suitors for her hand, and happy he who should be
the favored one; " yes," he spoke aloud to himself, "he
must be a happy man."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    71
CHAPTER V.
THE training of the colt was a matter not to be thought of
during their harvest season, and nothing was done, therefore,
further than to win his confidence, and get him to be familiar
with him. A handful of oats dealt out whenever they went
up to him in the field, and gentle treatment in handling him,
very soon accomplished that. Naturally of a confiding temper, he appeared delighted when either of the brothers approached him; winnowing and pawing as he heard their steps
drawing nigh to the stable, and fairly starting off at a gallop
to come up to them in the field.
" How soon!" said Charles to his brother, as the confiding
creature one day stood with his head leaning over the shoulder
of Augustus, " has he become acquainted. He has certainly
an excellent disposition, and if we can only manage to make
him obedient to our will, without destroying his confidence,
he will be trained to some purpose."
" We shall have to manage very carefully to do that, they
are so fractious sometimes."
"Yes, no doubt they are; but I don't wonder at that.
Many begin with harshly treating them, swearing at them,
and knocking them round; at any rate, I mean to try a different method with Pomp; (I think we had better call him
Pomp), there are so many Toms, and Billies, and Charlies
round. He is a beauty; and if we only manage rightly with
him, he will soon be worth double what we gave for him."
"Well, I am so fond of him already, that I shouldn't
wish to part with him for double that now."
" Nor I either, Guss; but it won't do for us to stay here
any longer. If you will go to work cutting up the corn, I
will run up and see the colonel, as he has sent for rre to
come and see him about a harness."




72             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
The colt followed them both to the bars, and for some
time stood with his neck stretched over them, until they were
out of sight.
"Lovell, how are you? ha! ha! ha!"  Charles was just
entering the alley which led towards the barns of Colonel
Johnson. He turned, and met the good-natured Slocum.
" Look out! ha! ha! ha! don't you squeeze my hand so.
I hurt it with a chisel the other day. Is the colonel at home,
do you know?"
" I think he must be; for he sent word to me yesterday,
that I must be at his stable by nine o'clock this morning."
" Then he will be there, no doubt; yes, there he is, shaking
his cane at us."
"One at a time-one at a time, you rogues, you, how can
I attend to two people at once? and Mr. Lovell must be the
one, for I sent for him expressly."
" Not this time, colonel; Charlie is a good fellow, and I
know he will wait awhile. But I want you, colonel, just to
get somewhere that you can sit down, for I have got quite a
story to tell, and you will get out of patience if you stand."
" You are a very pretty sort of a fellow, Slocum; I am
glad I don't owe you any money though, so it can't be on
any dunning business.'Sit down, ha! must I! But what is
that young man to do, that I have sent for to come and see
me this morning?"
" Oh, he'11 amuse himself some way, no doubt; and if he
knew all about it, he would n't mind waiting a little."
The old gentleman walked a few paces, until he came to a
hen-coop; that being flat on the top, offered a pretty fair seat,
and taking his station upon it, motioned to Slocum to bring
along a saw-horse which stood near by.
"You can sit straddle of that, or sidewise, just as you
please."
"Ha! ha! ha! just the thing, its my natural seat."'Well, only keep quiet on it, if you can, and let out your
budget. I want to know what's the matter; for you seem
in such a stew about it, that I am all fidgetty myself; begin
your story, and let it be short."
"You know Serle."
"What, the fellow that married that pretty girl there; the
daughter of-of-"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    73
"Polly Gaines, daughter of the widow Gaines."
"Yes, yes, yes."
"Well, Serle is a good fellow, he is as steady, honest,
industrious a young chap as there is any where round, and a
real good mechanic too, ready to do a job whenever he can
get one, and willing to work early and late, so as to make a
living. I know, you see, for I am about these young fellows,
and see all their actions."
"Is he dead? or has he broke his limbs?"''No, but you see he had a long sickness last winter, that
has pulled him back bad."
"Sick! was he? and why did n't you tell me of it?"
"Well, it was n't a'case, colonel, you know, where one
can go very well, and offer anything like charity; they feel,
you know, a little spunky like, as though they wanted to take
care of themselves."
"I honor them for that".:
"So do I, colonel, they are the right kind of folks after
all; them that want to stand on their own feet, and take care
of themselves, so long as they can. But you see when spring
came, and Serle got out again, I found out because he came
to me for work, he'd got clean used up; he had spent the
last dollar he had in the world. Well, I gave him a job,
and he has worked like a good fellow; and he'll do well
enough, there's no danger of that; blout youl know, colonel,
it's a great thing for a man here in the country to have a
house over his head."
" That it is, whether in the country or city."
"But especially in the country; you know there aint
many houses to spare, and when there is one to let, it brings
a high rent for us country folks. Now, Serle has to pay
forty dollars a year rent, for only half the Gage house; it
don't seem much, I know, to you, colonel, but come to take
forty dollars a year, out of a man's wages, just only for rent
of the house to live in, and it makes a hole, I tell you."
" Don't he have a garden spot with it?"
"Nothing but just the bare house."
" Vell, come go on with your story; tell me at once, Slocum, what you are driving at."
" I will, colonel. %Well, there's a grand chance now for
the poor fellow to get a house all his own; and would n't that
4




74             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
be good? and a nice garden spot, and a place to keep a cow;
why it would be half his living."
The colonel raised his cane, and shaking it very significantly, " I'll lay this stick on to you in short order, if you
don't tell me quick what it is you want; where is the house?
where's the land? and where's the money to get it?"
"Well, you see, colonel, the case is this-there is a good
building down on the French place. You know that place
has been sold lately to the New Yorkers?"
" I don't know anything about it; go on with your story
I tell you."
"Well, it's just as I say, they have bought the French
place, and they are going to build all new. Well, the old
house is a good snug tight building, all right for a small
family, as snug as a mitten, and they are going to pull it
down. Thinks I, that is too good a house to pull down, its
a sin and a shame to do it, it's a wicked waste. By jingo, if
I don't ask the fellows what theyv'll take, and have it moved
right off smack and smooth; so up I goes and pops the question. I did n't know how they'd take it, but thinks I to myself they can but say no, and there's an end of it."
" Oh, body a me, if you aint enough to drive the patience
out of a saint; you are worse than old Nab Moneypenny,
who will begin telling you about a cut on her finger, and end
with a hanging match."
"' Well, colonel, the long and short of it is, says the fellow to me, what is it worth? will you give me twenty-five
dollars for it, and move it off, and have it out of the way by
day after to-morrow?  How long may I have, says I, to
give you an answer? to-morrow, twelve o'clock. Thank
you, sir, says I, I'11 be here by that time, and if I aint,
you may begin to pull it down. It is dirt cheap, colonel.
The house could n't be put up for three hundred dollars; it's
as cheap as dirt."
The colonel very deliberately took out his handkerchief,
and wiped his brow.
" Well, you see, colonel, I goes right down to Serle, and
tells him of it. I never see a fellow look as he did; he
jumped right up, Slocum. Says he, I've got forty dollars,
it's all I've got, and fifteen I owe for rent; but here is twenty-five; only what shall I do for a place to put it on? I




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    75
can't put it on the commons. And the poor fellow sat
down on his chair, clean discouraged. I never see him look
so bad. And I must say the thing looked awkward. A
house, you know, colonel, when we get it moving has got to
go somewhere."
"Without it would keep moving like your tongue? it
would n't need any stopping place."
" Ha! ha! ha! well, colonel, says I to him, Serle hold on,
there's that four-acre lot that used to belong.to the old Hawthorne family; it's got an old shell of a barn on it, and it's
got an old foundation of a house, and brick and stone enough
for a good cellar, and it's as pretty a buildings pot as there
is in town, right by the little river. The land is good, and
there's wood enough on the run, on the back part of it, to
help along in a family for a good while. Says I, Serle, that
whole four acres, and all that's on it, can be bought for one
hundred dollars, and I have no doubt young Hawthorne will
give you time to pay it in. So off we went, Hawthorne was
ready to sell it, and it was pretty much all agreed upon.
Serle was to have two years to pay it in, and Hawthorne was
to let us know in the morning. So this morning I called
there pretty early, I tell you, for I know we had business on
hand if we did the thing. Serle looked as if he had n't slept
a wink all night, and his pretty wife, I see, kept wiping the
tears; oh, said she, Mr. Slocum, if we could only get it, and
have a home of our own, I shall never forget you the
longest-"
Slocum was now obliged to use his handkerchief, and the
old colonel, to keep him company, began to use his.
"Well, what do you think? at last Hawthorne came
along, and I see at once he was going to be off. He made
some kind of excuse, but the upshot of it was, that he would
sell it for the one hundred dollars, but must have the money
down; I see how it was; Serle turned as pale as a sheet,
and his wife I see in the buttery wiping away the tears;
thinks I, good folks I know how you feel; I have felt so too.
Says I, Hawthorne just step out here, and so out we went.
now, says I, Hawthorne, you see how they feel; must you
have the money down? says he, I must; it belongs, you
know, part to my sister, and that fellow Lucas some way got
wind of this matter, and he don't want Serle to have it, and




76            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
and he came over last night, and offered the hundred dollars
cash down; but I told him you had the first offer.'How
long will you give me to have an answer?'' Two hours,'
says he.' Done,' says I:' I'll be at your house in two
hours.'"
The Colonel had been wiping the perspiration away for
some time, having given up the idea of making a short story
of it: he was trying to wait as patiently as possible.
"And now, Colonel, that's the end of it."
" I am glad of that: and now tell me what you mean by
coming and pouring into my ears such a long rigmarole
about this concern."'
" Well, Colonel, I don't hardly know myself; but I came
right off here, because it seems so natural to me, if there's
any trouble anywhere, to run to you, you know."
"' It is, eh? well, I'll tell you what to do: go right straight
off to Hawthorne, and have a deed made out for the land,
and as soon as it is done, the money shall be ready for
him."
Oh! Colonel, may you be blessed, —"
"Hold your tongue, sir, will you? you've talked enough
for one day: you want to set a man crazy? And hear what
I say now: let the deed be made in Serle's name. He'll
feel all the more encouraged to have the title for his house
and land in his own name. And the twenty-five dollars shall
be ready at the same time to pay for his house. But don't
you say a word about it-you hear-only to Serle himself;
and let him keep the little money he has about him: he will
want it to fix up with. And now be off, do you hear? and
not sit there, blowing your nose, like a great baby."
Slocum arose, and taking the hand of the generous old
man, gave it a hearty squeeze.
" God bless you!" and he tried to get out something further, but it would not come.
"Well, well, well! just go along and see to the thing."
"Just see that fellow!" said the old gentleman to Charles,
who was now approaching; "just see that fellow, how he
goes!-blowing his nose, and swinging his arms-aint he a
sight! I tell you what it is: that fellow ought to have his
bust taken, and there ought to be a monument of gold
erected to him. He deserves it more than many who receive




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    77
them. Just see him! he has started off on the full run. Oh,
you good soul! I wish I was young enough: I'd see who
would run the fastest. And now, my good fellow, I think
you have been kept here waiting long enough. You see, I
found out all about your colt before you told me of it. I
don't forget how young folks feel. You think as much of
that horse, now-I know you do-almost as if he was a relation. You may laugh; but it is just so. And now, do you
come in here, and see what we can find."
The place where they had been conversing was an open
space at the end of the lane, which led into the barn and carriage-house. Everything about it was neat and clean; and
as they entered the building, no more dirt was to be seen
than in many a private dwelling.
The Colonel led the way to a small room, partitioned off
by itself. It was lighted, by a window; and in it were several sets of harness, apparently new; although, upon further
inspection, Charles saw that they had, no doubt, been long
in use, but were in good condition, and nicely cleaned.
"There," said the Colonel, pointing to one hanging by
itself, is a harness I had made more than twenty years ago,
for the purpose of breaking a very fine colt. It has been
used since, to break half-a-dozen more. I shall never break
any more for my own use. If you will accept of it, you are
very welcome to it."
" It is a great present, sir, and one that I had not the most
distant idea of. When you spoke about helping me to a
harness, I thought, possibly, you might have something
to loan that might suit me, until I was able to purchase
one."
" No, no: I have loaned it to several, but I'll give it to
you. But I want to talk with you a little about breaking a
colt. The chief things you will need are kindness and care,
and.some little resolution into the bargain. There is no use
for harsh words or harsh actions with a horse. You must
be careful in first putting on the bridle. Do it moderately,
and see that it does not chafe him; and, after he is well
bitted, put the harness on with a great deal of care. Do it
gently, and let him stand and get used to it, and so by degrees manage him; and when he finds that he is not going
to be hurt, he will go along quietly. But be sure of one




78             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
thing: don't let him get away from you, or get the upper
hand. Treat him with all kindness, but let him see that he
has a master that he must obey. And now, I've not only
given you a harness, but a lecture into the bargain."
" And I assure you, sir, I thank you truly for both. I only
wish I knew in what way I can do any thing for you, sirnot to pay you for your kindness, but to convince you that
I feel it."
The old gentleman took him by the arm,
" I'11 tell you what you can do, just continue to go on as
you have, work manfully with your hands-improve your
understanding, as I have good reason to know you have, and
with all, cultivate a liberal heart. All I want is to see you
and your brother, for whom (I cannot tell why) I feel a kind
of fatherly interest, doing well. And now come, just take
the harness out and hang it on the fence, and come into the
house, for Lucy wants to say a word to you."
Charles wiped away a tear that had come, in spite of every
effort to keep it back, and taking down the harness, was about
to put it upon the fence, when a thought suddenly occurred to
to him.
"I should be most happy to wait upon Miss Lucy, at any
moment's warning. But I had no expectation of entering
your house, when I came, and especially of receiving a summons to a lady's presence. I am in my working-dress, as
you see, sir."
" Some would say, never mind that, go in just as you are,
and so would I, if I thought your objection was founded more
upon shame for yourself than respect for the lady. But I do
not believe so, and as I am convinced that a great deal of our
happiness depends upon proper respect to the female sex, and
attention to decorum in their presence, I therefore uphold you
in your objection. Only keep the request in mind, and come
as soon as your business will allow."
Charles bowed his adieu, and taking the harness on his
arm, was walking down the lane to the road, when a horse
on the full gallop, with a rider upon him, turned suddenly in.
It was Slocum —he was almost out of breath, but made out
to tell his wishes.
" To-morrow morning, Charlie, by sunrise, I want you and
Guss to be with your team at the French farm down on the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    79
point. We are all going to give Serle a lift to get his house
drawn down by the bridge across the little river."
"To-morrow, by sunrise, we will be there."   Slocum
then dismounted, and went into the house, and Charles went
on his way.
"Well, Guss, I am sorry that you have had to work so
long alone. Why, what a piece you have cut down!"
" I've worked steadily along, but what have you got there,
a harness?"
"Yes, and it is ours. The old gentleman has made us a
present of it."
" It is a beautiful present. How strong it is, too! Pomp
can never break that, and it is not clumsy, either; and he
cannot hurt it if he should lie down and roll in it. How
very kind he is! you have done a better morning's work
than I have."
" Well, I will lay down the harness and take hold with
you. We must not get down more corn than we can bind
and stand up this afternoon, for Slocum wants us to-morrow,
with our team, to help to move a house for a friend of his."
" That's good, I want to do something for that fellow-he
has a noble soul, and he has done so many little things for
uS."
Charles did not delay his visit to the Colonel's any longer
than was necessary, and as soon as he arose from supper went
on his way there, wondering a little what commands Miss
Lucy could have for him. He found a little circle of ladies
there, busily engaged around a table, sewing.
1" You see," said Lucy, " I am not at all backward in calling upon you, when I need a gentleman's assistance."
" And my services, Miss Johnson."
"There now!" and she put her finger up playfully, " have
I not forbidden that? recant at once."
" Miss Lucy, my services to their very utmost are at your
command."
" Very gallantly said, and I believe honestly, too. But do
not look so suspiciously at all this black silk, and the sewing
apparatus; the service I shall ever demand, I promise you,
shall never be inconsistent with my respect for the feelings
of a gentleman. We want you, Mr. Lovell, to be our almoner on this occasion."




80             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Any thing that you request."  Bowing to her, and the
circle of ladies.
"Well, it is our wish then, that you be the bearer of a little token of regard for our minister. I suppose you are no
great friend of gowns-I mean the clerical gowns."
"I am not an enemy to them, I assure you."
"And you would rather see one that was new and decent,
than an old faded garment, and a little darned?"
"By all means."
"So I have thought, or at least, so we have thought, for
these ladies are united with me in this matter."
" In doing the work, Lucy," said a pretty black-eyed girl,
who looked up from her work very archly at Lucy.
"In the whole matter, I say; so you, Jane, keep to your
work, and let me do the talking. You see," looking again
at Charles, " a few of us ladies thought we would like to see
our minister in a more becoming dress on the Sabbath, so
we have purchased the silk-"
" Oh Lucg!"
4" And we have made up a new robe, and it is all but
finished. But we felt delicate ourselves in presenting him
with it. And as I know he looks upon you as a friend, and
would rather receive it from you than from any one else, I
ask the favor of you to present it for us."
Charles blushed a little, for he felt that he had been distinguished beyond his merits.
"I must obey you, Miss Lucy, as I have said I would.
But I must think Mr. Jamieson would feel infinitely happier
to receive it from your own hands."
"So we all say," spoke several of the ladies at once.
Lucy blushed, until even her fair forehead was tinged with
the crimson hue. Charles saw her confusion, and with promptness ~at once replied,
" But it will be highly gratifying to me to be the bearer
of such a beautiful gift, if you desire it? "
" Thank you," said Lucy, struck with the sensibility that
had prompted him to come to her rescue, " then all we have
to ask of you is to wait until we have completed our task,
and it shall be committed to you."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    81
CHAPTER VI.
THE Rev. William Jamieson, whose name has been incidentally mentioned in this narrative, was a native of the
State of New York, and a descendant of the De Lanceys, of
Westchester county. His parents belonged to the Reformed
Dutch Church, and he himself had been' educated in the doc.
trines of that persuasion. He had, from his boyhood, looked to the clerical profession as one which he should wish to
follow. This boyish feeling originated in a romantic turn
of mind; but had, by a very different process, as he arrived
to maturity, become the settled purpose of his heart.
What led him to unite with the Episcopal Church, it
would not be worth our time to inquire into. Suffice it to say,
he looked not at her as the true church, in distinction from
any other persuasion that held the main doctrines of the
Gospel; but he liked the decencies of her service-the
order of her government, and, moreover, he liked some ideas
which she held, and which he thought other evangelical
churches had relinquished, in reference to the power of the
ordinances which the Great Head of the church had established. He believed in the fullness of the Pentecostal Gifts
as the inheritance of the church, and mourned in secret that
she had lost the faith which could make the promise effectual.
He believed that the ordinances of the church, entered into
by a true spirit, were something more than a mere form of
admission to outward union.  Thus believing, he felt a
greater sympathy with that persuasion, which, at least, acknowledges a belief in the power of the Spirit, accompanying the external rite. He had, therefore, enlisted under the
Episcopal banner; but with the feeling uppermost in his
heart, that in other signs must be sought the marks of the
true children of the church, than in the outward banner un



82             A LONG LOOK AISEAD;
der which they were marshalled; and whenever he saw these
marks, his heart yielded its brotherly affection. He was a
fine scholar, as well as a pure minded Christian, and his talents as a preacher would doubtless, had he thrust himself
forward, have placed him in a very conspicuous station. But,
modest and retiring, he had rather shunned notoriety, and
contented himself with the charge of a small parish in the
town of Melton.
A place of worship had been erected for him at some
remove from the centre of the town. It was a neat, tasty,
stone edifice, in a retired spot, amid- fine large elms, whose
long, sweeping branches almost touched its roof, and whose
refreshing shade, in the heat of summer, provided a pleasant
resting spot for those members of the congregation, who
came from too great a distance to think of returning to their
homes, during the intermission of worship.
As Mr. Jamieson had not yet entered into the married
state, he could afford to live on a very small salary. It
amounted, in all, to only three hundred dollars, but was sufficient for his wants. He had but little occasion to spend
much for books, for a valuable and complete library had
been presented to him by a friend; and he boarded with a
pleasant family near to his church, who provided him with
two good-sized rooms, and at a reasonable cost.
He had a sincere desire to fulfil the duties of his station.
Over all to whom his watch properly extended, he exercised
a truly pastoral care; and he would gladly have extended
his labors to many a family in his vicinity, who sadly needed ministerial faithfulness; but motives of delicacy restrained
his efforts to those, alone, who constantly attelnded the services of the Sabbath in his church. He doubted, indeed, the
validity of that title, which any particular denomination
might set up to a district of land, whether large or small, as
peculiarly theirs; but his was not the temperament to strain
for a right, or to contend against a wrong. His Master's
work he loved, and was ready to do it as he could, without
contention. His forte was rather by the bedside of the sick
or the suffering, than in the public arena where disputants
contend; rather in proclaiming a Saviour's love, in tones of
gentleness, to the little flock that gathered round him on the
Sabbath, than in thundering forth through the land the strong




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    83
dogmas of some peculiar system of divinity. He was not up
to the tone of the sectarians of the day; nor did he think it
necessary to take up the cudgel against every error that
arose. But he often said to those with whom he was most
intimate,-" Let the heralds of the Gospel but preach the
truth, the pure, simple truth, and I believe error will die
away before it.  Active love was characteristic of our
blessed Redeemer. Let it be, also, of all his followers, and
a fire will be kindled in our world that will do more to melt
down the hardness and wickedness of the human heart, than
all the elaborate arguments, either in support of particular
systems, or against them."
In personal intercourse, he was equally engaging, as in his
discourses from the pulpit. His manners were highly polished. Free from all affectation of politeness, they seemed
to be the legitimate effect of a kindly disposition, directed by
a nice sense of the proprieties of life. Far removed from
hauteur of station, yet never, to his most intimate friend, so
demeaning himself in private, as to lose aught of his sincere
respect.
That Charles Lovell should have become attached to such
a man, when admitted to intimacy with him, is not to be
wondered at.  Although his senior by some years, Mir.
Jamieson had treated him as an equal; and Charles duly
valued the friendship of one to whom he could unfold his
views and feelings with freedom-whose advantages had been
so much superior to his own, and in whose sincerity he could
confide without a doubt.
Charles had been educated in the forms and doctrines of
the Congregational Church, and had no idea of leaving that
persuasion because of any change of views. He loved his
own denomination, and had now been, for two years, a member of the church by confession of his faith.
But where he now lived was some miles from his church,
too long a distance to walk with comfort, even in fine weather, and he had no means of riding. The Episcopal Church
was within sight of his dwelling-a pleasant, shady path led
to it. No weather need detain him from the house _of God,
and his Sabbath would be, what it ought, a day of rlest. He
resolved, therefore, to make the trial. Both minister and
people were strangers to him; but his main object was to at



84             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
tend the sanctuary, that he might mingle with the people of
God in public worship. He did not anticipate such discourses as he had been accustomed to hear, and lhe thought
that he might find difficultv in engaging comfortably in their
manner of worship. This last objection, however, almost
immediately vanished. With a heart ready for devotion, he
found the service, at least much of it, well calculated to bear
the desires of his heart, and his wants as a sinner before the
throne of Grace. And great was his surprise to hear the
same truths he had been accustomed to, brought out in all
their striking points, boldly and prominently to view, and
the sinuosities of the heart followed through every avenue;
and every thought and feeling brought into close contact with.
the word of God. Each Sabbath had increased his interest,
and strengthened his resolution to make this his home for
public worship.
Mr. Jamieson had returned from his evening walk, had
lighted his lamp, and placing it on the round table in the centre of his room, took his seat in a very neat arm-chair by its
side. It was just such a chair as one could feel at rest in,
and let His thoughts work while his body was unconscious
almost of its own existence-so nicely was it poised, and so
perfectly were the limbs sustained in ease. Neatly arranged
on shelves, that covered more than one side of the room, were
his companions-the best of many ages; the mighty, the
wise, the witty, and the good.  Man, as he appeared through
the ages that are past —his mighty works, and all his beautiful thoughts.
Beside him lay his Bible, and a paper that he was about to
read. But he seemed just then not quite ready for it, for he
has drawn from his pocket a note. How neatly has it been
folded! And as he holds it to the light, what a beautiful
hand-writing is displayed! Did the hand that traced the
letters of the name, his own name, feel that it merited the
best that it could do? But why so long in opening it? it
has been opened many times before. Ah! he has pondered
long enough on the. envelop; and now it is unfolded, and his
eye turns instinctively to the signature. There seems to lie
the charm. The note itself is formal as need be; it might have
been addressed from one angel to another, so free is it from
aught a lover's heart could take hold upon. But the name




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    85
there-in full —" yours, with sincere respect."  Ah! there
must be some charm in that, to cause that look so long, so
full of meaning. A rap at the door, and the little note is
carefully put away, and a well known voice brings a bright
smile upon his face. He rises to admit a friend.
"Ah, Mr. Lovell! come in, you are welcome, indeed;
come in."
"I expect, my dear sir, I shall be welcome to-night, as I
have never before been. I have a token here that ought at
least to give me a favorable introduction." And handing a
parcel to the reverend gentleman, pointed him to a paper
fastened upon it.
"To the Rev. Wm. Jamieson, from the young ladies of
his parish." It was but the work of a moment to undo
the precious bundle, and the elegant new silk robe hung upon
the arm of the young pastor. He looked steadily at it. A
tear moistened his eye, and his voice trembled as he spoke.
" May the hearts that devised, and the hands that executed
this precious testimonial, receive a recompense from above."
" Say the heart that devised, for although more than one
pair of hands have accomplished the work, I am rather inclined to the opinion that to one heart alone you are mainly
indebted."
"Ah! think you so? and may I know to whom, in particular, I am indebted? "
"We can often, you know, give a guess, without being
able to offer positive proof that our guess is a correct one."
"Then it is only a guess! well, come, sit down, my dear
sir. I have been so taken up with my present that I have
forgotten my manners."
" I wonder what it is! " said Charles, taking his seat, " that
sheds such a charm around the room. It seems to me in
such a place that I can bid good bye to the world with a good
will."
"And turn monk, ha! Well, I cannot say that I should
honor my room, for having accomplished such an end, and
that puts me in mind, my dear sir, of an errand that I have
to you, which I approve much more than I do your thoughts
about a cloister."
"A message for me?"
"Yes, and while I feel that it would be a compliment to




86             A LONG LOOK A1HEAD;
any young man to receive it, yet in the present case I equally
honor the judgment of those who have commissioned me
with it."
And thus saying, he brought forth the little note which he
had been looking at so tenderly, and placed it in the hands
of Charles.    I
The young man blushed deeply, as he read it, and then
laying it gently on the table," Of course, sir, I hope you have discouraged such an idea.
I could not think of such a thing a moment."
" I have not, I can assure you, for I most cordially approve
of the measure. There has been but one consideration which
caused me to hesitate a moment in delivering the message
to you, and which would effectually have prevented me, if
our intimacy had not hitherto been so close. But I believe
I need not fear that you will misjudge my motives into a desire to bind you permanently to us. I love to have you with
us, but I would do nothing to bribe you."
" It would take a great deal now, sir, to bribe me to leave
you. I want to be useful among you, but with what face can I
attempt to teach such persons. One of them, I know, is
much in advance of me in intellectual attainments. She is
herself much better fitted for the duty than I am; and other
names she mentions, I know to be ladies highly educated."
" I know that well; they are all of them ladies of bright
minds, and have had superior advantages, and it will require
no common intelligence to keep ahead of them, and command their respect. But I must be plain with you. You
are not aware of the advantage you have gained over most
persons of your age, by the course of reading and study you
have pursued. Few, even in more advanced life, have such
an acquaintance, as you have, with the Scriptures; and the
books you have read, as collateral to them, even few in the
ministry have attended to. You have a better knowledge of
Prideaux, and Calmet, and Josephus, and Lightfoot, than
nine out of ten of those who have gone through a regular
theological course, and your knowledge of profane history
will gain you an immense advantage, especially in ancient
history. And your attention to the study of the physical
geography of the east, as well as its ancient civil divisions,
are all calculated to give you a stand, as a teacher of the Bible,




(O, TIME FIRST STROIKE AND TRHE LAST.    87
that few can take. You may smile, but I am myself pursuing attentively the very track you have been over."
"You almost surprise me with your catalogue. I have,
indeed, derived much pleasure from that course of reading;
but no doubt most persons fond of reading have made themselves familiar with the same books."
"I wish it was so, our young men and old men would be
much more efficient. But I assure you that among all my
acquaintance, of either clergy or laity, I know scarcely
one who has so good a stock of Biblical knowledge as
yourself."
Charles listened with all due respect to the reasoning of the
reverend gentleman, and at times seemed disposed to yield;
but the thought of having Miss Lucy Johnson sitting down before him as a scholar, presented an obstacle to his mind insurmountable. The high respect he entertained for her as
an educated and talented lady —the deference he had always
felt towards her, as one superior to himself, not only in intellectual acquirements, but on account of her superior station in society, had made an impression on his mind not easily
effaced.
"It is very difficult for you, my dear sir," said Charles,
" rightly to judge of my feelings. You, from your education
and profession, stand in such a relation to society that you
are on a level with even the highest class. They all acknowledge you as an equal and superior, and from your high place
can deal out your teachings and admonitions with profit and
freedom.  With me, circumstances are entirely different.
You are well aware that, in this place, society is of the mixed
order. There are persons among us of wealth, who have
been trained in a city, and have their own notions of what
is respectable, and what is not. Then we have those, who
have always lived here, who possess means above our common farmers and tradesmen. They have. always kept, in a
measure, aloof and by themselves. It would hardly do for
me on the Sabbath, to set up tor a teacher, and take a station of dignity before those who, on other days, might think
it an act of condescension to acknowledge me as an acquaintance.'
" Oh, my friend Lovell! you have gotten strangely out of
your common course. Pardon me for interrupting you; but




88             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
you are the very last person I should have suspected of indulging such feelings.  You! who have deliberately made
up your mind that to work, with your hands upon your own
land, was just as respectable as to be a merchant, a lawyer, or
of any other profession."
" And so I do, sir."
Mr. Jamieson smiled, and Charles began to perceive upon
what rock he was running.
"MI y dear Lovell, you and I have been so intimate, that I
may speak plainly. Now, for one moment, consider what
position you are taking; how often you have combated it
yourself; who has told you that these persons look down upon
you? Does not the suspicion in your own mind bear a little witness against you? If you really believe your business
to be respectable, why should you quail before the wrong
feelings of others.? Believe me, my dear friend, that this very
thing is the incubus that weighs down the laboring man. It
is not that others do not sufficiently esteem him, but he imagines they do not.'
Charles laid his hand on the arm of his friend.
" Say no more about that, I am wrong. I am very wrong,
and have been reasoning from premises that I have always
denied."
" And you certainly have no reason to complain as to the
treatment you have received. He who has been admitted
almost to the intimacy of a near relative, by a young lady
of such standing as Miss Lucy Johnson, surely has no cause
to complain of want of respect."
"Please, my dear sir, to say nothing further about it.
You never, I trust, shall hear a word on the subject from me
again."
" And I sincerely hope I never may. For, do you know
that I am looking to you for the accomplishment of great
things in this very matter? Your conduct, from the first,
has won my admiration. Ready with your hand for whatever it finds to do, and ready with your mind to enlarge its
capacities by storing it with knowledge; and thus, by your
manly labors in the field, and your intellectual power in the
social circle, or the public assembly, commanding the admiration and esteem of all."
" I see," said Charles, " there is no use in contending




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    89
against my master; and therefore I put myself at your disposal, and leave responsibilities with you."
The evening was drawing to a close, and Charles rose to
depart; but Mr. Jamieson concluded to accompany him part
of the way.
As they stepped from the stoop into the road, a boy came
up to them, and, addressing himself to Mr. Jamieson, said" Sir, won't you please come to our house? Mother wants
to see you."
"' Wants to see me? What is your mother's name. my
boy?"
"Her name is Simmons: she says she wants to see the
minister."
"Is your mother sick?"
"She ain't sick herself; but there is something the matter
with my sister."
Mr. Jamieson looked at Charles  "Will you accompany
me."
" Certainly: it is rather a lonely walk."
Charles had heard nothing from Margaret Simmons, since
the scene of suffering through which she had passed, and of
which he was a witness. He said nothing to his companion,
as they walked along the lonely causeway which led to the
house, about the circumstances of that scene; for he had
promised not to reveal them; but he felt very confident that
the present call had relation, in some way, to that event.
The house, from a distance, appeared to be situated in the
midst of the large area of marsh land spread out on either
hand; but, as they drew near, the river, or creek, upon which
it stood, began to be visible. And the old dock, which once
had been the harbor for sloops, was now a desolate ruin.
The house itself bore visibly the same marks of decay with
the landing. It had once been a respectable tavern, but it
had long been useless as such, and was now only visited
occasionally by the boatmen, as their craft might happen to
anchor near the spot, or by those who might wish to procure
a boat for the purpose of fishing in deep water.
"Many happy days have I spent here, when a little boy,"
said Charles. "It makes me sad to see such a change."
As they tapped at the door, a voice replied, " Come in.'
The boy, however, who had preceded them, opened the door,




900            A LONIG LOOK AHEAD;
and admitted them to the room. It had once been the public
room of the house. - The old railing, which formed the little
enclosure where the bottles of liquor once stood, was still
there, but the bottles had vanished, and their places were
filled with all that variety of baskets, bundles, boxes, &c.,
which somehow get together even in the poorest houses.
The long bench still ran along one. side of the room, and
bore the marks of the loungers who had once dissipated here
many hours of their wasted lives. The whole apartment
bore the indelible tokens of the place where Intemperance
had once held her orgies. A few articles of furniture were
scattered about, showing that it was now bed-room, sittingroom, and kitchen.
As the gentlemen entered, the old lady raised her spectacles upon her cap, laid aside a garment she was mending,
and, brushing off the loose threads about her person, bowed
to Mr. Jamieson.
" Your sarvant, sir."
" I have come, Mrs. Simmons," said the reverend gentleman, as he took her hand, "at your request; and as my
friend here was with me at the time, I took the liberty of
inviting him to accompany me. I believe he is not a stranger
to you: you once knew him when a boy."
"'You remember Charlie Lovell, Mrs. Simmons?" said
Charles, as he took her hand.
"Indeed! and that I do; but I should never have known
you again. Oh, dear! what a change a few years does make
in us!-but more in some than in others. Sit down, gentlemen. Billy! hand them seats. I am very glad you have
come, and very sorry to have to send for you so, at
night."
"We are very glad, madam, to do anything, whether by
night or day, if it is in our power to be of service to
you.1"
" You can go in the other room, child, and stay by your
sister, and see if she wants anything, and tell her who has
come. I thank you, sir, very much-both on you; but
whether you can be of any service, it is not in me to
know."
" Is your daughter very sick?"
"Well, indeed, sir, it is not in my power to say, nor what




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    91
kind of a sickness it is; but it seems to me to be an ailin'
of the mind. Her heart seems to be all clean broken, and
there don't seem to be no power to keep soul and body together."
"How long has she been in this state?"
" Well: it ain't long that she has been just as bad as she
is now. But it has been a comin' on now for some time.
The first I saw of it, she began to be very sober like: she
didn't laugh and sing, as she used to do. She used to be just
like a bird; but, all at once, I see she began to look downhearted, and she did n't seem to care about her sewing nor
knitting, but seemed to want to get off by herself; and so
she would take long walks, and wouldn't sometimes get
home till late of an evenin'; and then, again, I would often
hear her give a long sigh. Sometimes I would speak to her.'Margaret,' says I,' what upon earth does ail you?' And
then she would try to smile, and say,'Oh! it ain't nothing,
mother; only I feel a little sad just now.' But sadness, you
know, sir, ain't natural for young people."
"Not in general, if they are well."
"But it's about six weeks, now gone, that she came home
one night from a walk; and such an altered creature I never
saw.'Margaret,' says I,' what does ail you? You frighten
me.''Oh, nothing! mother: only let me go to bed, and
there let me die. I don't want to see the face of living creature more.' I see she had been a cryin', and I tried to get
out of her what had happened; but it did no good.' It ain't
no matter, mother,' says she:'it can't mend it to tell of it;
and if you don't want to kill me outright, you won't say no
more to me: only let me get away from human beings, and
let me die.' But you know, sir, it ain't in a mother's heart
to let a child die, if she can do anything for one. So I tried
to comfort her; and I got her to bed, and gave her something warm; for she was all in a quake. And so it's been,
off and on, ever since. But these few days, she seems to
take on worse: so I told her yesterday I shouldn't stand it
no longer, and that send for somebody I would; but she
held out till this evening; and then she told me I might send
for the church minister; and so I didn't stop a minute, but
sent right away, for fear she might get out of the notion of
it, if I waited till to-morrow."




92            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Can we see her, madam?"
" Well: just wait a bit." The old lady left the room, but
returned immediately, with the request that both gentlemen
should come in.
As they entered the room, the mother and brother retired,
probably at the request of Margaret. It had a very different
aspect from the rest of the house, and told plainly of the
taste of the occupant.
There was an air of neatness and order pervading the
whole, and the very best seemed to have been made of its
little furniture. The floor had no covering, except a strip of
carpeting by the bed-side, but the floor was clean-half curtains of white hung at the windows, and the fire-place had a
pot of flowers in it. They were, however, withered now, for
the hand which gathered them had not plucked any flowers
of late-and the little table which stood under the lookingglass had a clean white cloth upon it.
She was in bed, although raised so as to be almost in a
sitting posture, with her head leaning back upon the pillow,
as she had not power to support it. Charles had seen her in
the hey-day of health; he knew how beautiful she once had
been, what a sunny smile always shone upon her bright
countenance. It was sadly changed now, although beautiful
still with its pallid hue and cast of settled melancholy. And
as he stepped up, and silently pressed her slender hand, he
could not repress the signs of deep feeling. She looked
calmly, sadly at him, a slight flushed tinged her cheek, " I
will speak to you," she said, " before you leave; I have something to say to you." He retired to the window, and sat
down, as Mr. Jamieson approached the bed.
"I know you, sir, although doubtless you have no remembrance of me. I have many times heard you preach."
He bowed assent.
" We have taken a great liberty," she continued, " but
when death is near, you know, we cannot stand much upon
ceremony."
He took her hand, it felt, indeed, as though it might soon
be motionless.
" Do you feel yourself to be so ill?"
" I feel that I have not long to live, and so far as this life
is concerned, I am well content that thus it should b6. But




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    93
I fear I have no suitable preparation for the life beyond; and
I want you, sir, to tell me what to do, so that I may not go
before my Judge, feeling as I now do."
" You think, my dear young friend, that you are very near
to death? "
"I do feel it to be near."
"And you say, you fear to die?"
"I fear the great realities that come after."
"What great realities are you thinking of? "
"Oh, after death, you know, is the judgment-the body
will return to dust, but my soul must go back to its Maker.
And He will judge me, and I shrink from it. How can I go
there, for I am a great sinner?2 "
" When you think of yourself as a great sinner, do you
feel really distressed on that account? or do you merely feel
afraid, that, because you are such a sinner, your Judge will
condemn you? "
For some moments the poor girl lay with her eye steadily
fixed upon him, who was endeavoring thus faithfully to do his
duty, however painful to himself.
At length she replied,
" I never thought of that before."
"The Scriptures teach us that it is not enough that we be
merely conscious of our sins, there must not only be a consciousness of guilt, but also a sincere sorrow of heart on account thereof. The same kind of sorrow that a child would feel
who had done wrong to a kind, and faithful, and loving parent,
and had become sensible of the wrong, and whose heart was
melted with contrition."
With most intense interest was her gaze still directed to
the speaker, and, as the last illustration broke upon her mind,
she was evidently much excited.
"I can understand you now. Oh, I see there is a great
difference." She paused, and wiped her forehead, for the big
drops were gathering there.
" Oh, sir, under such circumstances, can you tell me what
I am to do? Where am I to get that true sorrow from?  "
"Christ Jesus is the mighty Saviour, to Him  alone you
must go. He died for you. His blood alone can atone for
your sins, and His Holy Spirit alone can work in you the
great work of repentance and faith. To him you must go



94             A IOING LOOK AHEAD;
pray to Him that he would save you-that He would give
you a right temper of heart, and a right understanding of
his great salvation. Have you ever prayed?" This last
question he put in a tone so low as to be scarcely audible.
She heard him, however, and a tear gathered as she replied"How could I pray? Sometimes in my agony, I have
called aloud for mercy, but it was only because my misery
forced me to cry out, as a wretch under torture, or a drowning man, with the waves breaking over him. But, sir,
dear sir, will you pray for me? will you pray with me
now?"
Without reply, he knelt down by her side. To heaven,
with all the fervor of his feeling heart, he poured out his desires for the erring, suffering one. The prayer was plain
and simple, and the desires expressed within the comprehension of the feeblest mind. Her eyes were closed, her hands
clasped before her, and her soul seemed to enter into the
spirit of the petition sent up for her. He arose, and stood
again at her side. She looked up calmly at him. " I have
never prayed such a prayer as that. Oh, that I had! Oh,
that I could!"' Try to do it. He hears the ravens when they cry, and
gives them food. He hears the seamen, when, amid the
tempest, they call upon Him for deliverance, and stills the
storm. And, surely, to one who asks for his own Spirit, and
to be brought into complete obedience to Himself, He will
not turn away."
" Oh, bless you for these words, what you say I will try
to do. For I feel that what you say to me is truth. Would
it be asking too much of you, to request that you would call
again?"
"I should feel very sorry not to see you again, and many
times. May I come as often as 1 please? "
" Oh, do, do. I feel as if you had helped me to see a little
way —a very little way, and I can't bear to think of losing
it. Come as soon as you can."
As Mr. Jamieson left her bed-side, Charles, as she had requested, came up to her.
" You are surprised to see me so changed. You would
not wonder if you knew all. You know a part, you have




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    95
been a witness to some things; but you do not know all,
and I want you to know all, for I don't know why it is, but I
cannot bear that you should think worse of me than I deserve." And placing a letter in his hands" This I wrote since our last interview: your kindness to
me in that dreadful hour has made me most anxious to reveal
the whole. I want one heart to cherish just feelings towards
me; especially I want, even in death, and after it, you to think
well of me-as you can."
The tears flowed freely, as she brought out these last sentences, in broken tones.
lHe pressed her hand gently, and leaning over her, said in
a soothing voice,
" Margaret, I offered to take a brother's place, and have
your wrongs redressed."
"' I know you did-Oh, how kind it was at such an hourOh, may you be blessed with love as pure, as lasting, as your
noble heart deserves. But promise me one thing-you will
do nothing in revenge when you may meet with him. Let
him go, God is the avenger of the fatherless. All I have
written is merely to let you know the truth-good bye."
And covering her face, she gave him her hand, and received
his parting embrace.




96             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER VII.
IT was not often that the morning meal was eaten by the
candle-light in Aunt Casey's cottage. It being one of the rules
that Charles had established for himself, that daylight afforded sufficient time for all the work that was to be done. There
were, however, occasional exceptions to the rule, and this
morning was one of them. Charles had promised Slocum to
be on the spot by sunrise, and he meant to be there; and
Aunt Casey had the smoking breakfast on the table by the
time which had been agreed upon the night before. And just
as faint streaks -of coming day were visible in the east,
Charles and his brother started from their barn-yard with
their yoke of cattle, on a good lively walk.
It was a clear October morning, the stars were yet visible,
and they shone with that sparkling light which always indicates an atmosphere of peculiar purity. As the day advanced,
the white frost could be distinetly seen, and although but a
slight one, it made the exercise of walking rather agreeable
than otherwise. The young men felt as if about to enjoy a
holyday. Their minds were free and elastic, ready to enjoy
the inspiration of pure air, and the rich beauties of a lovely
antumnal morning.
No care, like a worm at the root, spoiled the full play of
their best feelings. No gloom to shroud their spirit, such as
throws its heavy mists around the morning hours of the idle
and the dissipated. Strong in the consciousness of faithfully
discharging the duties of the day, they hail, with manly joy,
each rising sun.
But now, especially, is there a flow of joyous feeling. It
beams from their bright faces; it shows itself in their quick
and steady step. They are bound on an errand of love; and
they are to meet comrades, who are also now hastening to




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    97
the same point; —whole hearted, honest, and manly spirits,
who have, like them, been born and reared amid the free and
wholesome atmosphere of the country; who knew the blessings of a country home, and the sweets which embalm it in
their hearts, however plain and rough its exterior. And they
are gathering, now, on all the difTerent roads, and walking
gladly forward at this fresh hour, to give a long pull, a
strong pull, and a pull all together, to help a fellow-townsman, just grappling with the cares of life, to rear himself a
home-a place where he can gather his heart's treasures
around him, and shut out the world-where he can feel himself alone to be the master, and all others guests.  And it is
worth all the stir and bustle of this morning, and the patient,
steady labors of the day; for it will cause some hearts, even
in the prospect of its blessings, to leap for joy.
They are two miles on their way, and broad day is about
them. The blue jays are screaming through the wood, and
flocks of robins are spreading among the cedars by the roadside; and the crows are cawing, as they sail steadily aloft
on their way to some far-off corn-field. And now an opening in the hills, which skirt the east, presents to their view a
broad sweep of the Sound, with its distant headlands. It is
smooth as a mirror; and the bright streaks that gild the faroff clouds, old ocean's mists, are all reflected back.'Tis
bright above, and bright below; and now their golden tinge
has lighted the hill-side; and the forests, in their varied hues,
throw off a mellow tint.
Charles would have paused to look, and to admire; for
his eye was quick to catch each passing beauty; but they
must on, for a mile is yet to be traveled over, and the sun
is near at hand.
"There they are, Charlie! there they are!" and Augustus
pointed to the west, where a cross road came from anlopenl
ing wood to meet the one on which they were walking.
" That's a fine sight, Gus! there must be forty yoke. Ah!
they see us!"
A cheerful huzza greeted them, which they as cheerfully
returned; and, quickening their speed, soon joined the company, receiving a hearty welcome from many a sturdy
hand.
Slocum had been there the day before; and, long ere sun



98             A LONG LOOK AHEAD:
rise this morning, he was on the spot, with a gang of hands,
getting the building in readiness for a start. With the immense power on hand, he designed to draw it along on timbers, prepared as the runners of a sled, depending only occasionally upon the use of slight rollers. At such a time, when
probably seventy men, and fifty yoke of oxen, were to be
brought into harmonious and instant action, everything
depended upon the wise management of a few leaders.
Slocum took upon himself the chief control; and under him
was a leader, to watch the progress of the building, to fill up
small hollows, and provide against obstructions of any kind;
and a leader of the team; for it was of the utmost consequence that the whole should be made to exert their strength
at the same moment, and at the orders of one man.
" Choose your own leader, boys," Slocum called out to
the teamsters; " only let us have a ready, wide awake fellow, for we mean to make it walk lively."
With almost unanimous acclamation, the name of Charles
Lovell was called out. Charles made all the objections he
could, but they were of no avail; and Slocum could not
wait for any scruples of conscience, or delicacy, so he called
out"Take the best horse you can find, Lovell, and mount him
quick."
This was not usually necessary; but choice had to be
made of a route by which to carry their burden; and some
one must be able to go fiom place to place with alacrity. As
Charles had no objections to this part of the arrangement, in
a few moments he was mounted, and ready for action.
The first pull was the important one. The building having
been loosed from its foundation, and the heavy sleepers
placed under it, the chains were fastened to them, and the
long line of cattle, each yoke with a driver at its head, was
arranged in the direction they wished to move. Lovell was
stationed at the head of the line, and the eye of every teamster was fixed steadily upon him. At a signal from Slocum,
he raised his hand, and every lash was, in an instant, swung
across the yoke it guided. There was a slight creak, as the
beasts bent their necks to the burden, and the house moved
slowly from its long resting place, amid the hearty shouts of
numerous spectators.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    99
On and on, slowly, steadily, yet surely, traveled the huge
hulk, behind the long line of bended necks; each teamster
using such means as he knew his cattle required, to keep
them doing their part of the work: some by. a gentle word;
others by a slight touch of the lash; and others, again, by a
severer admonition. All, however, keeping on an even
strain, and with their eye on their leader, that at once the
signal might be obeyed, either to halt, or to quicken speed.
Slocum had so managed matters, that, for some time at
least, there should be no stop. But they will be compelled
to have many halts until the long pull is ended; and we
must go to the end of the route, and take a view of matters
there.
It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of this same day,
when Col. Johnson and his fair daughter Lucy came out of
their fine, old-fashioned domicile, and walked down through
the neat court-yard to the front gate.
There was just then standing there, one of the most
respectable-looking establishments, in the shape of horse and
carriage, that could have been found for miles around. Not
by any means the most showy, dear reader, we have used
the word respectable advisedly, and with due consideration
of its meaning.
The horse was a large, strong-jointed, nervous-looking
creature, who stood so firmly upon his four legs, and tossed
his head about with such an air of independence, that one
could not help forming the opinion that the matter of being
harnessed to the vehicle, and carrying its two passengers,
was altogether a holyday concern-he had rather do it than
not; and if they would only let him know where they
wished to go, the reins might be dispensed with; a whip
would only be an insult; and, in fact, that old master would
as soon have thought of taking a sword-cane with him.
And what a fit was that harness! how easily it seemed to
lie upon his plump, black carcass. The polish on both
so complete, that they might have been supposed to be
rubbed off at the same time. And what a soft, dreamy kind
of a place was that seat! what large, full, downy.looking
cushions; and no chance of being squeezed-plenty of elbowroom, and leg-room, too! And if there had been any probability that the horse should behave naughtily, of which there




100            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
was not the least fear, why, it would have been nothing to
step out; it was nothing to get in.
What a pleasant contrast in colors, too! the dark olive without, and the light drab within. And how gracefully it hung on
the curved braces! And what a nice proportion in the distances of its wheels! No danger, whether in getting in or
out, going fast or slow, of being brought into contact with
the mud and dust: they were left, just where they ought to
be, without.
"Josey is almost tired of waiting for us. Whoa, Josey!"
Josey did seem to be a little impatient; for, as soon as he
saw his master, he began to paw the earth, and throw his
head up and down faster; and finally, as they were getting
in, he fairly turned his neck, and looked behind him-as
much as to say, " As soon as you are ready, I am."
"Whoa, Josey! now come."
Ah! that was gracefully done. Just the slightest toss of
the head, and the carriage moved, as if it w-4t by some
power the horse had nothing to do with. He merely trotted
on unconcernedly and playfully before it. The whole thing
was a matter of sport.
The top had been thrown back, for the weather was so
pleasant, and air so perfectly in accordance with one's feelings, that Lucy had said " she wanted to feel it," and the
Colonel replied, that he " hated tops, at any rate, without it
was raining hard."  And, besides, there was another reason
why tops should be down: it was one of those lovely autumn
days which are often witnessed in the beautiful month of
October, when, wherever the eye turns, there is something to
attract and please. Now the far off mountain, with its purple
hue, in rich contrast with the yellow sky-now the hill-side
near at hand, spreading out its varied picture, where every
hue blends in sweet harmony, and touches the finer feelings
of the heart by its mild and peaceful radiance. And now
the lone maple by the road-side in its brilliant red, or the
golden hickory, or the rich brown oak, or a cluster of dark
evergreens shooting up amid the spangled grove; and all
around, wherever we may look, there rests such a mellow
tint, like the halo from a better world, that the soul is hushed
to peace, and the very earth seems a symbol of love.
"I thought that first we would ride down, and see the spot




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   101
where they are going to put that house-as far as I remember,
it is very pretty place."
"But do you say, father, that the house is to be drawn two
miles, and all to-day?"
" So Slocum said; he was at our house yesterday, and asked
me for my oxen to help along."
" It is to be drawn by oxen, then? that will be a curiosity.
I was glad you proposed a ride, father, for it is such a lovely
day. But I almost wondered at your desire to have me see
the removal of a house. I once saw a building removed,
and it seemed a very slow, dull kind of business."
"' That was upon rollers, child, and drawn by a windlass.
This, you will find, is quite another affair. The fact is, it is
just one of those scenes which I fancy. In the first place, a
poor young man is about getting himself a house, and I feel
a desire to see what kind of a place he is going to have. I
had rather look at it, no matter how lowly, than I would at
any of those fine, showy houses they are putting up around
us. There is another thing about it I like to witness-whoa,
Josey!" Josey was unusually disposed to go ahead; the fine
weather seemed to have affected him, but his master's voice
checked him; he did not like it though, for he tossed his head
and shook his bits, as much as to say, "I could if I would."
The old gentleman resumed,: I say, there is another thing I
like to witness, and that is the kind feeling which it exhibits,
to see so many united in giving a helping-hand. It is a side
of human nature I like to see-we can see its dark and selfish aspects without riding for. But here is the spot where
it is to be placed."
" Oh, I remember this spot well, and have often wondered
why some one did not put up a good house here."
" Well, well, well, Slocum told me that he thought the
man had got a good situation-I call it beautiful. Now just
imagine, Lucy, when every thing gets fixed up a little snug,
these bushes cut down, and the ibnees righted, and the trees
trimmed, and the garden in order-what a pretty spot, too, for
a garden! "
" And that grove, father! Oh, what a lovely spot it will be,
and how many fruit trees; and such a pretty slope down to
the water; really, if he did not give too much for it, and can
afford to keep it, what a nice place it will be-what a pleas.




102            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ant homestead. Do you know what he gave for it, father? "
" What he gave for it? Well, I think Slocum said it cost
him a hundred dollars. It is worth it though, well worth it."
" How good it will be for them to have a house. I am
so glad you have let your oxen go, father, to help along."
" Well, that is no more than we ought to do. It is a great
thing to give a little help at the right time. Have you never
seen a boy try to climb a tree? the branches are, may be,
some distance from the ground-up he starts with a good resolution, and tugs, and tugs, and scratches away till he gets
almost to the branches; and then he begins to get out of
breath; he holds on and rests a while, and at it he goes
again; he is almost up, he can see the limbs just about a foot
above him, if he could only get a grip of them once, he is
safe; but his arms begin to tire, he tries again; but he can make
no progress, and he feels that he must give it up. Now, if
some one just at that pinch could just give him a little boosta little boy might do it, may be —just so he can get hold of
the limbs, and then up he goes, and nothing can hinder him
from going as high as he wants to; for want of that little
aid he must have gone to the root of the tree and staid
there."
" I believe, father, your idea is the right one. And now,
I think, all these farmers, who you say have given a day to
help Mr. Serle, may be said to have given him the push at
the right time; for when he once gets his house, and gets into
it, and gets his land in order, he may fairly be said to have
got hold of the branches, and can take care of himself. But,
I suppose, he has had to buy the house, too  "
"Oh, yes, no doubt."
"I wonder who has helped him? Oh,'what a pleasure it
must be to know that one has been enabled to give a young
family a start for life."
"Whoa, Josey!"
Josey was standing still enough, only occasionally giving
a slight toss to his head. But the old gentleman seemed
fidgety, and desirous of diverting attention to some other
subject; for his lovely daughter, as she uttered the last sentence, turned her face full upon him. Very luckily for him,
however, just then, the rattling of a carriage was heard be



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   103
hind them, and in a moment more a dashing barouche drove
up, and stopped beside them. One of them, he who holds
the reins, and was the owner of the establishment, bowed
very low to the Colonel and his daughter, and with a very
self-complacent smile attempted to introduce his companion.
" Mr. Roorback, Colonel Johnson, a friend of mine from
the city, who is looking fbr a situation here for a countryseat."
Mr. Roorback, who seemed rather a plain sort of mran,
although pretty well dressed, made a dodge with his head,
very strangely in contrast with the stately, graceful bow of
the Colonel.
"Miss Johnson, Mr. Roorback."  Almost a double jerk
this time; it was acknowledged by a slight inclination on the
part of the lady.
" I think it a great pity, Colonel, that Hawthorne should
have sold this pretty building spot to that fellow, who is going to put up an old shanty on it."?
" Ah, well, I have not seen the house; but I understood
from Mr. Slocum, who is a pretty good judge of such matters,
that it was a very decent house, a tight snug house for a
young man who is poor to begin the world in."
" Oh, well, it may be well enough for a poor man, as you
say, but it ain't such a building as we want to see around
here. This is a beautiful building spot. I offered Hawthorne the price he sold it for, and cash down, but he'd given
the fellow the refusal. I'don't see where he got the money
from. I don't believe he's worth fifty dollars in the world.
He has borrowed it, likely, and he'll never be able to pay for
it, and then some other devil will get it."
"Well, Mr. Lucas, I suppose poor devils, as you call them,
want houses as much as rich ones, and they cannot get them
so easily. The town's people generally seem to feel glad of
the matter, for they have turned out, I am told, to help him
get it here."
"Yes, the farmers have turned out with their oxen, but
you know that's their way. They don't stand to ask whether it is going to help the place. They don't seem to care
about that, and sometimes, I think they had rather see a
plain, little bit of a building put up, and get a poor family
in it. than have a marn settle among them with two or three




104           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
hundred thousand in his poclet."  And, as he said this, he
patted his companion on the knee, and gave the Colonel a
very significant wink. The Colonel, however, was not at all
affected by it, for he immediately replied"I think the farmers, if such is the case, show their good
sense-one industrious working-man is a much more useful
member of society, where the most are workers, than a
dozen men with millions in their pockets, if they are not of
the right sort."
The gentleman blushed a little, but he answered rather
mildly"Well, that to be sure, we want people, as you say, colonel,
of the right sort; but you don't think any less of a man because he has plenty of the stuff."
" By no means, sir, by no means, if he has come by it
honestly and honcrcably."  The Colonel laid marked stress on
the last word.
" But such men, I have generally found, Mr. Lucas, have a
great respect for those who are down in life, struggling honestly and bravely to get up. How many persons now can
you count up fronm among your acquaintances, who may be
rich now, but started originally from no larger nor better
house than is about to be put upon that old foundationl"
" Yes, yes, that's true.  Well, I must be going, I am somewhat in a hurry.  Good afternoon, Colonel."  The gentleman
bowed his best, his companion gave his head a jerk, the whip
cracked over the horses, and on they flew.
" You spoke a little too plainly, I am afraid, father.  But
Oh, look yonder, what a pretty sight! how steadily they
advance."'
"I will turn Josey into the other road, I see they are upon
this, and we can have a better view of them. W~hoa, Josey."
The Colonel drove a few rods one side into another track,
running parallel with the one he had been upon, and a full
view of the cavalcade was afiborCled, as it came slowly, steadily along the winding road.
"That is a sight, fathr, worth riding many miles to see.
How steadily those feithifil beasts urge their way  every
neck bending to t;he work, and how steadily the building
draws on to its destined spot. There is a moral beauty in it
too that goes to the heart. All that is a labor of love."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   105
"That is it, dear, that is the beauty of it. And just look
what a manly set of fellows, what good, honest jovial faces,
and see that fellow on horseback, how finelyv he sits on his
horse. With his frock on too-but stop! it ain't, is it? yes,
it is our boy, the rogue! it's Charles Lovell; the leader of
the band, is'nt he? ha! the rogue, he'll be a leader wherever
he is. And there's that Slocum, with a red handkerchief
round his neck. That fellow is in his glory now, he is happier than if he was getting a hundred dollars for the job."
The train had now reached them, when at a- signal from
Lovell it suddenly stopped. A young man was seen running up to Slocum, and the finger of the latter was immediately pointed at the carriage. With a sprightly step, the
former at once approached, he was a good looking youth of
about twenty-three, his hair light and curling, and his complexion of a clear red and white, such as is often seen in
Scotch lads, his dark gray eyes sparkled as he came up, and
taking off his hat bowed to the Colonel and his daughter.
"This is Colonel Johnson?"  His voice trembled very
much.
" It is, sir."
"My name is Serle," and he put out his hand, which the
Colonel at once cordially grasped. Tears started from the
eyes of the young man. He tried to speak, but he could
only get out with great effort"God bless you, sir!"
"May the Lord bless you, my dear young'fellow, and give
you and your good wife as much happiness as will be best
for you, and tell your wife that when you get all fixed, I am
coming to drink tea with her, and get a kiss of the baby.
Good-bye to you, now; and now see to your oxen."
Slocum had advanced so near to the carriage that he could
see the deep feeling manifested by Serle, and hear the goodnatured tones of the old Colonel's voice. He could keep in
no longer, so he called out- 
" Three cheers for Col. Johnson. God bless him!"
There never went up a more lusty huzza than arose from
those hundred voices-it seemed to come from their very
hearts. The Colonel was deeply agitated, but he could only
say, "Whoa, Josey, whoa Josey."
"What does it mean, dear father! what does it mean?"
5




106            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Oh, tut, tut, tut, nothing but that Slocum. He's always
a doing something, some mischief or other."
"Miss Lucy!"
Lucy turned, and Charles Lovell, with his hat off, and his
fine face lighted up with a glow of excitement, bowed to her,
and Lucy smiled, with that unaffected joy upon her face which
might have greeted a brother.
" Ah, how do you do? Can you tell me what the people
mean by all this?"
" Only letting out the fullness of their hearts towards one
who has ever proved himself the helper of the helpless-and
this is a new instance of it."
"Dear, dear father," and Lucy caught him round the neck,
and without fear or thought of who saw her, gave him a
hearty kiss.
"Tut, tut, tut, tut, you are all crazy together. Mr. Lovell, just help me up with this top. Whoa, Josey, we must
get on our way."
" Not yet, sir, not yet, if you please. Miss Lucy, the young
ladies in this vicinity have assembled a little back in the
grove, and are preparing refreshments for those who have
been at work to-day. The neighbors have sent in from all
quarters, and I know it will be gratifying to you to be with
them, and very gratifying to them to have you."
" Ah, I should dearly like it, but I should be so ashamed,
for I have nothing to sit on; I only wish I had known it."
" You will find I think, that you will not be considered an
interloper."
"Shall I go, father?"
"Yes, if you want to, and Josey and I will trot along
home, anid I will send back for you towards night."
Charles looked at Lucy, as she was about to alight,-" If
Miss Lucy will accept of my assistance just as I am," and he
cast his eyes down over his check frock.
"To be sure I shall accept it, and shall expect you to be
as polite as when you are in your best dress."
Charles was off his horse in a moment, and Lucy, taking
his hand, jumped from the carriage.
"Colonel, you ain't a going? we want you to stop and see
the thing on," and the Colonel, without thinking, had given
his hand to Slocum.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   107
"Stop, I shan't stop, you've made fuss enough with the
thing, as you call it. Don't you never come to me with your
pitiful stories again-now I tell you I shan't."
"Stop, Colonel, don't you say it, just forgive me this time,
but you see I couldn't keep it from the boys. They kind of
smell'd a rat, you know, as soon as they see how Serle
acted, and then they remembered about t'other things."
"T'other things? ah! you are a great goose; if you
wasn't such a good fellow yourself, I should never do another job for you. But go now, and get your thing on, as
you call it, they are all waiting for you. Whoa, Josey."
A slight feeling of the rein, and off again moved the
noble beast, apparently prouder than ever, just as though he
had entered into the whole scene, and knew well what a heart
he carried behind him.
Lucy did not need an introduction to the circle of ladies,
that she found herself among as soon as she reached the
grove. But they all flocked around her, and seemed ready to
devour her with kindness.
" Oh, Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy, how glad we all are that you
have come, do come see the table."
" Oh, but my dear," she replied to the pretty girl that
had come up, and taken her hand, " I feel ashamed to be
among you, for you see when I left home I had no idea of
all this. Father merely asked me to take a ride, and see a
house moved by oxen. If I had only known about the
whole affair, I should have been so glad to have brought my
mite."
" Your mite is more than made up by your company,"
said a very pretty young woman, taking one of Lucy's
hands in both of hers, and pressing it warmly.
"Why, Sally Gaines! excuse me, Mrs. Serle, I mean.
Oh, how glad I am to see you; how well you look, and Oh,
I am so glad for you, what a nice place you are going to
have."
The young woman looked at her with an expression of
countenance full of feeling, and replied in a very low
voice"And you know, no doubt, through whose kindness it has
been accomplished?
"I knew nothing, dear, until a few moments since. But




108             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
if my father had any hand in it, I shall love him the more
for it."
That is just like you," -and imlprinting a warm kiss on
the fair cheek of Miss Lucy  (nob fairer than her own, however), she led her to the table. It wcas a rude construction
of boards, and saw-horse block. But its rudeness was concealed by snow-white cloths spread over the whole, and even
if the bare boards had been visible, the abundance of great
things spread out upon it would have made it a very pleasing sight, especially to a company of hungry young men.
There was roast pig, and chicken pie, and boiled ham, and
boiled beef, anal riast lamb, all cold, and scattered about
through the length of tie table, with an occasional plate of
cold boiled poik, cut into slices, and having a very tempting
look.  These were the substantials, while mingled among
them were plates of fine, large, white biscuit, of wheat bread,
and rye; tempting rolls of butter, stamped with various devices.  Pies in aobundance, of apple and custard, with an
endless variety of cake, sweet-meats, pickles, &c., and to
crown all, a fire had been kindled, and several kettles were
hanging over it, and there was a fragrant odor of tea and
coffee, even over all the other good things.  How such a
variety could have been collected at so short notice, and from
voluntary contributions, would have puzzled any one not accustomed to the habits of the country.
" And now, Miss Lucy Johnson, you have got to be the
queen of the company, and direct the pouring out of the tea
and coffee."
Lucy found it in vain to remonstrate, for there was such a
host against her. So with right good glee she took the responsibility, and very soon all necessary arrangements were
made to prevent confusion.
With all man's intellectual gifts,*it is impossible to conceal
the fact that he has strong animal propensities, and that there
are times when even his nobler powers are very much under
their dominion. A hungry man is not in the best condition
to exhibit the good qualities of the species, unless as an exception, the item to be put in, that he is just about to sit down
to a board well filled with the right materials.
That, on this occasion, there was no lack of all the good
feelings cannot be doubted, for there were sharp appetites,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   109
and an abundance to appease them. The work in which they
had all been engaged was enough of itself to excite cheerfulness; and if the saying is true, " that if there is any good
thing at any time in this world, woman is at one end or the
other of it."  That additional circumstance must also be
reckoned. For woman was there in all the freshness of
youth and beauty, and in the fullness of her kind heart. Prettily dressed girls, with smiling faces, were tripping lightly,
now here, now there, around the table where sat brothers,
cousins, neighbors, and sweethearts. And they were waiting
upon them, not figuratively but in reality. Bringing smoking cups of tea and coffee, pushing about sugar-dishes and
milk-cups, refilling exhausted plates with fresh heaps of rolls
or uncut pies, and sometimes urging some friend a little more
bashful than the rest, "to have more of that cake," or pie,
or sweet-meats. They felt bold to do so, for the entertainment was of their getting up. At one end of the table, too,
sat the queen of the feast, directing her aids in attending upon
the empty cups, and there was many a stealthy glance at
her, and many a cup of coffee had a double relish imparted
from the fact that she herself had noticed the empty cup, and
had caught the gentleman's eye, and with her winning smile
and graceful sign, had invited him to send it to her,
And now, as though by a sudden impulse all arose, and
a very general voice determined that the ladies must be
seated, and they would be waiters. There was a little demurring at first, but they soon gave in, and now what a
scrambling to get the nicest of every thing, and put it before
every one, and what a spilling of the delicious beverage, for
hands that could whirl a plough about as if it were a plaything, could not so nicely poise the delicate cup and saucer,
and many a pretty lass would turn up her rouguish eye and
smile as the cup came trembling down before her.
" You had like to have done it."  While another, and may
be a whole group, would start from the table, with a scream
of delight, because some unlucky wight had made shipwreck
of cup, saucer, and all. But the more mishaps there were,
the more did the meal appear to relish, for it tended to break
up all reserve, and brought those into pleasant contact who
had only before been acquaintances at sight.




110            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
But the longest and pleasantest day must come to an end,
some had a good distance to go, and oxen had stomachs as
well as farmers, and must be seen to, and so in straggling
companies, the young men departed, but not without many
a lingering look behind at the bright faces they were
leaving.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST. 111
CHAPTER VIII.
CHARLES had X ecome quite attached to Pomp, and Pomp
to him, and the idea of having any difficulty in breaking him,
or having any such process to go through at all, seemed quite
preposterous. But Pomp had a colt's nature about him,
however amiable'he appeared, and no sooner were the bitts
in his mouth, and the reins drawn back, and fastened to the
girth, and he found that his head and neck must be held in
one position, than he began to show great restlessness, biting
on the hard round iron, and throwing his head from side to
side, backing, rearing, pawing, sideling, and finally throwing
himself down. But all to no purpose, the iron still huit his
mouth, and his head and neck must retain the same contracted arched position. Poor Pomp! this is your first lesson,
to teach you that man must be your master. In vain you
sidle up to him, and rub your neck against him; he knows
that it aches, and he pities you, but how else shall he teach
you to obey his will. This torture you must endure until
your mouth becomes so sensitive as to feel the gentlest motion of his hand, and you shall be willing to yield to it as
quick as thought. And now you are left alone, there is nothing within the enclosure wherewith you can injure yourself, and you must bear, as you can, the trials that have come
upon you. Ay, ay, getting angry, are you' What a furious
plunge that was! and how the foam flies from your mouth
as you toss spitefully from side to side your pinioned head.
You will be cooler by the time the day is closing. Poor
Pomp, we pity you.
But Pomp was not left alone quite so long as that, for his
master, a little anxious about his favorite, came from his
work earlier than usual, and when the poor fellow came up
quickly to him, bearing no malice, and trying to put his head




112            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
upon his master's shoulder, the girth was immediately
loosened, and the bridle removed, and Pomp led out where
he could have a good run, and enjoy himself.
But the great tussle was to come yet, which was to decide
the mastership, and it was very doubtful to the lookers on,
whose neck would be broken first, the colt or his owner's.
Charles had provided himself with a pair of low wheels,
with a long axle, and shafts sufficiently extended, so as to
prevent any accident from Pomp's heels, and with this, he
resolved to bring the youngster to terms, if there was any
such thing.
It required great tact on the part of both brothers to get
the frisky creature within the shafts, for he seemed to have
a foreboding of evil, if once there. So he flew round from
side to side, and every way, until all partres were pretty well
excited. He was, however, at last caught between them, and
in an instant secured in a manner that precluded the notion
of any separation for a trifle.
" And now, old fellow," said Charles, as he sprang into his
seat, "you and I don't separate, until one or the other of us
is master."
Augustus was not wanting in courage, but when he saw
his brother seated behind the furious beast, he began to wish
Pomp and they had never met. But he knew his brother's
spirit, and how useless it would be to say any thing now.
He could only watch with intense interest the fearful contest.
No sooner was Charles in his seat, than Master Pomp was
made to feel that he was wanted to go ahead. He therefore
chose to do just the opposite, and began running back.
Finding this rather a troublesome way of getting along, fpr
more reasons than one, he altered his mind, and all at once
gave a spring forward that would have broken any common
harness. But nothing gave way, and although the whole
concern behind him was lifted bodily, some feet from the
ground, they came to the earth again all sound, and as tightly
fastened to him as ever. This was followed by a succession
of leaps, with an occasional attempt at standing on two legs
to the manifest danger, as some thought, of his falling over
backwards, and then darting across the road, over the ditch,
and up the bank, along the foot-path, and then down again to




OR_ THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   113
the opposite side into the duck-pond, frightening the poor
paddlers, and causing the-m to scatter in all directions, and
then up an embankment where it seemed impossible for
either horse or wheels to keep erect. Bust Pomp had good
command of his legs, and appeared no more to mind the
sloping side-hill than a cat or dog. But around he must go,
for his master would allow of no stopping until he said whoa,
and he had not yet said it, nor did he mean to say it until:Master Pomp should be brought under subjection. And now
finding that impassible places were of no avail, but the same
burden kept fast to him, and the same steady pressure on the
bitts continued, when once more in the high-way, he started
off to try the effect of a run. This his master expected, and
was prepared for it, and he felt now fully assured that the
critical moment had come, which would decide the contest.
Charles had procured a pair of bitts of more than usual
severity, designing not to exert his strength upon them until
absolutely necessary for his own safety, or the good of his
horse. The colt started with great speed, and all who witnessed the play of his legs, and the powerful leaps he made,
looked on with breathless interest. Augustus was deeply
excited, and most heartily wished the colt had never been
purchased. Charles, however, seemed perfectly collected,
although the fearful rapidity with which he was carried was
not calculated to make even the strongest heart quite at ease.
He held no tighter rein than he had done, nor by any signs
let the beast know that he was not doing just the thing he
wanted. The road before him was fair, and for some miles
he had nothing to fear; but he had the welfare of his horse in
view, as well as his own particular comfort, he only meant
to let him get a little tired. Two miles were soon passed
over, and there appeared no flagging on the part of Pomp.
I-e now began to gather up the reins until certain that he
would have requisite power. He looked to see that his feet
were firmly braced, and then calling out, "Whoa, " he drew
the bitts with great violence once or twice across his mouth,
reining him back at the same time with his utmost strength.
Pomp threw his head back, made one or two plunges, his
pace slackened-a repetition of the first manceuvre with the
bitts, and- he gave in. He was now white with lather, and
as he champed his bitt, and tossed his head, Charles saw that




114            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
the foam from his mouth was streaked with blood. As there
was an open space where he had stopped, which allowed of
sufficient room for turning; Charles gave him no breathing
time, but as soon as he had fairly brought him to a halt,
turned him with his face again towards home. He obeyed
with apparent willingness, and when in the road started
off on a good round trot, and came back to the astonishment
of all with the steadiness of an old horse. Several now
called out to Charles to stop, and let the colt go for the day,
but he resolved to finish the work he had begun. So he
turned and retraced the path he had traveled in such haste,
and kept him turning, and trotting, and stopping at his will,
until he felt assured there would be no efforts on Pomp's
part again to have his own way.
"Poor fellow," said his master, after he had unharnessed
him, and was washing his mouth with cold water, " you and
I, Pomp, will be better friends after this, than ever. You
are my slave now, but you shall find me a kind master."
And after Pomp had a good roll, he was led into his snug, warm
stall, well littered with straw, and well provided with the
substantials for a good supper. It has been a hard day,
Pomp, but you and your master will be the happier for many
years to come in consequence of it.
" I wouldn't take a hundred dollars for him this minute,"
said Augustus, as he was rubbing him down with a large
wisp of straw.
" And I wouldn't take two hundred, Guss. He will make
us a valuable horse for many years; that high spirit will
make him more serviceable, when properly subdued, and
his courage will prevent him from being frightened. I have
no doubt in two months, I will train him so, that if carriage
or harness should break, he will not be alarmed."
"Well, he must be your horse, you have had all the
trouble with him, and have risked your neck to break
him."
" He shall be no more mine-than yours, Guss. What do
1 want of him alone? We can both enjoy him, as we can
whatever else we have. That makes me think of the corn,
how much is there cribbed up?"
"Three hundred bushels of ears."
"That makes one hundred and fifty bushels of shelled




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   115
corn, not a great yield for six acres, to be sure. But we must
get the land into better shape by degrees."
".Have you made a calculation, Charley, how we stand
compared with our circumstances last spring? "
" I have not, but we can easily do it. Let us go over matters to-night after supper. I am glad you spoke of it."
After supper, Charles took his book, and with Augustus
by his side, made out a statement of their concerns. As they
had contracted no debts, it was a very simple matter to make
out the situation of their affairs.
"You say, Guss, that we have cash on hand,"    $25 00
" Yes, and you have engaged one hundred bushels
corn at 80 cents."......  80 00
"And we have also engaged, and mostly delivered,
150 bushels of potatoes at 30 cents."'...  45 00
"Then the buckwheat. Charley, how much is
winnowed?"'" I have counted the bags, there are 40 of them,
2 bushels each, 80 bushels, this the millers take
at 50 cents.".......  40 00
"Well, Charley. we ought to reckon the stock."
" Yes, there's Pomp, what shall we say for
him?"
"He will bring $100 any day."
" I wouldn't sell him for double that, but put him
down at...                             80 00
"The cow and calf.".....  30 00
"And oxen and cart, I bought them cheap. and
will put them at cost."..... 100 00
$400 00
"Well, we had, you know, Charley, when we began here,
two hundred and fifty dollars, we have had our living for six
months, and have cleared besides one hundred and fifty
dollars."'
"' But this is not all our gain, for you see, Guss, we have
many things laid by for the coming year. Two hogs and corn
saved, enough to fatten them, which will find us in pork, and
lard, and halms, through the year; we have fifty bushels of
potatoes, enough for our use through the year, and to plant
next season, and buckwheat enough for ourselves and the hens,




116            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
and Aunt Casey has laid down butter enough for, as she says,
with what we shall make, to last us through the winter. So
that, for the coming winter, and even for next spring, we shall
have very little to buy, and besides, there will, no doubt, be
at least three tons of hay to sell in the spring."
" And that is not all, Charley, don't you think the improvement we have made on our place is worth something?
Could not any one afford to give us one hundred dollars more
for it, than it was worth last spring? and we shall have more
to do with next season; we shall cut more hay, and can
keep more stock. For my part I feel that we have got into
the right track."
" And then, Guss, we have been our own masters, nobody
to drive us, and I am sure we have lived well, almost too
well, I have thought sometimes. We have enjoyed our work
together-we owe no one any thing, and have been, and now
are, as happy as most folks.  But, perhaps, Aunt Casey
thinks she gets the worst of the bargain 2"
Aunt Casey had been listening very attentively to the conversation, for she felt not only a deep interest for them, but
she also felt anxious lest they should not be satisfied with
their present arrangement. As soon, therefore, as she was
appealed to, she lost no time in putting matters to rest so far
as she was concerned.
" Oh, the massys, Charley! h6w you do talk. Did I ever
get along as I have this summer? and what trouble is it to
do the little cooking that there is to do, and besides having
your company, boys, that's worth all the trouble, ten times
over. And besides, did I ever do so well for myself'? how
much do you think now I have laid by since you've been
here?"
"How much, Aunty?"
" Hetty, go bring that stocking out of my drawer, it lays
in the back corner to the left hand side."
Hetty very soon came smiling back, and laid the stocking,
jingling with change, down on the table.
"Why, Aunty, is this all siiver?'
"The most on it —there is some coppers, though, for I took
the money just as I got it, sometimes more, sometimes less,
and put it right in here-for you see I hain't had no use for
it-there hain't been nothin' to buy, only some butcher's.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   i17
meat, you know, and the eggs and butter money has bought
all that; there it is, I don't rightly myself know, how much,
so you better count it." And turning the stocking upside
down, such a jumble of small coins rolled out, that the work
of counting was no small matter. The boys and Hetty
set to work making piles of one dollar each, until they
amounted to the sum of twenty-five, and a few over.
" Well done, Aunt Casey!"
The old lady shook her sides heartily.
" It is more money than ever I had afore, and it's all come
of your plan of living with me. And now, do you think I
count the labor any thing? No, no. If you are only satisfied I am, and I should be an ungrateful creature if I wasn't,
as I tell'd Parson Somers to-day. There now. If I didn't
like to forget-who do you think has been here to see
you to-day? I say you, for I guessed from his conversation
that it was more for vyour sake than mine, that he called. I
guess he feels a little puckered about your going to the Episcopals. You know the old gentleman is set in his way, and
I guess he means to do right, he is a good man, but he's
dreadfully set, and I guess he don't fancy the Episcopals."
" What did he say, Aunty?"
"Well, I guess he didn't say as much as he meant to say.
I guess I stumped him a little."
"You did, Aunty! how?"
"Well, he began by saying, " he hadn't seen me for a long
time."'No sir,' said I,' it ain't been quite so convenient for
me, it's a very long walk to the meeting, and the young men
seemed to think I hadn't better try to walk so far, and Mr.
Jamieson seems a nice man, and preaches such Gospel truth,
I thought, may be, seeing the church was so near at hand, I'd
better go there, for it is all one, you know, Mr. Somers,'
says I. AnDd then the old gentleman bowed two or three
times, and didn't seem to know what to say, at last, says he,' That is all well, Mrs. Casey, but you know we New England
folks feel very much afraid of forms and ceremonies; we are
afraid lest they should be substituted for pure doctrine, and
the graces of the spirit.'' That's true, no doubt, sir,' says
Ik'but may there not be good doctrine and good graces
even if they have some fornms and ceremonies, I know,' says
I,'it ain't easy getting into their ways, and learning their




118           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ups and downs, it kind of confuses one at the first; but after
a while, when we learn how to find the place, and what
they are going to do, it ain't no wise troublesome, and I kind
o' like it. It seems,' says l,'more as if we all had something to do, and not the minister to do the whole; and then
when I'd said that, he colored up, and I began to be frightened, thinks I, the fat's in the fire now, but he did not say no
more, only asked about you, and said he would be glad to
see you, and I tell'd him you was well, and doin' well, and
doin' a world of good."
"Oh, Aunty, what do you mean?"
"Well, I mean just so. Didn't old Colonel Johnson tell
me t'other day, and the tears came in his eyes when he said
it,' Mrs. Casey,' said he,' that Charles Lovell is doing as
much good among our young people as the minister himself.'" 
"' Stop, Aunty, stop now, you have got on the wrong track.
Then you parted good friends, you and Mr. Somers?"
" Oh la, yes, but he seemed a little flustered, as I thought."
Charles had, as we have seen, undertaken the charge of
teaching a class of young ladies in the Bible with great reluctance. But having commenced, he was resolved to leave
nothing undone, that his efforts could accomplish to make it
profitable. He studied hard at his leisure hours, and found
a great advantage in having before him a definite object upon
which to bring all the powers of his mind to bear. Finding,
as Mr. Jamieson had told him, that the ladies, although well
educated in other respects, were ignorant of many things
necessary for a clear and comprehensive understanding of
Bible history, he at once put them upon a thorough course,
giving them lessons in Jewish rites and ceremonies, ancient,
sacred, and profane history, as compiled by Prideaux, and
in Eastern manners and customs, as well as Jewish antiquities and geography. His familiar acquaintance with these
studies imparted an ease of manner, in guiding others, which
at once commanded the respect and confidence of those who
had placed themselves under his instruction, and his serious
and gentlemanly deportment while conducting the exercises,
won such an interest for him in their hearts, that perhaps no
one beside their pastor had such power to influence them in
their choice of intellectual food and entertainment. The




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   119
class had held its meetings at the house of Miss Lucy on
Sabbath afternoons after the public services of the day had
closed, and at first consisted of only a few ladies of the persuasion, where it had originated; but such things in a country
town cannot very well be done in a corner. It soon became
noised abroad, "what delightful meetings they had," and one
and another begged the privilege of attending, until the circle
of ladies almost surrounded the large withdrawing-room of
the Colonel's. There were many, however, to whom the
distance was a serious obstacle-they would come once perhaps-be delighted with the scene, but could only lament
that the distance prevented their joining. The number of
such at length began to stir up quite a breeze among some of
the good people belonging to the Congregational Church, for
the question was asked, why they could not have such a class 2
and whether the Episcopal Church alone could find among
its members a man qualified to teach the Bible? These
things at length reached the ears of good Mr. Somers, and
the old gentleman at once made application to several of
his members, both old and young, but found no gentleman
to undertake the task of teaching a class after the fashion of
that which young Lovell had started. At length, knowing
that Charles was still a member of his flock, he resolved to
call upon him, and endeavor to persuade him that it was his
duty to use what power he had of doing good among those
with whom he was more particularly connected. And this
was his purpose when he made the call which Aunt Casey
alluded to. But Charles had also some business with Mr.
Somers, and a few days after that walked to his Parsonage.
The reverend gentleman. received him very cordially, for
he fondly hoped he had come to apologise for his long absence from his ministrations. Great was his disappointment,
therefore, and he could not help showing it in his countenance,
when Charles made known his real object, which was: that
he might procure a letter of recommendation to the church
of Mr. Jamieson.
" But surely, Mr. Lovell, you are not serious in your intention of uniting yourself with the Episcopal Church. I
do hope you will think well of such a step before you
take it."
"1 have thought of the matter, sir, for some time, and so




120             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
far as my judgment goes, I feel it my duty to unite in a regular manner with the Christian society where I regularly
worship."
" But, my dear young friend, have you thought of the
great difference which subsists between the two denominations?"
"There is some difference, sir, I am  aware, in forms of
worship and church government, but I know of none in such
points as are essential."
"That is true, in one sense, I allow, and yet in a very important sense, I should hardly dare assent to it. We may hold
the letter, you know, while we reject the spirit of a doctrinewe may hold sound words, while the meaning which those
words ought to convey may be so construed as to nullify
their power. I know very well that there is much, a good
deal that passes well, that looks like religion. But when you
come to sift it out from the forms and ceremonies which
surround it, there is, I fear, but very little of it to be found."
Charles colored deeply; and was about to say that, perhaps the sifting out of any man's piety from his profession
was the peculiar province of Him alone who knows the heart.
But he did not say it, he only thought it, and replied in a
very calm tone" I have not had much experience, sir, except with the society to which I belong, and that with which I have worshipped of late. But I think, I never met with any Christians
who give better evidence of true piety than those with whom
I now associate."
"Forms, my dear sir, go a great way; they are very
pleasing to the natural heart, they tend to lull the conscience,
and create a kind of forced piety which has not the real savor
to it. You know their doctrine of regeneration, as they hold
it up, amounts to nothing more than admission to the church
by the rite of baptism."
" I think, sir, that the articles of their church insist upon
regeneration, as we understand it.  And I am  very sure
that Mr. Jamieson firmly believes it, and openly preaches it.
Are you well acquainted with him, sir? "
" Well, yes, I know Mr. Jamieson, at least I have seen
him occsaionally. I have nothing against him."
Charles was silent a moment, for his thoughts troubled him.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   121
Here was a Christian minister, somewhat advanced in life, of
high standing, and great influence in all that region, and many.
were looking up to him as a spiritual guide most safe to follow, and as a pattern of excellence; and within two miles of
his house lived a brother clergyman, possessing the faith of
Christ, and as Charles knew, most upright and consistent in
his walk —lovely in all his deportment, and exhibiting under
every circumstance in which he had seen him, the true marks
of one who loved the Saviour. And this elder brother could
only say concerning him, "I have nothing against him."
Was this Christian love? was it Christian courtesy? And
why this coldness? He belonged to a different persuasion,
he used a few more forms; he felt it to be more consonant
with the decency and order of public worship that its services
should be prescribed, and of a certain form; he acknowledged
one head in matters of church government, instead of the
many. And were such considerations sufficient to justify two
leaders of the flock of Christ in looking coldly at each other?
Charles was about to reply, when a gentleman entered the
the room, whom he recognised as one of the officers of Mr.
Somer's church.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Rice, good morning, sir. Mr.
Lovell, Deacon Rice, but I believe you are already acquainted." Charles had risen, and given his hand to the gentleman.
"Sit down, gentlemen, I am very glad, Deacon, that you
have come in, for I was just talking to Mr. Lovell a little about
church matters. He has a notion of uniting with the Episcopal Church, and I wish he may be persuaded to think of
the matter a little, before taking such a step. Now, as you
have had some little personal experience in the thing, I want
you just to tell Mr. Lovell what you know. He is a young
man, and I have no doubt wishes to do what is right. Now
tell him what you think."
Deacon Rice was doubtless a good man, he had a strong
resolution to do just that which he believed right, and not
only set his face as a flint against all evil, but did really in
his heart abhor it. And he was also a warm-hearted man,
although the aspect of his countenance did not favor such an
idea in one not very intimate with him. But he was subject
to strong prejudices, and allowed them too often to affect his




122            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
conduct, so that he was by no means a popular man. There
were a great many in all, that did not feel any better towards
him than they ought, and did not give the good man credit for
as much piety, as he doubtless really had. He had been educated from a child, with a distrust of the denomination now
in question. He had shunned all intercourse with them.
I-e would not say there was nothing good about them; but
there were so many things of a doubtful character, that he
preferred just to shake his garments clean of any of their dust.
But as Providence often touches us where we are the most sensitive, Deacon Rice had been sorely afflicted by means of this
very sect. A son whom he had been educating for the ministry, and who was just about to take his station in the pulpit,
and when the father was anticipating the rich pleasure of beholding a child of his standing on the heights of Zion in the midst
of his own people, a change came over the mind of the young
man. He turned his back upon the denomination in which he,
and his father, and his father's father, had been brought up.
United with the Episcopal Church, and despising the baptism
of his childhood, could not be satisfied until sprinkled anew
by what he considered more consecrated hands. It is not to
be wondered at, then, if the righteous soul of the good Deacon was grievously vexed; and with his strong prejudices
to back him up if he should have gone further in his zeal
against what he called the'" Church of England " than Christian charity could justify. He threw them all away from the
circle of brotherhood, bishops, priests, deacons, prayer-book
and all. "- He had done with them for ever, they were the
offspring of the Scarlet Lady, and too much like her." The
Deacon began his address by placing his hand on the top of
his head, and smoothing down his foretop, which, by the way,
did not need the operation, being already very flat and
straight.
" Very glad am I both for your sake, my young friend, as
well as the good of our society, that I have dropped in, just
so that I may open your eyes a little before you take such a
sad step. You are but a young man, Mr. Lovell, and can
tell nothing what the feelings of a parent must be to have a
grown up son turn his back upon the religion of his parents,
count as nothing the solemn act of consecration which his parents made when we offered him at the baptismal altar;




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   123
yes, sir, it was not enough that he must leave our worship,
but he must, by a public baptism at the hands of a bishop,
virtually say, that our ordinances are but a mockery. And
I say to you, Mr. Lovell, that a sect which will encourage
such things is no better than it ought to be."
Charles listened with great patience, keeping his keen
eye fixed in deep attention upon the speaker. Deacon Rice
was an old man, and esteemed a wealthy man, and Charles
believed him to be a good man. But with all the respect
which he felt due from himself to one in the position of
Deacon Rice, he could not lose sight of the error into which
he had fallen, in his wholsale denunciation of a sect, because
some of its members or officers had committed an error, and
as soon as the Deacon paused he commenced a reply.
" Perhaps, sir, there may be some wrong among our Episcopal brethren. I will not pretend-"
" Stop, stop, young man, I for one, am not prepared to
call them brethren —I —" Just then, Mr. Somers straightened
himself in his chair, and putting his hand out"So, so, Brother Rice, so, so, we must not carry our feelings quite so far. I would not say so, Brother Rice. And I
should like to hear what our young friend has to say."
The Deacon stopped at once, having the most profound
respect for his pastor, but his countenance maintained an aspect of much severity.
" I will not pretend to say," Charles resumed, " that there
may not be opinions and practices among our brethren of
of that order which may be wrong —that they differ from us
in some things, I know-but not so far as I am acquainted, in
essentials."
" May I ask you, my good sir, what you- call essentials?
Is not the doctrine of regeneration an essential doctrine 2"
And the Deacon looked earnestly at him for an answer.
" Certainly, I do, sir, I hold it to be a doctrine taught by
our Saviour and his apostles in a very clear manner."
" Yes, and taught, too, as a work wrought by the power
of the Holy Spirit upon the heart. Now, how can a sect
that holds that the sprinkling of water upon a person regenerates them, hold essential truth? Now answer me that."
Charles looked somewhat surprised, and in rather a low
tone answered



124            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"I should say it was an error, a very radical error. But
it has not been my misfortune to hear such a doctrine preached,
or in any way promulgated."
"You never have! and yet have attended the Episcopal
service for some months!"
"6 I believe I can answer very decidedly, Deacon Rice, that
I have not only never heard such a doctrine preached, but
that it is in direct opposition to their articles of faith, and if
you will allow me, I will repeat a passage from their 17th
article on predestination and election,'Wherefore they
which be endued with so excellent a benefit of God, be
called, according to God's purpose, by his spirit working in
due season.' And another from the 10th article,'We have
no power to do good works pleasant and acceptable to God
without the grace of God by Christ preventing us;' and if
you will read all their articles of faith, I think you will
agree with me that they do not differ essentially from ours.
They hold to the original corruption of man's nature; to justification by faith alone; to the power of the Holy Spirit,
and to the necessity of true repentance. Surely with such
agreements as these, we ought not to cavil at each other
on account of minor differences."
The effect of these remarks, apparently, in no wise altered
the views and feelings of the good Deacon, his countenance
retaining its stern and incredulous aspect. But upon Mr.
Somers were manifested signs of deep interest in the words
of young Lovell. He was evidently rising in the estimation
of the reverend gentleman. But still he spoke not, and left
the Deacon to carry on the argument.
"You will not deny though, Mr. Lovell, that they call
those who are baptised in their way, regenerated personsyou can't deny that, and that they think baptism necessary
and essential to salvation?"
" I have no doubt, sir, that they consider baptism  something more than a mere form, and I think our own article on
that head indicates full as much as theirs —we call it' a sign
and seal of union with Christ.' They may use the'word
regenerated perhaps in a different sense from ourselves. But
they do not have any more confidence in the mere ceremony,
apart from the working of the Holy Spirit, than we do, at
least I think they do not."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   125
"But now, Mr. Lovell, is it not a fact? Do you not know
that they do feel that their church is the sure place to be
saved in. A man once there, and he has a good safe passport to heaven-a little surer and safer than elsewhere, now
this you cannot deny."
" I can only answer, sir, so far as I have any knowledge
of those of that persuasion, with whom I have been intimate,
I have never observed any approach to such a feeling. And
all I can say for their church in general is what their articles
testify. The 13th article runs thus:
"They also are to be had accursed that presume to say
"that every man shall be saved by the law, or sect which he
professeth, so that he be diligent to frame his life accordingly.
For Holy Scripture doth set out unto us only the name of
Jesus Christ whereby men must be saved."
" Is that one of the articles of their creed?"  And Deacon
Rice looked towards Mr. Somers for an answer, as though
he feared Mr. Lovell's memory might be at fault. The
reverend gentleman was deeply engaged in thought, and did
not answer at once. At length he replied" Mr. Lovell is doubtless correct, for I see he has taken
pains to inform himself, and I think I remember such an article. But it has been my misfortune in early life to come
in contact with some distinguished men of that persuasion,
who I am sure did not act up to the principles of that article."
" Still, sir," said Charles, "you would judge the church
rather by its creed than by the conduct of some of its
dignitaries."
" I ought to-I should have done so-that would have been
the true course. We should wish thus to be dealt with ourselves."
"Have you never thought, Mr. Somers, that, perhaps i'
our zeal to avoid resting upon rites and ceremonies, we may
have gone to the opposite extreme, and denied to them that
spiritual efficacy, which properly belongs to them?"
"Spiritual efficacy! did you say, Mr. Lovell?"  And
Deacon Rice straightened himself in his chair, and looked
with great surprise.'I believe," and the voice of Lovell had an evident tremor, "that if we could free our minds from  all knowledge




126            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
of the abuse which has been made of the sacraments, and
take our ideas from the passages of Scripture which refer to
them, we should come to the conclusion that'when properly
participated, they are to us the vehicles of spiritual nutriment,
and that they are infinitely more to us than mere tokens,
that we are the disciples of Christ. But I shall very much
like to hear the views which Mr. Somers can give us. If I
am wrong I wish to be converted."
The Deacon seemed very willing to turn the matter over'to his pastor. The subject was leading into deep water, and
he did not feel quite able to follow it, so he united in the
wish, and Mr. Somers thus appealed to, aroused himself from
the deep reverie into which the conversation had thrown him.
" The two sacraments which the great head of the church
has appointed are Baptism and the Lord's Supper. The former of these is the initiatory rite by which we are admitted
to the church, and to all its privileges."
" Pardon me, my dear sir, you mean the Lord's Supper
is the rite by which we enter the church."
" I mean what I said, Deacon Rice, Baptism is the initiatory rite which introduces us to the church and its privileges."
The Deacon looked utterly confounded, things seemed to
be growing more and more obscure.
": Go ye into all the world, preaching the Gospel to every
creature, he that believes, and is baptised, shall be saved, and
he that believeth not shall be damned.' When on the day
of Pentecost the multitude cried out,' What must we do to be
saved?' Peter told them,' Repent and be baptised every one
ofj you, in the name of the Lord Jesus.' When the eunuch
had become a believer,' Philip went down with him into the
water, and baptised him, and he went on his way rejoicing,':*gd no one can say that he was not entitled to enjoy all the
privileges of the church, and to partake of the sacrament as
soon and as often as he pleased. So that as an original
appointment all who were baptised were considered as members of the Christian church. The practice of baptising in.
falts has led to the necessity of requiring from those who
apply for a seat at the Lord's table, alln expression of their
feelings and views, that a judgment may be formed as to
their fitness to be classed as Christians. Although, as bap



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   127
tised persons; there can be no doubt that they are members
of the Christian church, and if not subjects of discipline, have
a right to the privileges of Christians."
The Deacon now began to wipe his face, and smooth down
his hair, and to give evident signs that he was greatly stirred
up. He had been young, and was now getting old, but he
had never heard such strange doctrine before, verily things
began to look misty-he could hold in no longer.
"But does the Reverend say, that our children who are
baptised are fit subjects for the communion table? sure am I
that some of mine would make strange members, any how,
we should soon have more cases of discipline to attend to
right off."
"And sure am I, Brother Rice, that it ought not thus to
be, and if we parents, and pastors, and deacons, and professing Christians, had acted towards them as we ought to have
done, and nurtured them-yes, brother, I say, nurtured them
for Christ-had we felt that they were lambs of the flock, and
trained them as carefully into obedience to the faith, as we
ought, you and I would not now have to mourn in secret over
those whom we have by our own act initiated into the church."
The Deacon sank back into his chair, and looked like a
man who had reached that point, where the case is hopeless,
and the whole concern might as well be given up. He ventured, however, to bring forth in a kind of long sigh, " I can't
convert'em, do my best."
Mr. Somers did not reply, but continued in quite an animated strain.
"These are my views about baptism, as to its first intent
and use. And, although we know not how it confers spiritual
blessings, yet I think, Deacon Rice, that the very fact that so
many of our baptised children, even in spite of our unfaithfulness to them, become the hopeful subjects of grace, is a strong
evidence, that in some way the sacred rite has a virtue in it.
The difference, Deacon Rice, between us and our Episcopal
brother, is, that perhaps they lean a little too much on the
sacraments, and we too little."
As the conversation had taken a turn very unexpected to
Charles, and as he feared the object of his errand was likely
to be forgotten altogether, he took advantage of the first pause
to mention it.




128            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" At what time, Mr. Somers, will it be convenient for you
to make out the certificate for me?"
"O, ah, yes. WTell, brother Rice, you heard me say, that
hMr. Lovell was desirous of uniting himself with the Episcopal
Church in this place. Of course, there can be no objections
to giving him a certificate, however reluctant we may be to
part with him."
": Why, I suppose, if he insists upon it, there is no other
way. But I do wish that he would think better of it. It
seems to me like a quenching of the light that is in him, to
send him to such a place, where there is nothing to feed his
spirit; nothing but cold formality, not even a prayer to be
heard, but what is read from a book."
" I cannot but think, Deacon Rice," said Charles, "that you
are mistaken in your views of these brethren, you certainly
have seen only some of the worst features of their system."
" I've seen enough, I don't want to see any more."
" Don't you think, sir, that in all our systems some reform
might be made for the better. We choose to use no written
form in our addresses to the Deity-and how often are we
pained in listening to a loose, disjointed petition, in which the
same ideas are repeated over and over again, and spun out
to a length that is wearisome to the most devout worshipper."
" But just to think-pardon my interruption-just to think
that a man cannot go to his room to pray to his God, in
secret, but he must take a book with him. What ki&d of a
social meeting must it be where each one has a boo kbefore
him reading a set form out of it? No, no, my soul! come
not thou into their secret."
"Allow me, Deacon Rice, to set you right about that matter. I have enjoyed many precious seasons of social prayer
with Mr. Jamieson. I have been with him at the bed-side
of the sick and dying, and heard him pour forth most feeling
ardent prayer, but no book was used."  Mr. Somers now
arose and began to walk the room, he was evidently much
excited, and Charles continued.
"I have often spent hours with him in converse on the glorious truths of our faith, and often has he at the close of such
interviews, proposed that we should unite in prayer, and never
have I listened to such melting addresses to the throne of
grace."




OR, TIE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   129
The voice of Charles was broken, for he was much excited,
and the tear started from his eye. Mr. Somers paused, and
looked at him a moment, and quickly approaching, grasped
his hand.
"Will you go with me, this instant, Mr. Lovell?  Brother Rice, I can't stand this; I am a Congregationalist, I
know; but I hope also I am a Christian. I know I love my
Saviour, and where I see his image, I must love that too;
and I shan't have it said another day, no, not another hour,
that there is a shade upon my mind towards that Christian
brother. What care I for his sect? or whether he prays
from a book, or without one, if he has a praying heart? I
am going right off to see him, to tell him that I love him, and
to ask his forgiveness, that I have not taken pains to be better acquainted with him. And you must excuse me now,
Deacon, we will talk over those matters you came to see me
about some other time. Good morning. Come, Mr. Lovell,
you must go with me."
Charles was so taken by surprise, that he seemed as much
astonished as the good Deacon, who sat looking at his minister with an expression that could not easily be mistaken.
"Well, well, what will turn up next? What is the world
coming to?" How long he continued rocking himself in the
chair, after his minister had gone, is not of much consequence.
A plecanter scene awaits us at the study of Mr. Jamieson.
Thiev. William Jamieson, although a single man, and
in consequence thereof; free from many cares and anxieties
of a worldly nature; had, moreover, as the most of us have
sometimes, a dark day, when all the unpleasant things in our
lot seem to crowd up in a company together; and two or
three heavy sighs escaped, as he sat reclining against the back
of his chair, and resting his head upon the arm that was supported by the table.
The first thing that had caused some troublesome feelings
was the want of a book, a learned work on some rather difficult points in theology, and whichf he had seen offered for
sale, among the advertisments of his city paper. But the
price of the work he knew was more than he could afford to
take out of his three hundred dollars salary. This naturally
led to his situation and prospects for the future. Three hundred dollars a year would not allow of many family arrange.




130            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ments, and must he never indulge in the sweet sympathy of
a loving companion? and this again led off into a train of
thought that brought the tinge upon his cheek. There was,
no doubt, in that heavenly mind, some earthly weakness to
deal with; and then objections began to start up against his
remaining in his present situation. His parish was small,
and no very great increase to be expected. He was looked
upon, he knew, by some of the other denominations, as an
intruder; many of its respectable members treated him
coldly; he was seldom invited to any of their social scenes;
and a respectful bow was the only token of acquaintanceship.
But the most unpleasant circumstance in that relation, was
the treatment he received from his elder brother in the ministry. He knew that Mr. Somers had the reputation of a
man of talent, and of more than ordinary knowledge. He
had gathered a large congregation; he was looked up to by
the clergy of the neighboring towns. It would have been a
comfort for him, a young man, far from any associate of his
own persuasion, to have had the intimacy of one so much his
elder. He felt willing to learn from his experience, he panted
for the society of such an one, from whom he could take
practical lessons in the pastor's life. But he had been made
to feel that Mr. Somers looked upon him with an evil eye,
and yet so conscious was he from what he had learned of that
good man, that he was laboring under a wrong imp ssion,
and looked upon him not as he really was, but as he aught
him to be; that he could feel no resentment, an  only
mourned in secret that some unhappy circumstance had shut
the heart of his brother against him. How he wished for an
opportunity to sit beside him, in his little room, and have
free'converse on those subjects so interesting to them both.
He felt sure that not a word of disputation should ever pass
between them. And thus his mind was running, and the sad
contrast which the reality presented, brought forth one of
those deep sighs, of which we have spoken. And just then is
mingled with it a rap at the outer door, and he hears his
name mentioned, and in a moment more a tap at his own
door arouses him from his chair to admit his visitor.
Before he had time to speak, his hand was cordially grasped,
and the fine countenance of Mr. Somers was beaming upon




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   131
him, his lip trembling, his eye bright and piercing in general,
now dimmed with tears.
" Brother Jamieson, my dear young brother, forgive me."
The speaker paused, evidently from deep excitement, his hand
still retaining its grasp, and his eye fixed upon him whom he
addressed.
Mr. Jamieson, in his confusion, turned towards young
Lovell, who had entered with Mr. Somers, as though seeking
an explanation; but Lovell was too much affected himself to
make any.
"I have been wrong, Brother Jamieson, but it is only
within the last hour that I have been convinced of it; and I
am never ashamed, when well convinced of an error, to
acknowledge it, and seek forgiveness. I feel that I have
neglected you, as a younger Christian brother; that I have
been suspicious of you on account of your persuasion; and
all I can do now, is to ask for your charity, and your friendship."
Mr. Jamieson could not immediately reply, and he almost
feared his imagination had imposed upon him. But the grasp
of the hand, the earnest words trembling from the lips of the
speaker, soon convinced him that it was a blessed reality;
and the heart of the young man was deeply touched,. and he
could only show by the tears which fell fast and free, and by
the wain pressure of his hand, that he had nothing to forgive,
and 4  only too happy to know that now there was no
barrier between them.
"I am not going to talk over the past, Brother Jamieson;
nor am I wishing to say one word upon any subject, wherein
we may hold different views. But 1 have my reason to believe that our hearts are alike. We both, I trust,'love Him
who first loved us;' we both feel that without his atonement
there can be no remission of our sins; and without his grace
assisting us, we can do nothing aright. We both believe this,
brother?"
"Most firmly and feelingly, I can answer for one of us,
Mr. Somers."
"Don't call me Mister; I am much the elder of the two,
but not the less your brother, and anxious to be recognised as
sisch. And now step up here, Mr. Lovell."
Charles arose, and stood by him.




132           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" This young man has applied to me for a certificate from
the church under my charge, to you, and your pastoral care."
" It was not known by me, sir, that he had any such design.
~Mr. Lovell will bear me witness, that no such suggestion was
ever hinted at by me to him."
Charles was about to speak.
"Mir. Lovell need bear no witness at all, in the matter,
Brother Jamieson; I have that opinion of you, that elevates
you far above the littleness of proselyting. But, as I said, he
has applied to me for a regular passport to your care. And
I do it, I believe I can now say, Brother Jamieson, with unfeigned pleasure. Mr. Lovell will understand me, I have no
desire, he well knows, to part with a young nean who has, by
his own efforts, made himself such an efficient member of any
religious society. But I have perfect confidence that he will
be under good Christian guidance. The lesson I have learned
from him, within these few hours past, has well convinced me
that he has been familiar with one who understands Christian
charity. May he prove to you, and your people, a treasure
from the Lord."
Mr. Jamieson took the hand of Charles.
"May the blessing of our covenant God rest upon the relatioli in which we now stand to each other."
RIt was a moment of deep interest, and each one felt that
an event, thus hallowed by the sweet fruits of Christian love,
must be according to the will of Him who dwelleth i4ove.
"And now, Brother Jamieson, I must leave you!r the
present, as I have preparation to make for a meeting this
evening. It will give me most unfeigned pleasure to see you
at my house, and in my study. I may expect you, may I
not 2."
"Most certainly, sir, I shall come, and, perhaps, so often as
to weary you. You can hardly conceive what a desire I have
had to be on terms of intimacy with you, and how much this
scene appears like a pleasant dream, too pleasant to be real."
" It is a reality, though, my dear brother, depend upon it;
and I cannot but hope that it is the beginning of some glorious end. May God bless you abundantly."
"Good bye, Brother Somers, And I may hope to see you
here, sometimes, too 2"
"No fear of that."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   133
A few moments elapsed after the departure of Mr. Somers,
when neither spake. Mr. Jamieson was the first to break
silence.
" That man is possessed of a noble mind; his very countenance tells you that he has nothing to conceal. I am sure I
feel under great obligations to you for bringing about such a
state of things."
" It is not to me that any obligations are due. It has been
brought about by an unseen hand; but I hope for great good.
Sectarian jealousy, and contests, are the curse which blasts
the efforts of the church. Let a spirit of love once get dominion, and the gospel will have a fair opportunity to show
its power."
" Right, right! you are right there. I go hand and heart
with you in such doctrine, and I mean to follow out my creed
at once. Do you know whether Mr. Somers holds his meeting this evening in the Centre School-House?"
"He does."' Is it a lecture, or properly a social prayer-meeting?"
"He calls it the church prayer-meeting.  Mr. Somers
takes the lead, and calls upon others to associate with him."7
" Will you go with me there?"
"I was designing to go there, and should be delighted to
have your company."
Like meetings of the same kind in almost all our churches,
the ch~urch prayer-meeting at Melton was but poorly attended. The two deacons were there. Some half-a-dozen male
members, and perhaps fifteen or twenty females, in a room
large enough to accommodate a hundred persons with ease,
and out of a church that numbered three hundred communicants.
It was to Mr. Jamieson a matter of surprise to find so
small an assembly. He had not yet had much experience
in such matters. He entered as unobtrusively as possible,
and took a seat among those nearest the door. But scarcely
had he sat down, when Mr. Somers arose from his place, and
approaching, with a fine glow upon his countenance, took him
by the arm, and without scarcely asking, led him to a seat
beside himself, upon a raised platform, enclosed by a railing,
at one end of the room. Every eye was of course turned
towards the visitor, and as all knew Mr. Jamieson by sight,
12




134            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
their minds were at once alive with anxious questions as to
the meaning of such an apparition. Had the Episcopal minister been converted to Congregationalism, or was he leaning
that way? And did Mr. Somers intend to have him take
part in the exercises? And would he have out his prayerbook? And many a glance was passed from one to another,
and then towards Deacon Rice, who with his brother deacon
sat just without the enclosed platform.
The Deacon had not the faculty of keeping his feelings to
himself, and no sooner had Mr. Jamieson been seated along
side of his pastor than he began to manipulate himself, as
the only way he could keep from testifying aloud against
such strange proceedings. First he would smooth down the
foretop, then the back part of his head, and then he would
loosen his neck-cloth, running his finger from the bow in front
clear round to the pepper and salt locks that hung in queer
little curls just on the edge of his coat-collar.
Mr. Somers commenced the exercises, as usual, with reading a hymn. It was one that all knew, and in which every
heart acquainted with Christian sympathy could join,
"Blest be the tie that binds."
For some reason, it seemed peculiarly appropriate. The
good pastor read it with evident emotion, and the full chorus,
in which both pastor and people united, told most plainly
that its sentiments met a hearty response. He then read a
short portion of Scripture, and led in prayer. Immediately
after this exercise, he commenced, as was his custom, a running comment on the passage of Scripture he had read, dwelling more fully on the closing verse, "The love of Christ
constraineth us," &c. The thoughts brought out evidently
came from a heart that had drank deeply itself at the holy
fountain. As he closed, he spoke a few words, in a low tone,
to Mr. Jamieson, who at once arose, and stood before the
meeting. It was a moment of deep interest, and every eye
was most intently fixed upon the young minister, and a slight
flush was evident upon his naturally pale features. He was,
in personal appearance, prepossessing; his form, of the full
medium height, slender, though of manly build; his countenance strongly marked with intelligence, and of that peculiar




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   135
cast, that its very expression beamed with seriousness; it
might be almost said that a shade of sadness rested upon it.
His features were finely proportioned, and whether viewed
from the side, or the full front, exhibited the same intellectual finish. His hair, a light brown, lay gracefully back from
his forehead, and slightly curling, formed a pleasing background, as it gracefully, yet with a perfectly natural and
even careless manner, rested behind his ears.
There was a slight hesitancy, as he commenced speaking,
but it lasted only for a moment. At once, he grasped the
beautiful idea of a Saviour's love, and in tones plaintive, yet
manly, poured forth his gushing thoughts. Charles Lovell
was the first to bow his head. He was his bosom  friend;
he knew well how dear to the heart of the speaker was the
theme he dwelt upon, and that the touching thoughts which
came forth, with such melting tenderness, were not the mere
efforts of the orator; they were the feelings of the firm believer.
But his was not the only head that drooped, for the fire
was kindling in every bosom, and soon, as though by some
powerful charm, every heart was melted, and the tears fell
fast and free. His address was short, and when he paused,
while every ear still hung upon his lips, he quietly said,
" Will you accompany me, dear Christian brethren, to the
Throne of the heavenly grace?"
More than one paused a moment, to see whether he was
about to lead them from a book. But his hands were clasped
before him, and his eye, lifted above, was closed, and in beautiful, appropriate language, he was supplicating for such blesssings as a company of sinners needed. Deacon Rice had
become quiet long before the prayer began; he was a good
man, and could no more stand out against such soul-stirring
thoughts, than he could wilfully have done an unjust act, and
from rubbing his head, he went to wiping away the tears that
stole down his rough visage.
As the meeting closed, the good Deacon stepped upon the
platform, and, without asking for an introduction, grasped the
hand of him, whom., that very morning, he could scarcely
bring himself to acknowledge as a Christian brother. He
said nothing, nor did Mr. Jamieson attempt to address him,
but both seemed perfectly satisfied with the silent salutation.




136            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"And now, Brother Jamieson," said Mr. Somers, "we will
go hand in hand to our work; there shall be no my people,
and your people; but our business shall be to win souls to
our Saviour. Let them then worship in either of our public
houses, as they please; I have done with sectarianism; let it
go to the winds."
"I respond most heartily, Brother Somers. Let come to
me what may, I go with you."
"And I say, Amen, brethren, to the glorious resolution."
and the Deacon bowed to the reverend gentlemen, and stepped
from the high place to take the hand of young Lovell, whom
he saw in waiting at a little distance.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   137
CHAPTER IX.
THE bright hues of autumn, like the pleasant things of life,
soon fade before us; the earth is strewed with the fallen
leaves; they rustle to the passing footstep, and the wind
sighs through the barren branches that wave over us.
Charles and his brother had finished their fall work; the
barn-yard had been put into a condition to correspond with
the new and neat appearance of the barn; a temporary shed
had been erected for-the comfort of their cattle; and every
thing around the premises showed to the passer by that the
owners had not only a correct taste, but a just judgment, as
to what was for the comfort of the creatures, and those who
tended them. And, as the brothers looked over what their
hands had accomplished, they felt not only satisfied with what
they had done, but surprised that so much progress had been
made by them in laying the foundation for their life-work.
It was, indeed, but a beginning, but they believed that they
had begun at the right end. The house they could do without, at present, and it remained as they had found it, except
clearing away the rubbish, which had been for years collecting about it, and setting out some trees for shade, and fruit,
on the large plot of green sward in the midst of which it~
stood. These were as yet merely living, and only served to
show that a design was in contemplation at some future time
to make this spot a place for inhabitants.
"And now," said Charles, as he and his brother were
sitting, one very pleasant day, early in November, on some
logs near their barn-yard fence, and talking over their plalls,
"I don't see but we have done all that we can well do at
present; I meant to have had the water from that spring
brought to the barn-yard this season, but it is too late to
commence it now."




138            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Especially, if you accept the call you have had."
"I don't know about that, Guss, I don't like to go so far.
If I could have a chance to teach in this vicinity, so that I
could assist you at times, I should like it; but to leave you
with all our winter's work on hand, don't seem to be right."
"There is nothing but what I can do, Charlie, and have all the
leisure I want. I should be sorry if I could not get out three
hundred rails, and cut all the wood we shall want for the
year, and do the chores too. I should go, by all means; you
will get one hundred and fifty dollars clear money by teaching the school, and I want you to have it."
"As to that, Guss, it will be no more mine than yours;
we go halves, you know, in every thing."
"I shan't touch it, Charlie: you are the eldest, and have
improved yourself, and qualified yourself for a teacher; and
you will have occasion for money, I guess, sooner than I
shall." And Augustus could not repress a smile that some
curious thought just then forced upon him.
Charles had been whittling a stick which he picked up from
the ground, beneath where they were sitting; he threw it
away, and laid his hand on his brother's knee.
"I tell you what it is, Guss; it is my firm intention that
you and I shall have no division of interests, at least, for
many years to come. When we get married, if we ever do,
it will be time enough then, and then perhaps it will be best,
that our individual rights should be clearly defined. But
until then, we are one; we will pull together, and push together, and I am not afraid but our united efforts will accom-plish our independence. If you think my labors in teaching
will balance yours at home, I will undertake."
" Well, just as you say; but it seems a most unequal thing.
I am sure you have the worst of the bargain."
"It is a pretty good offer, I know; but I am afraid Mr.
Somers, in his kindness of heart, has over-estimated my qualifications."
"I guess the old gentleman knows what he is about.  But
Aunt Casey will be waiting tea for us. If you will walk
along, I will be there in a minute, I want to give Pomp his
oats."
Charles went on his way along the well-beaten path to the
cottage, thinking of the best method of breaking to the old




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   139
lady the tidings that he was about to leave home for some
months.
The offer which Charles had received was indeed, as Augustus had intimated, very favorable, and on many accounts flattering to his feelings. It had come through Mr.
Somers, who being extensively known was frequently applied to by committees of'schools in neighboring towns,
when a teacher of more than ordinary qualifications was
wanted. Mr. Somers had taken a near and deep interest in
Charles; he saw him more frequently, and had taken pains to
ascertain his acquirements, and felt perfectly sure that he
could recomnmend him with safety.
The town of Wellgrove was one of the largest in Connecticut, if we estimate by the number of acres enclosed
within its boundaries, extending in length from north to south
ten miles, and something like five in breadth. But like a
great many towns in that old-fashioned State, it made but
little pretension in the way of buildings, or number of inhabitants. Clusters of houses there were in different parts
of its territory, but not a large number in any one spot.
Scattered at intervals of moderate distance could be seen all
over this area of ten by five, snug farm houses comfortable
in appearance, but without pretension, ensconced beneath their
own beautiful shades, and apparently as independent of the
world at large, and as indifferent to its bustle, as the same
busy world was of them.
An exception, however, must be made to this state of
things in favor of the southern corner of the township. This
lay for some distance along the borders of the Sound, and
embraced some of the most agreeable scenery which can be
found along the shores of that beautiful body of water-fine
rolling ridges running out, tongue-like, into its waters, eminences pleasantly divided into rich intervals, and rocky
promontories, where the cedar found its sustenance in some
mysterious way, coming up through large cracks,. and covering spots where to the eye it would seem that nothing but
the moss could live. From these eminences, the Sound
could be clearly seen, and the rolling of its surf heard among
the rocks which lined the shore.
And as the distance to the great city was then but a moderate day's travel, it began to be taken notice of by those




140            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
who wished to enjoy the retreat of the country, and yet keep
fast hold of the ceremonies and amusements of the city.
Many fine country-seats, as they were called, had been erected, and every year some new tenement raised its roof from
among the many beautiful sites which the locality afforded.
As there was, by degrees, a certain sort of visiting carried
on between these migrating inhabitants and the more wealthy
families of farmers, there had been a noticeable change
wrought in the vicinity. It affected the whole style of living.
Their dress, their manners, their carriages, and finally their
dwellings, were made conformable to those whom they esteemed superior in such matters; and many a plain, comfortable house was taken down to give place for a stiff, square,
unsocial establishment, in imitation of the tasteless fabrics
called country-seats, erected by persons from the city. And
many a good farm had to bear the burden of a mortgage in
order that its owner's sons and daughters might assimilate
with those who had money to squander.
Aunt Casey had a good crying spell when Charles announced to her the fact that he had concluded to leave home
for the winter; but, as he reasoned with her on its propriety,
she wiped her tears away, and went off with one of her
laughing turns, as if she was ashamed of her weakness.
The consideration that weighed most heavily on the mind
of Charles, was, that he should be obliged to give up the instruction of his Bible class. He had become deeply interested in the work, and it had already exceeded his most sanguine expectations. Besides the lesson on the Sabbath, he
devoted one evening in the week to the study of sacred geography, rites and ceremonies of the Jews, and connections
of sacred and profane history. The circle of ladies had become quite large, comprising some of the brightest minds
fiom both denominations.  His quiet, gentlemanly deportment, free from pedantic stiffness or the nearest approach to
lightness, together with his intimate acquaintance with the
subjects he taught, all tended to throw around his person as
their teacher, a charm that stimulated each individual to earnest application, and seldom was it that one member of the
class was not in her place at recitation.
Satisfied, however, that it was his duty to accept the appointment he had received, at the close of one of their meet



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   141
ings, he took occasion to mention his expectation of being
absent for the winter. Expressing his regret that he must
leave them, he hoped that they would be able to procure
some one to take his place, or continue their exercises by appointing, in course, one of their own number to fill it.
A shade of sadness at once passed over every countenance,
and scarcely had he reached the door, as about to depart,
when Miss Lucy Johnson came out, and'arrested him. She
was upon such terms of intimacy that she felt free to remonstrate with him.
"Now this is too bad, to leave us in this abrupt manner;
you act as though you thought it a matter of small consequence whether the class was broken up or not."
" But I hope you will not allow yourselves to be broken
up. You, surely, Miss Lucy, would not permit that, and I
am very confident that you are fully competent to teach
them; and I have no doubt the class will elect you to do so."
" Then both you and the class think very wrong. I am
too well aware of my own deficiencies to venture such a step.
Now, you know I never flatter-especially a friend. I am in
earnest; must you go away? or, if so, is it not possible for
you to be with us once a fortnight? How far are you
going?"
"The distance is probably about seven miles."
" And what is that? I will engage to send our carriage
for you; you can spend the night here, and you shall be sent
back in the morning; only don't you resign the station
you have so well filled. I do not believe the class would be
satisfied, even with Mr. Jamieson to take your place."
Charles saw that Lucy was in earnest; her honest, lovely
features were all in a glow, and even the tones of her voice had
not their usual steadiness. He had no power to refuse her
under such circumstances, and after a moment's reflection he
replied:
" I have the most perfect confidence that you say to me
just what you feel, and I certainly am not indifferent to your
opinion, nor to the feelings of the other members of the class.
I had no idea they felt as you say, and thought that the trial
of separation was to be all on my part. I will see to it, that
your meetings shall not be broken up, and that without taxing your generosity."




142            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"That is just like yourself. You speak now like Charles
Lovell, only in what you say about taxing my generosity.
It will be no tax, I assure you."
I give that up, too. I know you will do it with cheerfulness, and, if necessary, occasionally may accept your kindness.
Please present my compliments to the ladies, and tell them
I will not leave them while they remain so faithful to their
part of our engagement together."
The engagement which Charles had determined upon, was
to spend his Sabbaths at home. It would, indeed, at times
prove inconvenient; but his plan was to have his brother
come for him every Saturday afternoon, and take him back
early on Monday morning. Pomp had become so much of
a horse, that he could accomplish the journey, and to Augustus it would no doubt be gratifying, as he could not only
have the satisfaction of driving their common favorite, but
also of enjoying their pleasant Sabbaths together.
Charles found upon commencing his duties at Wellgrove,
that the old system of providing for the board of a teacher
was still in operation, and that it was expected he should migrate from house to house through the winter.
"It will not be expected, however," said the committeeman to him, " to send you to every house-there are a few
poor families where you could not be so well accommodated,
and provision will be made for you when their turn comes.
Your first place, however, will be a pretty stylish one. They
are city folks, and keep up considerable of a swell."
" Do they send their children 2"
"Not exactly-I believe they have none of their ownthere are some young ladies, but I guess they are niecesthey've done schooling though I'm a thinking-without it is the
schooling they'll get when they are married.
"But the captain has a couple of took-children, a boy and
girl-you will have them; I guess it won't be a bad place to
go to, not if you like company."
"That depends upon the kind."
"Well, there is a little of all sorts; you will like the old
captain, any how. He is a noble-hearted old fellow. But I
hope he has got money enough to bear him out, for he must
be spending a deal of it. And they say his girls are first



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   143
rate girls. If they are as good as they look, they'11 do well
enough.
" They've got fellows enough after them, though; but may be
it's their money they're after, for they say the girls are both
on'em rich, or like to be. You saw that large house near the
school?"
"A little back from the road?"
" Yes, with large elms in front, and fine fixings all about
it."
" You will introduce me there?"
" Oh, that will not be necessary. All you have to do is
to tell one of the children that you expect to come to Captain
Halliday's this evening. They will understand all about it."
Charles felt a little unpleasant at the idea of thus billeting
himself upon a family of distinction; but as he saw no way
of avoiding the difficulty, resolved to meet it with the best
possible grace.
Captain Halliday, the gentleman whose family he was
about to introduce himself to, had retired from the sea a few
years since, and settled at Wellgrove, for the purpose not
only of enjoying on land the sight and smell of salt water,
but also, that he might enjoy those comforts, and that independence, which the more expensive habits of the city would
not afford from his moderate fortune. It was not his intention to have involved himself, either in the cares or labors of
a farm; but overruled by the advice of friends, he had purchased, with his house, a farm of two hundred acres-being
assured by his advisers, when remonstrating with them against
laying out one-third of his property in this way —" That the
place was dog-cheap-that the house could not be built for
eight thousand dollars, and that for the ten thousand which
the whole was offered for, he could get all his living, and lay
up money.
"There is hay and grain for your carriage-horses-grain
for your family-poultry, as much as you can stuff-your
butter, milk, and eggs and what not. All you will have to
lay out money for, will be your clothing and some groceries,
and all for seven hundred dollars a year, house-rent and all."
Had it been a matter of building a ship, and rigging her
from stem to stern, or providing her with stores for a twelve.
months' voyage, the old captain would have been able to talk




144            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
understandingly. But he was now off soundings, and had no
experience to make any reckonings by-the thing seemed
plausible-the location was to his mind, his wife thought well
of it, because it was not too far from the city, and the thing
was done. He had now been there five years, and many prudent farmers did not hesitate to say that " they hoped he had
a long purse-for what between repairs, and new outbuildings,
and stone fences, and drains, and improved stock, besides a
run of company-there must be a terrible outlay of money."
Mrs. Halliday was even more pleased with the location
than she had anticipated. Very social in her feelings, and
pleased with company, she found all her wishes in that respect gratified.
Company from the city, through all the summer months, until quite late in the fall, poured in upon her; and she had
no stint of praises for the hospitable manner in which she entertained her guests. " Such milk and butter could never be
had in the city, money could not buy them; and such fresh
air too, and delicious vegetables and fruits, and everything so
free and easy, we feel quite at home."
The captain, however, it had been noticed by those most
intimate with him, had of late acquired a habit whenever
-some of his eloquent visitors would be pouring praises upon
his " independent style of living," and " the beauty of his situation," of putting his hands down into his pockets, and rattling his change, as though there was a very intimate connection
in his mind between the two.
It was not without some trepidation, that Charles found
himself walking up the well-shaded avenue to the stately
mansion; and when he knocked at the door, and the servant
opened it, and looked rather staringly at him, he was almost
at a loss as to his proceedings.. However, he thought propriety demanded that he should make an introduction of himself at head-quarters.
" Is Mrs. Halliday at home?"
" She is, sir."
" May I see her?"
"Will you please walk in the room, sir? What name
shall I give to Mrs. Halliday?"
IIe was about to say " The teacher of the school," but upon
a second thought he merely said, " Mr. Lovell."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   145
He had not to wait long before the lady herself entered.
She was neatly dressed in a dark silk, and had a lively, pleasant face, and smiled graciously as she entered. Charles arose,
and bowed to her.
"I regret exceedingly, madam, that I am under the necessity of introducing myself to your family, as Mr. Nazro,
the committee for the district, thought it would be unnecessary for him to accompany me."
" Oh-ah-You are the teacher then? The children mentioned to me that you was coming, but I did n't expect-please
sit down, sir."
The lady was evidently taken by surprise, for the appearance and manners of the young man were altogether at variance with what she had been expecting. The good lady had
indulged, it must be confessed, some troublesome thoughts in
reference to this teacher, especially at the present time-what,
with company on hand, and more expected from the city,
should she do with a rough country youth, who would be
making her and the girls blush by his awkwardness.
It was, therefore, a very pleasant surprise to her to find trhe
bearing of a true gentleman, where she had expected something in a very different shape. She had, however, some little inward misgivings, lest the pains she had taken to manage matters, so as to keep him one side of the family circle,
should affect her character as a lady of true hospitality.
" I am very sorry, Mr. Lovell, that you did not come sooner; we generally take an early tea, and we have all done, and
you will be obliged this evening to take your supper alone."
" That will be of no consequence, madam. But I hope you
will not put yourself to any trouble on my account. I am
used to very simple fare, and in a very plain way, and if you
will allow me to give you as little trouble as possible, while
I remain here, I shall esteem it-a favor."
" It will be no trouble, I assure you, sir, to wait upon you,
with the best we have;" and Mrs. Halliday really felt so.
" And if you will excuse my giving you your tea alone this
evening, and a little one side, I hope, in future, you will be able
to be with us. Please excuse me, Mr. Lovell, while I order
it for you."
Things had taken a turn, and Charles felt that he had been
too hasty in anticipating difficulties.
7




146             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
In a short time, he was led by the servant-maid into a
room plainly yet respectably furnished; it was evidently designed as a sort of better kitchen, in which during the warmer months, children and domestics might eat, and be separated from the necessary fires. The windows and outer door
opened into a back piazza, and the whole concern had an air
about it calculated to make one quite at ease, and at home.
Charles felt that if he could be allowed to make this his sitting and eating room while he was there, he would ask nothing further.                  %
A very agreeable supper was provided, and the maid waited upon him with an assiduity quite in contrast with her
manner as she first admitted him to the house. As she was
about to leave the room, after he had finished, she said to
him, curtseying at the same time:
"Mrs. Halliday bid me say to you, sir, when you had
done your supper, she would be pleased to see you in the
parlor with the family; shall I show you the way, sir?"
" Perhaps Mrs. Halliday will not take it amiss if I absent
myself this evening, as I wish to study a little. Shall I be
in the way if I take a seat ind this room 2"
" Oh, la, no, sir, not if it suits your convenience."
It was a failing in Mrs. Halliday, if failing it should be
called, to be anxious that her guests should enjoy themselves,
and by that she meant that they should be lively.  " She disliked," she said," when folks got together, especially young
folks, to see them sitting up stiff, and looking at one another
like so many statues, and she never meant to have it so at
her house;" and she never did. She was like an uneasy spirit,
the moment there seemed to be any pause to the life of the
party, and would begin at once to conjure up something to
make a stir. As a very necessary assistant at such times,
Mrs. Halliday had in general some sprightly young lady of
dubious age, and varied talents, who found her house a convenient place to visit, and who was willing to make herself
agreeable. At the present time, the person who filled this.
station was a maiden lady of some years beyond thirty, how
many nobody knew, for Miss Hinchdale always laughed very
prettily when age was the subject under consideration, and
said, " As for her part, she did hope she would soon be out
of her teens."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   147
"I don't believe you will, Sally," Mrs. Halliday would reply, "for you grow younger every year."
Now, Sally had a home of her own, or a place she called
such, but it was only with relations, not very near, and who
were rather " sober folks," as she called them. And as she did
not care to work much for her own independence, chose rather
to earn a welcome for some months at a time, at such a place
as Mrs. Halliday's, by making herself agreeable. She had,
when dressed for company, a fresh and showy look, and as
she was not very particular about subjects, nor the manner
in which she handled them, had always something to say;
and as she could play on the piano, and could sing into the
bargain, made herself very useful; so much so, that after
Sally had been there now for some months, and said something about going home, Mrs. Halliday would by no means
hear to it.
" You can't and you shan't go now, Sally Hinchdale, for
this is just the time I want you, for there are now so many
folks coming up this month, and Julia, you know, is no hand
to talk in company, and Adelaide don't fancy company
much, so that entertaining them comes all upon me, and you.
must n't think of leaving me now at any rate."
It was true what Mrs. Halliday said about her nieces;
their tastes differed from hers, although for her gratifications they at times entered into her views apparently with a
heart interest.
Captain Halliday was heart and soul a sailor, and there is
no telling how many nieces and nephews, too, he might have
adopted if there had been any who needed his care. The
two who made his house their home at present, were without
parents, and although not dependent upon him, yet he dealt
out to them with as liberal a hand, and cherished them with
as much tenderness, as though they were his own children.
And these, whom we have thus briefly noticed, composed
the real members of his family, all others being either servants or visitors.
There was a little gathering that evening, as the servant
woman had told Mr. Lovell. For besides the gentleman
who was a particular attendant upon one of the young ladies, and who boarded at a hotel in the place, he had
brought with him what he called an amateur in music, fresh




148            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
from the city, together with a companion of his own, like
himself, a man of wealth, who had seen the unappropriated
niece of Captain Halliday, and was, as he said, quite fascinated. Some young ladies from the neighborhood had also
stepped in, and the whole made a pretty large circle in the
best parlor.'Miss Sally Hinchdale was all curls and ribbons that evening, and whether because there was an amateur present, or a
young man of fortune not yet engaged, or that she was in the
humor for it, she seemed to be an emblem of vivacity; she
was here and there, and nowhere, for two minutes at a timelaughing, and chatting, and tossing back her long ringlets,
like any young girl of fourteen.' "Mrs. Halliday " said she, coming up to that lady, who
sat slapping her fan upon the little work table, and eyeing her
company with some solicitude, "Mrs. Halliday, we must
have a dance this evening."
" Well, Sally, anything you say-set them a-going as soon
as you like."
So Miss Sally at once stepped, with a very lively air,
across the room to one of the gentlemen.
"Mr. Vanderbose, we must have a dance."
"With all my heart."
"Will you arrange the set, while I start off a tune?"
The gentleman was now in his element; he had practiced
dancing, and had a pretty foot, that answered such a purpose
very well. The other things which Mr. Vanderbose had practiced were not always as innocent, nor as reputable-he had
never practiced with either hands, head, or feet, any useful
calling. The fortune which his plodding old father had accumulated, and left to him, was ample, and the son thought
probably that the father had done work enough for bothhis life he meant to make a holiday.
He is a little better dressed, however, than he was when
first introduced to my readers, and under more favorable circumstances. His fine house on the point is nearly completed, and he feels very happy, at present, as happy as a man
of his desires and habits could very well be; for he has, it is
said, at last won the beautiful object he had set his eye upon,
and is looking forward to the time when he can claim her as
a wife. Poor thing, Nwe pity her, but it will do no good.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   149
She knows, or believes nothing ill of him. Nothing more
than a little wildness which most young men are guilty of,
especially if tempted by an overstock of money. The fine
house, and the fine horses, and the elegant barouche, and the
costly trinkets that already sparkle on her heaving breast, and
pretty dimpled hand, and fair, rounded arm,-these, the first
fruits of the future, cover a multitude of sins-no, of indiscretions, heedlessness, youthful obliquities.
As Mr. Vanderbose commenced his arrangements, the piano
was thrown open, and Miss Sally's fingers, in a moment, were
flying about the keys, and producing such lively sounds that
each one felt their inspiration, and began to strike in and keep
step to them. It happened very well that for each young lady
a gentleman was in waiting; the couples were even; Mr. Vanderbose had, with great tact, as he seemed to imagine, got
the thing into shape, and was just stepping up to take his
lady by the hand-when Mrs. Halliday called out:
"But we've forgot Addie, where is she?"
"Here she is, aunty," said the lovely girl herself, just at
that moment entering the room. She was very neatly dressed, and in that respect formed a striking contrast with her
equally pretty, and, as most thought, prettier cousin-for the
latter was almost arrayed in apparel fitted for a bride, sparkling with jewels, and her face wearing a sunny smile, as though
it was indeed the heyday of life with her. The countenance
of the other had a smile on it also, just then, but it was only
as an accompaniment to her salutation of the company. Which
was the loveliest of the two bright stars of the circle it might
have been difficult to decide.
Her appearance caused some little confusion; the ceremony of introduction had to be gone through with, for the amateur was a stranger, and then she was an odd one. The
gentlemen could not give up their partners, although one of
them at least would have been delighted to do so.
" Oh, do; la, I can fix it," said Miss Sally, throwing back
her curls. "I can fix it in no time; Mrs. Halliday, you are
a first-rate dancer, you be the gentleman for Addie, and all
will be straight."
"Oh, do, aunt; I should not desire a better partner; do,
aunt, just for the fun of it."
i' Oh, no," said Mrs. Halliday, "I have just thought; you




160           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
know we have another young gentleman in the house; perhaps I can engage him for Addie."
"Another, aunt! who is it?"
"Another, Mrs. Halliday!" exclaimed several voices at,
once.'"Why, you know, Sally, the gentleman you had some
laugh about at tea to-night-the teacher."
" Has he come? and what does he look like?" exclaimed
Miss Sally, clapping her hands, and laughing heartily; and
then turning to Mr. Vanderbose, "Don't you think we are
highly honored to have a real live Yankee school-master under our roof?"
"Does he carry a tooting weapon?" said the gentleman,
clapping his hands in his ecstasy. "By Jupiter, boys and
girls, we shall have some fun. Who knows but he's a real
Ichabod Crane?"
The laughter that succeeded this classical allusion was very
hearty, except on the part of Mrs. Halliday's nieces, whose
sense of propriety forbade them to make merry at the expense
of any one, especially under their own roof.
" I protest against the young lady's being compelled to
dance with any such creature;" and the gentleman who spoke
run his hand through his hair, which being very bushy, and
rather of a reddish hue, formed a conspicuous part of the
person.
" But I'am determined to dance with him, if my aunt will
introduce him."
" And that I will soon do, if he can be persuaded to it."
And Mrs. Halliday at once left the room.
She could not but be a little gratified with the thought
that there might be some surprise, when they came to see
the subject of their merriment. She heard their loud laughter after having left the room, and had no doubt they were
amusing themselves with their idea of a Yankee school-master, associated in their minds with all that was ridiculous and
uncouth.
"I hope I may be able to persuade him to come in; the
laugh will be against some other folks, if I am not mistaken."  This she said to herself, as she entered their common
sitting-room, where she expected to find him. To her surprise, he was not there. Hle could not have gone to his




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   151
room she knew, for it had not been shown to him. "Perhaps he is in the boys' room," as the room was called adjoining the kitchen, and which has been described. He was
-there, sure enough; he was busily employed with his book,
but arose immediately as she entered.
" I fear, Mr. Lovell, that my servant woman failed to do
my errand, that I should be happy to see you among my
guests this evening."
Charles slightly blushed.
"I hope, madam, you will excuse me, if I hhve done
wrong in not obeying your summons. The young woman
did tell me that you would be happy to see me in the parlor,
but having some little work to do I replied to her, that if
you would not take it amiss, I could wish to be excused this
evening."
" Ah, you are very excusable, but I feared she had not delivered my message, and you would think me very deficient
in hospitality. But I have come now to ask a favor of you;
our young folks are about to have a little dance. I don't
know but you are opposed to dancing; if so, I will not urge
you, but if not, it will be quite a favor, for they cannot make
out their set for want of a partner for one of the ladies."
" It is some time, madam, since I learned the steps, and I
have had but little practice. I fear I shall make but a poor
partner. But if you think my presence will add to the
pleasure of the company, I submit myself to your command."
"You are very obliging, and I shall feel much indebted to
you.".
Charles had no apology to make for his appearance, for he
had dressed himself in his best; he felt bound to do so our
of respect to the strangers among whom he had come, as
well as himself. He laid aside his book and at once followed
his hostess. The perfect ease of his address and manner
made Mrs. Halliday more confident in the surprise his presence would accomplish. And she opened the door, leaning
on the arm of young Lovell, and at once led him to the different little groups that were standing about the spacious
parlor.
Every sign of merriment was hushed, and each one to
whom he was led up, felt called upon to return his easy sal



152            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
utation in the very best manner they could. Whether Miss
Adelaide recognized him as one she had ever seen before,
we need not say; her eye with its most intense gaze followed him around the circle, and only drooped as her aunt
at the last brought him up before her.
"" This is the young lady who happens to have no partner.
My niece, Miss Adelaide Vincent; Mr. Lovell, Adelaide."
Charles bowed very low, and was evidently much affected,
at first blushing deeply, and then losing all color but the fine
sunburnt hue, while Miss Adelaide almost forgot her curtsey, and her tongue too, but seemed like one entranced, at
first turning deadly pale, and then blushing, as though the
rich blood would burst its beautiful cerement. She knew
him  now, although vastly improved in appearance-the
young man at the spring of water! the polite and accomplished host that had so pleasantly entertained her in his humble cottage. But there was no time for inquiry, or apology,
or explanation. Charles merely said, as he prepared to lead
her out:
" I fear, Miss, you will find me an indifferent partner. I
am more accustomed to working than dancing."
"Or taking care of ladies and horses in a thunder-storm?
You helped me once; perhaps I can help you now."
None but Mrs. Halliday probably noticed the feeling manifested on the part of her niece, and she, of course, attributed
it merely to the effect of surprise.
How Charles went through his part, it would not have
been in his power to say. He was conscious of receiving a
slight suggestion once from the lovely, artless being, who was
moving with him through the mazes of the figure. But she
complimented him when they were through. d' Only one littie mistake, and that no one noticed, for you took my suggestion so quick, and I am so glad of it."
" That I can dance well?"
The earnest look which followed this question, showed a
manifest desire to reply, rather to the spirit than the letter
of it, and she wished to get the true idea.'"I will answer to that, yes and no. I have some little
pride, you know, to gratify in having a partner that moves
with ease and grace; that will do for the yes. And as to
the no, I rather despise than otherwise a man who would




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   153
think any the better of himself because he could take a faultless step, and go through the figures of a dance to the admiration of others."
Whether Mr. Vanderbose was very versatile in his humors in general, or for some other cause, there was a marked
change in the state of feeling manifested by him before and
after the entrance of young Lovell. He doubtless remembered him, although, when his partner suggested the idea that
Mr. Lovell and the young man who sheltered them under his
roof from the storm, were the same person, he said, " he
thought not." Yet a guilty conscience makes a restless
mind, and he felt too decidedly uneasy to enjoy the sport
longer than through one cotillon, and though he proposed to
his partner that they should have some singing, he wanted
to hear Murdock.
Julia, in her desire to please, at once carried the request to
Miss Sally, and Miss Sally to Mrs. Halliday, and very soon
Mr. Vanderbose was urging his friend, at the request of that
lady, to favor the company with a popular song.
Mr. Murdock had no objections to exhibiting himself, but
being an amateur, it was necessary that his powers, to be
properly appreciated, should be brought into contrast with
some less skilful performer, and, confident of his own abilities, was desirous that the company should have the best of
the entertainment at the last.
" Tell madame that I will do my little part for the entertainment of the ladies, with great pleasure, but I cannot think
of letting my voice be heard in precedence of the ladies."
There was such an unnatural and mincing tone to the voice,
and such affectation in the manner, that Mrs. Halliday could
not help blushing for her guest. But not wishing to dispute
the matter with him, she called upon Miss Sally to favor the
company with a tune. Miss Sally pouted very prettily, gave
her ringlets a toss that sent them somewhere behind her
sharp shoulders, touched gently the ivory keys, and at once
the company was listening to the song so popular in that
day, the far-famed " Legacy."
Miss Sally had a way of her own in singing, and, Us though
the music of her voice, even with the sweet sounds of the
piano, were not sufficient, acted with her expressive eyes,
and features, and supple neck, a sort of pantomime, express7*i




154            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ive of the varied sentiment of this expressive song. And
as my readers doubtless are well acquainted with it, they can
realize, without much difficulty, the task which Miss Sally's
head and eyes had to perform. As death is the first idea
introduced, Miss Sally did the thing as well as could be expected; the head was drooped, the eyes closed, and there was
a tendency of the whole careen to come down upon the piano,
but before any one could have made any motion for her help,
even if they had thought it necessary, her head was up, the
curls shaking, and the eyes rolling glorious, and the whole
countenance sparkling with " smiles and wine."
It was a wonderful performance, and received by the company with silent applause, at least during its delivery. The
amateur did once turn over his perfumed handkerchief upon
his lap; that was all —he sat very still, and looked very
steadily at her, probably taking a lesson.
The usual meed of approbation awaited Miss' Sally, as she
gracefully left her seat, and Mr. Murdock, putting his handkerchief in his breast-pocket, and waited upon by his friend,
placed himself before the instrument, and facing the company. There was a little buzz as the gentleman took his seat,
which soon subsided into perfect stillness; when, throwing
himself into the posture of a fancy whip, about to manage a
pair of wild horses, he struck the piano with astounding
force, and ran his fingers up and down upon the instrument
as though it was a play-thing he could do just what he
pleased with. The tune, however, was not yet begun, he was
merely testing the power of the instrument; and from the
motions of his body, which swayed gracefully from side to
side, as his outstretched arms followed his flying fingers
from the highest tenor to the lowest bass, it was evident
that he was preparing for a great effort. Mr. Vanderbose
seemed perfectly electrified, and began rubbing his hands,
and hunching Miss Julia, who sat beside him, and winking
significantly to the gentleman with the bushy-head, and looking round to see how the rest took it.
After awhile the gentleman'ceased his manipulations, and
assumed a posture for serious work. At this stage of the
business he sat very erect; his head was thrown back, his under-jaw, loosened a little from the upper one, was drawn down
into the thick folds of a figured neck-cloth, his white teeth




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   155
just protruding beyond his parted lips, when forthwith
there gushed a volume of sound, not unlike a blast from the
fireman's trumpet, when his men are getting into danger.
Each person in the room made a slight motion, as though
they could not help it;  while Mr. Vanderbose fairly
jumped from his chair, and stood upright, rubbing his hands,
and looking round in ecstasy.
It was the Marseilles hymn that thus broke upon the astonished ears of the audience, and sung in its original language. Miss Sally and the bushy-head looked very knowing,
and smiled as occasionally they recognized a word, whose
meaning they could Anglicise. They both understood French,
a little. Mr. Vanderbose knew nothing about French, and
but little of the English; but there was a great noise and
violent contortions of the lips, and he felt that it must be a
great performance, and a great feather in his cap, that he had
introduced an amateur, who could sing in an unknown
tongue. He had like to have forgotten the proprieties altogether, and pinched Miss Julia's arm so violently, that she
was glad to move a little off.
" Did you ever hear anything like that?" addressing himself to Mrs. Halliday, the moment the last note had exploded.
"I never did," she calmly replied. Another and another
song was demanded by the excited Vanderbose, until at
length the gentleman abruptly rose from his seat and insisted
upon the other gentleman taking his place.  Vanderbose
could not play, but having taken his full allowance of wine
that afternoon, felt just in a state to do something, so he
started off in a song, which might have done well enough,
perhaps, in the company of his booncompanions around the
bottle, but as it was, caused the lovely girl by his side to
blush more than she could have wished on such an account.
As the other gentleman declined positively having anything to do with the matter, for awhile there was a pause,
and Mrs. Halliday began to be weary; so she arose and approaching young Lovell, who, seated by Miss Vincent, was
embracing every opportunity for conversation.
"I have no doubt now, Mr. Lovell, that you can give us
something more to my mind, than anything we have had this
evening. I believe you gentlemen of New England most




156            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
generally learn to sing;:' all this was said in a very low
voice.
"Please, madam, excuse me on the present occasion. I
have made one desperate experiment this evening."
" And succeeded;" and the pretty speaker, who looked up
at him as she thus interrupted his sentence, manifestly
seconded the wish of her aunt.
"But you do sing, don't you?" said 1Mrs. Halliday.
Charles scorned prevarication even in trifling matters.
" I do sing, but only at my own home. I amuse myself
there sometimes with my guitar, and in fact have so accustomed myself to its use, that I should not dare to venture
my voice without it."  Mrs. Halliday was just then interrupted by a question from Miss Sally, who seemed to be
also anxious to have something going on.
" I know it, Sally, I know it, and I have been just making
a request to Mr. Lovell that he would favor us with a song."
"He will, of course," said Miss Sally. Mrs. Halliday
looked to him for a reply when Adelaide, who had stepped
from the room but a moment before, entered, and walking
up to Mr. Lovell, put a guitar into his hands.
"It may not be as good as the one I saw at your house;"
this was said in such a low, confiding tone, and the instrument
placed in his hand with such an apparent expectation that he
would use it, that he nmade no reply, but commenced tuning
it to the compass of his voice; with some confusion manifest on his fine countenance he turned to Mrs. Halliday:
"I shall not be able to give you anything new or popular.
But if you desire it, madam, I will do the best I can."
And without any more ado, immediately started the fine
old song,
"Life's like a ship in constant motion,
Sometimes high and sometimes low,
Where every one must brave the ocean,
Whatsoever winds may blow."
Whether Miss Adelaide was alarmed lest her companion,
as she had styled him, should not succeed, or for some other
cause, she appeared very serious, and had an anxious shade
upon her brow. But it lasted only through the first two
lines of the song.  Evident delight was manifest in the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   157
bright sparkle of her eye, and as her aunt, who sat beside her,
raised her hand in astonishment and looked at her, Adelaide
could not resist the smile of approbation, nor keep back the
tear.
Her whole soul seemed melted-the rich tones of his
clear, manly voice took hold upon her heart. But who was
he? and where had he acquired these accomplishments.
She had seen him in his lowly home. She had seen him in
his rough attire, and engaged in manual labor; and yet there
was a softness and delicacy in his address, equal to anything
she had witnessed among those most favorably situated for
refinement. She had also been charmed by his powers of
conversation.  Subjects which young men seldom  name
were familiar to him, as the common occurrences of the day.
Could he have obtained all these under the circumstances in
which she had beheld him? But her reveries were suddenly
broken in upon, by the opening of a door from an adjoining
room, and to the utter surprise of herself and all the company present, the portly form and honest bluff countenance
of the good old captain presented themselves.  He was
neatly dressed, as he always would be, and as he cast his eye
round the room made a slight bow, and then fixed his gaze
upon the young man, who was sitting with his back in that
direction. Adelaide was about to offer him her seat, but he
motioned her not to rise, and stepped a little one side that
he might have a glimpse of the singer.
He was evidently much excited; his countenance could not
well have manifested more earnestness, if he had been, from
the deck of his vessel, watching the approach of a severe
squall. As the voice of the singer became more firm and
animated in the heart-stirring chorus,:t1e captain kept edging
along up, and Adelaide thought she saw his lips moving, as
though he was about to join in, and he doubtless would, if
Charles had continued through the song; but being only acquainted with a few verses of it, stopped before the old captain had got up to a singing pitch.
The moment he ceased, the old gentleman grasped his hand:
"That I call-"
"Mr. Halliday," said his good lady, stepping up, " this is
Mr. Lovell, the young entlemau engaged as our teacher this
winter."




158            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Your most obedient, sir; this I call, as I was going to say,
I call singing. Bless my soul, my young fellow, you have
called back all my boyish days; I would give more for that
song than all the fiddle-de-dums that Sally here squeals out
in a year."
"Now, Captain Halliday!" and Miss Sally came up with a
very good-natured smile, it must be confessed. "That is a
compliment; I did n't know that you ever listened to me at
all; you always say that you can't bear singing."
"No more I can't; not as they bellow it out now-a-days;
you see Mr. Lovell," turning to Charles, whose hand he still
held, "I like to hear something that a man's heart can take
hold of. In the first place, I want to hear words that have
got some meaning to them, and then I want to have them
come out as if the one who sung them felt that they had a
meaning. But, my dear fellow, you must give us that again
or another like it. It isn't often they get me in here, and
when they do, I must be paid for it."
"With pleasure, sir, if you think it will afford you any
gratification."
"Thank you, sir; that's off-hand, like a man."
At once Charles dashed off with another sea-song, and it
was one that waked up in the old sailor feelings that had been
almost quenched by long mingling in land.scenes, and perplexing interests. He took his stand immediately in front
of Lovell, and fairly started when the brisk and rapid notes
first broke forth. But as the bursting sail, the foaming waves,
and the bending mast, were portrayed so vividly before him
in such stirring notes, he struck his hand with deep emotion
on the back of the chair by which he stood, his manly countenance swelled, his eye twinkled rapidly, and an unbidden
tear started from its place. The piece was short, and being
rapidly performed, to suit its meaning, was soon over, or
there is no telling what extravagance he might have been
guilty of. Again he grasped Lovell's hand,
" That is almost too good, young man. Ah, it brings back
some of the happiest. days of my life; thank you, sir, thank
you, and when you get tired of th6 young folks, just come
into my room; I want to have a chat with you."
Charles thanked him, and bowing to Mrs. Halliday,' May
I ask the liberty of being excused now, Mrs. Halliday."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   159
"By all means; I feel too much obliged for the exertions
you have made for me this evening. But let me show you
into a better room."
" Not on my account by any means; if I am not in-the way
there, I should prefer it."
And making his obeisance to the company, he retired to
resume his Euclid. It was getting late, the house-clock had
already struck the hour of ten, and Charles was still deep.
ly engaged with his problems, when he heard the gentle steps
of a female, passing lightly through the room in which he was
sitting. As he turned his head, and caught a glimpse of Miss
Adelaide he.at once arose. She was apparently about to
pass without attracting his notice, but now she paused, and
came up to the table by which he had been sitting.
" You must have an interesting book that keeps you up so
late?"
" It is somewhat interesting, although the problem I have
been at work at is rather difficult. I have mastered it
though, I believe."
"You are fond of study?"
"I do not dislike it; there is a pleasure in overcoming difficulties."
" And many things which appear difficult lose that character, when we take hold of them with resolution; as; for instance, our girl has been obliged to go home to-night to wait
upon a sick mother, and my aunt has been quite unhappy
with the thought how we were going to get breakfast in the
morning without a girl. But I have begged her to let me
undertake it, and have, therefore, taken the responsibility. I
don't fear but I shall be able to do the thing, and am now on
my way to make preparations. But you may not fare so
well as you otherwise would."
Charles was almost off his guard, and had like to have
said that it would be the sweetest meal that he had ever
eaten; but his reason came to him in time, he merely replied:
"It must be a poor one, indeed, if I do not relish it."
"Well, you shall see what resolution will do. A pleasant
night.", And the lively girl, with a sweet smile, tripped it on her
way, and Charles, taking his book, retired to his own room.
How much he slept that night it would have been difficult for




160            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
him to tell. He was awake, however, as the first faint streaks
of light were visible in the east, and as he loved the early dawn
too heartily not to be abroad to behold its beauty and drink
in its freshness, he arose, and descending to the room where
he had spent most of the evening, found that no one had yet
been there. A thought at once came into his mind how he
could assist the lovely handmaid who was to prepare the
morning repast. Kindling a fire came very natural to him;
he was accustomed to do it at home; the wood-house was at
hand, and in a few moments a fine blazing fire crackled upon
the large hearth; the tea-kettle was hanging on, and, leaving
everything as neat as he found it, he hurried off to enjoy his
early walk.
The view from the premises of Captain Halliday was peculiarly fine at the rising of the sun, for a large stretch of
the Sound lay spread out before them, and the sun arose as
from the bed of waters.
The beauty of the forest had now departed, and no green
thing was visible among them, except the dingy pines and
cedars. The leaves had done their work, and the naked
branches of the trees, like warriors stripped of their needless trappings, were ready for a tussle with the storms of
winter.
There was a beauty, however, in the graceful sweep of the
long branches of the larger trees, with their necked tendrils
hanging in perfect stillness against the clear amber sky.
And there was a beauty in the water, that lay stretched like
a vast mirror, with the streaks of coming day shining from
its surface, and in the mist that covered the meadows, and in
the low jutting points of land far-far ahead, and in the
white sails that spotted the panorama of water; and there
was music in the echo of the boatman's oar as it came in its
loneliness upon the still air. And there was in the bosom of
Charles a pure and bounding spirit. And he could quaff
with delight the freshness of the morning air, and had a taste
to enjoy the scene in all its variety.  He took his seat upon
a clean bare rock, and watched the golden spot in the east,
that grew more and more brilliant until its dazzling brightness firbade his gaze, and he cast his eye around upon the hill
tops and distant mountains, tinged with a purple crown of
glory. But while his eye was taking its fill of loveliness, his




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   161
mind was no less absorbed with strange and pleasing emotions. What a bundle of inconsistencies is man! To all
appearance Charles Lovell was a matter-of-fact person.
Taking hold of work with a will that made the thing go,
whatever it was-leaving nothing to the chance of fortuneliving frugally and paying for everything as he went along —
allowing no anticipations of wealth to spoil the enjoyment of
what he possessed by the honest labor of his hands. And
yet, so far a creature of imagination, that he lived in a poetic
world-the gentle breeze that fanned his cheek, the rippled
waters of the running brook, the loud roar of the coming
tempest, the green earth, the dark blue sky, the trees, the
flowers, and the fruits-all had a voice that spoke at once to
his heart; a glory shone about them, a charm emanated from
them that at times melted him into feelings that he dared not
unfold; he did not write them down, nor utter them to another, but was satisfied to enjoy the luxury of his own kindling thoughts in secret. Nor did his imagination spend itself
on the material world about him. It took strong hold of his
social nature, and its power there was now to be a source of
many a severe pang.
The beautiful image which had come across his path, the
maiden of the spring and the thunder storm, had been about
his path ever since. The object of his waking and sleeping
dreams had now been brought near to him, a creature of
real flesh and blood, and full as captivating as the one he
had been dreaming of, and his heart fluttered with the strong
emotion; he has been weaving a golden net-work, but its
meshes hold him in a strong embrace. He feels powerless
to resist the influence. Reason had often urged the imnpolicy
of his conduct. "How worse than idle, to indulge a thought
of one whom he might never meet again;" and now she
bids him "pause and reflect upon the vast distance between
their positions in life. She, a child favored of fortune, basking in the sunny path, and familiar only with the fairer fruits
and flowers —he far down amid its dull realities, toiling for
the bread of sustenance." But reason might as well have
been quiet, for there he sits upon the rock, and with all the
glories of the opening day about him to quicken the inner
man, is feasting on the scenes of the past evening, and recalling every word she had spoken to him, and every phase of




162            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
her beautiful countenance, and every token of her ingenuous
heart.
"You rise early, sir! good morning to you."
Charles turned, and beheld the person of Captain Halliday,
who had approached him unnoticed. He arose and took the
hand which was held out to him.
" Good morning, sir. I usually rise early. Farmers, you
know, sir, must make the most of the day."
"Farmers! are you a farmer, young man?"
" I am, sir, in a small way."
"A farmer, ha! Well, all I can say is, I wish you some
better trade. I thought they said you was a teacher.
Have n't you taken the school here?"
" Oh yes, sir; but that is only for the winter. There is
little to occupy me at this season of the year."
" Little to occupy you? then you are more lucky than
some other folks. It seems to me that this farming is an
everlasting business; there's no head nor tail to it, one thing
laps on to another; it's enough to worry a man's life and
soul out of him; and the worst of all is, there is an everlasting outgo, and the.incomes all go into the workmen's
pockets and the cattle's bellies.  Oh! dear! dear! dear!
I've been a c —— d fool; excuse me, sir, for plain speaking,
but when a man gets bamboozled into a hornet's nest, and
finds all stings and no honey, it's enough to make a saint
swear. But what do you do with your men when you are
away? let them  eat everything up, and play hocus-pocus
with the rest?"
"I am my own man, sir, and have no special trouble on
that account."
"'Your own man! you don't say you York yourself?
You don't look like it; and yet there's enough of you to strike
a manly blow. Give me your hand. Well, it don't feel as
if it had been used to handling a marlin-spike, and yet I
shouldn't want a blow from it in a tender spot. But tell
me honestly, do you take hold of the plough, and the hoe,
and the ox-team yourself?"
" Yes, sir, and the scythe and the pitch-fork too. All the
work is done entirely by myself and a brother somewhat
younger."
The captain eyed him keenly. "Can you make anything




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   163
by it? Do you realize anything from it? any money? anything but what is all swallowed down again by a parcel of
hungry cows and hogs?"
Charles was about to reply when the sound of a bell was
heard from the back stoop of the house.
" There's the breakfast-bell, sir; come, you. must have an
appetite from this morning air; it's keen, and for my part,
I have been pulling and hauling harder than ever I did at a
main sheet in a gale of wind, trying to haul out a calf that
jumped into the barn-yard well last night."
" In the well! Was it not enclosed, or covered?"
"It ought to have been; but you see, sir, I have had half
a dozen Irishmen stoning a well in my yard; it was an old
concern, and the stones appeared about to tumble in, so they
advised me to take out the stones and relay them, and a
pretty sum it will cost me. I'd better have dug a new one
at once. They were a week taking out the old stones, and
they have been a week putting them in again; and in the
midst of it, one of the blunderheads trips over and down he
goes, bucket and all, to the bottom."
"Did it kill him?" said Charles, with much alarm.
"Kill him! no, no danger of such a fellow's dying. He
broke his leg, though, and he'll be laid up three months, probably, and the doctor and all will look to me for expenses.
And then the dumb fellows went off to their suppers last
night and left the place without the sign of a covering to it,
and the first thing I heard this morning when I got out of
bed was Patrick jabbering away in the kitchen, and asking
them'to call the captain;' so out I went, and found that a
fine English heifer had gone down head first. And so it is
from morning to night; it's nothing but a torment, sir. Sailors are bad enough sometimes; but the laboring men round
here seem only sent into the world to eat and plague other
people.
The scenes of the past evening had done wonders for
Charles, and he had no reason to complain of any want of
respect and attention.
A significant glance from the eye of Miss Adelaide, as the
captain asked, " How breakfast was had in such good season
this morning," assured him that she guessed who had been
her assistant; but no allusion further was made to it. The




164             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
captain, however, was not sparing of praise'for his fine cup
of coffee.
"I have n't had such a cup of coffee these six months. I
should like to know, Sis, where you learned to make it.
Give me a girl that can put her hand to anything; don't you
say so, Mr. Lovell?"
Mr. Lovell would have replied in the affirmative, but
under the circumstances felt rather timid in expressing an
opinion. He smiled, but made no reply. Miss Sally, however, was ready with an answer.
"' I don't know about that, Captain Halliday. I sometimes
think the less ladies know about such matters, the better.
I think men ought n't to marry without they can support a
decent establishment. Just see the wives of our common
farmers; slaves-mere drudges. And what do they look
like?"
"I think," replied the captain, "they look as well as the
men; they are of a piece."
" You may well say that, Captain Halliday. I do think
farming the hatefullest business that a man can pursue; without it is a gentleman farmer. That will do well enough,
such as you are, captain; you always keep yourself neatly
attired, and your style of living is as genteel as need be; as
good as the city any day. But, I mean the real rough-andtumble farmers. Did you ever see one of them but had
great clumsy feet and hands? I would n't marry the best
man that ever breathed, if I knew he was a working farmer;
would you, girls?" tossing her head, and looking towards
the two young ladies, who sat one on each side of Mrs. Halliday, assisting her in waiting upon the table.  Adelaide
blushed deeply, and warded off a reply by just then taking
her uncle's cup to be replenished. But Julia smiling, and
looking towards Mr. Lovell, replied:
" Perhaps all farmers are not alike; there must be exceptions. If I am not mistaken, I have seen Mr. Lovell in a
farmer's rig, but it seemed to be no hinderance to all the
polite address of the gentleman."
It was Charles' turn now to blush; but he managed the
matter as well as he could, and making as low an obeisance
as the circumstances would permit, he replied:
" It is a compliment I did not expect; but I most highly




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   165
prize it, and will remember it for my future encouragement."
" Why, Julia!" said Mrs. Halliday, "where have you ever
seen Mr. Lovell?"
" You will remember, aunt, my telling you how well we
were sheltered last summer during that great storm."
"I am very glad, then, that we have such an opportunity
of making some return to Mr. Lovell for his kind attentions.
The girls mentioned it on their coming home. But how is
it that neither of you seemed to recognize him last evening2?"
Mrs. Halliday had not noticed how much evidence of
recognition Adelaide had manifested.
" It is not at all strange, madam," replied Charles. " Dress
makes a great difference in any of us."
"But I am not going to permit that charge to lie against
me, aunt," and Adelaide, smiling, turned to Mr. Lovell. "I
could have introduced Mr. Lovell to you had I ever been
favored with his name."
" And I felt very sure, aunt," said Julia, also directing her
smiling face to Mr. Lovell, " that I knew Mr. Lovell, but I
had not so good an opportunity as Addy to form an acquaintance."
" Well, well, well, you are all talking riddles to me. But
I tell you what, ladie3, and you, my young friend, dress does
make a great difference with all of us. I found that out
when I went to sea. I never, except in extreme cases, let
my men see me dressed like themselves."
Charles, having finished his breakfast, and perhaps glad of
an excuse, presented his request to Mrs. Halliday, " as he
had an engagement early at the school-room, if he might be
permitted to leave?"
"Certainly, sir, if you wish it."
He arose, and making an easy obeisance to the company,
left the room.
"Did I ever!" and Miss Sally put up both her hands.
"Who would ever have thought of his being a farmer 
And does he really work himself?'
As Adelaide was not forward to reply, Julia at once answered Miss Sally's inquiry.
" He was at work when we first saw him-mowing, or
something of that kind. Addy wanted a drink of water, and




166            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
there was a beautiful spring near the road where he was at
work; and when he saw what she wanted, he came at once,
and helped her to a drink, and I could not but notice him for
his ease of manner, and the neatness of his dress. He wore
a kind of frock, but it was very clean, and sat well on him,
and his shirt collar was as white as snow, Snd lay turned a
little over from his neck; and he had on a neat light-colored
beaver, with a low crown, and brim just large enough to
keep off the sun; and his teeth looked so white, you know he
shows them a little when he smiles, and he -spoke so properly, and everything he did was with such an easy, gentlemanly way, that I could not help being struck with him-and
so was Addy, too."
" Well, well, well, it takes all sorts of folks to make a
world; I must go see to my men, or they will be letting
some more of my beasts get down that well. Wife, do you
expect those folks from the city to-day 2"
" I do, Captain Halliday, and I hope you will do your best
to entertain them. You know they are people that live in
style, and have been used to the best; and won't you leave
me some money, pa? I want to send for some eggs, and our
butter is out, and you know the butcher comes this morning."
"Eggs and butter! well done-with all our cows and hens,
we can't make out without buying. If we keep on so, I tell
you what it is, we shall all have to go to work, and get big
hands and big feet, as Sally says."
Sally was not there, she had left the table with the rest.
" I am serious now, wife; this everlasting drain will clear us
out, depend upon it. Do you know it costs us more to live
than it did in the city; we shall have to sell all out, and I
must ship off to sea again."
" Oh, do, husband, stop with your nonsense. You know
when you get things once all in order, you will be receiving
an income from the farm-it always costs a great deal to begin, you know; and at any rate just now, as the girls are
receiving company. Julia will soon be a rich lady, and ride
in her carriage-Vanderbose is very rich, no doubt of it;
and then Mr. Sampson, who seems to be quite taken with
Addy, is worth all of $500,000, Vanderbose says.
",What, that fellow with a red mop, on his head?"
" Don't talk so, pa —his hair, to be sure, is red, and a little




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   167
too thick; but Addy could soon persuade him to have it
trimmed, and he is not bad looking otherwise."
"Well, well, you must all work it as you like. But don't
you persuade her-money is well enough in its place. I
wish I had more of it, but rather than either of those dear
girls should be married against their wills, I'd weather the
waves and storms as long as I could stand on my legs."
" Not against their wills, certainly, but a good chance
shouldn't be thrown away. It is a very pretty thing, as
Aunt Nabby says,' to live in a fine house, and keep one's
carriage, and have servants in plenty, and all that.'"
" Now, wife, don't be telling me what Nabby says. She
and I never could hitch horses together, and never will. But
how much money do you want?"
"Well, I guess you had better leave me twenty dollars,
for Mary wants her wages, her mother is sick, and she has n't
been paid these two months."
The captain scraped together the twenty dollars, but he
could not help heaving a sigh, as he put his exhausted wallet
back again into his pocket, and went out to see to his men.
The expected company arrived that afternoon, and found
Captain Halliday's carriage in waiting for them at the hotel,
and a small wagon besides to carry the baggage. "A very
convenient arrangement," as Charles, the honest coachman,
said, "for the company, but very hard for horse flesh, to be
lugging back and forth so many folks, with their everlasting
heaps of baggage, so far through the sand; it takes a power
of oats to keep them up in any decent condition, and he
did n't believe the captain would get much thanks for it,
after all."
"Well, but the folks seem so clever," said Mary, the
cook, to whom he made the remark; " and they are so happy,
and they praise our bread and butter so much, and seem so
delighted with our beautiful situation. It does one good to
hear'em."
"Yes, yes, you women would work your fingers off, and
burn your eyes out, if you can only get a little praise. But
I'm a thinking, if the captain aint got a pretty long purse,
what between his Irish ditchers, and his Vermont fence-layers,
and his York friends, he'11 be clean riddled, and he is too
clever a man to be so trod upon."




168            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
The good captain had been much harassed that day with
the blunders of some of his hands, and the wants of others,
and had forgotten all about visitors, until, on his approach
home near supper-time, when just on the brow of the terraced
plot that lay back of his house, he saw a company assembled,
and looking round very complacently upon the grounds and
scenery. Being too near to retreat in order to save appearances, he made his way towards them.
"Captain ILalliday, how do you do " and a gentleman,
with a lady leaning on his arm, stepped briskly up and took
his hand, and shook it with such cordiality as quite astonished the old captain, and his sailor's heart was just susceptible enough to be touched with such a greeting. So he as
cordially returned the salutation.
" Glad to see you, sir; glad to see you; your servant, madam," bowing politely to the lady.
" Mrs. Windham, Captain Halliday."  The captain bowed
again to the lady, "glad to see you, madam."
" George, jump up here," and a fat, bull-headed young gentleman of about sixteen, sprang up from a rock upon which
he was sitting. "Come here, George; captain, this is my son
George,"
"How do you do, sir; your son looks in good health, sir."
"Well, George does not enjoy good health, sir, and it is
mainly on his account we have come into the country so late
in the season, just for a change."' Indeed, madam!"
"There seems to be something the matter with his stomach,
captain, and we have tried most everything, and it seems to
do no good. So I told Mrs. Windharn that I had long wanted to make you a visit up here, as you and I had been old
friends, and I have heard so much said about your situation.
I thought we would just run up and see how your country
bread and butter and fresh air would agree withGeorge."
"Glad to see you, sir; are those the rest of your children?"
" Ah, yes; come here you romps; this is Jane, and here is
Susan, and here is Helen; here, nurse, bring the baby —captain, I want to show you a sight. What do you think of
that." taking off a gauze shawl, and exposing to view a little
chub of a thing, that looked as though it had been stuffing




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   169
from the day of its birth. "What do you say to that, captain?"
" Fat child, sir-fat child; city air seems to agree with your
children."'" With all but our son George; don't you feel like taking a
little bread and milk. You know, mamma, he eat nothing for
dinner but that lamb chop-he would n't touch the dessert; I
suppose milk you make no account of here, captain?"
" Oh no, sir;" the captain could honestly say that; there
was so little came in after the calves had been supplied, that
it was not worth thinking of.
" I thought so —nurse, you go in and take the baby; I guess
she would like some too; and see that George has stale bread
in his milk; I am afraid fresh bread might disagree with
him."
"What a glorious life you must have of it here, Captain
Halliday! everything within yourself. And this air; ah,"
taking in a long breath," it makes one feel ten years younger."
"You have a charming place here, sir," added Mrs. Windham, as the captain made no reply to her husband, his mind
being probably absorbed with the thought how Master
George was to be supplied with milk, knowing, as he did, that
there was scarcely enough for the milk-pitcher.  " Such an
extended view! such picturesque landscape! and there is
such a delightful stillness and quiet withal; it seems as if
nothing could ever trouble one here."
"Trouble! my dear wife, they don't know anything about
trouble in such a place as this. It must be very delightful
for you, captain, after the storms of the ocean to find yourself in such a sunny harbor."
The captain could have told them a different story, but he
merely replied:
" Yes, sir —yes, madam, it is so."
There was a very busy company around the supper-table
that evening, and there was no lack of praises of the bread,
and the butter, and the cream, and the broiled chickens.
Plate after plate disappeared, and were -as fast replenished.
Where they came from the captain hardly knew, and was
quite relieved when he found operations ceased, and the
operators taking themselves into the parlor.
"And now, I want you, wife," said he,-,as he arose from
8




170           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
table, "to ask Mr. Lovell to come into my room, after he
has done his supper; I want to have a little talk with him this
evening."
" Oh, he has had his supper, pa; he has been to tea elsewhere; and what do you think? he came up to me, and
says,'Mrs. Halliday, you have a great many to lodge tonight, and I hope you will allow me to take any place that
might be convenient. I can just as well sleep on a settee, or
anything of the kind, as not.' And it has happened very
well, for now I can take his room for young Windham, as
his mother whispered to me that he liked a room to himself."
The captain not being very particular sometimes, let off
some rather expressive adjectives, and coupled them all with
the fat lubber. But being hushed down by his wife, for
whom he had great regard, ended with an eulogy upon
Lovell.
" He is a man, every inch of him, and it is a pity he should
be turned out of his room for such a-"
" Do-don't, pa. Never mind, you know we have been
expecting them, and so we will treat them politely. You go
to your room, and I will tell Mr. Lovell you want to see
him. How that baby does scream! I am afraid it has taken
too much of the milk; it was not very fresh, but it was the
best I had."
"Good evening, sir, good evening; glad to see you; take a
chair. This, you see, is my room; there is such a run of
folks, what between my wife's friends, and my nieces' friends,
and their friends, that I haul off as soon as decency will permit, and leave them to chat, and dance, and sing by themselves. However, you took me by storm last night. I
have n't heard such music this many a day; it made me
think of days long gone by. But, sit down, sir, sit down."
And Charles, who had been standing out of compliment to
his host, took a seat as requested.
"I am right glad you have come in, for I have been longing to have a talk with you ever since our chat this morning, and, in fact, ever since I saw you; for to speak plain,
my young friend, you are a kind of nondescript that I can't
fathom."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   171
Charles smiled; " I am sorry, sir, if there is anything mysterious about me."
" There is, though, something very mysterious. To look
at you, and hear you speak, and see your manners, one
would take you for a thorough-bred gentleman, and yet, if I
am correctly informed, you are a plain, laboring farmer."
"I hope, sir, the two are not inconsistent with each
other."
The old gentleman was going to use a phrase with which
he was a little too familiar, but his better sense checked him,
so he stammered upon the most expressive words he could
muster of a fair character.
" They are very, very much so, sir; as far from each other
as heaven and earth, at least in this place."
" I am sorry, sir, that such is your experience."
"Why, sir, only look at it. I have, I believe, a dozen
men in my employ, the best I can get, and rather than have
them in my house, have put up one for them, where they
can eat, and sleep, and drink, and be as dirty as they please.
And there is n't one of them that a decent man would want
to room with. And just look around our place, at those
farmers who live on their own land, and do their own work.
They are rough and clownish themselves, and everything
about them is of a piece with them; they have n't the manners of a common sailor."
" What you say, sir, is, I fear, too true, from what little I
have already seen of this place. But, perhaps, the fault is
owing to the peculiarities of this town, rather than to any necessity. So far as I have seen, those who are persons of any
consideration here, do not work themselves. Many here are
from the city, and their habits of life are the same as they
brought with them; and even those who live from the products of their farms, depend upon hired laborers. It is not a
proper farming community, and there is too great a distinction between the master and the man. The more respectable laborers have gone to places less exceptionable in this respect, and you are left with the refuse."'
The captain looked, with his keen eye, steadily at the
young man, and for some time made no reply.
" That is a view of things that has never struck me before.
I don't know but you have got the right of the matter. And




172            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
yet I don't hardly see through the thing, especially in your
case. Now, I've seen something of the world, and know
something of mankind. I can generally tell a minister, a merchant, a laborer, and a lawyer, only let me have a little talk
with them. You was never cut out for a plain, working
farmer, my young friend. You can do a great deal better
than that. Why, you could make your fortune with that
voice of yours, without ever lifting a finger to work, depend
upon it; or you could command a handsome salary as clerk."
Charles shook his head, and a glow spread over his countenance, and his eye sparkled with strong emotion.
"I feel myself too much of a man, sir, to do either. I
am comparatively poor, I know; I own but a small patrimony, but I am my own master there. I work upon my own
soil, I wait upon myself, I am at no man's call; I fear no
man's frown, for no man do I owe. I buy no more than I
can pay for, I live in a plain yet comfortable home, and with
a light heart. I rise in the morning, and go to bed at night.
And behind my plough, or with my hoe in my hand, respect
myself full as much as I should in bargaining with my fellow men as a merchant, or using the powers of my mind as
a lawyer,'to make wrong appear the better side.'"
The captain took his hand and shook it heartily.
" That's a man, that's a man; you have got the right of
it, and depend upon it, with such feelings you will make yourself respected. I see through it now. You feel your calling to be an honorable one, and so it is; and you ieel yourself equal to any."
"Not exactly, sir. I am, as I have said, comparatively
poor. I live in a plainer house than you have erected for
your laborers; and I know that many, either wealthy or able
to live in some style, are not very careful to place those who
are not upon an equality with themselves. I never obtrude
myself, but only as circumstances place me endeavor to act
my part with self-possession. And while I never court the
rich, am not at all abashed in their company."
"Right, that's right again; you have got it. But you
must have been educated. You must have had superior advantages."
" For schooling, I had the advantages which our district
schools afford, nothing further. But my father lived long




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND- THI  LAST..173
enough to cherish in me a taste for reading, and that of the
more solid kind. The few accomplishments which you have
been pleased to speak of, I have obtained in a way which is
open to any person desirous to make himself agreeable, and
who has a taste for the amenities of life. And attention to
our personal appearance I hold to be almost a virtue."
Captain Halliday made no reply, but for some time pondered deeply on the words which came with so much earnestness from the lips of young Lovell; at length he asked:
" But I have one more question to put to you. Can you
make anything by farming 2"
" I cannot expect to make money with the rapidity, nor to
to the extent that some do by other employments. But a
very little money goes a great way in the country, sir."
The old gentleman now straightened himself to a very
erect posture, placed one hand on each knee, and shutting one
eye, screwed his face intb such a vinegar aspect that Charles
had much ado to prevent himself from smiling.
"A  very little money goes a great way in the country!
Young man, I have heard that before; they all preached it
to me before I came; but, sir, I find it takes a --— sight
of money. I can't help it, sir; it aint often that I swear, but
it is more than human nature can stand. It is a great humbug, sir. I believe, sir, as sure as there is a heaven above
us, if John Jacob Astor should only go and buy a farm large
enough, he'd sink his millions, sir, in ten years. He'd be
a poor man. Why, sir, just listen to me. I had a handsome little fortune of thirty thousand dollars clear money.
Ten thousand I paid for this place, of two hundred acres.
Well, at it I went; there were wagons to buy, and ploughs,
and oxen, and horses, and what not. One thousand went
right slap off for these. Well, what was to be done next?
it was spring of the year. I had to buy hay for the cattle, oats
for the horses, meal for the pigs; pork, and tea, and butter, and
sugar, and molasses. As long a list, sir, as I ever laid in for
a voyage to China. Well, they all said,'Oh, it would all
come back again when my crops came in.' But how did it
come back? I cut a good crop of hay, but must n't sell any
of that; the cattle must eat that, or the farmn would run
out; so all that came back from that was a hundred dollars
paid out for harvesting it. I had ten acres of corn, a fair




174            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
crop -I believe. But I mustn't sell that, because the hogs
must be fatted, and the cows must have meal in the winter,
and the hens could n't live by scratching, when the ground
was froze. I had ten acres of oats, but my coachman said
the horses had so much to do, the roads were so bad, and the
loads so heavy, that if we did n't fill their bellies with oats,
they would run down to nothing. And as to milk and butter, we could barely get along with five good cows, and get
milk enough to stuff the bellies of the calves and the Irishmen. Not one solitary cent's worth could I sell. And all
the time it was call, call, call for money. Why, sir, it has
been nothing but dig ditches, build fences, feed creatures, and
keep my pocket-book going from morning to night. People
talk to me about my beautiful place. It may look very
lovely to them, but when a man feels that his life-blood is
running away through his pockets, paradise itself wouldn't
give him any pleasure to look at it."
" I fear, sir, you have had bad advisers. A man needs
experience on a farm as well as in other business."
"_:He'll get it, sir, if he lives on one, no danger of that.
It's all experience from beginning to end. But the great
mystery to me is, how they live! and knowing what I do, to
be frank with you, Mr. Lovell, I can't bear to think that a
fine young fellow, with talents such as you have, should be
tied down to such a business; where a man must live upon
the cattle's leavings, like a wild Indian, without he has got a
pocket with no end to it to draw upon."
Charles saw that the captain was in earnest, and after thanking him for the interest he took in his affairs, in a plain offhand manner unfolded to him his whole situation, the way in
which he and his brother managed, and the gains which he
had realized thus far, and his prospects for the future.
"And now, sir, when everything around me is in such accordance with my feelings —where such enjoyment attends
me in the midst of my occupations, and where every respect
is paid to me by those whose society is really to be prized,
why should I relinquish my calling, and hazard a certain independence, for the cares, and risks, and vexations of a more
enticing profession?"
It was some time before the captain replied; at length he
laid his hand on Lovell's arma:




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   175
"Mr. Lovell, have you any objections to let me accompany
you at some time to your home 2"
" None in the least, sir: but should be most happy to take
your there."
" Done then, it's a bargain; and as soon as my good friends
here, who have come all the way from the city to see me,
have got their fill of broiled chickens, and bread and butter,
and so on, I will be ready.
" It is strange to me to hear people, who come from a place
where there is everything the earth can produce, right under
their noses, talk so much about eating when they get into the
country. One would think they came from the midst of
war, famine, and pestilence."




176            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER X.
CHARLES had not forgotten his engagement with Captain
Halliday, and in about a week after the conversation recorded
in the last chapter, Pomp, rigged up to a neat buggy, was
standing at the gate, and Captain Halliday, with his greatcoat hanging on his arm, in company with Lovell, was opening the gate, and looking with rather a dubious expression at
the sprightly creature, as he threw his ears back and forward,
and pawed the earth in his impatience.
c" You have got a fine horse here, sir, but he looks rather
young and gay; I am no great hand at riding, and prefer
gentle horses."
" He is under perfect command, sir; as much so as ever
your ship was when you had a good helms-man."
"Do you know him 2"
" Oh yes, sir, perfectly-he is my own, sir. I have had
the breaking of him, and keep him here a little while, so as
not to let him lose his good manners."
" Well well, sir, I trust to what you say; but from his
looks I Should rather face a hurricane in a good ship, than be
behin&i m. alone."
The good beast stood perfectly still until they had got
well seatd, and then stepped off with a very moderate gait,
increasing it to a firm, steady trot.
"He treads firmly, and appears to carry us with great
ease; do y'ou say you own him 2"
"'.Yes sir. and have had the pleasure of breaking him to
my own mind. He knows my voice, and I believe would
obey me if everything should break down, and get against
him."
" He is a pretty creature, and I suppose you are very fond
of him."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   177'; Almost too much so, for I find it rather hard being separated; but I shall only keep him up here occasionally. My
brother must have him part of the time, for he is as fond of
him as I am."
" Well, well, I begin to see into things-you make your
business your pleasure-you take care of your own things
yourself, and you get fond of the employment. I suppose
you are your own groom 7"
" I am, sir, and I can go in the darkest night, and harness
him  without the, least trouble, for I know where everything is."
Charles felt some little concern about things at home; not
that he expected to find everything out of' order, or different
from the usual course. But not expecting such an addition
to their little circle, lest Aunt Casey might not be as well
prepared as she would like.
It was quite dark before Charles saw the light from the
cottage twinkling through the trees.  Pomp winnowed as
was his custom, as soon as reined up at the gate, and in a
moment Augustus was running out to meet his favorite. A
cordial greeting passed between the brothers, and then the
captain shook his hand heartily, when Augustus went to caressing Pomp, who by very significant signs was manifesting his
delight at.being again at his home.
" Aye, aye,;' said the captain, " you are all of a piece, you
boys, I see; love one another, and you aint ashamed to show
it; and you love your horse, and he loves you. You will be
happy whether you live in a big house, or a little one. May
you always keep in the track you have got into."
Augustus jumped into the wagon, and Pomp pranced, and
capered away towards the stable, like a boy returning to a
loved home, while Charles led his guest through the little
grove towards the low light that was shining so cheerfully
beyond it.
He opened the door, and at once Captain Halliday was in
the place he had so much desired to see, and, for a moment,
he stood and contemplated the scene. Just before him, near
the centre of the room, stood a table neatly spread for the
evening meal, with everything on it glistening in the light of
a large glass lamp which stood upon it. The knives, and
forks, and plates, and tea set, as highly polished and arranged
8*




178            A LONG LOOK'AHEAD;
in as much order as he was accustomed to see at home.
While, all around the room, each article seemed to be in its
place, and in good condition. All this he saw at a glance,
and then advanced to pay his respects to the matronly
personage who was seated near the fire in an old-fashioned
rocking-chair. One who had known Aunt, Casey in former
days, would have supposed that she had of late forgotten her
widowhood, and "was setting her cap" for a new companion.
Aunt Casey, however, had no such thoughts, but had merely imbibed the spirit of tbhe master of her modest home, and
was making the best of what she had. A neat dark calico
dress, open at the neck and bosom, and displaying there a
very white surplice handkerchief, adorned her person, while a
plain cap, with a small lace border, beyond which her light
brown hair slightly protruded in its parting above her yet
unwrinkled brow, adorned her head. Her chair kept rocking, even after the door had opened, but no sooner did she
see Charles than she sprang towards him, and apparently
forgetful of the presence of a stranger, caught him round the
neck, and gave him a real mother's blessing.
"Aunt Casey, this is Captain Halliday, a gentleman with
whom I am staying."
Perhaps a little abashed at the freedom she had been taking, some little confusion was manifested in her reception,
and she stepped back and made as good a curtsey as she
knew how. But the captain was not satisfied with such a
formal greeting. He advanced towards her, and taking her
hand, shook it as cordially as if she had been an old friend.
" I am very happy to see you, madam, and wish every
young man who has no father nor mother, had as warmhearted and kind a friend as you seem to be."
"' But it aint every young man that is like him, sir; them
that know him as I do, can't help loving him."
"I believe you, madam; somehow or other, he seems to
have got on the right track. He has made a friend of me
already, and I have taken the liberty of coming with him,
just to see his home that he seems to love so much."
The old lady now broke into one of her little short
laughs.
"Well, sir, it is not much of a place, as you see, but we




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   179
try to make the best of it, and may be we are as happy as
many who live in grander houses. I know I am; but please
take a seat, sir, and make yourself as much at home as you
can."
" I will, madam, and with your leave will sit toward your
good fire; it feels pleasant, as the air begins to be a little
keen, especially riding; but shall I not be in your way?"
"Not in the least, sir, if the smell of the victuals won't
be offensive."
" Quite the contrary, madam, I assure you; for the flavor
of them, or something else, ha  iven  me a sharp appetite.
Now don't let me hinder you a moment."
Charles had slipped into the adjoining room, and the old
lady watched an opportunity, as soon as she could, to step
out and have a word with him.'" How glad I am that you have happened in this evening,
for Augustus has killed one of the young turkeys to-day, and
I thought I'd make it into a fricasee, you know he is so fond
of them; if I'd known it though, dear, I should have had it
roasted just for your sake."
" Oh, I shall like it just as well, aunty; I know it will be
good. If you could as well as not, give us a cup of coffee."
Aunt Casey had a way of doing things that was so quiet,
that one who was in a hurry might have some apprehensions
lest she would never get along with the work in hand. But
at half-past six, their hour for supper, everything was upon
the table, and the little family was standing each at the back
of his chair. The captain was too much of a gentleman, even
in such a plain establishment, to take his seat before the mistress of the table; therefore did as he saw the others do.
The old lady looked at Charles, to see whether he would
think it best, under the circumstances, to do as he was accustomed. But Charles had too strong a sense of duty to Him,
whom he acknowledged as the giver of His mercies, to omit
his services to Him, even in the presence of one who did not
thus acknowledge the gift of God. At once his voice was
heard, humbly supplicating a blessing. It was short, but appropriate, and uttered with much feeling. The old lady
wiped her eyes, and all settled to the business before them.
" Well, well, well, madam, you call yourselves poor folks,
but if this is the way you live, I can tell you there are many




180            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
rich folks that might be glad to board with you; bless my
soul, what a supply have you got here."
" I hope it may prove as good as it looks; but it is all you
see, sir, come of our own raisin'."
Taking everything together, it had really a look that was
by no means disagreable to a hungry man. For immediately opposite Charles was a large white platter, well filled
with the turkey, cut into pieces, and sprinkled with a good
supply of light, puffy dumplings. In the centre of the table
was a plate heaped up with smoking biscuit, flanked on one
side with a dish of baked sweet apples, with large cracks in
them, through which the rich juice was forcing its way, and
on the other by a bowl of quince sauce. A liberal plate of
butter, and a glass saucer of plum sweetmeats, completed
the assortment. The latter was, doubtless, together with the
cup of coffee, an addition ill honor of their guest. The captain made no objection to anything that was handed to him,
so that his plate had something the appearance of Jupiter
and his satellites; for there stood around it a saucer with the
largest apple in it, and a little plate with quince sauce, and a
glass saucer of the plums, and his cup of coffee, with the
rich cream  floating on its top. And the captain went to
work with the determination of a man of business. To say
nothing of other things, the baked apples, and the coffee, in
a particular manner seemed to claim his notice.':I should like to know, madam," he remarked, as he
handed his cup to'be filled the third time, " if there is any
such thing as my getting a recipe for the making of this coffee. It is the best I ever tasted in my life."
The old lady broke again into a short laugh, the idea of
her giving a recipe for anything she prepared, was so ridiculous to her.
" I am glad it suits you, sir; we don't often have it for tea,
but Charley told me he thought you might relish it after your
ride. I think the cream, sometimes, makes a great difference
in coffee, and may be the apples give it a relish."
"And do you keep these young men on such fare all the
time?"
Another short laugh.
"Not just the same, sir.  Sometimes we will have a
chicken, maybe, or a slice of ham, or a little fried pork, or




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   181
maybe, a little fresh meat, just as it happens. I think a lit.
tie change is good, and not have the same thing too much.
In the country so, where a butcher only comes once in
awhile, we make things do that we raise ourselve[; and with
a little change in the way of cooking them, I don't see but we
get along quite comfortable."
" I don't see but you do, madam. I don't doubt you live
quite as well as I do, and it costs me, I dare n't say how
much, but a deal of money each year."
"Oh, la! Well you see, sir, the things we mostly use,
are what we raise. The chickens aint much trouble to raise;
it takes a little meal at the first, and a little care, but very
soon they do for themselves, and pick up around what they
want, and then, when the boys harvest, they fat up. And I
had pretty good luck with the turkeys this year; they aint
large, but they're tender and good. And our pork and hams
is our own raising; and the boys sell corn and buckwheat
enough to buy our wheat; and what with potatoes, and apples, and quinces, and such like, as we have, a body with a
little management can make a good variety, without any
outgo of money. And what butter and eggs I sell, buys our
butcher's meat, so that only our sugar, and tea, and coffee,
and molasses, is what we have to buy; and a little family,
you know, sir, don't need spend much for them."
The captain made no reply, but his mind was very busy
revolving the difference between the apparent wants, and
the real comforts of life; and inwardly regretting that he
had not, at a much earlier period, taken a meal at Aunt
Casey's.
" And now, Captain Halliday," said Charles, "I promised
you an opportunity to have your segar; and if you will take
this arm-chair in the corner of our big fire-place, I assure you
no one will be offended by the smoke."
" A capital place-ah me! Why what a comfortable
chair this is; a man might rest in it for the night."
"' And if you will excuse me, for a few moments, as I have
some things to see to at the barn, I will soon be back."
" By all means; I shall be contented here, you may depend."
Charles stepped into his little room, and was soon out
again, arrayed in his working-dress.




182            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" I am fit for rough and tumble now, sir, without the fear
of soiling my clothes."
" Bless my soul! Ah, I see you dress according to your
business. Well, I don't know, if I was a young girl, but I
should fall in love with you as soon in this rig as the other."
Charles smiled, and taking the lantern, he and Augustus
left the room.
" He is a man, every inch of him, put on what dress he
will."
"Indeed he is, sir; there is few like him."
"And he tells me you all live here as one family."
"Ah, yes, sir. You see the boys was left alone, and they
wanted to begin for themselves; and they wanted a home
like, and so Charles proposed to me to find all we wanted to
use in the family, and for me to take care of them. And a
blessed thing it's been for me, for it makes my poor home
so pleasant; it seems like living, now. And then, all my
little airnens, now, I can lay up. Why, sir, only to think the
last season we counted it up one evening, and what do you
think it come to? Twenty-five dollars, clear money, and
I've been making ever since."
The captain could not but meditate a little about the sum,
which the old lady thought of such magnitude. How far
would twenty-five dollars go in his hands!
"I suppose you have but little company."
"Well, not a great deal, sir; and yet there aint but few
evenings when Charles is home, that there aint some one in,
sometimes to tea, sometimes just to spend the evening. You
see, sir, he is much set by, in this place, both by rich and
poor. There's Parson Jamieson, the Episcopal minister, a
lovely man as ever breathed the breath of life, he seems to
look upon him as a brother; and then there's Parson Somers, the Presbyterian minister, he thinks a world of Charles;
and then there's Colonel Johnson, who lives in that large,
old-fashioned; nice house, you see on the road, just afore you
get here, the old colonel clean doats upon him; and'Miss
Lucy, his daughter, she is one of the finest young ladies in
the place, and she treats him as if he was a brothel. But
it's no wonder they love him. And Parson Somers telled
me the other day, that he could go ahead of most of the ministers in the Bible; and it's no wonder, for he is never idle.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   183
The moment he comes in from his work, off he'll go and
change his dress, and fix himself up nice, and sits right down,
looking like any gentleman, and it's write and read, write
and read, all the time. He has got a head full, you may depend on it."
How long the old lady might have gone on, there is no tell.
ing, for it was a theme she never got tired of; but the entrance
of the young men cautioned her that it was time to stop.
Captain Halliday listened to her with deep attention; he
was much interested in her description, and was no doubt
moralizing upon it, but a thought just then came into his mind
in reference to the lady herself.
"1 think Mr. Lovell told me, madam, that your husband
died at sea."
" He did so, sir; he died on the voyage to China."
"In what year?"
c" Well, it was 18-; he was n't well when he left home,
but he said he thought the sea air would revive him, but he
did n't get no better."
"Do you remember the name of the ship?"
"It was the Huntress, sir; but the captain's name I can't so
well remember; it was Halli something; but it seemed to me
it sounded very much like yours, sir; it came into my mind
when Charles mentioned your name, sir, that it was like the
captain of that ship."
"' You are right, madam; your husband's name was John l"
"Oh yes, sir, John Casey."
" The same, madam; the very same; I was the captain of
that ship, and well remember the death of your husband."
"Oh dear, sir; can you tell me anything about him? how
did he die?"
And the tears began to steal down the old lady's cheek,
while Charles and Augustus drew near to the speakers, in their
interest for her.
" He died, madam, as I wish I might die, when my turn
comes, though I fear I am not making the preparation I ought;
I've got so many things to plague my soul with, about this
world's affairs, that I have no chance hardly to think of the
next. But I will tell you all about it, madam; John had not
been well for some time before we got into the latitude
of the Cape, and as we began to feel the chilly winds, as we




184            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ran south to double the Cape of Good Hope, he had to take
to his berth. I saw he was n't fit for duty, and so made him
keep below, and we did what we could for him to make himn
comfortable, but as we had a stormy time of it, and most of
us fbr days together had to be on deck, John would have
fared badly, if it had n't been for a good friend he found in a
young Roman Catholic Priest."
Poor Aunt Casey lifted up her hands and eyes, as though
horror-stricken.
"Don't be alarmed, my good madam, don't be alarmed; I
used to feel towards those fellows as you doubtless do. I am
no Catholic, and aint like, to be, and I've seen a good deal of
their hocus-pocus work, and I don't fancy them. But this
young man, Catholic or no Catholic, was what I call a good
Christian man. He kept very much by himself; was civil
to every one, and in no way disposed to obtrude his opinions
upon any one.
" Sometimes I saw him talking to John; he noticed him
probably because he saw that he looked so pale and miserable.
But as soon as John took to his berth, down he went, and
there you might see him, sometimes talking to him; sometimes giving him some nice thing, which he had got the cook
to fix for him; or giving him his medicine, or something or
other. I felt afraid, sometimes, lest he might be filling the
poor fellow's head full of nonsense, but I did n't like to say
anything, because I saw he knew how to take care of a sick
person better than any of us; so I let it run on until one day
he comes to me, and says he:
"' Poor John is near his end, I believe."
"' So down I went; the sailors seldom have much religion
to spare, and I have often felt a very sad heart, I assure you,
because when standing by the dying bed of some of my men
I had n't a word to say to the poor fellows, that might direct
them on their long and unknown journey. But somehow I
felt as if I must say something to John; I feared he had been
made to believe that the Virgin, or some saint or other, would
take charge of him, and see him safe to Heaven; now I knew
that all of them together would be of no more use at such a
time, than an umbrella in a Typhoon. So I was determined
to find out what the poor fellow thought about the matter.' Well,' said I I John, you seem to be drawing near to port.'




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   185
" I am, sir; I am near my end, captain; and I thank you
for all your kindness to me.'
"' That's neither here nor there, John,' said I;'you was
faithful at your post, when you was well, and it's no more
than my duty to see that you are as well provided for, as circumstances will permit. A ship's steerage is a poor place to
be sick in, anyhow; but John,' said I,' how is it with you
about other matters; you are not long for this world you
know.'
"'I am not, sir; but I have no fears on that account.'' But you know, John,' said I,' we sailors don't generally
keep so good a look-out for the next world, as we do for the
shoals and breakers of the port we are nearing.'
"' I know it, sir, it's too true; but I lay my trust in one
that is mighty to save."
The captain's voice now trembled so as scarcely to enable
him to get out the sentence.
"' Whom do you mean, John 2' said I.
"'I mean,' he said, with his eyes bright and gazing full
upon me,' I mean the Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners. I have been a poor sinner, but he came to save sinners, and he has said, " Whosoever cometh to me I will in
nowise cast out," and I have gone to Him, and my soul is
full of peace."'
Aunt Casey could restrain herself no longer, but, leaning
back in her chair, burst out into a flood of tears, while each
one present, not excepting the old captain, silently joined
with her. As soon as the violence of her feelings had somewhat subsided, she gave vent in words to her feelings of
gratitude.
" The Lord be praised for his mercies to my poor husband.
Bless the Lord, oh my soul."
"I say amen for you, madam, with all my heart."
"But how did it come about, sir? who instructed him?
how did he learn such precious truths?"
"You shall hear, madam. I have told you that my suspicions had been excited lest the young priest had put wrong
notions in his head, but when I heard him express his firm
trust in one-" the captain's voice again faltered, " I felt a
load from my mind.' John,' said I,'I am glad to hear you
speak so. I was afraid that the young man who has been so




186          A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
kind to you, might have been putting some wrong notions
in your head, teaching you to put your trust in some saint or
other. You know he is a Roman Catholic.'
"' I don't know, sir,' said John,'what persuasion he holds
to. I never asked him. Only I know that he has been a
good friend to one that was a stranger to him, and that he
has said precious prayers for me, and has tried to make me
feel that if I would confess all my sins, and believe on the
Lord Jesus Christ, I should be saved; and do you think that
was wrong?'
"'No, John,' said I,'and may God bless him for it.' So
you see, madam, your husband was enabled to die in peace
through the kind offices of a Roman Catholic."
" May the Lord bless him, wherever he is on the face of
the earth."
" I say amen to that too, madam. And now, Mr. Lovell,
what do you say for a start toward home 2"
"The horse is ready, sir, when you say the word."
"Well, madam," rising and taking the old lady by the
hand, "I came to see you out of curiosity, and I have been
highly gratified with my visit. I see that happiness and
good order, and all the decencies of life, can be enjoyed under a very humble roof, and that it would be a great deal
better for us all to think less of show and more of such
things as really contribute to our happiness.  Good-bye,
madam; this is not the last time, I hope, that I shall see
you. "
" Oh I hope not, sir; you have told me that, sir, which
has made me almost too happy. I aint got anything now to
ask for more."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   187
CHAPTER XI.
As the letter which Margaret Simmons had placed in the
hands of Charles Lovell will now be of use in the progress
of our story, it may as well, perhaps, be given to the reader,
witholit further comment.
"MR. CHARLES LOVELL:
1" As I have ever had a sincere respect for you, since we
were children together, and as I know you are now much
thought of and respected by most people, and as you have
not, like many others since I have grown up, passed me by
unnoticed, because fallen into poverty, and especially since,
in an hour of heart-breaking agony, you acted such a kind
and generous part, I cannot bear the thought of leaving the
world without letting you know the cause of that suffering,
nor can I bear the thought that you should think of me, even
after I am dead, worse than I deserve. I have been vain, I
know, and light, and fond of such things as our circumstances could not afford; I have had a fondness for the gayer
things of life; I wanted to break away from my poor condition and take a stand with those who live in the higher
walks of life. Oh, I have had foolish, foolish thoughts about
such things. But they have gone now, the bubble has burst,
my folly has come upon me, bitterly do I suffer, and hope
is gone.
"A  young man, among others that frequented our lone
house for the purpose of fishing, took particular pains to be
agreeable. I heard accidentally that he was very rich. He
was not attractive in his appearance, but he dressed finely,
and seemed to have money to squander; he was at first very
kind to me; I had no adviser; my poor mother, you know,
she had no suspicions. I associated with him. He seemed




188            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
honest and honorable, and offered to marry me, only wished
that it might be secretly done, as his father, who was a very
old and queer man, might disinherit him, if he knew he had
married a poor girl; he could not live long, he said, as he
was then far gone with a cancer, and as soon as he was dead
I should be taken to the city and live in style. Ah, how could
I think a man could want to deceive one whom he seemed
to love, and who was alone and unprotected, as he knew me
to be. I had some fears, but in an evil hour I yielded to his
views and accompanied him to one he said was a clergyman,
in another State, and was married. I took no certificate, I
had no witnesses. For some time all seemed to be well,
although my fears began to arise. All at once the whole
truth was told me, and by Wvhom! by him in whom I had
trusted. On that sad evening, when in my misery you
found me, he revealed to me the terrible fact that our marriage was only a counterfeit, that the ceremony was performed by a companion of his own who for the time assumed
the character of a clergyman, and who had left the country to be
gone many years. In my misery I pleaded with him, but he
merely offered me a purse of gold. The rest you know. I
shall soon be in eternity, and would not add to my guilt by
telling you an untruth. I have reason td think that he never
gave me his right name, from the fact that I find on this ring,
which he took one evening from his finger and put upon
mine, that it has the initials of quite another name engraven
on the inside. I commit it to you. I wish no revenge; but
oh, if you should ever meet him and find some other as foolish
as myself in danger from him, alarm her in season, save her
as you would from the fangs of a deadly serpent. May God
bless you for your kindness to a poor, unhappy, lost girl.; MARGARET SIMMONS."
Margaret Simmons was dead, but Charles believed he had
indeed met with the wretch, who was to all intents her murderer. He could not tell why, but he had always in his own
mind associated the muffled horsemren, whom he had occasionally seen pass his cottage, with the one whom he saw illtreat that poor girl; and also, with the man who was sheltered under his roof, and the attendant upon those lovely females during that summer storm. He had, as we have seen,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   189
again met him; he has heard his name-has been introduced,
and is at times an occupant of the same habitation. The
ring Charles still retained, and the initial letters engraved on
its interior were V. D. H. He had, as opportunity offered,
examined the gentleman's hand; it had never labored, was
delicate as many a lady's. Why Mr. Vanderbose should
treat him with such marked incivility he could not imagine,
unless suspicious that the eye of Lovell had been upon him
in his secret visits to the region where he lived. But for his
incivility, Charles cared not. The injunction of the wretched
Margaret bore upon his mind. He feared not, indeed, that.
the miserable coward would dare venture to trifle with one
situated as this young lady was; but how could he bear the
thought that virtue and loveliness should be in the power of
such an one, although shielded by all the defence and protection of the most sure marriage.
Charles had probably never read the instructive history
of the hero of La Mancha. Nor had he experience enough
of worldly matters to have learned the lesson-that there are
a great many evils which cannot very well be righted here.
He felt sure that one of those bright and sunny beings who
flitted about in his presence, as emblems of innocence and
love, was in danger of throwing away her young and happy
life by connection with a man without virtue, without honor,
without even the common feelings of humanity, and his spirit
was troubled within him, and he resolved to do what he
could to prevent it.
A few days after the visit recorded in the last chapter,
Captain Halliday requested him to take a walk to his barns,
and see some of his tine stock. It was late in the afternoon,
just after his return from school, and the last day that Charles
expected to remain at the house where he had been treated
so kindly.
"': I1 know that you are a good judge of horseflesh, Mr. Lovell. I want to see if you know anything about cows. You
know, I suppose, that I have a fine stock of foreign cattle l"
" I have heard you had, sir; I should very much like to
look at them."
"Come along then. I take some pleasure in showing
them, and that is pretty much all the good they have done
me as yet."




190            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Are they not profitable, sir, as milkers? I have heard
great stories of the quantity of milk and butter such creatures yield."
"Well, it's pretty much like the rest of the story I've
told you about my farm; everything seems to end like the
battle between the Kilkenny cats-there is nothing left
worth mentioning. The cows, you see, in the first place, cost
a thundering sight of money. I dare not tell you how much,
for fear you will think Ine a greater fool than I really am.
Well, since I gave so much for them, why of course -they
must have extra care taken of them, and so I have hired an
Englishman who professes to know all about such matters.
I give him fifteen dollars a month, and ground enough to
raise what he wants for his own family, and to pasture a cow;
one hundred and eighty dollars a year, money out of pocket,
besides other things."
"I suppose, sir, you sell milk and butter enough to ballance that?"
"Sell milk and butter! Why, Mr. Lovell, I have bought
more than half my butter since I have been here."
As they were walking together, Charles turned towards the
captain a look of great astonishment.
" You may well look astonished, my young friend, for it's
been a matter of great wonderment to me;. and sometimes
-but it does no good, I know-but I can't help it; it makes
me swear. People say to me,' Captain Halliday, how independent you must live; your own milk, and butter, and all
that.' But, sir, I tell you how it is; you see they have
calves; well, if it was common stock, why they would be
fatted in a short time, and then go off to the butcher, and we
should have the milk. But these calves are too pretty to
sell; all'ring-streaked, speckled and spotted;' that fellow
will say to me,'Captain Halliday, you would n't think of
parting with that calf; it's a picture of a creature,' and then
go on with a long lingo, showing me its fine points, and all
that; and so, fool-like, I let him have his way. And then
the calf is so fine, that he must have the best of keeping-all
the cow's milk, and more too, if he can drink it."
" But I suppose you sell them sometimes, sir, after they
are somewhat grown; such stock bring high prices in our
country."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   191
"There, too, is another tail to the end of that kite.
Whenever I talk of selling some of the larger creatures,
they all join in a cry against it. Why, Captain Halliday!
if you sell your stock what will become of the farm —it will
all run out; the more stock a man can keep the better for
the farm. So you see, sir, how it is-the hay, and corn, and
oats can't be sold, because the cattle want them, and the cattle can't be sold, because the farm will go to ruin without
them; and what the —, Mr. Lovell, I don't like to say bad
words before you-but what under heaven is to be left for
me? Don't you see, sir, nothing but to pay the clown's wages,
stuff their bellies, and provide for my family as I can."
They had stopped by the bars, and the captain was standing, with one hand hold of the post, and with the other
making such significant gestures as the excitement of the
occasion demanded, for he had worked himself up, as he always did, when upon this subject.
" And that aint all, Mr. Lovell. I like hospitality, sir-I
like to receive it abroad, and I like to exercise it at home.
But, sir, I tell you," he spoke now in a whisper; "between
you and me, and this post, this entertaining of folks, who
come and throw themselves upon you, as if you was common
property-folks, too, that have no more claim than mere
passing acquaintance, who would n't put their hands in their
pocket for a York sixpence to save me from limbo, and who
seem to feel that they lay me under obligations by praising
my fine situation, and all that; I tell you, sir, it aint the
thing —I'm tired of it. But come, let's get over the bars,
and see the stock."
Charles was too much of a farmer not to be able to appreciate the beautiful creatures, and soon showed that he was no
novice, by at once pointing out here and there an animal that
exhibited the right marks. One especially he singled out as
the most perfect of its kind, and was very warm in his
praises.
"Aha! I see, sir," said the dairyman; " the young man is
no fool about the matter-he's picked out Daisy among the
whole herd. Ah, sir, she's a picture-what delicate horns,
and such a slim neck, and look along her back, Captain Halliday, as straight as an arrow, and so broad across the hips; and
what a fine yellow bag, and the teats large and well set; and




192             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
her legs, sir- did you ever see straighter limbs on a race
horse? Ah, sir, she's a beauty-I've often told you."
The captain had indeed heard the story often before-he
knew it pretty well by heart.
" And how much milk do you say she gives, Mr. Bronson 2'
"Milk, sir! oh, there's no telling how much, but there's
a power of it, sir; you see, sir, I lets the calf take as much
as he wants, and then I milks her, and feeds the two other
calves; so you see with that, sir-so that with the help of a
little oil cake, the other two are as sleek as any mole, sir,
you ever see."'" Show us the calf, Bronson; where is it? I want Mr.
Lovell to see her calf."7
" That I will, sir; and if he or any other man ever saw a
finer, then my name aint Bronson McGaw, that's all."
And so Mr. Bronson McGaw sprang into the stable, and
in a moment more out he jumped again, with the calf behind
his heels, jumping and kicking, and in high glee, with the
sight of its dam.
" I never.saw a more beautiful creature, sir —spotted, too,
exactly like its mother.  How old is it, sir?"
" That is more than I know-old enough to kill, and fat
enough too, I should think."'Aha, Captain Halliday, you would n't think of such a
thing, to sell Daisy's calf, and a heifer too-it would be like
cutting your own throat, sir, indeed it would."
"' Such a calf as that, sir, with the fine qualities of the
mother, should not be killed, sir. I agree with 1Mr. Bronson
there."
"You fancy it then, do you?" said the captain, eyeing
Charles with a slight smile playing at the corners of his
mouth.
" I do indeed think, sir, that I never saw its equal; and
how old did you say it was?" turning to Mr. McGaw.
"Just six weeks and a day old, sir."
"It is very large, indeed, for one of that age; I should not
have been surprised if you had said three months, instead of
six weeks."
" Mr. Lovell, step round here, will you?" Charles followed the captain to some little distance, while the man let




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   193
the calf get at its mother, still holding the end of the rope in
his hand, and muttering to himself something about the
wickedness of slaying a creature of the like of that. When
the captain had got far enough to be out of hearing, he turned
to Charles.
"Mr. Lovell, it aint often that I have met with a man,
young or old, that I have taken the fancy to that I have to
you; nor one from whom I have learned so many things,
that might have been profitable to me, and may yet be. But
that aint to the purpose. That calf, I agree with you, is too
good to kill. If I should try to sell him, ten chances to one
they would n't give me one quarter what it is worth. Now,
if you will accept of it, as a present from a friend," taking the
hand of Charles, and giving. it a hearty grasp, " you shall
have it."
Charles was utterly confounded. It was, indeed, in his
circumstances, a most valuable gift; but he felt a great
delicacy in accepting it, lest it should be like taking advantage of a noble heart.
" Captain Halliday, I thank you most heartily for the kind
feelings you are pleased to express towards me. You have
treated me with unexpected attention since I have been with
you, and both yourself and family have laid me under obligations that I cannot well express. From our relative positions, I had no right to expect anything beyond mere
civility. I have received nothing but courtesy and kindness."
Charles blushed deeply, for he was much excited.
" I understand, sir, what you mean by our'relative positions in society.' I have seen too much of the world to be
affected by such matters. Your conduct, while with us, has
been that of a gentleman, and your manliness in upholding
your own calling, although one that demands hearty toil, has
won my sincere respect; and I am glad of this opportunity
to acknowledge it. The trifling gift I offer is merely that you
may have some memento of one who values your friendship."
" I cannot, under such circumstances, refuse to take what
would be to me of great value; but I hope, sir, the friendship
which you have been pleased to offer me will not need such
a token of remembrance."
"I hope not, sir; but the creature is yours, and I will send
9




lA LONG LOOK AHEAD;
my man with it any day that you say. Young Daisy will
be in good hands. Ah, that old woman! Some may look
down upon her, but I tell you, young man, she has a warm
heart; and I hope you will stick to her, so long as she has a
pulse to beat."
" Never fear that, sir; I should as soon think now of deserting a parent."
" I believe you. But don't you say a word to that Englishman what kind of a bargain we have made for that calf;
if he thought it was going for nothing, as he would call it, he
would be almost tempted to poison it. And now, come, let's
home again; and when you get through with the ladies tonight, just give me a call in my room."
Charles was very glad of the invitation, as he had made
up his mind to reveal some things which he knew, and whi;gh
he rightly thought, concerned the future happiness of one, at
least, of those in whom the good-hearted' old gentleman was:
deeply interested. How he should introduce the subject, or'what he might or ought to say, were matters which he left as
occasion might demand, or an opportunity offer.
It was some time, however, before any such opportunity offered, until at length the captain happened to ask him if he
had ever seen the new house on Roder's Point.
Only at a distance, sir'?"
"Well, it's a costly building, and a fine view from  it,
although not just to my mind. I hope, however, the poor
thing will be happy in it."
"Then it is decided, is it, Captain Halliday, that Miss Julia
is to be married to Mr. Vanderbose?"
"Pretty much so, I suppose."
" Do you know him, sir? that is, have you been long acquainted with him?"
"Bless your heart, I don't know much about him. All I
know is this, if he don't treat her handsomely, like a gentleman and a husband should, I'll wring his neck; I'11 wring any
man's neck who should treat either of those dear girls ill.
You see, Mr. Lovell, they are both my nieces; one of them,
Julia, is the niece of my wife, and the other is my own sister's
daughter; but that make no difference to me. My wifi and
I are one, and her relations are my relations. I don't know
any difference, and never mean to. I love them both alike,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   195
and they both love me, and I should like to see the man living that should dare to treat them otherwise than kindly."
" There would be little danger, sir, that any man who deserves the name could do otherwise. But, sir, ladies with
the fine feelings which your nieces seem to possess, and who
have been nourished so affectionately, may suffer untold
agony from one to whom they might be united, who had no
heart to give them in return."
" That is very true; but men don't carry hearts now a-days;
and if girls are willing to take them without, how is it to
be helped?"
As Charles could not say, he was'liged to be silent; it
was a phase of the case he had not thought of.'
"You see, Mr. Lovell, I'll tell you how it is; when these
tw-o girls came under my care, they were little bits of things,
and I took them and did by them just as if they were my
own, and always meant to. Well, they grew up, and between you and me, not very bad looking; spry, lively, good,
honest-hearted, handsome girls. Well, as they began to go
out into the world, and folks began to crowd round them, and
it was seen that they were going to be something more than
common, Aunt Nabby —you have heard them speak of her?"
"I have not, sir."
" Well, I must tell you then; they have got an Aunt Nabby;
she is my sister, and that's all; I can't say that we are much
alike; we never hitch horses together, at any rate. But you
see, she is rich; she is her own boss-a widow; she lives in
the city, keeps her carriage, liveried servants, and all that,
and is just as fond of making a show as ever a peacock was
of spreading his fine feathers out to the sun. Well, it struck
Aunt Nabby that it would be a fine thing for her to have
the girls in her big house, to fill it up a little, and bring
company to it; and a fine thing for them to have such a
chance as she could give them, to ii troduce them among
what she calls the first company; and,  make a long story
short, in fine, she was to make them her heirs. So you see,
they are heiresses to a pretty considerable estate, that is, if
they ever get it; and here's the rub, they hate got to do as she
says-you understand?"
Mr. Lovell assented that he did.
"Now, my sister thinks that money is the first and the




196            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
last of all earthly good, and an angel from heaven would be
nothing to her if he had no bonds and mortgages, or stocks,
or houses and lots in the city; he'd stand no chance at all;
he would n't have, even a hearing. I'm afraid this segar
smoke troubles you-you look pale, I'11 throw it away."
"By no means, sir; it is not at all offensive."
"Well, now you know well enough, or I hope you do, that
I am not just of a mind with Aunt Nabby about this. But
what was I to do 2 I must either say no-they shall never
be under her influence, and be taught that money is the God
to be worshipped, and so cut off all expectations for them
from her —or I must give in, and let her do by them as she
has promised, and let them take their chance. You see, my
young friend, I have told you a little how confusedly things
have gone with me up here, and I don't see but I must pull
up stakes, and off to sea again; now in that case, you see, it
would be better they should be in the good graces of one
who can do well by them, and she does the thing that's
handsome; you see, she is proud of them, and well she may
be. But I must say she does well by them."
It was some time before Charles could find anything to say
in reply; the revelation made to him had shut up all his
ideas, and brought a sort of faintness over his heart. In a
little while, the captain having lighted another segar, after
being again assured by Charles that it was not disagreeable
to him, resumed the subject.
"' You asked me, Mr. Lovell, if I knew this Vanderbose;
I knew his old father, a little chunky German- -he used to
keep a corner grocery. I've seen him many a time behind
the counter, with his tow apron on, dealing out liquor to the
darkies, that used to sit in gangs around his door. How he
made so much money is a mystery to me. But he is done
selling drams now, and has gone where he could n't take his
money with him, and this son of his is the only heir.
" I don't know so much about him as I could wish. He is
one of Aunt Nabby's'respectable society,' as she calls the
circle she gathers about her, and the match I suppose is pretty
much of her making.
" And that chum of his is another-the chap with the red
hair. They say he is fishing for Addy. I let them alonelet them work it as they think best. If girls will have




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   197
money, and choose to take men without brains, or hearts
either, they must do so; all I do is to say to them,' don't you marry by the persuasion of man or womanmake up your own minds, and when you want your old
uncle's advice, or his care or protection, you shall have it
while I can stand on my legs, or raise my arm.'"'
Charles felt that to volunteer advice, under such circumstance, would be worse than idle; and his first attempt to
right some of the wrongs of life has only resulted in blasting
the fond hopes he had been cherishing, and scattering into
confusion some of the beautiful fancies which he has often
and long indulged.




198            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XII.
THE wall of partition which had been so happily broken
down between the two pastors at Milton, was to both a matter of continued thankfulness. A pleasant interchange of
visits at each other's study was weekly enjoyed by them,
and generally on the day immediately succeeding the Sabbath. They could there compare the subjects which each
mind had been led to dwell upon, and their trains of thought.
They could ask counsel one of another, and sympathize in
difficulties each had to encounter, and by converse on their
duties, and trials, and encouragements, and glorious hopes,
strengthen each other for the work to which each was assigned in the vineyard of their Master.
"But I have been thinking," said Mr. Jamieson to his
elder brother on one of these occasions, "since I find so
much advantage in the enjoyment of your long experience
in the ministry, whether we might not embrace in our circle
the young man who labors in our vicinity among the Methodists. Do you know him, brother Somers?"
"I must confess with shame, that I do not. I cannot say
that I have ever seen him. There is a good deal of prejudice in the minds of my people against that persuasion, and
from what I occasionally hear, I suppose the same evil exists
among them; they are prejudiced against us."
"Such things ought not so to be; and yet, constituted as
we all are, we must expect this hinderance to the power of
the gospel. What a pity we can't exercise our belief, and
pursue our great work, in the spirit of an enlarged charity
for others, who differ on some non-essential points."
" It is indeed to be lamented. And so far as in us lies, we
should each of' us, each Christian minister and Christian man,
free himself from all such feelings as would hinder the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   199
full flow of heavenly charity. You asked me if I was acquainted with Mr. Foster-his name is Foster, is it not?"
"It is, sir."
" I have never seen him, to my knowledge; but I cannot
say that I have not heard of him; for he is engaged to be
married to a very lovely young lady, who is often at my
house;'and if he is worthy of her, and at all fit to be her
companion, he must be a man of some excellence."'
" What do you think, brother Somers, of making him a
call; perhaps he may take it kindly?"
"With all my heart; it certainly can do no harm, and
who knows what may come out of it. Do you know where
he lives?"
"I believe I do, sir, and if agreeable to you will appoint
to-morrow morning for the visit."
" I will be ready."
As the distance to the dwelling of Mr. Foster was rather
too far a walk from the house of Mr. Somers, Mr. Jamieson
had procured a conveyance, and was on his way to the latter,
when his eye was attraced by a traveller on foot, walking in
the path by the fence, and going in the direction of his own
place of residence. As it might be one of his own people
about to call on him, he slackened his pace, and as they drew
near, so that he could recognize the countenance, turned his
horse's head towards the fence, drove up to the foot-path and
jumped out.
"Brother Foster, how do you do this morning? I am
glad that we have met, for I was just on my way to your
house."
The person addressed was a young man, a few years the
junior of Mr. Jamieson. He was of rather a delicate frame,
his countenance agreeable, though somewhat pale, and with
an eye of peculiar softness, giving an impression of deep and
tender feeling.
He was evidently much surprised at the salutation, for his
cheek flushed, and he put out his hand and received the cordial grasp, and returned it as heartily, without speaking, until
~Mr. Jamieson had again said that he was about to call upon
him.
"I am very happy then, sir, to have met you, for I was on
my way to see you. I was wishing to thank you, Mr. Jamie



200            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
son, for your attention to that afflicted family during my
absence."
"You mean where the young woman died? I felt delicate
at first about going in to see them, as they did not belong to
my charge particularly, but being in the neighborhood, and
hearing that you were away, and that the young woman was
very low, I ventured to call."
"And you were enabled to afford great consolation, not
only to the dying one, but to all the family; and I felt that
I could not do less than call upon you, and acknowledge your
kindness, although I have never had the pleasure of an introduction."
" I believe we shall not need that formality now; and as
I am on my way to the house of Mr. Somers, who was to
accompany me in my visit to you, will you not jump in
with me and ride there' 
As the young man hesitated, Mr. Jamieson resumed:
"If you have an engagement that demands attention, I
will not urge you, and we can all meet at some other time."
"I have no engagement that need prevent; nor is it because it would not be most grateful to my feelings; but
you know, Mr. Jamieson, that Mr. Somers is a much older
man than myself; he has been long the established minister
in this region; he stands very high in the community, andand-perhaps does not feel friendly to our persuasion,
and -"
" Stop, brother Foster, stop, and just let me say to you,
dismiss all such ideas at once. Mr. Somers stands high, I
know, and deservedly so; he has commanding talents, and a
strong hold of the respect and affection of the community.
But he hasa noble spirit, above all sectarian prejudice; or, if
he has been influenced by it, is ready to break the fetters,
and embrace every true-hearted minister or Christian, with
affection. I will guarantee you a cordial reception."
Without further hesitancy, Mr. Foster entered the carriage,
and in a short time both gentlemen were seated in the pleasant study of Mr. Somers, and admiring the order in which
everything was arranged, and the valuable collection of works
that extended over the entire surface of two sides of the room.
The reverend gentleman soon made his appearance, and
as he entered both of the young men arose.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   201
"I have the pleasure of introducing to you our brother,
whom we had designed to call upon this morning. Brother
Foster, Mr. Somers.."
Mr. Somers took the hand of the young man, and for a
moment was silent; he was evidently much affected.
" This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.
Brother, you will pardon me that I have suffered you so long
to be laboring near me, and have taken no more pains to become acquainted with you, and to sustain you in your work."
"And I take this opportunity, also, brother Foster,"' said
Mr. Jamieson "to acknowledge my deficiencies in this respect; but, I assure you, it has not been from any feeling of
opposition; but rather from a suspicion that you cared not
for the fellowship of one of my persuasion."
As Mr. Foster replied, a tear fell upon his pale cheek, and
his words came forth in trembling accents.
"And I, brethren, have also pardon to ask of each of you,
for the same cause and for the same reason which Mr. Jamieson has just mentioned. I have kept away from you; I have
indulged wrong suspicions; I am young; I am poor; I am
obliged to labor hard some days in the week in order to gain
my daily bread; and I felt —I know now it was wrong-but I
felt that you-that you-"
" Looked down upon you? Not just so, brother Foster, not
just so, I do assure you, and I can speak for brother Jamieson
also: we have not looked down upon you; and especially
could we not do so on account of your poverty, for we are
ourselves not over-burdened with this world's goods."
"Perhaps not, brethren; I know, that very few of those
who preach the gospel, of any denomination, have much to
spare from their yearly allowance. But when I say that I am
poor, it is a poverty that can be felt. You, probably, have no
idea how small a stipend I receive; only one hundred dollars."
" One hundred dollars a year!!!" exclaimed both the listeners at once.
"That is all, brethren."
"And how, my dear brother, can you sustain yourself?
how can you clothe yourself'? how can you provide yourself
with the hooks which are almost a necessary of life?"
st want, Mbr. Somers, I have suffered from most




202            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
keenly; for, although I pretend to no great scholarship, yet
my mind has a longing for more intellectual food than I have
ever yet been able to supply it with, and especially for that
knowledge which would enable me better to fulfil my ministry. And I must confess to you, that as I have passed your
house occasionally, my eye has turned towards this pleasant
study, and the books which line these walls; and I fear I have
indulged, on such occasions, too much of a feeling allied to
envy, for I contrasted it with my own narrow closet, and my
few old volumes."
" Perhaps, my dear young brother, that closet you speak
of can testify to more ardent prayers, and richer communings with your Saviour, than my better room. But one
thing you must promise me, that you will come to my house,
and make free use of whatever my library affords. Let us
be no longer strangers to each other's wants. But how is it
that you can live on your salary? You surely have no one
but yourself to support?"
" I have an aged mother dependent on me. The salary I
receive is deemed by our society sufficient for a single man;
and whatever it may fall short of supplying, must be made
up in some way by my own exertions, either by labor in the
shop, or field, or in teaching school. My health has not allowed of the confinement of the latter employment, and I
have therefore resorted to labor in the field. But I often
think it would be much better for my hearers, as well as
pleasanter for myself, if it could be otherwise. Perhaps,
though, the toil is needed, and the self denial I am obliged to
practice, a wholesome discipline."
"Well, well, I find I am not too old to learn, and I hope I
am not too old to profit. But let us understand one another
for the future. We are ministers of Christ, thrown together,
by the providence of God, in a part of his vineyard. Some
of our views on some points differ. Now, we want to have
an understanding together as to some essential points, on
which we can heartily agree. And as Brother Jamieson and
I were about to call upon you this morning, I have thought
the matter over to see if there was not a basis on which we
three could stand together, and go hand in hand to the
work."
"I have no doubt there is," said Mr. Foster; "and I should




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   203
be very glad, for one, to have you, sir, make out such a platform."
"And so should I," responded Mr. Jamieson.
"Well, brethren, here it is; the creed is a very short one:
"1. That we are all lost sinners; and that our only hope
for salvation is in and through the blood and merits of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
" 2. That our union to Him can only be accomplished by
repentance for our sins, and faith in his atoning blood. And
that these must be wrought in us by the power of the Holy
Spirit.
" Can you subscribe to these, brethren?"
"With all our heart," replied each of the young men.
" Then, here let us stand, brethren. It is a glorious platform, based on an everlasting rock."
" Glory to God," shouted out the young Methodist. His
heart was overflowing, and he had thus been accustomed to
let out his feelings.
"Amen," said Mr. Jamieson, his eye sparkling with unusual emotion.
"On this platform, brethren, we can labor shoulder to
shoulder. We will try to win souls to the Saviour. We
will cherish a spirit of love among all our people. We
will show to the world, that although we may have different
opinions about forms of worship, and forms of government,
and even about some of the doctrines of our faith, yet upon
those which are essential to us as Christians, we are agreed,
heart and soul."
"Amen-Glory to God," again burst from the lips of the
excited youth.
"And so say I, too, my dear brother, Glory to God;" and
the good old man sat down, overcome by the strong emotions of his heart, and covered his face.
For some time each sat in silence pondering on the happy
relation which had now been established between them. At
length Mr. Somers again opened the conversation, by proposing a plan for action that might have a tendency to create
harmony and kind feeling, and a Christian sympathy between
their different denominations, without interfering with the
particular and stated duties of each pastor, in his appointed
place.




204            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"My proposition, brethren, is this: that at some central
point we hold a union meeting once a month, and invite our
several congregations to attend. What think you of it?"
" Good, good," was the ready response of both the young
mPen.
"The most central spot which I can now think of, is the
large room lately fitted up for public meetings, of a secular
kind-perhaps that fact may prove objectionable to you,
brother Jamieson?"
Mr. Jamieson reflected a moment.
"Perhaps, brother, I differ from you in my views of the
sacredness of the place consecrated to religious worship. I
should be very unwilling to see the house which has been
set apart most solemnly for the express purpose of worship,
made use of for anything that was not strictly such. But I
can see no reason why we may not make use of any place,
not notoriously desecrated by improper uses, to proclaim the
gospel, or for prayer. Our Saviour gathered the multitudes
around him in the market places, and Paul preached in the
Areopagus, and in the Roman theatre. I can see no reason
why we should be afraid to gather our people in a room,
which as yet has only been used for civil and proper purposes."
" If you are agreed, then, we will- give notices from our
pulpits the next Lord's day, that a union meeting will be held
in the new Town Hall, a fortnight from this evening. It
may not succeed; many may be startled by the announcement, and some offended. But I cannot but hope good will
come of it."
Both the young ministers acquiesced in the arrangement,
and with kindly greetings left the study of Mr. Somers for
their respective homes.
As Mr. Somers had anticipated, the notice from his pulpit
produced much excitement for a few days; but as they knew
that their pastor was not easily to be turned aside, and as
Deacon Rice, the most influential among them, was very still
about the matter, all was hushed up, and most of the people
soon became anxious for the evening to come, that they might
see how the thing would work.
In 1Sr. Jamnieson's church things assumed a serious aspect;
many old ladies were much alarmed, and disgusted, and so




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   205
busy were they in stirring up a breeze, that it was thought
prudent to send two of their leading men to speak with the
reverend gentleman on the subject, and see what could be
done to stop the proceedings.
The two gentlemen selected were our friends, old Col.
Johnson and Esquire Jones.
The colonel we know pretty well, and will need no introduction; Esquire Jones was a well-meaning man-not very
fond of argument, and generally ready, if the thing was n't
too bad, to let the point go rather than be obliged to talk too
much about it.
Mr. Jamieson received the gentlemen with all that kindness of manner which was so habitual to him.
"Esquire Jones and myself have called upon you, this
morning, sir, to talk over matters and things concerning our
church.
" It seems that some of our good people have been much
stirred up about the-the notice you gave out on the last
Sabbath. I hear that some feel afraid that you are breaking
the rules of our church, and others that you are turning
Methodist or Presbyterian, or something or other of that
kind; and they say that you even pray sometimes without a
book, and are about to do away with the necessity of a consecrated church, by countenancirg religious worship in places
where such things ought not to be.
"Now, sir, I tell you what they say, and we are ready to
hear your story on the other side."
The colonel had assumed a very serious air, and looked
steadily at Mr. Jamieson all the time he was speaking,
while Esquire Jones sat twisting his thumbs together, and
looking at the colonel.
Mr. Jamieson, in a very ready manner, opened the whole
matter before them, by giving an account of his proceedings
hitherto, and of the commencement and design of the present plan. The colonel listened very attentively, turning
his eye. occasionally towards Esquire Jones, who, at such
times, looked towards him, and by winking significantly,
manifested that he comprehended the thing.
The colonel waited until Mr. Jamieson had made a full
explanation, before he attempted a reply.
"Then it seems, sir, that all you design, and those con



206            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
nected with you, is merely to get us together in a kind of
Christian manner, just by way of getting us a little used to
one another's ways before we get to heaven; and to try to
get up a little of that sort of feeling which we have every
reason to believe will be most current there. Not a bad
idea, it strikes me, sir-not a bad idea. What do you think,
squire?"
" I think so too."
" It has always seemed to me, squire, and you, reverend
sir, rather a puzzler how we are all going to get along when'
we come to be thrust, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Baptists,
Methodists, Quakers, and what not, all together in that
blessed world, where there is to be no jarring, nor confusion
of any kind, and so bitter as some of us are against those
that differ from us. I say it's been a puzzler to me how the
thing was to be managed. Now, this seems to me a little
like making the right kind of preparation. What do you
think, squire 2"
"I think so too."
"And we may then tell the good folks, Mr. Jamieson, that
you have no designs whatever against our particular creed,
or forms, or regulations; and that they need n't be afraid of
being taken up and dipped bodily in the water during this
cold weather, nor of being knocked down and converted by
a Methodist. And as to the prayer-book, and the impropriety of using a place for prayer that was n't consecrated to
that purpose, I shall ask them, shall I? if they ever read of
Jonah in the whale's belly, and whether he did n't say a
prayer in there? and he must have done it without a book.
Don't you think so, squire?"
"He must in fact."
"So you see, reverend sir, you can just go on with your
plan of trying to get things put a little into something of a
Christian shape. And it's my candid belief, sir, if the thing
could be done, and you, and your brother ministers, could
just get us all together, if we did n't do anything more-than just
to shake hands, and say how do you do to one another, it
will be a great deal better than to have us all go on as we
have, fighting, and scratching, and scolding, and snarling with
one another, to the very gate of heaven. We shall have to
be civil if we get there, and the great question with me is,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   207
and it's a puzzler too, how we are going to mend our manners so quick?
"' As the tree falls so it lies.' What do you say, squire?"
"I should think it would."
"Colonel Johnson, I think you have expressed a great truth,
although you have used some hard figures. Charity is to be
the grace that will distinguish the children of God, when Faith
and Hope shall have accomplished their work. Without it,
there can be no heaven for us in the presence of God, for God
is love.  I fear we have too long forgotten this glorious
truth. Without cultivating, and practising the grace here, we
can hardly be said to be educating for heaven."
The old colonel arose and grasped the hand of his young
minister, and cordially shook it.
" You have got the marrow of the thing now, sir; and have
expressed the beautiful idea in more becoming language than
I have done, I must confess. I have not long to stay in this
world, I know; but I should like, before I die, to see something
done by way of breaking down this hateful wall of partition
between those who no doubt in heart mean to do right. Go
on, sir, go on, and you shall have my most cordial support;
and tell your brother ministers, that whatever old colonel
Johnson can do to help on with the great object, shall be done
with a right good will."
"I shall be most happy to do so."
"Well, Squire Jones, if we have nothing further to say
to our minister, we may as well be going."
"Nothing further, sir. I think we had better be going.
All very satisfactory."




208           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XIII.
THOSE who have never made the country their home
through all seasons of the year, have often very erroneous
ideas concerning its winters. The shivering citizen, muffled
in his cloak, and battling with the searching winds that sweep
between the high ranks of brick walls, longs to reach his
dwelling; and as he bolts the door behind him, and hastens
to his parlor fire-side, blesses his stars that he does not live
in the naked country, where winds and snows beat around
the lone dwelling, and where nought is to be seen abroad
but Nature in her most desolate form. Little does he think
that what pinches him, and sends him shivering to his corner,
but warms the blood and animates the spirit of the sons of
storm and, sunshine. The bleak wind moaning through the
leafless trees-the snow  flakes whirling in giddy mazes
through the air-the rain pattering on the long, low roof,
bring but music to his ear, and beauty to his sight. And
even the keen and cutting frost, that clasps with its iron
bands the streamlet and the river, makes fairy pictures for
him, even from the breath which he ekpires, and from the
dew that steals in silence on the earth and trees.
Who thinks of shrinking from the frosty air, when all
abroad is sparkling with the brightness of ten thousand diamdnds? or from the driving snow, when the merry bells are
jingling, and fair ones are wrapped beneath the ample fur
and nestling by- your side?
Winter brings no sorrow to the country. No homeless,
houseless wretches, shivering in want and misery, and huddled in promiscuous masses, within cold, cheerless dens, can
there be found. Few princely mansions rear their proud
turrets to proclaim their owner's wealth; but fewer still, the
humble cots where plenty does not dwell. There have been




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   209
days of toil, and strong arms have wielded the heavy axe,
and little hands have gathered in the falling chips, and the
treasures fiom the garden and the field have been garnered:
and the spinning-wheel has been buzzing, and light fingers
have been plying the needle. All have done something
against the time of need.
And when the cold blast comes, the fire crackles on the
hearth, and the table bears its full supply of homely fare,
and the warm garment protects against the frost and the
rain; and the winter, with its storm and cold, is shorn of its
terrors.
There had been some days of stormy weather at Wellgrove, and the adjoining town, Milton. First, a light, drizzling, rain, and, as the night came on, snow began to mingle
with the increasing drops, and both together froze where they
fell. And then the rain was turned to hail, and it could be
heard by those who happened to turn upon their pillows
through the night, pattering quietly against the window-pane;
and finally, as rmorning came, the air was filled with the dense
snow, silently speeding to the earth, and covering-all the
barrenness of nature with a white and beautiful robe. And
through the day and coming night, the work went on, and
farmers rested by their warm  firesides, and thought how
easy it would be to take their logs to mill, and gather at
their sheds the next year's wood. And young men and
maidens laughed in the lightness of their hearts, and planned
the merry sleigh-rides, or prepared for social visits.
Charles Lovell had spent the time allotted to him at
Captain Halliday's, and had taken up his abode elsewhere.
He had been pressed by the kind-hearted captain and his
lady to remain longer, but had respectfully declined, promising, however, to be a frequent visitor.
Winter had diminished the family circle there; visitors
ceased to flock from the city; Miss Julia had gone to spend
the season with her Aunt Nabby, in New York, very much
to the gratification of her suitor, who could enjoy the dissipation which he loved, and the society of the girl whom he was
seeking to marry.
Mr. Sampson lingered but a few days after his friend Vanderbose had left. He either found the country too lonely,
or was discouraged at the small progress which he made in




210            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
winning an interest in the lovely girl he had set his eye upon.
She had not refused him, for he had not ventured yet to ask
her hand. With all the confidence with which his wealth inspired him, he could not gather resolution enough to make
any proposals. He did all he could to persuade her to spend
the winter in the city, but in vain. So he departed with
no stronger hopes of success than when he came.. Just as the storm had cleared away, and the bright sun
shone out upon the clear white snow, and the merry bells
were jingling on the teams that had turned out to break the
pathways through the village, Charles was handed a letter
from the post-office. He opened it with joy, for he knew by
the direction that it was from his friend, Mr. Jamieson. An
extract from it will suffice to explain its purport.
" You will remember my telling you of an appointment
which had been made some time since for a union meeting.
It took place, as you know, and was highly successful, and,
contrary to our first plan, that it should be held once a month,
has been, by the urgent solicitations of those who attended,
held weekly. The result you are also in some measure acquainted with. Glorious has been the work which for some
time has been going on. But where true love is kindled in
the heart, its fruits will be manifest, and the meeting I have
named to you, at Mr. Foster's, is so evidently of the right
kind that I rejoice in it, as well on that account as for the
comfort it may afford that worthy man. Perhaps you do
not know that he has been for some time engaged to a lovely
girl; but from  the straitened circumstances in which he is
placed dares not, for the present, think of marriage.
" The plan has been started among our more wealthy folks
of the Presbyterian and Episcopal persuasions, to meet at
his house and take their offerings with them, and if possible
place him a little above-board. I know you will rejoice in
such a project, and would wish to be there."
"That I will," said Charles to himself; " I will go and help
what I can in such a noble work."  And the thought at once
occurred to him, "How 1 should like to ask Miss Adelaide to
accompany me. But-" and his heart sank within him, because of all the objections that might be raised by herself
or others.  But the thing itself was so enchanting; there
would be a bright moon; a beautiful snow-path; and such a




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   211
companion by his side. He almost trembled at the mere
anticipation.
The appointment was for the next evening, and whatever
arrangements he made must be attended to at once. He sat
down to his supper, but he made a very light meal of it, and
as soon as he could, left the table. A few additions to his
toilet, and he was on his way to the mansion of Captain Halliday. He feared it would be in vain, but still, as though
impelled by a power he could not resist, on he walked at a
rapid pace. He reached the stoop, and his knees faltered
under him as he ascended, and he was obliged to raise the
heavy knocker with both hands to give a steady stroke.
Adelaide was alone in the parlor, and his reception was as
pleasant as he could have asked for. But his own mind was
in such a state of commotion, that, in spite of all the freedom with which she conversed, and her frank and confiding
manner, he could only get out short sentences, and even at
times only answered by a monosyllable.
Her eye was more than once turned towards him with a
gaze that manifested a desire to pry into the cause for conduct so unusual with him. At length she asked, with evident
interest:
" Are you not well this evening?"
The question startled him, but it brought him to the
point.
" Oh yes, certainly, very well I thank you; but I was just
thinking of a letter 1 received to-day, from my friend Mr.
Jamieson; you have heard me speak of him 2"
" Oh, yes. I hope nothing has happened at your home."
The truly ingenuous manner in which this was said, and
the interest manifested by the lovely, artless girl, enabled
him at once to break through his restraint, and he told her
the purport of the letter.
"And I have taken the liberty, Miss Vincent, of asking
the pleasure of your company; the sleighing will be beautiful, and we shall have a full moon."
He had never seen Adelaide, but on one other occasion,
blush so deeply. She was evidently taken by surprise; and
her confusion alarmed him; he wished he could recall what
he had said.
"You are very kind; I don't know. I should delight to




212            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
have a sleigh-ride, and by moonlight, too. How far do you
say it is?"
" About six miles from here.
" Six miles! If you will excuse me a few moments, I will
ask my aunt what she thinks of it."
" Oh, certainly," and Charles arose, as she left the room,
and listened until her light step died away, and then, throwing himself upon the chair, endeavored, by every possible
means, to quiet his agitation.
But there is little use in reasoning when one is in love, and
placed just at the balancing point between hope and fear; it
is about as well to give up thinking for the time, for thinking throws no light on that about which we are most concerned, and generally makes matters worse,
It seemed a very long time that she was gone, and yet,
when he heard her step approaching the door, he almost
wished she had not come so soon.
"I am  sorry, Mr. Lovell, to have kept you waiting so
long. But you see, after talking with my aunt I thought I
would go and see uncle, too. And he, you know, does not
like to say right off what he thinks; he must have a long
argument first. However, they do not object, seeing the invitation has come from you, so you must keep in mind that
you are in their good graces."
" Then I may expect the pleasure of your company."' If you think it will be proper for me, a stranger, to go
to such a meeting. You see, I trust to your sense of the proprieties," smiling, and coloring a little, as she said it.
" I will see that you are not introduced where'you will not
be most heartily welcome. I will call at five to morrow evening."
And precisely at five o'clock, on the next afternoon, Charles
reined up his sprightly horse before the gate; and all his
fears of disappointment were at once put to rest, for the door
immediately opened, and, well muffled up in furs, and smiling
sweetly to his respectful salutation, came tripping out the
lovely object for which his heart had been in a flutter all day.
Her uncle was by her side.
" I tell you what it is, young man; if you don't bring back
this girl safe and sound, woe be to you."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   213
"No fear of me, uncle;" and the lively girl, assisted by
her kind relative, sprang into the sleigh.
" No danger, sir, I will do my best to return her safe and
sound. Please, Miss Adelaide," this was the first time Charles
had used such a familiar term, " please place your feet upon
that box, it will keep them warm."
"Why, what in the world have you got here?" and the
old captain fumbled at the bottom of the sleigh. " Bless my
soul, how nice this is. Why, sis, how comfortable this will
be for you. Well, I see, Mr. Charles, you understand how
to treat the ladies' feet, as well as the gentlemen's palates-I
have n't forgot that supper yet. Well, a pleasant ride to you.
And this buffalo goes before, ha! Well, you -need n't fear
Jack Frost now. Take care of that horse, he looks as if he
wanted to break things. Good-bye to you."
"Good-bye, uncle."
Charles bowed as best he could, for Pomp was very impatient.
" Come, Pomp!" and, with the spring of a deer, the beautiful creature started off, and the merry bells jingled to a lively
measure.
Six miles, with Pomp feeling as he then did, were soon
passed over.  The moon, however, had time to rise, and
just throw her cold beams across the pure white snow. She
was in the full, and her red round face, as it rose from the
water, which could be clearly seen by the long streak of light
upon its bosom, was an object of pleasing interest. And the
hearts of the youthful pair were just in a state to enjoy any
beauty that nature might present.
Never, perhaps, befobre, if the whole truth could be known,
did the moon look so strangely agreeable. It was almost a
fairy scene; and the dark woods, against which her light fell,
looked beautiful too, and every common object made a picture of its own.
And now they rise a gentle eminence, and all at once
Pomp is reined into the deep snow; a team heavily laden is
in the path.
"Whoa, haw, whoop!  Hillo, Lovell, is that you? ha!
ha! ha!"
The well-known voice caused Charles to hold up, just as he
was about passing a heavily-loaded sled, with two yoke of oxen.




214            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"I guess I shall be there in time, ha! ha! ha! Lovell
how are you? going to the gathering?"
" Ah, Slocum, what in the world! have you left your
trade, and turned teamster."
"Ha! ha! ha! not exactly; but you see the old colonel
wanted me just to go and pick out the boards and shingles, to
see that they should be of the best. We are going to have a
tight roof over his head, and all things fixed up to a T.
Glorious times, I tell you; never see the like afore; and the
colonel says it is all your doings, ha! ha! ha! But I won't
keep you. Whoa, haw, come along, haw, whoop!' and the
teamster fell back beside his oxen, cracking his long whip
over them, and Pomp, no longer restrained, pranced on his
way.
"A strange fellow that, but one of the kindest hearts that
ever beat."
" He seems to know you pretty well."
" He knows us all. and we all know him. He is our boss
carpenter in these parts. He is now, however, on a labor of
love. The few words he has said, have let out the whole matter to me. Colonel Johnson, of whom I have told you some
anecdotes, has sent him to purchase that load of lumber as a
present to the young minister; and this man has given his
time and labor to bring it over, and he will, no doubt, give
many good days' work in fixing up the house. He is as
happy now as he wants to be."
"He must have a noble spirit under that rough covering
he had on. How much more the heart yields its respect to
such a man, than to the gaudy outside with a selfish spirit."
Charles was about to say how rejoiced he was to hear her
express such a sentiment, when their attention was attracted
to a scene close at hand, and he exclaimed:
"There is to be a gathering indeed."
For some distance now, on each side of the road, could be
seen horses and sleighs, of all varieties, fastened to the fence,
while several were discharging their loads opposite a small
gate. A dwelling of some kind was there, but it was not
easy to distinguish it from the dark shadow of the trees
which surrounded it.
Adelaide felt some delicacy in entering a place crowded as
it was with perfect strangers to her. But Miss Lucy John



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   215
son was at the door, and Charles had only to introduce his
fair charge to her, and in a few moments all feeling of restraint was gone; for every one seemed happy, and ready
to give a hearty welcome to all they met. She soon found,
too, that her companion, however retiring and unobtrusive
he had borne himself at the house of her uncle, was here a
person of distinction. At once he was surrounded by old
and young-every one was ready to greet him-young
ladies seemed to court his notice, and gentlemen with powdered heads singled him out, and shook him cordially by
the hand.
Lucy led Adelaide to a seat in one corner of the room, as
she requested to be placed where she could observe what was
going on without being herself brought into notice.
" And now, dear, I must leave you for a short time, as I
have some arrangements to complete for the supper."
" Oh, I shall do well enough-don't let me detain you."
"We will endeavor to entertain the young lady," said two
or three smiling girls, who were seated near her; and Lucy,
in her peculiarly graceful manner, glided through the throng,
and was out of sight in a moment.
It could easily be perceived that the company assembled
was composed of very different classes in society, for although
all present were decently arrayed, yet the style of dress and
peculiarity of manner were quite dissimilar.
But the kindly spirit that was so manifest, and which
seemed the pervading feeling, made all other distinctions of
little account. Seats were arranged along the walls of the
room, and were mostly filled, but they seemed only designed
as occasional resting-places. Most of the company was in
motion; gathered in little knots, conversing awhile, and then
breaking up, and mingling with other circles, going out and
in of the room, shaking hands with new comers, or recognizing acquaintances already there.
The house was not large, and was a very plain one even
for the country, and the furniture of an order very different
from anything Adelaide had ever seen before. There was
no carpet on the floor, and the walls were white-washed, and
all the woodwork without any paint. But there was an
aspect of neatness over the whole.
Adelaide found her companions very ready to answer any




216            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
questions, or give her any information about persons or
things.
There was, however, little need for asking-they were so
wide awake upon all subjects, so full of the spirit of the
scene, and so communicative, that it was not possible to be
within hearing distance and remain ignorant of anything
about the premises.
"I do wish supper was ready, Jane-have you seen the
table?"  Jane nodded from somewhere near at hand; " Is n't
it beautiful; I guess there never was so much cake here before. But I'm glad of it. I wonder if they have brought
much of other things."
"I guess you'd think so, Mary Ann, if you'd been out in
the buttery; there's enough there to feed a family a whole
year, I should think. They've got Charles Lovell there taking down an account of everything as it comes in, and I
should think he'd be crazy."
" You would a good deal rather he was here, would n't
you, Liz?"
" Me! now, Mary Ann, you hush-you think as much of
Charley Lovell as I do, I guess. Yes, I wish he was here.
But catch him to come and sit down among the girls. It's
as much as one can do to get a bow from him. But there
he comes-don't he look finely to-night; and there's Parson
Jamieson, the Episcopal minister, and there's Mr. Somers,
too. Now I guess we are going to have something or other.
Just look, Mary Ann, just look at Mr. Somers; his good old
face fairly shines; you can see he is happy now-there is n't
a single wrinkle to be seen. I don't care, I do love ministers
anyhow."
" When they are the kind of ministers we have here. How
fond they seem to be of one another; and see how Mr. Foster's black eyes sparkle to-night? I wonder if Fanny Pearl
is here yet?"'" Why, certainly-there she is, don't you see her; as
true as the world, she is sitting close by Mrs. Somers! how
sweet she looks. It is too bad they can't be married; I do
think people ought n't to ask a man to preach if they can't
just give him enough to live on-I do think Fanny Pearl is
beautiful, but her father is poor, and Mr. Foster is poor, and
so you see they can't keep house, nor nothing."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   217
"How do you know, Mary Ann, but there will be so much
brought here this evening, that it will keep them for one year,
at any rate, and that is far enough to look ahead, aint it?"
" I wish they would get married, for I know we girls shall
be at the wedding, and I have n't been at a wedding in a great
while."
The lively conversation of the young ladies was broken in
upon by the sound of the clear, full voice of Mr. Somers, and
the house was at once hushed to silence.
" Beloved friends! you have come here this evening, to testify your respect and affection for this, my young brother;"
and the good old gentleman laid his hand kindly upon the
shoulder of Mr. Foster, who was seated beside Mrs. Somers,
and near to her who had just been the object of such special
interest with our young friends; Miss Fanny Pearl. " And
I know it will be very gratifying to you all to learn something of the events of the evening; and how far the object
has been accomplished for which we have come together. Our
reverend brother Jamieson will now read off some of the
items."
Mr. Somers then took a seat beside Mr. Foster, and Mr.
Jamieson, who remained standing, unrolled a small paper and
read as follows:
Four barrels of flour from four different individuals.
Sugar from various sources, about eighty pounds; tea, in
all ten pounds.
Molasses, one barrel from a member of the Episcopal
church.
Cheese, in all about sixty pounds.
Butter, estimated at one hundred pounds.
Pork, one half barrel from a member of the Presbyterian
church.
Four yards superfine black cloth from some young men of
the Episcopal church.
One piece fine cotton shirting.
One piece cotton sheeting.
One light-colored silk dress from the young ladies of the
Episcopal church.
At the mention of this there was a general buzz of approbation, and Miss Fanny Pearl began to fan herself quite rapidly.
10




218            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Five thousand shingles and two thousand feet of clear seasoned boards, to be used in making a tight roof over the head
of the Reverend Mr. Foster, and in putting his house in neat
and comfortable repair; from a friend.
A voice called out from the back room " That's from the
old colonel; Colonel Johnson, God bless him." Some clapped, some called out amen; and for a few moments nothing
could be heard but words of admiration at the timely and
generous gift.
Charles Lovell colored deeply; he had no idea before,
who the donor was, until Slocum, for it was he that let out the
secret, called the name; and perhaps there was a little pride
mingling with his feelings of joy. Lucy had finished her duties about the table, and taken a seat by Adelaide; she was
listening with deep attention, and a heart full of interest, when
her father's name was called out thus unexpectedly; she looked a moment as if overcome with surprise, and then yielded
to her feelings. It was as new to her, as to any one in the
room; as she supposed his offering had been brought by herself. Oh, how her heart blessed him, and what a shower of
kisses she meditated so soon as she got home.
As this closed the list in Mr. Jamieson's hands, Mr. Somers arose and stated to the assembly, that he had one more
communication to make. It was a short one.
" I hold in my hand a list of ten names, members of my
own pastoral charge, who have subscribed the amount of
two hundred dollars a year, for two years, to be paid to the
Rev. Mr. Foster, as an addition to his salary. It is given
as a token of brotherly feeling towards the Methodist persuasion. And, brethren-" Mr. Somers raised his hand, as in
the act of speaking, but his feelings were too deeply excited.
Every eye was fixed upon him, and when they saw his lips
quivering, and the tear gathering, the power of sympathy,
like an electric shock, at once swept over them. There was
a moment of silence, and then a rush towards the place
where Mr. Foster was seated. He had done his best to keep
within bounds the strong emotions which the scene had excited. The whole to him had been a surprise; but when Mr.
Somers, in his feeling manner, proclaimed this additional testimony of kindness, and he felt the warm grasp of congratulation from the hands eager to embrace him, how could he




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   219
do less than give vent to his excited feelings? Ah! let those
tears fall, dear Christian brother, for far too seldom are they
wrung forth by such a cause. Heaven's own light is reflecting from them, brighter than any sparkle from the costliest
gem. Such tears would scarcely be unsightly where the angels dwell.
But it is time for supper, and the word is passed that " all
is ready." Charles had not forgotten his fair charge, although
not wishing to be thought by her officious in his gallantry.
But he felt called upon to wait upon her to the table. It had
been spread in the kitchen of the house, a long, low room,
with an immense fire-place, and doors opening into it from
all directions. Had any one looked at the walls and the furniture, it would have been very manifest as a plain apartment; but no one thought of such things. A large blazing
fire threw its warmth around, and the long table, covered
with piles of all the good things which the country at that
season of the year so readily produced, with lights blazing
in all directions, formed too agreeable a sight for the eye to
be directed to things of minor consequence. All present had
helped to furnish it, and so they all felt welcome; each one
had done something towards the enjoyment of the evening,
and felt a right to be happy. It was no splendid pageant
got up for the gratification of vanity, but a feast of love,
where the heart could enjoy its holy sympathies, and let out
its full feelings. But, like all pleasant things on earth, it
could only last for a limited space. The good things had
been partaken of to the full, the kind words had all been
spoken, the hearty laugh had been freely indulged, and the
hour had arrived when they must separate. Once more the
voice of good Mr. Somers was heard giving out the lines of
a parting hymn. All joined heartily in the song of Zion,
and then came the bustle of preparation for departure.
And now for home, and a ride upon the pure White snow,
with the silvery light of the fair round moon.
Charles had not obtruded himself upon Adelaide through
the evening. He well knew that she had not accompanied
him for the purpose of being exhibited as one to whom he
was particularly attentive, and he had too much good sense
to be officious. Perhaps he carried the matter a little too
far.




220            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"And now, Miss Adelaide, shall we prepare to return?"
She smiled very pleasantly as she replied:
"Just as you say; you know I am under your direction
this evening."
There was a strange emphasis on the little word you, that
made a singular impression upon his sensitive feelings, and
at once he began to rebuke himself for being over-nice in
his sense of propriety; and all the time he was getting Pomp
ready, that word kept sounding in his ear; and then, when
he came to conduct her to the sleigh, the readiness with
which she took his arm, and the confiding manner in which
she rested upon him for support, as they walked along the
hard-beaten snow-path, affected him, he could not tell why;
but it all seemed like a pleasing dream. The conclusions
which he dared to indulge were too enchanting to be real.
Oh, could that walk have been extended through the six
miles they were to ride, it would have been too short even
then. But here is Pomp close at hand, and impatient to be
loosened and on his way; and the arm must be withdrawn,
for there is considerable fixing to do, as the fair one with his
help takes her seat upon the thick furs.
"But, oh dear, how is this!" and Adelaide stooped, and
felt the flat stone, upon which, with the most delicate care,
Charles had placed those little feet; "has this stone retained its warmth so long? Now, I do believe you have
had it by the fire."
" I think it will keep warm until we get home."
"You are very kind; but what is to be done now?"
"This shawl appears to be a supernumerary, and by wrapping it round in this manner, I think, with the buffalo before
us, you will not suffer from the cold."
And, without making the least objection, she permitted him
to fix things to his own notion. It was a delicate operation,
to be sure, and his hands were none the steadiest just then.
He managed, however, to do the thing skilfully, and then,
with the same delicate handling, arranged the outer robe, so
that if the cold got in it must be by some round-about way.
"How comfortably you have fixed me! but all this while
you are standing in the snow yourself."
"Oh, I don't mind it. I amn not the least cold. I am
used to it."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND TUE LAST.   221
That was true, Master Charley! You could brave most
storms that rage in our climate. But you are not used to
such delicate operations as you have just been performing,
nor to the sound of such a sweet voice, speaking, in all simplic;ty, the guileless feelings of a pure heart, words of interest for you. And your blood is coursing so swiftly through
your veins that the cold of Nova Zembla could scarce affect
you now. It was true, indeed, you were not cold, and when
you took your seat beside that precious bundle you had been
wrapping up so tenderly. you were not cold; we all believe
you. Now say the word, and let Pomp go, for he has been
prancing long enough. Gingle, gingle, gingle.; how swiftly
the runners cut through the crust of the deep snow as Pomp
tears his way to the beaten track, and then, as though borne
upon the air, the gliding vehicle smoothly slips along.
" What a lovely evening it is!" and Adelaide, as she said
it, threw her veil aside, that she might see more clearly all
its beauties.
Charles saw her bright eye gazing at the lovely moon, and
be looked up there too. It was a sight worth looking at, to be
sure; it always is; that silver ball hanging on nothing in the
dark blue sky. But now her rays seem to sink into his
soul, and wake up visions of beauty and happiness too rich to
be interrupted by his own words. He did not reply, but
kept gazing at the moon.
Awhile the sound of other gingling bells are about them,
before and behind; but the distance was short that supplied
them with company, for their path home lay in a direction
different from that of any who had been with them that evening. It was a lone road, but they turned into it without any
apparent feeling that the loss of companions would diminish
aught of the pleasantness of their ride.
Dear reader, have you ever lived in the country? Have
you ever rode through the pure, white snow, when the moon
was in her brightness; so bright that every delicate curve in
the wreathed and feathery mantle could be distinctly seen;
when every sweeping branch lay pencilled in shadow by your
side; when the frost upon the low bushes threw off sparkles
of silver light; and the mist that marked the windings of the
living stream, just rose above the earth, and, like a delicate
veil, screened the rough, bare alders from your view; when,




222           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
through the huge forest trees, the moon-beams came down
aslant upon their gnarled, black trunks; and, as you looked
into their depths, strange shapes appeared, and Fancy fashioned them to suit her taste; and at such a time were you
so fastened to the common, stale routine of life, so much a
creature of reality, that you could not cut yourself adrift,
and float awhile upon the fairy stream, and enjoy the world
of silvery sweetness that was spread around? Could you
not? Then you are not fitted to be a dweller where Nature
spreads her beauties. The lighted streets, the flaring windows, the bustling crowd, and the din of Babel, are doubtless
more pleasing to your taste. Take the enjoyment they can
give. You doubtless have no sympathy with these young
hearts. Farewell.
Come, Pomp, we turn to you. Why do you arch your
neck, and shake your bells so lazily, and lift your feet so high,
and make no faster progress? have you entered into the feelings of your master, and wish to make the journey last as
long as may be? or perhaps it is some trick which he has
taught you, and it is his hand that tells you "there is no
haste, only keep moving." But why are those long pauses?
have all subjects of conversation been exhausted? and why
does Adelaide still keep her veil thrown back? Is it that
she may see the moon? or that there may not be even
a silken gauze to deaden communion with that manly heart
that sits beside her?  There is no telling. But so it was,
that often as Charles turned to ask " if she was comfortable?"
or " what she thought of this or that?" he met the soft, sweet
gaze of those bright eyes, fixed as in fullest confidence; and
that sweet smile, which went like fire to his heart, and kindled up such thoughts, that for some time again he would be
silent. Ah, those thoughts! how strangely did they work!
how bold they were sometimes! almost ready to break forth
in words, and then they would be, hushed. No; he would
not now-now that she was all alone, and in his care, and by
his special invitation. No; he would not do anything that
should give her cause to think he had a selfish end in view.
No. If he ever told her of his love, it should be when on
her own " vantage ground," and under no obligations for his
care and protection.
Ah, Charles! there is a right time for every daring act; a




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   223
time when the circumstances are at their "full conjunction df
preparedness."  But we respect your motives, and we would
not soil the brightness of your honorable feelings by one wish
of ours; onlyBut the lone road is passed, and dwellings begin to thicken, and at last Pomp curves from the track, and stands steadily
at the gate, from whence at first began this happy scene.
And now the shawl is to be unwrapped, and the buffalo
thrown aside; and again, she rests upon his arm.
As they stood upon the platform of her uncle's stoop, and
about to separate, she said:
"Now what shall I say for my pleasant ride? shall I say,
thank you 2"
" Please do not; the obligation, I assure you, rests all upon
me."  And Charles looked most serious as he said it; and
the countenance of Adelaide, just tinged as it had been with
a smile, settled at once into that cast so peculiar to her in
moments of earnestness, when the shade of sadness just rested above the soft gaze of her bright eye. Long, long did
Charles remember it.
" But you will let me say, that it has been the pleasantest
ride I ever enjoyed."
He took her hand, bowed very low, and almost touched it
with his lips; ah, he could have gone upon his knee, and
blessed her for those words, and vowed a life of constancy
and love; but he forbore. He could not reply; his heart
was too full for that; and as the servant opened the door, he
made a silent obeisance and departed.




224            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XIV.
" OH, Miss Adelaide!" and the servant maid whispered as
she spoke, " who do you think has come?  Your Aunt Nabby!"
Adelaide had just entered the hall, and the door had scarcely
closed, when she heard this announcement. She turned very
pale, and could scarcely bring out the simple reply:'" Has she?"
"Yes, she has come, and she has beern sitting up a purpose
to see you. Your uncle and aunt have gone to bed, but she
said she could not go to rest till you came home, and she
seems in a great pucker about something or another; and if
I was you, I'd slip off to bed, for you look pale and tired."
" Oh no, thank you, Mary. I had better see my aunt, if
she has been sitting up for me."
The mention of Aunt Nabby's name immediately brought
to the mind of Adelaide an "' idea " of something wrong, something that did not suit, of frowns, and surmises, and hard expressions, and an overbearing manner. But as she had been
waiting to see her, and as her conscience accused her of
naught, she at once resolved to go into the back parlor, where
the maid informed her that her aunt was seated, "rocking herself in the big chair, as if she would rack it to pieces."
As Adelaide entered the room, her aunt immediately arose.'How do you do, aunt?"
"I am pretty well, Adelaide."
Adelaide had kissed her aunt, and was taking off her bonnet and furs, at the same time asking questions about members of the family in the city. Her aunt having at once resumed her seat, commenced rocking.
"The family in the city are well, and doing well; and I
wish I could have the same assurance, that all its members
were pursuing a proper course."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   225
Adelaide had by this time disrobed herself, and taking a
seat in the corner, fixed her eye in all honesty and simpleheartedness upon the face of her relation; and as she did not
exactly comprehend to whom the exception in her aunt's remark had reference, very likely looked somewhat in doubt.
" Adelaide! Adelaide! don't look at me in that hypocritical manner, as though you did not understand my allusion;
that it is for you my anxieties are aroused, and my heart
pained, and my pride —yes, I may say it-my pride greatly
hurrbled."  And then having delivered herself, she rocked
faster than ever.
Adelaide was perfectly astonished, and knew not what to
say. Deeply affected, her beautiful countenance was suffused
with a burning blush, but her bright eye was still fixed upon
her aunt.
" I had heard, indeed, that your conduct of late had been,
to say the least, very extraordinary; but little did I imagine
that I should ever live to be a witness to the degradation of
my own flesh and blood."
Adelaide could remain silent no longer.
"As you say that you allude to me, aunt, may I know
wherein I have acted so as to merit such strong expressions
of disapprobation? What have I done? do tell me, aunt, I
beg of you."
The lady stopped rocking, and rose from her seat. Her
countenance was deadly pale, and she shook her finger, with
pointed earnestness, at her almost affrighted niece.
"What have you done! Can you sit there, Adelaide, and
calmly ask me such a question? What have you done!
Have you not lowered yourself, and put a stain upon the respectability of our family, by allowing attentions from one
who is far below you in the world? Have you not even, in
the presence of gentlemen of respectability, shown a decided
preference for one who is far down among the menials of
life? Have you not even degraded yourself by going off
alone on an evening ride? Oh, Adelaide!" and the excited
lady clasped her hands in agony, " that I ever should have it
to say of my own sister's daughter!" And almost exhausted
with the violence of her feelings, she sank again into her
chair, and began to rock.
"I am very sorry, aunt, if my going away this evening is
10I




226            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
not approved by you. I had the consent of my uncle and
Aunt Halliday. And the gentleman with whom I went is
much respected by them both."
"Gentleman! gentleman! a pretty gentleman! A plain
working farmer, a mere clod-hopper. I suppose he waited
upon you with his tow frock on, and his cow-hide boots; you
must have felt highly honored by his company. And I suppose he took the same liberty with you that he has been in
the habit of doing with his mates, the milk-maids; how many
times did he kiss you on the road?"
" Aunt Nabby, you are very unjust;" and Adelaide, unable to endure any longer the torture of her feelings, burst
into a flood of tears.
" Yes, Adelaide," her voice had softened considerably, "ah,
yes, that is always the way; I am unjust merely because I am
desirous of having my own sister's child keep in mind that she
has a standing a little above the common herd. What would
your father have thought, when himself the first gentleman
in the assembly-room, with his gold knee-buckles, and silk
stockings, and his silver-mounted dress-sword by his side, and
the first people in the city for his companions; what would he
have thought, if one had told him that a daughter of his should
one day accept the attentions of a day-laborer? Unjust indeed! Is that, Adelaide, the return I am to receive for all
my interest for you? Have I not already, from the circle
of my visitors, been so happy as to introduce your cousin
Julia to one who can and will make a lady of her? Yes,
Julia will soon ride in her coach. And so may you, Adelaide, or so you might, but I don't know that you will ever
recover from the fall you have made. Mr. Sampson, I must
tell you, Adelaide, however much he admires you, would
never for an instant think of you, did he know —"
" I have not the least desire, aunt, for -Mr. Sampson's attentions or regard. But I do not wish to be unjust towards
you-you must forgive my hasty expressions. But you do
not know Mr. Lovell, or you would never have spoken of
him as you did."
"Lovell! Lovell! who is he?"
"Why, the young gentleman who waited upon me this
evening; and I must not allow injustice to him on my account.
I must say, aunt, that I have never been treated with more




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   227
true politeness by any gentleman. His behavior towards
me, whether alone or in company, has been the most delicate; his manners are refined, and his principles, I believe,
to be most pure and manly."
"Well, well, well, say no more, Adelaide; my work is
done-I see my work is done. All my regard for you, and
for the honor of our family, is looked upon as a matter of
no moment. I suppose you are engaged to him-I feared
it; but have come on to see if my past services for you all,
my interest for the good of our family, my authority as your
mother's only sister, could not yet avail to turn you from
your purpose, and save you yet."
" Your fears on my account, aunt, are very groundless.
Mr. Lovell has never, probably, had the most distant thought
of such a thing. He certainly has never hinted it to me."
Mrs. Abigail Ratoon was silent; she felt a great burden
taken from her mind, for she had construed Adelaide's remarks in favor of Mr. Lovell as sure evidence of an interest
in him.
You have relieved my mind greatly, Adelaide.  Then
you have no interest in him after all? you do not love him?"
Oh, that blush! how it has come, like the meteor's flash,
and spread all over that delicate cheek, and over those beating temples, and even upon that fair, smooth forehead.
Speak quickly, Adelaide, for the eye of your aunt is fixed
upon you-she has asked you a home question.
"You don't suppose, aunt, that I should yield my affiections to one who has never asked me for them?"
" I hope not-and I am greatly rejoiced at what you say,
for I did look upon you as lost. And now you must not lay
too much to heart the earnest expressions I have dropped.
You know, my child —you must know that you are the object of my greatest solicitude; your cousin, Julia, I have befriended on your Aunt Halliday's account, as well as because
she is so subservient to my wishes. But you are my only
blood relation-the only one to inherit when I am gone.
Your poor brother, you know, is lost-lost to his friends and
the world-gone we know not where, and-the least we say
of him the better. But on you my interest centres-and
now I wish you to return with me, and at my house you will
have an opportunity to see the world. This is no place for




228            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
you. My brother, I know, has a very kind heart, and so has
sister Halliday; but the advantages here are not just as you
need, now coming into society. With me you can be introduced to a large circle, a coach to ride in at your pleasure,
servants at command, and the means of coming out in a way
becoming my niece; and to leave you shut up here in this
humdrum place-it will never do; I should consider myself
deficient in duty towards you to allow it."
Adelaide had too many conflicting thoughts to manage just
then to enable her to make any reply. She dared not at
once say No! to her aunt's proposal, for fear of another outbreak of passion, and yet her repugnance to it was too sincere to allow her to acquiesce.
" Another thing I must tell you, Adelaide, but I tell you
in great confidence. Your Uncle Halliday is quite embarrassed in his means; he has a good heart, and feels very
kindly to you, but I know that he ought not to be at any
more expense for his family than is absolutely necessary.
To me you must look-you shall want for nothing; and
when I am gone, who is then to inherit my property but
yourself? You see, then, that everything conspires to make
you an object of no common interest. I wanlt you to appreciate yourself as you ought. Many a fine girl throws herself away, merely from this fact. But you cannot think; my
child, what a load is taken from my mind, now that you tell
me that you have no interest in that Lovell. And now,
Adelaide, you had better retire, as you will want to be up
very early, for your things must all be ready by 9 o'clock."
Adelaide was too fiull of feeling, and too desirous of being
alone, to say aught that might prolong the intercourse, and
so they parted for the night.
Adelaide shut her door, and placing the lamp in a corner,
took her seat by the window, and looked out upon the bright
moon. There was something in that beautiful luminary now
that made her appear a confidant, and the scenes of the evening came back in all their freshness. The smiling faces she
had seen around her, the kind words she had heard, the
power of sympathy under whose spell she had sat with so
much delight, the heaven-born thoughts that had been expressed in language that thrilled both speaker and hearers,the whole of that feast of love passed again before her, and




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   229
then the unpresuming politeness of him who had been her
companion. So full of kindness, and so marked with respect
and delicacy, the agreeable conversation, the strange beauty
of the scenery, the long pauses that seemed to tell of feelings
that were too sacred for utterance, the parting at her uncle's
door, his last look. Ah; she will remember it long. The
emotions it conveyed she dare not shape into their true
meaning, even in thought. And yet her mind would hang
around that point, as if a charm was in it. And then the
morrow. Must she bid adieu to these simple pleasures?
Must she leave the beauties which at the earliest dawn and
at the closing day her mind had feasted on? She had always
loved the country. Now it seemed dearer to her than ever.
And must she leave so suddenly? What would he think
to learn that she had gone, perhaps to return no more? What
a marked token of indifference after all his delicate attention! and yet how could she make it known?
Adelaide was at the breakfast-table in season the next
morning, but her part in the repast was soon finished. And,
asking leave of her Aunt Halliday to retire, the three relations were left to enjoy a private interview.
" I tell you what it is, Nabby," said the captain, " I don't
believe Addy wants to go away; and, although I think myself it must be lonesome for her here, yet I don't like to have
her baulked; she is too good not to have her own way."
"That is just as much, brother, as you men know about
things which concern young ladies. They don't know what
they want themselves. I know Adelaide is a good girl, and
she has a bright mind; but, at her age, girls are very apt to
have romantic notions about life, which we, who are older,
know to be very foolish. They have nonsensical ideas about
love and affection, and all that; but how they are to be provided for, and how they are to keep up their standing in society, never comes into their head. Now, we know that love
without the elegances of life about one, is like a balloon with
a rent in it, just good for nothing at all."
" I don't know about that, Nabby; money is a very necessary article, and the elegances of life are very well in their
way, but the- Nabby, you don't mean to say that there
is no true love or happiness upon earth but among the rich."
"How can people be happy, brother, when their circum



230            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
stances are straitened? Would you try to make me believe
that, when I pass by one of these rude cottages you have
around you in the country, and see the man hard at work,
toiling for his daily bread, that he has any idea beyond geting enough to eat and drink?"
" That is the main chance, I know, Nabby; but if my guess
is right, there aint much loftier ideas in the minds of many
who don't toil, as you call it. We are never too old to learn,
Nabby; and I must tell you that I have learned some new
lessons in life, which make me feel that if I had learned
them earlier, I might have enjoyed a world of comfort and
happiness with a very small part of the means I have spent
in trying to live according to the notions your head is full of.
What would you say, if I was to tell you that I had seen
persons living with all the comforts of life about them,
and with all the refinement of polite manners, and the enjoyment of intelligent intercourse, in a plain, rough cottage,
no better than the one my hired laborers inhabit?  You
may shake your head, but seeing is believing." Then turning to his wife, "I do wish Lovell would just step in now,
-that Aunt Nabby might see a sample; could n't you send for
him?"
" Oh, my dear, I am afraid Mr. Lovell would think strange
of it."
Mrs. Halliday had an inward dread of exciting Aunt Nabby.
" Well, then, you just tell sister Nabby all about him, in
and out."
" Oh, well, I must say Mr. Lovell has shown himself to
be a gentleman; he certainly behaved with great propriety
while he stayed here."
" Stayed here! and do I understand, then, that this young
man Lovell, has been staying under this roof, and associating
with my niece?" Aunt Nabby knew it all before, but it
suited her turn to profess ignorance.
"He has been, Nabby, and a finer fellow never came under my roof, nor yours either. He is a gentleman, as I call
it, of the first water. A man with a heart and soul in him.
None of your dandy-jacks, with gold chains and fine coats,
and no more brains than enough to enable them to drive
tandem."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   231
"Brother, you have said enough. I don't want to hear
any more. But I just tell you once for all, that if you care
no more for the respectability of our family, than to introduce a man, a common day-laborer, as I understand, in summer, and a common Yankee schoolmaster in winter, to a niece
of mine, and keep him under your roof in such dangerous
contiguity to a simple-hearted girl as Adelaide, it is high
time she went away. That is all I have to say."
The old captain's face was red almost to a purple hue, and
the honest indignation that burned within was ready to explode with a fury that would have made Aunt Nabby glad
to have been back within her own establishment. But his
reason told him it would answer no good end. He loved
Adelaide dearly. He knew his own circumstances, and felt
the sad truth that he might be obliged to cast her upon the
care of his sister. He would not throw an obstacle in her
way of being well provided for. And yet he must do something.
" I shall make no objections, Nabby, to your taking Addy,
and doing well for her. But I can tell you, if your plan is
to try to make up a match for her with that milk-sop with a
red head, that has been up here bothering round her, you
had better let her go and learn a trade, and take care of herself."
"Mr. Sampson, brother, is a young man highly connected,
and he has a very handsome property in his own right. I
think it would be a very great thing for Adelaide, if such a
match could be made up as you call it."
"I know all about his connexions; his old father made
his money by selling drams; nothing very respectable in
that, although I take one occasionally myself. The fellow
has money, no doubt; but what else has he got? His head
would make a very good mop, and I guess that is all it's
good for. But have your own way; only remember Addy
shall have no compulsion. I would work before the mast
as I begun, before any of those ruff-scuffs with plenty of
money in their pockets shall have her without her own consent. And more than this, if what I hear of Vanderbose is
true, I am sadly afraid our poor Julia will rue the day you
ever introduced her to that num-scull."
The captain having " said his say," arose from the table




232            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
and went out, his heart full of indignation. But blaming
himself most of all, that he had not managed more wisely
and kept himself in circumstances of independence.
The handsome covered sleigh of Mrs. Abigail Ratoon was
at the door by the time appointed, and Adelaide, as a victim
to the destiny she knew not how to avoid, was in readiness
to accompany her. When she left the table, she had retired
to her room, so long a place of pleasantness and peace, in
order to compose her mind for the hour of separation. She
took her prayer-book, and read from the Psaltery some of
those delightful passages so well calculated to impress upon
the mind the safety and happiness of those who cast themselves and their interests upon the care of God. A dark
shadow had come over her heart. It had come suddenly,
and without warning; and she could only trust for help from
Him by whose mandate it had come. A knock at the door.
" Our time is near, Adelaide; are you ready?" It was
Aunt Nabby.
"I will be down in a moment, aunt." She could have
gone then, but some tell-tale tears must be dried first.
No sooner had Aunt Nabby retired, than she heard the
step of her kind old uncle approaching; the door was at
once opened.
" Well, Addy, I am glad to see you don't part with your
old uncle and your old home with a smile. I had rather see
those tears than not. I could shed some myself if it would
do any good. Be a good girl, and don't let any one persuade
you to any act your own heart does not approve. And
while I live, remember you shan't want for a father's hand
and a father's heart." Bursting into a full flood of tears,
and throwing her arms around his neck:
" Dear, dear uncle, I could live and die with you; but only
let me say one word to you. Cannot I remain here with
you? My Aunt Nabby tells me that you are not as well off
as you once was; cannot I remain, and help Aunt Halliday
and you, to get along; I know I can'do a great deal to comfort
you; I will work for you and help aunt to save."
The good old captain could stand a great deal, before his
feelings should be manifested; but when he saw the earnest
look of that dear young creature, her eyes swimming in tears,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   233
and heard her soft words trembling with the ardor of her
feelings towards him, he had to let nature take its course.
" I did n't think, Addy, that I should ever shed tears again.
I have never wept since I stood by my mother's grave and that
is a long, long time ago. No, my dear, you had better go
with your aunt; she has her strange ways, but she will do
well for you, no doubt. I shall not probably remain in this
place long. I must sell out, Addy, and go to work again.
But don't let that grieve you. There, now, dry your eyes,
and don't let Aunt Nabby think that you dislike to go with
her. Maybe good will come of it all yet."
That was a wise thought, and a happy expression to close
the parting interview. It was in keeping with the good
words Adelaide had been reading, and at once she was greatly
composed. It was a stream of light from behind the dark
cloud. "Maybe good will come of it."




234            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XV.
DEAR reader, were you ever in love? We mean hopefully so. If not, we pity you. But if you have been, you
can save us a great deal of labor in our efforts to describe
the feelings of young Lovell, as he awoke to the new breaking day; for you can tell, or rather you can feel with what
peculiar charms familiar objects had arrayed themselves.
Hope shone brightly on that low streak of cloud just gilded
with coming day, and upon those bare branches that hung
between him and the amber sky; and upon the white smoke
that curled up so gracefully from the chimney top, and upon
every object that his eye beheld. And every sound, too,
came in melodious measure to his ear. The clarion notes of
chanticleer, the soft cooing of the doves, the smothered lowing
of the cattle, and the well-known pawing of Pomp, impatient
for his feed, all somehow seemed linked to the past evening;
all seemed to respond pleasantly to the elasticity of his own
feelings.
Only those who have lived in villages can realize how
quickly news spreads from house to house. To such it will
not seem strange that when Charles sat down with the family,
where he was residing, to their early meal, he was startled
with the question:
"Did you see the great lady from the city at the captain's
last evening? They say the great lady, or the rich lady, I
suppose it means the same thing, Captain Halliday's sister,
has come, and that Miss Adelaide is going to the city with
her. I thought she would n't stay long after the beaux had
gone."
Charles was conscious of something like cold creeping
about his heart. Not that he had any confidence in the report, but so sensitive had he become, that the least shadow




OR, TIE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   235
cast upon a name so dear to him, or even the careless mention of her name by those who knew not of her excellences,
seemed almost like sacrilege. He must, however, say something in reply, and he did it in a very quiet, unconcerned
manner.
" I was there only a few moments, but I heard no mention
of the lady."
" It is true though, for Betsey Cook called in here a little
while since to ask if I was going to the quilting this afternoon, at Squire Pierce's; and she up and told me all about it.
She said that Captain Halliday's boy was over to their house
to buy some butter, and he said they must have some
whether or no, for the captain's sister was there from the
city, and that she was going away at 9 o'clock, and that Miss
Addy was going with her, and that their Mary said that she
was n't coming back this winter, if she ever did."
Charles did not feel bound to stop eating all the while this
young lady was delivering her budget, for the address was
not in particular pointed at him, but seemed to be rattled off
for the benefit of all the family. It being one of those little
communities which are found in the country, as well as city
occasionally, where a little news, especially neighborhood
news, is the most interesting subject that can be introduced.
Charles was not just in his element. As he had but little to
say to them in general, it was not wondered at that he took
but little notice of what was said, and kept in a quiet way
handling his knife and fork.
"I wonder if it is true that Miss Vincent is going to be
married to that red-headed fellow that has been round her so
long. I guess she is though, or she wouldn't be in such a
hurry to be off to the city. I'll bet anything her aunt has
come up to take her down to get her wedding-clothes.
Well, I guess there'11 be great doings, for they say he is
very rich. He is richer, they say, than Vanderbose."
Various replies were made by members of the family, but
Charles took not the least interest in what was said from anything that could be seen, but kept steadily at work until he
had finished, and then asked leave to retire.
All things now wore a sombre aspect; the halo talit surrounded them on his waking that morning:had vanished.
A strange deadness had come over all his feelings, and he




236            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
could have settled down upon his chair,-and left the world to
take care of itself. Well for him that he had duties which
must be attended to; and, smothering his feelings as he best
could, to them he applied himself with his usual promptness.
Some days passed before he again made a call at the house,
where his heart had found so much to interest it. He was received with marked kindness, by both the captain and his lady.
"Quiet times now, Mr. Lovell; the young folks have all
cleared out-gone into winter quarters. I miss our girls
though, I must say. If a body could have them alone without so many trampers after them. But they will enjoy
themselves better in the city, no doubt, except Addy. I
don't believe but Addy would have been just as happy
here as she will be there."
"Why, I don't know, my dear husband; Addy tries to
make the best of things, let her be where she will. But you
know there is but little company here in the winter, and
young folks like to be where there is a good deal stirring.
At any rate, Aunt Nabby would have it so, whether or no."
" You see," said the captain, turning towards Charles, " my,
sister, Mrs. Abigail Ratoon, Aunt Nabby, as we call her,
having plenty of money, and nothing else to do, has taken it
into her head to be god-mother to our nieces. She coaxes
them, and scolds them, and plagues and worries them, until
they give in, and let her have her own way. They must
dress, and behave, and marry, just as she says, and I'm
afraid she'll make a dreadful muss of it yet."
" Well, we must say, Mr. Halliday, that she takes a great
deal of pains for their good; she certainly gives them a good
chance to do well."
"That's just as it will turn out; we have got to wait and
see. She is determined that they shall marry rich, and I suppose she will bring it about some way, for when a woman
sets her mind upon accomplishing a point she is very apt to
carry it through."
" But you see, Mr. Lovell, I want you to understand me.
I am no despiser of money, nor do I think any less of a man
for having a good long purse. But when a man calculates
that his wealth will make up for every other deficiency, and
only regards it as a means to gratify every low desire, and
has neither a sound head, nor a sound heart, and very little




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   237
of either,-I say his money ought not to be held out as a
lure to a good, honest-hearted, whole-soul girl, and it grinds
my very soul to think of it."
Charles could say nothing in reply. He had no wealth of
his own, and therefore did not wish to carp at those who had.
He had already informed Captain Halliday what he believed
to be true about Vanderbose, and had done all that he thought
was his duty.
Mrs. Halliday, anxious to get her husband upon some
other subject, presented another topic for conversation, and
the names of the young ladies were not mentioned again during the whole evening.
Charles had learned nothing by his visit that gave him any
satisfaction.  He had no doubt, now, that every influence
would be used to persuade Adelaide to receive the attentions
of Mr. Sampson. It would be a sacrifice, he knew, and his
heart sickened at the thought. A sacrifice of all that was
lovely to meanness, and weakness, and vice.
The winter had nearly passed, and the time was at hand
for the closing of his school, and he was glad at the prospect
of a return to his labors, and his home. He had learned
much of life during his sojourn at Wellgrove. He was much
wiser than when he came there, if not so happy. He had,
indeed, enjoyed some taste of exquisite happiness, but he
had suffered, also, those acute pangs to which a sensitive heart
is exposed. He had learned to feel that, after all, he was not
quite the independent being he had imagined himself to be;
and, with a chastened view of life, he prepared to enter again
upon the track he had marked out for the future.
It was the last week of his stay at Wellgrove, when a letter was put into his hands by the post-boy. He saw by the
mark that it was from the city, and the hand-writing that of
a lady's. He did not dare to open it until he reached his
room, and then, bursting the seal, turned his eye at once to
the signature. He pressed it to his lips, and then, as calmly
as he could, commenced to read its contents. They were as
follows:
"MR. CHARLES LOVELL:
" I know not that your nice sense of propriety will approve
my present act. But circumstances sometimes require us to




238            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
step over the conventional boundaries of social intercourse.
I feel myself called upon to do so now.
"You must have thought my conduct very singular, after
the agreeable intercourse we had enjoyed, that I should have
left thus suddenly, and without apprizing you of my intention
to go away. I assure you it was as unexpected to me as it
must have been to you, that our parting on my uncle's stoop
was in all probability to be a final one.
" I cannot explain to you all the causes for the occurrence;
and can only trust that you will have confidence enough in
my sense of propriety, as well as in my feelings of friendship, to believe that the causes were beyond my control.
"Now I can say'good-bye' in peace, and record my best
wishes for your happiness, and shall not feel ashamed to meet
you, should we ever cross each other's track again.
"I subscribe myself your friend,
" ADELAIDE VINCENT.
" P. S. —You need not feel yourself obligated to answer
this, as all I designed will have been accomplished when you
have read it."
Again and again did Charles peruse the precious document.
At first it revived his most ardent hopes; but as he studied
it more closely, those hopes grew more faint. He saw that,
after all, there was the same mystery about it that had involved all his intercourse with Adelaide. It was just like
herself; frank, generous, and kind. She was not ashamed to
acknowledge her friendship, but beyond that his hopes as a
lover could find no ground for encouragement.
He cherished the precious document, though, as a choice
legacy from one whose place in his heart was as unbroken as
ever. If he loved too strongly, he felt assured that his affections were bound to one who was worthy of them; and the future, that mist upon the path of life into which he could not penetrate, he would leave with Him who ordereth all things well.
i Home is a sacred name. It may be a humble one. No
external adornings may distinguish it; there may be nothing
to grauify the pride, nor much to please the taste. But if
love dwells there; if warm hearts are ready to greet us, and




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   239
mingle the fulness of their sympathies with ours; we should
be thankful for it, we should prize it as a gift from heaven.
How Aunt Casey chuckled with delight as Charles took his
seat again at the head of their little table! and with what
alacrity she stirred about her household duties! The first
thing, however, she must show him, was the pet she had been
tending so faithfully all winter. It was evening when Charles
reached his home, and as supper was ready, that pleasant
meal must first be enjoyed. No sooner, however, was it
fairly finished, than the old lady seized the lantern.
"Now, darling, you must just come with me and see
Daisy."
" But you are not going to the barn, aunty!"
"Oh, but she aint in the barn. You see, I thought the
barn would be too far off, and in stormy weather it mightn't
be so easy for me to get there; so I got Guss to make a pen
for her just back of the little wood-house."
Charles followed the old lady, eagerly anxious to see the
valuable gift he had received.
" Here, Daisy, Daisy!"  At her call the pretty creature
quietly arose from her straw bed, and stretching herself out,
came up, and began to lick her hand.
"Why, aunty, what have you done with her? she has
grown so. I should scarcely have known it was the same
calf. Why she is fat enough to kill."
6" Don't speak the word, dear; I would n't have her killed
for twice my year's earnings."
" Nor I, aunty, for all mine. If for nothing else, on account of the kind friend who gave her to me, and the interest
you have taken in her."
"Bless your kind heart for that."
" But how is it, aunty, that she has thrived so."
" Well, you see, darling, in the first place I made Gussy
give the old cow plenty of the turnips you raised, and she
gave us most as much milk as in pasture; so I had enough,
besides making our butter, to give Daisy a good bellyfull
twice a day, by mixing a little warm water with it."
"c But you don't tell me that this calf has grown so on skim
milk, and that watered, too?"
" It's truth, darling; but, then, I did n't depend altogether
on that. You see, I got Gussy to have a little corn ground,




240            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
and I made a little supawn for her, and put a little of that in
the milk as she could bear it, and so by degrees a little more;
and then, after a little while, we had a little rye ground, bran
and all together, and so I threw a little of that in the bottom
of the pail, dry-like, and so I got her off from the milk, and
now she takes a handful or two, night and morning, and
drinks clear water, and eats hay like anything. But don't
she look sleek?"
" She does look beautifully."
" Well, I am so glad you are pleased with her."
Augustus had not the rapidity of action that distinguished
Charles. THe took things moderately, but he kept steadily
attending to whatever he had to do; and had, through the
winter, accomplished even more than either he or Charles
had expected. He had cut up all the wood they needed for
the next winter; and piled in the wood-house, besides, a large
heap of brush for summer use, neatly thrown together at a
convenient distance for Aunt Casey to collect for her fire.
He had split out and holed one hundred posts, and drawn
three hundred rails from a few miles distance, where Charles
had purchased them; besides attending faithfully to the
chores, and making the most of their materials for enriching
their ground the coming season.
" Well, Guss," said Charles, after seeing all he had done,
"you have earned good wages at home this winter; you must
have kept pretty busy."
" I have n't hurried myself; I have taken my own time,
and had leisure enough, too, and have studied a little, too,
into the bargain."
" Well, I amr glad to be home again, I assure you. Everything looks in first-rate order. I must go to work now, and
scratch hard, for I have been laying out considerable to do.
But, first of all, I must go and see old Duncan, and get leave
to have our lime landed at the old mill; I have laid out one
hundred dollars on lime for the farm."
" A hundred dollars of your winter's earnings for lime!
that's too bad, Charley."
" Well, Guss, how could I lay it out better? Our land
once enriched, what better capital do we want?"
"That is true, I know; but it seems hard to take your
money that you have worked so hard for, and lay it out so."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   241," No harder, Guss, than for you to be cutting wood and
holing posts, while I have been part of the time playing gentlemen. And forty dollars more I shall lay out for fish."
"Fish! what to do with them?"
"To place in the land, to be sure, and raise potatoes."
"That is a wild notion, Charley, depend upon it. I hope
you have not engaged them too. You know, just think for
one moment, of what use would potatoes be to you in any
quantities? Last year, we happened to sell what we raised
because many failed in raising them; but in general, they will
not sell here; we should have to cart them ten miles to market."
" But I expect, Guss, to have a thousand bushels."
Augustus sat down upon a heap of posts and began to
whittle, and made no reply, while Charles, amused by the
very serious countenance of his brother, burst out into a
hearty fit of laughter.
" If you aint wild, Charley, you are pretty near it."
" Why, one thousand bushels is no great yield, Guss, for
six acres.'7
"Nothing extraordinary to be sure; but that's not the
thing. What are you to do with them?  It will take all of
six weeks to cart them, do our best."
"Yes; but I have not told you all yet. A captain of a
sloop, who makes a businesl of picking up loads, has offered
to come and take them from our landing at the mill, and will
either buy them at the market price, or sell them for us."
"Can you depend on him?"
"Yes, with great certainty."
"Well, that might answer. I know that fish makes good
manure for potatoes. But I hate to have you take all your
money and run such a risk with it.
"No more risk, Guss, than anybody has to run, who invests capital in business; nor so much. If we miss a crop,
the manure will still be in the ground, at any rate. If we
don't venture anything to gain a crop, we ought not to expect
any great return; for my part, I had rather trust our money
to the keeping of the soil, than to the keeping of some
people."
" We shall have to scratch for it then, if you are going to
plant so much. Shan't we want more help?"
11




242            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"I think not. I feel just like work myself, and I know
you will do your part; and by managing a little, and taking things in time, I think we shall keep ahead of our
work."
" Well, let's at it; what had we better do first?'"
"We will go to sharpening rails right off; and this evening I will go and see Duncan, for the lime will be here
next week."
The old mill to which Charles had alluded was but a short
distance from their house. It was situated on one of the
small creeks that ran through the long stretch of marsh, and
was what is called a tide-mill. It was an old shingled edifice, which had never been painted, and had seen its best
days. It stood'" all alone in its glory," with the exception
of a long, low dwelling, at a short distance from it, on what
was termed the main land. This was the miller's home, and
between these two localities, old Duncan might be seen,
morning, noon, and night, going and returning to his meals
and labors. When we think of millers in general, we are
apt to imagine a good round face, with a bright merry eye,
and a full, well-fed body, ready with a joke, and a long yarn,
and smiling at his customers as though the toll well paid him
for powdering their grain.
But Mr. Duncan was a tall, lantern-jawed man, who never
seemed to improve by all the provender that passed through
his hands. He had a grim, sour look, as though the world
and he were not on very good terms, and should n't be if he
could help it. He was somewhat bent at the shoulders, no
doubt owing to the heavy loads they were obliged to bear;
and he appeared to make no effort to straighten up. He
was, however, not so morose as he appeared. The mill had,
in former days, done considerable business. Sloops came
there loaded with grain, and departed with cargoes of rye and
Indian meal, for the West Indies, or our own southern ports.
But none came there now, and all its custom was derived
from the few farmers in the vicinity, who found it more convenient to carry their grists there, than to the more thicklysettled part of the town.
In one corner of the mill was a small room partitioned
off; with an old stove in it. A large, well-worn, rush-bottom




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   243
arm-chair, a little rickety desk, one or two blocks sawed off
from the end of a log, as extra seats, and a very various collection of fish-poles, guns, traps, old coats, bags, and broken
cogs, some in the corner, some on nails, and some peeping
out from a shelf that ran round quite high upon two sides of
the room. Cobwebs, like mantles of charity, covered most
of the articles, and the stray dust from the mill lay in undisturbed repose wherever it might find a resting-place, except
on the old arm chair, that was clean as constant use could
make it.
The old, low, broad wheel went round very much as if it
was tired of going, and the cogs and wheels inside kept up
a very moderate easy jog, and the mill-stones went round as
if nobody was waiting for them.
As it was not yet the turning of the tide, when Charles
reached the mill, he found Mr. Duncan sitting in his armchair, with his long legs stretched out against the hearth of
the stove, his elbows resting upon the arms of his chair, and
his head, which always had a little, low-crowned white hat
on, bent over upon his chest, in a position that looked very
much like dosing. Charles, as he entered, felt dubious about
speaking, thinking that the good man was doubtless enjoying
a nap, until he noticed that a pipe protruded from beneath
the,head, and seemed to be in operation; and almost immediately the head was raised, and the broad staring eyes of its
owner were fastened upon him.
" Good evening, Mr. Duncan."
The pipe was slowly taken down, but no reply was made
to' this salutation, nor any motion of the body attempted for
some moments. Mr. Duncan was doubtless endeavoring to
make up his mind whose grist was wanted, and whether that
particular grist was done. Not finding, however, any record
among his mental statistics that gave him any light, he simply
said:
" Your servant, sir."
" Good evening, Mr. Duncan."
" Oh, ah, yes; it's you, is it? How do you do to-night,
Mr. Lovell. Take a seat."
And Charles took a seat on one of the blocks.
"It was all so still here, Mr. Duncan, that I feared you
were not in."




244             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Well, you see it wants ten minutes to the turning," taking out an old silver watch, and holding its face towards
Charles, "and I thought I mought as well be resting here as
resting to the house," (some said he had n't much rest there,)
"and then I can keep a look-out for the drowners."
"Drowners! Mr. Duncan."
"Why, sir, there aint nobody that gits drowned but they
must come here to do it; walk right off into the race, or go
splashing into the dam, or right among the sedges back of
the mill; if there's a hole to git into they're sure to find it."
" It is rather a bad night to be round here, I must say, and
I walked rather carefully myself; the fog is very thick."
" That's it; you see they are crazy with their eeling, and
crabbing, and there aint one on'em that can swim, or they
don't; they go right down, and its about clean shook my wits.
There's been no less than three juries here the last year;
you see when the tide's in we have deep water here."
" Sloops come up here with ease, I understand, Mr. Duncan."
" Time was, Mr. Lovell," and Mr. Duncan made a hitch
in his chair, and turned round to face his visitor; "time was,
when three sloops have laid side by side at the old dock here,
and night and day hands was at work loading and unloading,
and barrels of meal a-rolling out, and bags of'corn a-coming
in, and three run o' stone could n't go fast enough. Time was
when I've seen all that."
"How many run of stone have you now, Mr. Duncan?"
" Only one, only one. Times is changed. You see the
trade fell off, and they set up the new mill on the mile-run,
and things did n't go right, and they've been going wrong
now a good while, and I guess they'll keep so. When things
once git a-going wrong in this world, Mr. Lovell, they're
apt to keep a-going; it seems natural for'em;" and with that
the old man commenced puffing again at his pipe, as though
there might possibly be some comfort in that; if there was,
he meant to have it.
"I have come to see you this evening, Mr. Duncan, to ask
the favor of you to permit a few hundred bushels of lime
to be landed on your dock, until we can cart it off. The
sloop will be along with it next week."
"Entirely welcome, entirely welcome. Time was when




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   245
you would have had to watch your chance, but there aint
much danger of your being disturbed now. But I must go
hoist the gate, and let the stone be a turning, for they'11 be
here by break-o'-day, hallooing for their grist."
And thus saying, Mr. Duncan gathered his legs in, and by
the help of his hands on the arms of his chair, arrived at an
erect position.
" Just sit still, Mr. Lovell, and I'1 be back to rights;" and
with both hands pressing against the small of his back, and a
groan or two, he shuffled out of the room.
Scarcely had he started when Charles thought he heard a
call for help; and, listening attentively, it was repeated with
great earnestness. Charles rushed into the mill.
" Mr. Duncan, Mr. Duncan, stop, stop! there is some one
calling for help."
The miller had his hand upon the lever and was in the act
of raising his arm. Charles caught his arm.
"There is some one calling for help; you had better not
start your wheel."
Duncan made no reply, but with his lower jaw dropped
down, and his eyes staring wildly, stood perfectly still in the
act of listening. In an instant more he heard his name distinctly called, and apparently from under the wheel.
" Gosh! there's another," and he ran to the other door.
" Where are you? who are you? what is it?" The last sentence coming out at the top of his voice.
"It's me —bring a light here; I've got in and can't get out."
Duncan ran into the little room, caught down the lantern,
and was out in an instant; he seemed to have forgotten all
his ailments, and was evidently under great excitement. The
night had become very dark-a dense fog having settled all
over the salt marsh.
With great care, and trembling with the apprehension of
some terrible calamity, Duncan stepped along to the edge of
the race-way, calling out continually, " Where are you? who
are you."
" Hei-e' I am —bring your light this way."
The sound came apparently from under the wheel.
"Are you in the water? or where are you?
"I don't know where I am, but I am fast into some part
of your mill, and I can't get out."




246            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Duncan stepped carefully along, muttering some terrible
oaths,-he was very apt to do so when frightened,-until he
came almost in contact with the slimy paddles of his big
wheel, when he suddenly exclaimed:
" Oh, gosh!" Charles stepped up beside him and looked
at the object which had excited Mr. Duncan's astonishment.
An old rickety skiff lay just beneath, with its bow fast in between the paddles of the wheel, while in its stern sat a man
dressed in a sailor's garb, and his countenance manifesting
great alarm.
" You good for nothing imp of Satan, what do you mean
by poking about with your old skiff such a dark night; onehalf minute more and you'd been a dead man-you'd been
smashed to atoms."
The man seemed rather surprised at the harsh language of
the miller, but made no reply. He merely stepped to the
front part of his boat, and began pushing against the wheel,
endeavoring to extricate himself from his unpleasant position; but the boat was too securely locked in, he could not
move her.
" Will you please, Mr. Duncan, to step down and help me
to push my boat off."
But Mr. Duncan had no idea of venturing his carcass into
such a peril, for besides the boat looking rather small for
two, he was conscious that his'gate was none of the strongest, and in case of any accident to that, with a full head of
water pouring upon his wheel, the boat and its contents
would have been of small consideration. It was no trifling
distance between the boat and the platform on which he
stood. He was, however, extremely anxious to get the man
out of danger; he had become very sensitive on the subject
of drowning; so, giving the lantern to Charles, he laid himself flat down, and stretched out his arm towards the man.
" Take hold of my hand and try to climb up." The man,
however, had no idea of leaving his boat, but taking no notice
of the hand kept working against the old wheel."
" I tell you what it is, mister, do you take hold of my
hand and git out, just as quick as you can. My gate aint
none of the strongest, and the tide is full in-your life aint
safe a minute."
Thus urged the man arose, and taking the offered -hand,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   247
put his feet into the logs, and was soon on the platform.
Duncan was greatly relieved. He drew a long breath-his
under-jaw dropped, and the vials of his wrath were immediately poured forth.
" Never mind, Mr. Duncan, swearing won't help the mat.
ter-only let me have a boat-hook, for if my boat should be
broken, how can I get back to my family to-night?"
The boat-hook was produced along with a whole batch of
curses, to which no reply was made. It was no easy matter,
however, with their united strength to get the skiff out of
its peril. It was at length accomplished, and the eager boatman, so soon as it was free again, sprang in. At which Duncan seemed fired with rage, and running into the mill, hoisted
his gate, and in an instant more the water was boiling and
tearing through the race-way, carrying the boat along in the
rapid current. Charles was truly alarmed, but the boatman
seemed to know what to do; he let the skiff glide out to the
still water, and then made her fast. Immediately he sprang
ashore and entered the mill, and advanced to where Mr. Duncan was busy emptying bags into his hopper. Charles could
not hear what passed between them, for the cogs were rattling and the stones buzzing, and the whole concern more or
less making some peculiar noise of its own-even to the
plates of the old stove. The miller, however, took a bag
which the man handed to him, and proceeded to a bin, near
where Charles was standing, and began to ladle in some fine
flour; when the bag was about half full, he stopped and
asked:
" How much do you want?"
The man turned very pale, and his voice trembled as he
spoke.
" Well, just as much as you think you can spare me.
You know what I said to you about it?"
" I did n't hear nothing you said, only you wanted some
meal. How much do you want?"
" I told you, you know, Mr. Duncan, that I could n't pay
for it now; but you shall have it the first fish we haul."
"I'll see the old mill turned bottom upwards into the
creek first. Here do you come, poking around such a night
as this, and running into my wheel, and a little more would
have been pounded to death in it; and then the whole town




248             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
a-coming here, and asking me how it is that people drown
here so, and a coroner's jury a-sitting and swearing, everybody making a great fuss, just as if I can help folks drowning
themselves. And then into the bargain you want me to trust
you meal. I shan't do it; the people on the island owe me
enough already."  And then turning to Charles, "Folks
seems to think a miller's grain never costs nothing, just as
if it was rained down from heaven on to him."
Charles had watched the pale and agonized countenance of
the boatman with deep interest. At first from curiosity, as
it was a face so peculiarly arranged that he could not make
up his mind whether its owner was a youth, like himself, or
a man of middle age. His spry, elastic motion, the smoothness of his cheeks and upper lip, contrasted strangely to his
mind with a stiff, thick red beard that covered his neck, and
the long, coarse yellowish hair that hung down over his
brow and ears. And what to him appeared singular, also,
was the darkness of his eyebrows, in contrast with his hair
and whiskers. But his feelings of curiosity almost immediately gave place to that of pity. The man was evidently not
accustomed to beg, or ask favors; and the look of anguish
with which he saw the miller empty back the contents of the bag
into his bin, was too much for Charles. He at once stepped up.
" Mr. Duncan, you can let the man have the flour. Fill
the bag, sir, I will pay for it."
Duncan looked at Charles in great wonder, hardly comprehending what he said.
"Fill the bag, I said, Mr. Duncan; I will give you the
money for it." And then turning to the astonished boatman,
in whose eye he saw the tear gathering:
"You live on Oyster Island, sir, and follow fishing?"
" I do, sir."
" Step this way, sir;" and the man followed him into the
little room.
"I was going to the island in the morning in pursuit of
some one from whom I could get a quantity of fish; I want
it for my land."
" I have no seine of my own, sir; but others have, and I
assist them. I should not fear but we can supply you."
" Do the fish run yet 2"
" Not for a fortnight or three weeks."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   249
"And if I come to the island, I can no doubt make an arrangement for what I want?"
" You can without doubt, sir. My name, sir, is McDougall."
Charles thought he colored a little, and there was a slight
hesitancy,in his utterance of the name.
"' Your kindness to a stranger, sir, has been very singular;
but I hope you will not have to repent it. My necessity, and the
need of those dependent upon me, alone could have compelled
me to come here at such a time; and if I had been obliged
to return empty-handed, it would have been a sad journey
home. May I ask the name of one who has thus laid me
under obligations?"
Charles gave his name, and assisted the boatman in carrying his bag to the skiff; and as the little boat glided off into
the deep water, and the sound of his oars alone gave token
of the lonely voyage, Charles pondered on the scene. He
thought how well it was that he happened there at the time;
and how sad might have been the heart of that stranger on
his gloomy track to his home.
And the light from his own cottage looked brighter as he
approached it; and his head lay upon his pillow that night in
a sweeter rest even than usual.
Besides enriching his land, and making preparation for a
larger profit than the last year had afforded, Charles kept an
eye upon his future home. He had his own fancy about a
home. He did not think of it merely, as a house with so many
rooms in it; a place to eat, and to sleep in; but to his mind
there must be the idea of permanency about. Trees for fruit
that would be plucked by those of another generation; trees
for ornament and shade; under whose wide-spreading branches
he and his might often enjoy the cooling breeze, when the sun
was in his strength, and whose noble proportions might captivate his eye for years to come, and that might link the days
when his step would be tottering, and his arm weak, with
those of his youth and manhood; and he wished them to be
clustered around his dwelling, as though their fruits and shade
were for its benefit.
"I think," said Augustus to him one day, as he was planning where to place some trees, "first of all, I would cut down
that large apple tree which stands just north of the house;
apple trees are not very ornamental."
11:*




250            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Not for the world, Guss, that is a fine tree. Its fruit, indeed, is not so valuable as some others; but the tree is thrifty
and well formed; and it has such a domestic look. Oh, no!
Guss, we must let that stand, and the old oak off in the cor.
ner there, and that walnut too. I think we shall yet enlarge
the yard, so as to take them in; and by setting out our trees
irregularly, the whole will appear more easy. I don't fancy a
house surrounded by trees set in rows like ranks of soldiers,
it is too unnatural; and I think we had better scatter them,
so that they may appear to belong to those already standing
about."
Augustus smiled. "Well, just as you say; only tell me
where to dig, for if you or I are going to have any benefit
from them, they ought to be growing as quick as possible."
"They will be growing, Guss, while you and I are sleeping, and busy about other things; and we shall every once in
awhile be glad to notice their progress. And then, if we
should live, how pleasant it will be for us to look away up
into their large branches, and admire their stately forms, and
think of all the happiness we are now enjoying, and of all we
may have enjoyed for many years in our snug home."
" In the old stone house?"
"Yes, in the old stone house. You may laugh, Guss; I
don't wonder that you do. But I have a plan in my head by
which, for a little expense, we may make this old house the
nucleus to a comfortable, convenient, pretty home for us."
" You have given a right name to it, Charley. It will be
the nucleus, if it's any part of a house. It is strong enough
to bear a load on the top of it, up as high as you like. But I
think you are taking a pretty long look ahead, Charley."
"Well, there is no harm in that, Guss, if we don't let it in
terfere with present duty; and besides, it takes a pretty
long look to see the large branches of this tree I am holding,
but I can see them; I mean in fancy, Guss. But that makes
me think of our cattle-shed. You know we merely put on
a temporary roof of boards. It ought to be shingled, and
then it would correspond with the barn, and the whole establishment would have an uniform, snug appearance."
"How much would it cost?"
"It would take more than I should dare to spend. We
must lay in some things for the summer, and we shall both




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   251
need a few articles of clothing. And then we ought to keep
some money on hand, in case some necessary article should
be wanted, which we do not now think of; and I don't like
the feeling of being out of money."
" Billings would trust you, Charley, in a minute. He has
told me several times, that anything we wanted in his line
we could have at cash price, and he'd trust us six months.
He has a lumber yard, you know, as well as a store."
Charles looked at his brother, with every token of alarm
in his countenance.
"You have not purchased anything there, I hope, Guss,
without paying for it?"
"Not a cent's worth, Charley."
"Nor anywhere else?"
"No, not a cent's worth."
"You gave me a real start, Guss, to hear you talk so
lightly about getting trusted. Mr. Billings is very kind, but
remember, Guss, I will not buy on credit; remember that, and
let us keep to it. We shall then know that what we have is
our own. We shall feel under obligations to no man. We
shall keep our hearts light, and we shall not grow gray before our time."
" Agreed, Charley. I should not have mentioned it, if I
had thought it was going to work you up so. Agreed, I say,
and let us stick to it. But why can't you sell the old hay?
the cattle are now in pasture. There is all of three tons in
the bottom of the bay."
"You think so?"
"There is more than two tons, I know."
"You must have been very prudent, then, Guss; and they
don't look as if they had been starved."
" I gave them all they would eat, but I didn't let them
waste it. I saw enough of wasting hay at Clawson's."
It turned out that Augustus had guessed right about the
hay, and two tons could be spared, besides leaving enough
on hand as occasion might require.
"And now, Guss," said Charles, as he came back with his
team. after carrying the second load, " we have got the money
in our hands, we can talk more certainly about our shingles.
Slocum will be here to-morrow, so we must arrange everything to-day, and have the shingles on hand. And the day




252             A LONG LOOK AHlEAD;
after, if possible, I must go to Oyster Island, and see about
the fish."
Slocum  was always glad of a chance to work for the
Lovells. He said "he liked Aunt Casey's cooking so much,
he wished they would give him a six months' job."
" You will have it one of these days, I guess, Mr. Slocum,
when Charley begins at the old stone house."
"We will blow her up, Guss, ha! ha! ha! Blow her up
with powder; that will be the quickest way to get it out of
the way. A sledge-hammer won't touch it."
" Oh, but he don't want it taken down; he is going to make
a house of it-a home, he calls it."
"'How you talk, Guss! ha! ha! ha!  Charley don't
though? and that's what all these trees are for?  Nation!
he' ll have a woods about him one of these days. I tell you
what, Charley looks a long way ahead, and now just see,
Guss, how the thing is fixed. The barn, and shed, and the
yard, and all; when this spot comes to be all fenced in, and
these trees get a-growing, it will look nice, I tell you; and it
all looks as if it was going to be together, of a piece; and
that made him so set about having the shed just fixed as it
is. I wanted him to put it on t'other side, but no. You
see he has got a plan in his head, and when he does anything
about the place, why he makes it jibe with other things that
he is going to do. It's a grand way, Guss, if a man has a
head long, enough to do it. But the old house! ha! ha! ha!"
"' We shall have to wait and see what is to be done with
that."
Oyster Island could be distinctly seen from the old mill,
or from any spot commanding a view of the marsh. But it
only appeared, in the distance, as a more elevated spot, on
which a few trees were growing. It was, however, surround-ed entirely by water, the main creek parting and running on
each side of it, before uniting with the Sound.
It was a small tract of land, not perfectly barren, and yet
with very little soil upon it that seemed adapted to cultiva.
tion. Some low cedars, and a few scrub oaks, formed a little
clump of wood, that served as a shelter from the storms of
winter, exposed as the island was to the full sweep of the
winds from the open Sound.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   253
Charles had never visited it, and began to fear lest he might
have difficulty in finding the location of McDougall, but he
saw a beaten footpath near where'he tied his boat, and following a short distance through the cedars, came suddenly
upon a small, mean cottage, built of logs and boards roughly
put together, and thatched with straw. It was near the water,
and, recognizing the little skiff, he was about to enter the
dwelling, when the man he was in quest of appeared, turning
a corner of his rude habitation. He walked quickly up and
grasped the hand of Charles with great earnestess.
" Ah, sir, how rejoiced I am to see you. It is but a poor
place we have to live in, as you see; all we can do is to bid
you a hearty welcome." With that he advanced to the door
and walked in, followed by Lovell.
" This is the gentleman, Margaret, who treated me so kindly at the mill, the other evening."
The woman made a slight curtsey, and then advanced and
took his offered hand. She could not speak, but her look
was enough to have made full compensation to Charles, if he
had desired any. Nor did he say much; for his mind was
fully occupied with the strange contrast between the pair he
had thus become introduced to, and the circumstances in
which they lived. The appearance of the man, his language,
and at times his manner, had attracted his notice from the first;
and now much more was he astonished, as he looked at the
pale and somewhat emaciated, but handsome face of his wife.
That she had never been brought up under their present
circumstances, he needed not to ask. And that the little fellow by her side, who was hanging to her dress and looking
up with some alarm at the stranger, was not the child of
those who had been low born or bred, he was well assured.
His heart was enlisted at once, and, without inquiring into
their past history, without asking them whether crime or misfortune had brought them to their present condition, he would
have been ready, had he possessed abundant means, to have
lifted them up, and carried them into the civilization and refinement which he felt confident they had been accustomed
to. Thus he felt from merely the first impression which had
been made upon him.
"I believe I understood your name aright, sir? Lovell,
was it not?"




254            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Yes sir, my name is Lovell."
This seemed to have been said by McDougall, as a gentle
hint to his wife that she had as yet said nothing, not even
spoken the name of their visitor. Her pale cheek slightly
flushed as she said:
"Mr. Lovell's name will not be easily forgotten by us,
and it is a great pleasure to be able personally to express our
feelings, although we can in no other way just now show our
gratitude."
Charles begged that neither of them would mention the
matter again, and that he himself could hardly feel grateful
enough, that he had been so fortunately there at the time.
"And now," said McDougall, " if you will accompany me,
Mr. Lovell, I think you can make such a bargain for your
fish as will satisfy you."
The huts occupied by the other inhabitants were at some
little distance, almost the whole of them on the opposite side
of the island, and on their way Charles ventured to make
some inquiries as to the means which could be found here
for a living, and even once rather hinted at the advantages
which a person might have to obtain the comforts of life
nearer to a more densely-populated place, and where all
were not poor. But no reply was made, and the subject of
conversation changed.
The man, however, told him by way of apology for his
present straitened condition, that during a great storm in the
winter his seine had been carried off, and his inability to procure another rendered him dependent upon others fobr work,
as they happened to need assistance.
"Then if you had a seine, you might probably supply all
I should need, and have all the profits to yourself."
" That is true, sir; it has been a great loss, but I must do
the best I can."
"How much would it cost?"
"I can procure one for five dollars —it is not a new one,
but will answer me well."
Charles stopped. " Mr. McDougall, I should much prefer
that you should have what little gain you can make out of it;
I want to lay out about fifty dollars for fish, and if you think
you can supply me, I will advance the money for you to purchase the seine."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND' THE LAST.   255
"You are very kind, sir; I am but a stranger to you, and
surely have no such claim upon your generosity. It would
indeed be a great thing for me."
"We need go no further then, sir; I will advance you the
money, to be returned in fish."
" And if my life is spared it shall be returned with your
other favor."
"I have no fears of that, sir."
"You will partake of some refreshment, such as we can
give you, before your return? My wife will expect you, and
no doubt have some little things ready." Charles had just
then no objections to something of the kind, and he had also
a strong desire to see more of this strange family. He,
therefore, as the request appeared to be sincere, did not hesitate to follow his host.
A small table was set already, covered with a clean white
cloth, and a broiled fish, with some bread-cakes newly made,
constituted the only articles upon it. Nothing was said by
way of apology; but, as they took their seats around the simple meal, the lady-we must call her so, in spite of all the
rude materials which surrounded her-looked expressively at
Charles a moment.
"Perhaps Mr. Lovell will ask a blessing?"
But little was said during the meal; Charles was in no
mood for conversation, and both the man and his wife appeared somewhat embarrassed by his presence. They seeming to prefer subjects quite foreign to their own condition and
circumstances, and Charles was too much absorbed by the
strange anomally to enter heartily into other matters. Their
simple repast was soon finished, and he at once prepared to
take his leave.
"I hope," said Mrs. McDougall, as she gave him' her
hand, "this will not be the last time we shall see Mr.
Lovell; it would be a great pleasure occasionally to see one
who-'
" Oh, I shall see Mr. Lovell soon, and perhaps he may
like to sail down here occasionally in pleasant weather."
"We so seldom —I may say never, see any one."
"But my dear," again interrupting his wife, " remember
we are but poor folks; and although we should be very happy
to see Mr. Lovell, who has been so kind to us, we can offer




256           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
but poor inducement to any one to come out of their way to
visit us, and our neighbors here are very kind."
Charles knew not exactly how to reply. ~ He ventured, however, to say:
"' I hope this may not be the last interview we shall have.
I have but little leisure, but if I can be of any service to you
at any time, I shall esteem it a favor that you would let me
know it."
" Oh, thank you, sir," said the wife, and her lip trembled as
she uttered the word " good-bye," while her look betrayed
feelings of deep emotion.
Having completed all needful arrangements for the fish,
Charles parted with his new, and tQ him strange acquaintance,
fully resolved in his own mind to know more about them, if
the thing could be accomplished without rudeness.
The business of spreading the lime was indeed the most
tedious operation the young men had yet passed through.
"There, now, Guss," and Charles threw his shovel into the
cart as he spoke, " that is the last of it; and when you have
harrowed this ridge, the field will be ready for planting."
" It is a good job, now it is done; planting and hoeing will
only be play after this. But somehow, it seems too bad to
think that your hundred dollars, you worked so hard for last
winter, should be sprinkled over the ground in this manner,
and put out of sight so soon. It requires some faith to believe that you are going to get it back again."
"I don't feel at all uneasy about that, Guss; our experi-'ment last year satisfied me fully, and even if we should not
get repaid this year, we shall feel the benefit of it for years
to come."
" Well, I am satisfied, if you are. But who is that driving
so furiously this way 2."
" It is Ben Blarcom; here he comes, right through the bars,
and across the ploughed ground, lime and all, whip-it-a-cut."
"Hurra, boys, how are you? Why, Charley Lovell, how
you look! what have you been doing? turned miller? you
have n't bought old Duncan out, have you? I wish you
would. How are you, Guss 2"
"Well and hearty."
"That's the sort. Well, boys, I'm  upon the run this




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   257
morning. I've got more than twenty places to go to. We
are going to have a crow-hunt, and we want every fellow
that can handle a gun to join us. We shall meet at Foster's,
to morrow morning, and then in the evening the old fellow is
to prepare a supper for us. We shall have glorious times, I
tell you; and the fellows said I must make you and Guss
come, at any rate."
"I don't know how Guss will feel about it, he is much
more expert with a gun than I am; but I tell you what it is,
Ben, we have got so much to do that I dare not leave my
work a single hour; we have laid out enough for three men,
and scratch hard too."
"And so have I. But where's the use, Charley, of strapping to it like a slave; a holiday once in awhile is good for
a fellow, and I mean to have it, and let the work take care
of itself."
" If it would only do that, Ben. But you know that farmers' work has to be done in the season for it, or we miss our
chance."
"Yes, I know that; but all you have to do is to work the
harder next day; do two days' work in one."
" I have n't got the knack of that, Ben. I wish I had; it
would come very handy just now."
"Well, I tell you how I do, Charley. When I want to go
off on a spree, I get some of the fellows to exchange work
with me, and so we go at it,'hurra boys,' and work like
distraction, and then when they want a lift, I go and help them."
" But when you work like distraction, as you call it, how
do you feel next day, Ben?"
"Ha! ha! ha! Charley, you've got me there; don't talk
about it. I don't know but you're right about that. But we
must have this crow-hunt; and then, the supper at night,
you know. What do you say to it, Guss 2"
"Is Charley going 2"
"He says you are the best shot."
"I guess he can kill a crow, if he tries. Are you going,
Charley 2"
"I don't feel that I can spare the time; but if you would
like to go, I'11 do the ploughing."
"I shan't go without you do, anyhow; but I should think
we'd get pinched for it, by-and-bye."




258            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Well, boys, I can't wait, but you had better think of it;
meet us at Foster's, and let the work whistle for one day;
good morning to you." And off he drove again, Jehu-like.
" Ben will spend all this day getting ready for to-morrow,
and then he will be so tired the next day after the hunt, that
he will lose another day in getting rest."
"I guess we shall feel as happy to be jogging along with
our work; and as to the supper, I enjoy mine well enough
every night; and besides, I find by keeping steady along, we
get through more work in a week than one would think for,
and don't get very tired either."
"That's it, Guss; a steady pull, a strong pull, and a pull
together and it's got to go, if there is any go to it."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   259
CHAPTER XVI.
IT is a very pleasant thing to live in a nice house, even in a
city; to have all the luxuries of life about one; a carriage at
command to saunter in through a splendid promenade, on fine
sunny days, and servants to wait upon every want; and, doubtless, many who passed the very respectable establishment of
Mrs. Abigail Ratoon, in Park place, and saw a very handsome young lady come down its steps, and enter the fine
roomy coach by which a liveried waiter stood, holding open
its door for her; and beheld the prancing steeds bear off the
lovely passenger; thought within themselves, "what a nice
time she must have of it; how happy she must be." And
the young lady herself had no objections, whatever, to all
these arrangements, in themselves considered; they were all
well enough; but could any of those who perhaps envied her
position, have known that this same young lady had a mind
of her own on some matters of more consequence than the
conveniences that were at her disposal; and that it was fully
expected of her, that for their consideration she was to yield
up all her own peculiar views and feelings; they might perhaps have come to a different conclusion as to the happiness
of her condition. At least the young lady herself had come
to such a conclusion; and at this very time is on her way to
consult with a friend, in whom she can confide, and if possible
make some arrangement for a change in her life. The carriage awhile rolled along through the beautiful thoroughfare
of Broadway, and then turned into a cross street, and stopped
before a small, plain looking house, on which was a little tin
sign, " Mrs. Willis, dress-maker."
At once the door of the carriage was opened, and the waiter as before stood by it, and the sprightly girl sprang to the
pavement and entered the house.




260             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
A lady of middle age, with a very mild and winning countenance, sat alone in the room, busily employed on a dress;
and as her door opened, she turned and put out her hand.
"Good morning, dear, how do you do? How is your
aunt this morning 2?"
"All well, I thank you, Mrs. Willis. You are busy with
Aunt Nabby's dress, I see."
" Yes, and I have just finished it; in a minute I will have
it ready. I have worked almost all. night upon it, for you
know I promised it to your aunt this morning, and she don't
take it well to be disappointed."
" Well, I am glad, for your sake, that you have succeeded,
although it must be very hard for you to work so much at
nights."
" There is no help for it, my dear, not if I remain in the
city. And sometimes I think that it would be much better
for me to try to get some place in the country, where rent
would be cheap, and living cheap, and a body could feel a
little free; it's hard work here to make the two ends meet.
But I have a letter for you, dear, at last. I dare not, you
know, send it round to you, and I thought maybe you would
be along in here to-day."
And so saying, she arose, and opening a drawer, placed the
letter in the hand of her visitor. She then resumed her work,
and both were silent for a time.
" Well, Mrs. Willis, it is a bargain. She has accepted
my offer."
"You don't say so!"
"She has, with one curious proviso;' if niy personal appearance and manners shall correspond with her expectations.' Curious, is it not?"
" I think it is; but you need not fear on that account, dear.
She can't but like your looks and behavior, anyhow. But
it is a very queer item for the principal of a seminary to put
in; but people all have their notions. There, now, this dress
is complete, I believe; and I will just pin it up, and put it in
the carriage when you go. And now, dear, I want to talk
with you a little about this matter of your going away. Have
you thought it all well over, dear Miss Adelaide?"
"I have, Mrs. Willis. I have thought of it every way I
can.'




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   261
"You have not told your aunt about it yet?"
"No, but I shall inform her of it this very day."
"I am afraid you don't know your aunt, Adelaide. She is
very set in her way. I am afraid she will turn you off altogether."
"I can hardly think she can do that, Mrs. Willis, when I
tell her all my reasons. And I think some things have happened of late, that will cause her to feel that I am not so
wrong. She knows that I have no one now on whom I can
depend. Uncle Halliday has gone, you know; and surely
she cannot blame me very much, for wishing to learn how to
take care of myself."
"Well, I don't know, dear. She has queer ways, and set
ways, and unforgiving ways; when she once takes a notion
against a thing, or a person, it is hard turning her. And
I am so afraid that maybe she might just take it in her head
to cast you off altogether; and, oh dear, it's a dreadful thing
to be cast on the world alone, especially for one like your
self. Everything is so different with one; everybody seems
to feel so different when one is dependent for a living, or have
full and plenty around them."
1" Well, you know, Mrs. Willis, I will see first how Aunt'
Nabby feels. I directed my letter to be sent to your care,
so that her name might not be implicated. I shall try not
to offend her. But I do want to feel a little as if I could act
as my own feelings and judgment dictate, and not be obliged
to submit like an automaton to the complete guidance of another."
" Well, dear, I hope it may turn out well, and that you
may be guided in a right way. It is a great thing in this
world to do right."
The bundle is handed to the footman, to deposit within the
carriage; and, bidding a pleasant good morning to Mrs. Willis, the young lady again takes her seat; and is whirled off to
her home.
Adelaide had made Mrs. Willis, whom she knew to be a
good woman, and true in her friendly feelings towards her, a
confidant, only in some few particulars, of the trials which she
suffered from her aunt; and she had done this because she
must have some place where letters could be directed to her.
She knew how much opposed her aunt was to have her




262            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" stoop " to do anything for her own maintenance; and feared
that she would not only consider her own name contaminated,
but would take measures that might effectually hinder whatever plans might be in progress for that object. The time
had come, however, when the strength of her purpose must
be tested, and the plans she had in view unfolded. And an
opportunity was afforded her soon after.
She had returned from the errand upon which she had gone
out that morning, partly for her aunt, and partly, as we have
seen, on her own account. MIrs. Abigail Ratoon had examined the dress which Adelaide brought for her, and was just
about to hang it up in her wardrobe, when, with a pleasant
smile upon her face, she turned towards her niece:
" Who do you think has been here?"
Adelaide mentioned one or two names
"Yes, they have both called, but only think, Mr. Sampson
has been here again! and I really felt glad to see him, for I
have been afraid, ever since the evening of the party, and
young De Luce hung round you so, and seemed to absorb all
your attention, that Sampson had taken a miff."
Adelaide would have replied, "that she would have no objections had such an event occurred," but she was too much
excited just then to say anything.
"But he came in as pleasant as ever, and seemed quite
disappointed not to see you. I do think he has a very amiable disposition. And what do you think! he said he has
been buying a span of grays, and he is going to-morrow to
drive up to see Julia and Vanderbose, and try his horses, and he
said it would give him great pleasure to have your company.
And I told him I thought you would no doubt be happy to
have such an opportunity to visit your cousin."
"I am  sorry, aunt, that you gave him any encouragement."
" And why so, Adelaide 2"
And Mrs. Ratoon took her seat in a large arm-chair, as
though the matter to be attended to was a very serious one,
and requested her niece to lay down her hat, and sit down;
"she wanted to talk with her."
"And why not, Adelaide?"
Adelaide endeavored to command her feelings, and to say
nothing that might give her aunt unnecessary pain.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   263
"To-morrow, you know, aunt, is the Sabbath.  You
probably did not think of it at the time."
" Ah, yes, I know it is. But then it will not be like riding out of town and back again, merely for pleasure; we
should not do that, you know. No respectable family does
that. You would be off immediately in the country, you
know; and it is very common for friends to ride fifteen or
twenty miles to visit connexions; you would not go to a
tavern or anything of that kind."
"It would appear to me, aunt, all the time like a violation
of the Sabbath. You know Uncle Halliday was always particular himself about the Sabbath, and has so trained both
Julia and myself in that respect, that I am sure we shall
neither of us ever be happy in its violation."
"And how would the Sabbath be violated, Adelaide, by
your merely going off in a quiet way, disturbing nobody,
mingling in no crowd, and visiting your relation, one that
you love and with whom you have been brought up. If you
have both been so religiously educated, you surely need not
fear each other's society on the Sabbath."
" We should not, aunt; dear cousin Julia and myself have
often enjoyed many sacred Sabbaths together, but Julia is not
now her own mistress."
"What do you mean by that, Adelaide? do you mean
that Julia has a master over her, one who tyrannizes over her
and oppresses her? Not her own mistress! has she not a
splendid establishment entirely under her command? Has
she a want that cannot be gratified? I wish you would tell
me what you mean, Adelaide, by intimating what you do?"
" I mean, aunt, and if you do not already know it, I must
tell you. Julia has no doubt plenty of money in her purse,
plenty of servants at her command, and everything around
her that might gratify her vanity, if she took delight in mere
show. But her husband takes pleasure in things which she
cannot sympathize in. He has associates whom she utterly
despises; her evenings are no longer scenes of pleasant social
intercourse, and her Sabbaths are no longer days of sacred
rest; he has companions with whom he spends his evenings,
and sometimes a great part of the night, such as Julia can
have no communion with. And I am very sorry to say it,
but-"




264            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"' But," and her aunt interrupted her with an angry tone.
"I don't want to hear any of your buts, Adelaide. You
have always been strangely prejudiced against Vanderbose;
you never seemed to fancy the idea of your cousin being
raised to such an elevated position. I don't want to hear
servants' stories repeated in my presence."
She well knew they were not merely "servants' stories;"
but her pride was wounded by hearing aught that might condemn the choice she had made for her niece.
" I am afraid, Adelaide, that you merely make your pretended regard for the Sabbath a cloak to cover your want of
obedience to my will. If the truth was known, it is not so
much the Sabbath as it is your foolish prejudice against Mr.
Sampson."
"I acknowledge, aunt, that if it was not on the Sabbath,
the idea of a ride with Mr. Sampson, and alone too, is very
unpleasant to mie, and I should not be willing to accept his
invitation, was it made for any other day."
" And after I have told him that you would be glad to go!"
" I regret exceedingly, aunt, that you told him so."
"You regret exceedingly! Adelaide you shall go!" and
her aunt arose, and repeated the fiat with great violence of
manner.
" You shall go. I will see who is to be mistress hereremember, miss, you are under my thumb now-you have
no Uncle Halliday to run to with your pitiful stories; and
upon me you are dependent for the clothes on your back, and
the bread that you eat. You shall go-you shall go-you
shall-you shall go-" and screaming the last sentence out
at the top of her voice, she went off into a hysteric spasm,
screaming and tearing her hair, and flying about the room
like a mad person.
At once the household of servants rushed into the room,
and her confidential waiting-maid flew to her, and catching
her in her arms, began saying all manner of soothing things,
while the others flocked around Adelaide, eagerly inquiring
into the cause of the calamity. The screams continued for
some time, until Mrs. Betsey Snuffle, the waiting-maid aforesaid, very prudently hinted to her the danger " that the
neighbors might hear and be coming in, and how disgraceful
it would be." When suddenly there was a hushing up of the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   265
storm, a few heavy groans, a few long-drawn sighs, a little weak sling, with great difficulty gulped down, and a rolling out of soft and flattering words by Mrs. Betsey, at length
terminated the hubbub. The servants, one by one, went off
again to their duties —only Mrs. Betsey; she stayed until
things were all "put to rights," and then, as she left too,
stepped along by where Adelaide still sat in the chair, where
her aunt had first ordered her to sit, and whispered loud
enough though to be heard through the room:
" Miss Adelaide, you'll be the death of your aunt, if you
don't give in to her demands."
It may seem surprising that Adelaide had not exhibited
more alarm, or taken more pains to quiet the distracted feelings of her relation. But Adelaide was acting under a strong
sense of duty;  she was fully resolved as to the step she was
about to take; she had done no wrong, and she well knew
that all interference on her part would only aggravate the unpleasant symptoms.  She, therefore, quietly retained her
seat, although her mind was tossed as the ship when winds
and waves are contrary. The only way by which she could
retain her own self-possession, was to keep steadily in view
the simple idea,"That it was her duty to release herself from a bondage
that she had never voluntarily sought, and which imposed
upon her sacrifices inconsistent with her obligations to God,
and the finer feelings of her nature."
It took Mrs. Abigail some time to recover fully. But as
soon as she did so, it was very evident that the storm had
not cleansed the atmosphere. Awhile she walked the room,
probably expecting her niece to begin the conversation, and
in a more humble strain. She waited in vain, however, and
finally again resumed the seat in her arm-chair.
" I see it is high time, Adelaide, that you fully understood
your position. You are in some sense alone in the world.
You have been unfortunate in some of your connections."
Adelaide colored deeply, and fixed her bright eye full upon
her aunt.
" I mean, you know, in regard to your brother. He is dead
to you, you know, and to the world, if he is not really so."
"Aunt Ratoon, you are the only one who has ever been
unkind enough to taunt me with a calamity beyond my
12




2,66           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
power to have foreseen or prevented. ButJI say to you now
that there are very strong doubts against the charge under
which my poor brother has been suffering, and for which he
is held to be guilty; and I have supposed, aunt, that you had
given him the benefit of your charity, at least. But, I believe, Aunt Ratoon, that Charles is innocent, and I will believe it."
" Oh, well! Adelaide, we will let that go; it matters nothe is, we know not where —nor in what condition; at any
rate, you have no dependence from that source. Your Uncle
Halliday has made almost a wreck of his fortune, and has
gone to China again, and you have no dependence there; on
my care alone are you cast, and from my fortune alone can
you evel have any expectations. But I tell you now, once
for all, my will must be obeyed; and I shall not be unreasonable with you. I have indeed told Mr. Sampson that you
would doubtless accpmpany him to-morrow. We will waive
that; I will not ask you to violate, as you call it, the Sabbath. You may keep it as quietly as you please. But I
shall propose to Mr. Sampson to defer his visit until Monday, and then, Adelaide, I shall insist upon it that you accompany him."
" I hope, aunt, that you will think better of it, before you
see that gentleman. I have told you that it would be very
unpleasant for me to be placed in any such situation with
Mr. Sampson."
"It was not very unpleasant, Adelaide, for you to ride off
alone, and at night, too, with a plain country clown. I may
say at the very risk of your reputation."
Adelaide was too full of indignation to reply, and she
knew it would be of no avail; it would be impossible to disabuse her aunt's mind of its strong prejudice, so she sat silently 6omposing her feelings, and pyeparing herself for the
accomplishment of her determined purpose.
"No; I am resolved, Adelaide, that my will must be
obeyed. I ask nothing unreasonable. Mr. Sampson is a
gentleman of respectability —of high standing. There can be
no possible objection to his waiting upon you, on a visit to
your cousin. I shall expect you to comply with my wish,
without any more words on either side."
Her aunt was about to leave her, having risen from her




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   267
seat, and was walking towards the door, when Adelaide, with
a very trembling tone, spoke:
" Aunt Ratoon!"
The lady stopped and looked towards her, with evident
complacency. She felt, doubtless, from the whole manner
of her niece, that the great end had been accomplished, and
her own triumph was complete.
" Aunt Ratoon, I wish to say a few words to you, and I
want you patiently to listen to me." Her aunt's countenance again resumed its stern cast. " I do not wish to be a
cause of trial to you, and have endeavored, so far as I could,
to avoid either disobedience to your requests, or even an
unwilling compliance. But the matter which you urge upon
me now is one that comes so directly in conflict with my
feelings, and is so repugnant to my heart, that I cannot comply with it. I can never, by any act of mine, encourage the
attentions of one whom no earthly considerations could induce me to accept for a husband. And since you have
spoken so positively, I cannot expect you to retract. Therefore, I think we had better separate. I had rather earn my
living, aunt, than submit to a sacrifice of all I hold dear. If
my presence will not be offensive to you, I would ask the privilege of remaining under your roof until the first of next week."
"Earn your living! And how, pray, are you to do that 2
Do you design to bring all your connexions to disgrace by
engaging in some menial service?"
Her aunt was evidently alarmed.
" I have no intention, aunt, of engaging in any service
which is not of itself respectable. I can get employment as
a teacher."
"'As a teacher! as a teacher!  Oh, Adelaide!"  And
Mrs. Abigail Ratoon clasped her hands together, and threw
herself again into her chair. "' And has it come to this!
my own sister's daughter a hired teacherS Oh! oh! oh!
Little did I think-rbut no matter. One thing I tell you,
Adelaide; I want you to hear me, and to remember. If
you leave my house, and' engage yourself to any such employment, even if you do it for a single week, I will never
leave you one cent. And more than that, you shall in such
case never again put your foot within my doors. I would
spurn you from it as I would a filthy beggar."




268            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Adelaide arose, and assuming a dignity not usual with her,
her beautiful countenance glowing with excitement:
"I shall not wait, then, aunt, to have you put to such a necessity. I will relieve you of my presence at once."
Her aunt sat very erect, putting out her hand, and bending
forward her body as she spoke:
"The sooner the better; but remember, when your feet
once cross the threshold, it will be too late to turn back;
they must never step again within this house; no, not even
to attend my funeral. I shall disinherit and disown you."
Adelaide immediately left the room, and retired to her
own apartment to prepare for her departure. She had a variety of rich dresses, which had been supplied by her aunt,
but as she felt that they would not be suitable for the future
situation she would most likely occupy, she left them all
hanging in the handsome wardrobe, and gathered together
only such articles as had been given to her by her kind old
uncle. The rich jewels from her hands she also laid aside,
leaving them to her who had bestowed them; and then
locking her trunk, left it standing in the room she had occupied. She knew that it would answer no good purpose
again to see her aunt. Her last farewell of her had been
taken; she therefore took leave of the servants, and making
no explanation, merely requested that her trunk might be
brought down and delivered to whomsoever she might send
for it. And then she walked forth into the street, and felt
that she had no longer a home on earth.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   269
CHAPTER XVII.
DEACON RICE, as has been said, was a man of property.
He was called rich for the country; he had a valuable farm,
that brought him yearly a handsome income; and had some
few thousands at interest. His eldest son having a taste for
city life, and a mercantile business, his father, when he was
arrived at age, had given him a snug capital, and the young
man had used it so advantageously, that it was said hundreds
of thousands passed annually through his hands; " that he was
getting rich, and could buy out his good old father any day."
He had not as yet taken a partner, from the fact that the old
gentleman had always steadily objected to any such arrangement; and as the young man was still dependent upon his father's name for a considerable sum at the Melton Bank, it was
necessary for him to yield a point on which the old gentleman was very strenuous.
" One young man," the deacon said, " might be kept within
bounds; but it was doubling the risk to get two together."
However, as Frank Rice felt the necessity of having a partner, because of his inability to attend to all parts of his business, he again, on a visit to his native place, proposed the
subject to his father. But the old gentleman found some objections, arising in his own mind, to all whom his son named,
until, in the course of conversation, some reference was made
to Charles Lovell.
"By the way, Frank, if you could get such a young man
as that, I don't know but it would be the best thing you could
do."
"Charley is a fine fellow, father; a noble fellow."
"Yes, and he is a business man too; everything goes on
at his little place there as systematic as clock work; and he
understands matters, too, which one would not think a farmer
could."




270           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
The truth was, that the deacon had become, for various reasons, a warm admirer of Charles; all his old prejudices had
melted away. Two of his daughters were members of his
Bible class, and by them he was constantly hearing him spoken
of in terms of unlimited admiration. He also had an opportunity for becoming acquainted with his prompt business habits, by his being associated with him in the management of
some town affairs; and the old gentleman lost no opportunity of speaking loudly in his praise.  "He was a young
man," he said, "who would be a credit to himself, and to the
place where he lived."
It was a very sultry day, the air dry and hot, and the
ground was parched by a drought, that had now lasted for
some time.
Charles and his brother were busily employed with their
hoes, although the potatoes they were hilling gave but small
promise of a remunerating crop. The dry and dusty earth,
and the hot atmosphere, combined to make it one of those
seasons of labor, when even the most resolute would be languid, and glad to see the sun reaching the point which marked
the hour for rest.
c" There comes Frank Rice, down the road, in his fine gig.
I guess Frank is right glad that he has no hoeing to do nowa-days. They say Frank is doing a great business, and will
soon be richer than the old man."
As Augustus said this, he stopped his hoe a moment, to
take a view of the handsome establishment.
Charles made no reply; he merely turned his eye in the
direction Augustus was looking, and kept on with his work.
It was one of those days in which Charles was quite sober.
As the gig approached that part of the field in which the
young men were at work, its progress was retarded until at
length it stopped, and the gentleman sprang out and began to
fasten his horse.
" He is coming to see us, Charley."
"Well, I shall be glad to see him. He is rather a clever
fellow, I think."
"Well, boys, hard at work; it's a hot day, aint it?'-'
"Pretty warm," said Charles, advancing to give his hand,
" and very sultry-the most unpleasant weather, it seems to
me, I ever felt."




OR,'THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   271
The young man greeted the brothers with his old cordiality.
Frank was, in fact, a noble-minded, generous youth.
" It is hot hoeing to-day, I know, but perhaps you don't
feel the heat so much as those who are not in the field?"
" I believe it is as cool here as anywhere, but I for one
shall have no objections to see the sun a little lower. If ever
I felt lazy, I do now."
"Well, Charley, suppose you throw down your hoe and
walk a little way with me. I want to talk with you awhile."
Charles at once buried his hoe in the dusty soil, and leaving it in an erect position, walked off with his visitor towards
an apple tree, whose thickly-branched top offered an agreeable
protection.  They both seated themselves upon the cool
grass.
" I have called to-day, Charley, not only to say' how do
you do?' but to see you about a matter of business, and
when business is on the carpet, my motto is'attend to it
right off.' "
Ile then at once unfolded to Charles the circumstances in
which he was placed, and his desire to obtain a suitable partner, and that it was his desire and also the wish of his father,
that Charles would consent to relinquish his present occupa.
tion and take an interest in his concern.
" I arm doing a large business; my sales. last year'amounted
to one hundred thousand dollars, and my profits were at least
twelve thousand dollars, and I offer you to engage with me
for five years. The first two years to have one-quarter of
the profits, and the remaining three to have one-third; now
what say you to pulling up stakes, and linking our fates together."
" I cannot but thank you, Frank, for your proposal. It is
certainly a very generous one; and I feel deeply this testimony of your confidence. But I have no capital, and I have
no knowledge of business."
" Capital I don't expect; I cannot say I don't want it, for
you know the more we have to do with, the more business,
in general, we can do. As to the knowledge of business,
you have got all the knowledge requisite at present. You
are, in the first place, known to be a driving, go- ahead fellow;
you are accustomed to application-to close application; you
attend to your business promptly in the time of it; you are




272            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
a good writer, and a good arithmetician, and you know how
to address people in a gentlemanly way; your manners are
easy, and, above all, I can trust to your honor. And all I
want to ask of you is, not to decide right off; think of it, and
come up this evening and see me, and we will have a good
talk about it. And you can talk with my father too, and see
how he feels about it. What do you say to that? will you
come?"
Charles could not but accept his invitation to call and converse about it, and to take the subject into serious consideration.
"That's the sort, Charley, and now I'm off; you need
not say anything about this matter, except to your brother,
or to some friend whom you may wish to consult."
" I keep but few things from Augustus. I have no other
friend that I should wish to consult."
Charles accompanied him to the'place where his horse
stood, and waited until Frank drove off with his fine establishment, and then turned and walked back towards the
place where his hoe stood, in all its loneliness. It looked
very common-place, and the potato bells, with their dry and
spindling tops, looked rather prosy; and if anytning, the heat
was more oppressive. He went to work, however, in good
earnest, for Augustus had gone through his own row,'and was
returning on his.
As soon as they met, they both concluded, as the afternoon
was so far gone, they would allow it to pass for a day's
work.
"Well, Guss, what do you think?"
"I think how Aunt Casey's cup of tea will relish to-night,
with some of that fresh rye bread she is baking, with a slice
or two of cold ham."
"It will be good, won't it, after such a hard day? But
what else do you think?"
"I think, then, how pleasant it will be on our own little
back stoop. The moon will rise soon after the sun sets, and
I think how nice it will be to sit there with my fiddle in the
cool air, and see the long streak of moon-light on the water,
and the shadow of the distant headlands, and the lights twinkling from thom."
" Well done, Guss; you are getting quite romantic."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   273
"I don't know as to that, but I enjoy myself better on an
evening, on that old stoop, than anywhere else; it pays one
for all the labors of the day."
" I am glad to hear you say so, Guss. It is a good thing
to be satisfied with our home. But what do you think Frank
Rice wanted of me?"
" Why, I suppose, to invite you to the deacon's. I'11 bet
anything the girls have put him up to it."
" I am invited there, that's true, but not to see the girls.
Frank has been making proposals to me to join him in his
business."
"What! to be a partner?"
"Yes, for five years. The two first years he offers me
one-quarter, and the other three one-third. He is doing a
large business, and he don't ask me to bring any capital."
"It is very liberal in Frank, aint it?  You accepted,
didn't you?  You are a lucky fellow, Charley; that has
come of the girls, I know it has."
" I told him I would think about it. It is a serious matter, you know, to change one's business and habits of life."
" You won't have to change your habits much, Charley.
You are always, you know, busy at something. You never
fiddle away your time, as I do."
"I am to go this evening, and see Frank, and he is to tell
me all about his business. I shan't make up my mind, Guss,
without thinking well about it."
"I know that; but it seems to me a great offer."
The reception of Charles by the family of Deacon Rice was
very marked. The old gentleman gave him a cordial grasp
of the hand, and the young ladies were not at all backward
in manifesting their satisfaction with the proposed arrangement.
After passing a few civilities with the family, Frank proposed to Charles that they should adjourn to his father's office, where they could converse freely, and without interruption.
" You know," said Frank, after they had got seated, " I am
always for hurrying matters up, and so I shall begin my
story right off. In the first place, my father, as you know,
started me with five thousand dollars in cash; thisyou know,
would go but a little way in the dry-goods business. I had
12;




274            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
to go along very slow, I assure you, for a year or two. Then
he got courage enough to let me have his name for five thousand more; on this I raised the money at the Melton Bank,
and that, with some credit I had made for myself, and the
names of some friends who exchanged paper with me for five
thousand more, gave me a good lift. And last year, as I have
said, my sales amounted to one hundred thousand dollars;
and I have now, by my last balance-sheet, twenty thousand
dollars to my credit."
"That is, you are now worth twenty thousand dollars?"
"Yes, yes-that is, there may be some bad debts. A
man can hardly be said to have realized much until the
whole concern is wound up. But that is the balance my
books show; you see we must sell on credit, there is no help
for it-some risk, no doubt; but we must look out and sell
to safe names, if we can; and that is the reason I want a
partner. I want to be out of doors more, and finding out
about people; and then our money matters are no trifle to get
along with, and I want some one to consult with, and help me
to manage all straight."
"I should think it would keep one person pretty busy."
"Busy! there is no mistake about that. Farmers sometimes talk as though they had a slavish life of it. But I
have worked harder for myself than ever I did for my father.
And that aint all; there is a world of anxiety; but you know,
in order to accomplish anything, we must buckle to itnothing venture, nothing gained."
"That is true, if one does not venture too far."
"True, likewise, Charles, and that is another reason why I
want you to join me. My father has great confidence in
your prudence and judgment; and two heads, you know, are
better than one. I know, Charles, with you to attend especially to our books, and arranging of money matters, and myself
at liberty to see to customers, and buying goods, we shall do
a swimming business. I would n't thank any one to insure us
sales for the coming year of two hundred thousand dollars."
" But there is something, Frank, which I do not quite comprehend. You say you sell on credit; you must, with your
amount of sales, have a large amount standing out, besides
what you have invested in stock. How do you manage?
You must buy a great deal on credit too."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   275
" Pretty much all-that's the thing of it. I could n't do
so large a business if I did n't."
"But what if those you sell to should not be able to meet
their payments to you? yours must be met."
" That they must, there is no go by to them, and that's
the thing of it again, you see, Charley; that makes the rub
sometimes. I tell you what, it is no child's play. I have
seen nights in which I have not slept a wink, thinking how I
should contrive to meet my payments the next day. But
that is only once in awhile, when everything seems to get
out of kelter. Why, in general, I think nothing of having to
meet twenty thousand dollars in one week, and very little on
hand to begin with. You will soon get used to that, Charley.
Here'is a case in hand; four days from now, I have got ten
thousand dollars to pay. I was in hopes to have got a lift
from our bank here, but they are'tight up,' they say, and
can't let me have a dollar."
"How will you do then?"
" Do! why, if I can't do any better, I must skin it awhile."
" What's that?"
" Why, did you never skin it, Charley? go borrow from
Peter to pay Paul, and then borrow of Timothy to pay Peter
again, and so keep it going until times come round right
again. You have borrowed money from some of the fellows
before now, have n't you?"
"I never borrowed a cent in my life."
" Why, don't you owe anybody?"
"Not a cent."
Frank Rice looked at him with a very serious air.
" You dress well, Charley, as well as any gentleman in the
country neddg to; do you never get anything on tick'? not
even at old Chubback's?"
C" Not a cent."
" Then it makes no matter to you who is pleased or displeased; you fear no man's frown, and you ask no man's.
favor?"
" Not because I owe them anything."
" You must be a happy fellow, Charley, you sleep well;
don't you?"
Charles smiled.
" Generally I have no trouble about that."




276            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Well, I tell you what it is, Charley, I want just such a
fellow as you are along side of me to keep me in check.
And you must not be frightened at all. I have told youyou know I hate any deception-I have told you the worst,
and you will find out the better side after awhile. I have
good hopes of making a fortune, and there are a good many
things about a large business in the city that are pleasant.
We live pretty well. A good deal of money passes through
one'AIhands, and we can make a respectable show at any rate,
and then there are great chances for speculations. All a man
wants is to have his wits about him; and I tell you honestly
what I think, that with your prudence and ability, and my
run of business, and both our heads together, a fortune will
be sure to us. I tell you what it is, when the old gentleman
hears that you don't owe a cent, he will cling to you with
both hands, for to tell you the truth, he thought it very likely,
seeing what improvements you have been making, that you
must have gone in debt; and lest you should be unwilling to
go away on that account, he told me that I might say to you
he would advance the money to pay them off."
" I feel deeply, I can assure you, Frank, the confidence reposed in me. I shall treat your proposal with all that candor and fairness it deserves. And my decision shall be given
to you just as soon as justice to you and myself may require."
Frank arose and took his hand.
"That is you, Charley; and all I hope is that you may decide in the affirmative."
Never before had Charles Lovell such cause for the exercise of his reason and judgment, and he was fully aware of
the responsibility that rested upon him. The present dispensation of Providence was so peculiar, so unexpected, so
unlike anything in his experience hitherto, that he could recall nothing from the past to be a direction to the decision
he was called upon to make. He was a firm believer in tha
guiding hand of Providence. Was this a call, intimating the
propriety of relinquishing his present designs? or intended
to establish him more firmly in their prosecution?
When Charles retired at his usual hour that night, it was
not to enjoy his wonted rest. His thoughts were too busy
to allow of that sweet repose which a day of steady toil had




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   277
never failed to bring. Strange as it may seem, he had a
strong inclination to accept the proposal made to him, and
that from the first moment he heard it. Not that he had
become tired of his present calling, or had lost his taste for
the simple pleasures of the country. But his mind was fascinated with the idea of a large business, and even the difficulties which were connected with it had a charm about
them. They were such as would demand ceaseless energy;
but the more intense the struggle, the more joyous would be
a final triumph.
There was also a sly thought that he hardly dared to own
as his, and yet it kept-intruding its claims with great pertinacity, and no little effect. How much more favorably
would he be situated for the accomplishment of the great desire of his heart.  How much more likely his chance to
obtain the object upon which his affections had become so
decidedly fixed. With how much greater assurance could
he offer his hand to the beautiful and accomplished Adelaide
Vincent, as Charles Lovell, the enterprising merchant, than
as Charles Lovell, the owner merely of a small farm? And
his ready imagination brought up fair visions of what might
be in a few years of successful trade. The luxuries of life
at his command; a splendid mansion furnished with every
elegance to please the taste, and the fair mistress of his
heart leaning upon his arm as he walked through his own
stately halls, and smiling upon him in her own sweet way,
and looking up to him as the lord of the mansion whose
energy, and taste, and generous love had provided such a rare
retreat.
At times, some darker views would present themselves in
strong contrast with these bright scenes, but he had a strange
unwillingness to give them a steady look; his heart was too
much under the influence of hope and strong desire, to allow
his reason her legitimate scope of action.
And thus he passed the night, a sleepless night. And for
the first time, Charles arose to pursue his daily labors, unrefreshed by that blessed cordial which gives to toiling man
new life and vigor for the coming day.
The first object that attracted his notice, was the beautiful
creature which Aunt Casey had tended with so much care the
past winter. It came running up to him to receive its morning




278            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
allowance of some light grain, which he was still in the habit
of affording it. He could not but admire its fair form, and
delicately spotted skin, and its lively action as it frisked
about in expectation of the coming treat. But somehow he
took not that satisfaction in thinking of its progress to maturity as heretofore.
As he approached the stable, the well-known neigh of
Pomp accosted him, and on opening the door, the bright
eye of his noble young horse was fixed upon him, and every
limb was in motion, as if capering for joy at his master's
presence. He patted him on the neck, rubbed his hand
down his sleek round back, poured out his grain into the
manger, and left him to attend to other chores; he seemed
almost afraid to trust himself long with Pomp.
Augustus perceived that his brother was deeply engaged
in thought, and through the day troubled him with but few
questions. It was rather a still day between them. That
evening Charles was engaged at the Rice's. A party was to
be given in honor of Frank, and all the choice ones of Melton would be there. With more than usual care he dressed
himself for the evening. Aunt Casey had taken especial
pains with his ruffles, for she knew his taste for a fine plait;
and, as he arrayed himself; and thought of her motherly
care, a deep sigh escaped him. He had not yet intimated to
her the possibility of their being separated.
The evening passed as most evenings of the kind do; there
was no lack of good things. There was lively conversation,
and pleasant music, and bright smiles, and much apparent,
and no doubt much real happiness. Charles Lovell was the
undoubted star among the gentlemen. Very particular attention was paid to him, especially by the members of the
family, and his singing was the treat of the evening. Miss
Julia Rice stood near to him, and seemed to drink in his rich
strains as though she could not be satisfied. The new prospects before the young farmer had apparently enlightened her
as to some excellences which she had never so distinctly observed before.
Lucy Johnson, who as usual had been waited upon by
Charles, could not but notice the attention which her tfavorite
received, and was highly gratified. She could not, however,
help observing the change in his manner and appearance. A




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   279
settled seriousness had been manifest upon his countenance
through all the joyous scenes of the evening, and if a smile
came over it, almost immediately it passed completely away.
His manner, too, was stiff and restrained, and there was nothing of that light and playful demeanor so usual with him
amid such scenes.
The weather being warm, the company was not confined
to the room; some stood upon the piazza, and in the broad
hall, and on the smooth green lawn in the bright moonlight.
Other groups wandered down the garden path, and seated
themselves on the benches of the arbor.
Charles had withdrawn from the circle in the parlor, and
was looking through the window at the lively scene without,
when a well-known voice spoke close beside him.
" You are dull to-night; are you not well?"
He turned and saw the kind eye of her who had been so
long his well-tried friend, beaming with interest upon him.
There was something in her look, or in his own feelings at
the time, that deeply affected him, and it was with difficulty
he replied:
"Ah, Miss Lucy!"
"Can you never lay aside that Miss? or must I retaliate
by always addressing you as Mr. Lovell?"
" Please don't; I will try to meet your wishes, for I am
sure every token of intimacy you allow, is too dear to me to
be thrown away."
"There you are again, with that serious air; what ails you
to-night, cousin?" (sometimes she used this familiar title.)
"Are you not well?"
"Oh yes, perfectly so; do I appear so serious?"
"Decidedly so; perhaps a little walk may enliven you?
What say you?"
" With all my heart."
Lucy led him designedly where they might not be overheard.
" Now, Cousin Charles, you have got to tell me what is the
matter. There is a riddle going on that I cannot guess out.
You are evidently the distinguished guest of the evening, and
yet you have hardly graciousness enough about you to be
even polite. How could you sit so long and keep Miss Julia,




280            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
standing by as your humble servant, even after you had done
singing?"
"Did I?"
" Certainly you did; now come tell me one thing, you have
not fallen in love again?"
" You know all my heart about such matters. I am no
changeling."
" There now, I have wounded you, and I did not mean it;
forgive my trifling with your feelings, and I will forgive your
hard reply."
" I did not mean to speak hard. I am very unhappy, dear
Lucy."
" I thought so; and may I not know the cause?"
"Yes, you shall know it; I will tell you all, but I cannot
now. I will tell you on our way home."
Charles had not designed to communicate with any one until he had made up his own mina. But Lucy took him by
surprise, and she kept him to his word, for, as soon as the
party had broken up and they were on their way home, she
reminded him of his promise. He hesitated not, but at once
revealed to her the singular proposal which had been made
to him. She listened with fixed attention, although evidently
with a sad heart, until he had told her the whole story.
For some moments after he had finished not a word was
spoken by either. At length Charles, with much earnestness,
said:
"Lucy, can you tell me what I shall do?"'I am not a proper person, Charles, to advise you about
such an important step, for two reasons: First, I should feel
sad to have you go away, on my own account, and on account of many who feel attached to you here, and who will
miss your presence very, very much. And the second reason
is, because my judgment as a lady, in reference to business matters, would be of no account. So that my feelings on one side,
and my ignorance on the other, forbid that I should say a word.
You must be your own counsellor, Charles. I see now why
it was that you put on such a serious air, and I do not wonder at it; for the decision you will make may have a most
important bearing on the future happiness and usefulness of
your life. I suppose I am a little peculiar in my views, but
it seems to me, if I were a man, I should ask myself, Whether




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   281
my calling was a useful one, and allowed my mind freedom
for the indulgence of its nobler feelings? It does not seem
to me that any amount of money can repay, if all the energies of the soul must be engaged in its accumulation."
Charles made no reply. They had reached her home. He
walked up the front yard with her, and stood beside her on
the ample stoop. As the servant was coming, she gave him
her ialld:
" Good night. You know where to go for counsel; and
may you have His blessing, whether you —"
She could say no more. Charles saw her emotion, and his
own feelings were too tender to trust a word from his lips.
He turned as the door opened, and went on his way.
As Charles was about to pass the old stone building, he
turned and looked at it, in the full beams of the moonlight,
for. a moment, and then walked up and seated himself on
some timber that lay piled up beside it. He had of late
taken a peculiar interest in that old house. He had spent
hours in all, looking at it, and planning how he could make
additions to it, until, in his own mind, there was already engraven a picture as it was to be. A neat, commodious home,
with those little trees now scattered in various clusters here
and there, spreading their branches in all directions, and
shooting their tops far above its roof, and equalling in beauty
those already grown. And now, in all its freshness, this picture spreads its charms before him. This home, with treasures richer than the mines contain; where all his heart
desired was enclosed; gathered through years of faithful care
and manly toil; unfolds its every line of beauty to his view.
It'was a calm, still hour-such an one as the mind unspoiled
by vice or avarice loves, and in which it enjoys its clearest
views.
And here upon this spot, and amid the sweet silence of
nature's resting hour, he resolved to decide the question that
involved his weal or woe for life. One solemn aspiration he
raised to Him, on whose blessing and guidance he most frequently depended. And then, with all the fairness of a truthloving mind, he placed before his view the advantages and
disadvantages of each calling that laid claim to his preference.
And thus he reasoned:
"My present business affords me no great scope for enter.




282           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
prise. With my limited capital, a few hundreds a year are
all that I can calculate upon at present. A wise treatment
of my land will, of course, in time increase its value. It can
be made to produce many fold its present returns. But years
must be consumed in patient labor. I must bear the heat
and drought of summer. I must exercise patience, frugality,
judgment, and perseverance.
"In the new business to which I am called, no capital on
my part is required, except that which my head and hands
may be able to yield. But their efforts must be exerted to
the extent of my ability. I shall assume vast responsibilities. I shall be, probably, for many years, under obligations
to my fellow men. I shall be obliged to ask favors. I shall
have a heavy amount of debts due to me, and a large amount
of indebtedness from me to others, which must be promptly
met, and at all hazards. I shall be subject to reverses in the
course of general trade; to times of commercial embarrassment; and whether in prosperous or adverse currents, I must
apply all the energies of my mind to the one single ideathat of making gain, and of preserving it from being swept
away.
"The highest object I shall have attained after many years
of intense devotion to my business, will be an independence
for the rest of may life.  Of this, however, the chances
against me will be ten to one; this is the estimate of soberminded, knowing men. But one in ten of those who start
in the race for fortune, gain the prize; and even of that
small number, many are obliged in their race to become
bankrupt, and although cleared by law from the obligations
which they are unable to meet, go down to old age and to
their graves largely indebted to their fellow-men.
"In my present business I have no care to harass my
mind. I can leave my work in the field with a light heart.
I can enjoy the rich feasts which highly-cultivated minds afford, either from books or from social intercourse. I can enjoy in all their fulness the beauties of nature which I so much
love. I can lie down at night with no distracting care to
disturb my rest, and when I awake in the morning my heart
is light and ready to drink in the freshness of the new day.
I can, without a doubt, provide for myself a home, such as
my heart aspires after. And my living is as sure as any



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   283
thing earthly can be. I can stretch my thoughts to others,
and use what influence I have to the utmost. I have found
no hinderance hitherto, but am treated with kindness and respect by all. I owe no man anything, and never need to do
so. And I am an independent man."
Charles started to his feet. The last thought came with a
quickening power to his mind. He fairly shook his arms
as though they had been shackled, and he felt the fetters
snap.
"Yes, I am a free man in its fullest sense. My bread is
sweet; it comes from honest labor, and at no man's cost.
And a free man I will ever be, so help me God."
Light as a bird let loose, that chirps and swings away upon
the buoyant air, the mind of Charles arose and soared in
freedom. He had no more doubts. His path lay bright
and clear before him. The dear old spot on which he stood
was radiant with beauty. A hearty thanksgiving at once
arose to Heaven, and a fervent prayer that he might be
strengthened to walk steadily and with a single purpose in
the way which from the first had been his choice. Sweet was
his sleep that night, and with a light heart he hailed the
morning dawn. Pomp and his other pets were tended and
caressed, as friends with whom he meant to sojourn, and be
as happy as he could.
According to appointment he met Frank the next morning, and in a clear and decided manner made known his reasons for declining the offer he had received.
" In my present business I find great pleasure. Its duties
are not burdensome to me. It allows me the free enjoyment of my better feelings. Nature, with its simple beauties, has perpetual charms for me, and no distracting care
disturbs my mind; no sense of obligation weighs down my
spirit. I wish to be a free man, so long as I live."
Frank took his hand.
"I am sorry, Charley, that you and I cannot be together.
But your reasons are satisfactory, perfectly so. And I am
almost ready to wish that I too had never left the country.
But I am in for it, and must push ahead, sink or swim. I
hope to succeed, and when I am able, you may depend upon
seeing me somewhere near you, and I hope we may yet
spend many happy days up here in company."




284            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"I hope so," responded Charles, cordially shaking his
hand, "with all my heart."
They parted better friends than ever; each to pursue his
chosen path for life, and reap the fruits which they might find
therein,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   285
CHAPTER XVIII.
THAT Lucy Johnson loved the Reverend Charles Jamieson,
she never attempted to deny. "Yes, I do love him," she
would say to any of her companions who rallied her on the
subject. "I love him just as much as any of you, and I believe more, too; for I never get drowsy under his preaching,
and that is more than many of my friends can say."
"No, but I don't mean as a preacher; you love him one
side of that," said Julia Rice, one day to her.
"That I do, Julia; he is a most excellent pastor; his visits are well-timed, and his instructions and counsels most
edifying. I am always profited by his visits."
"No, no, but I don't mean preaching or pastoral visits, or
anything of that kind; you are not going to get round me
that way; don't you love him as a man? Now tell me
that."
"I do, most certainly. He is a gentlemen of highly-refined manners; his mind is richly stored, and he has powers
of conversation that enable him to bring them forth with
great ease. He is a most delightful companion; don't you
think so yourself, Julia, from what you have seen of him 2"
"Oh, well, but that is another thing; everybody admires
him, and to tell you the truth, if it would do any good, we
could all fall in love with him together. But we all know
pretty well whom he loves; and I for one don't blame him.
You are just the one for a minister, Lucy, everybody says."
" I cannot tell as to that, Julia; it will be time enough to
think what kind of a minister's wife I should make, when
there is any prospect of my becoming such."
This conversation took place between these young ladies,
as they were sitting by themselves in one corner of a very




286            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
large room in the house of Deacon Rice, where was assem.
bled a score of ladies from the different denominations, all
busily employed with their needles in making preparations
for the marriage of the Rev. Mr. Foster. His house had
been nicely refitted by the means which were contributed at
the donation party during the winter. And now, the ladies,
who all felt deeply interested in Fanny Pearl, were making
up sundry articles in the house-keeping line, and for arraying
the beautiful bride.
It was very true that Lucy had not yet had the opportunity
of deciding whether she was a suitable person for a minister's wife.. She had never yet been asked to become such.
That she loved Mr. Jamieson as a gifted and brilliant
preacher, as a faithful and wise pastor, and as an accomplished
gentleman, she candidly confessed. And in the same way
she was not ashamed to own that she loved Charles Lovell.
He was an engaging young man, of pure and generous feelings, whose mind was improved far beyond what was usual
for his years. He had a confiding disposition, and made her
the depository of his joys and trials. Although by many
looked upon as beneath her in station, such an idea had no
weight with Lucy. He was her chosen companion when she
needed one on any excursion from home. She had a sincere
affection for Charles, and was not ashamed to have it known.
But there was a depth in Lucy's love that could not be
fathomed by common minds, and when she was rallied by
her companions as to her feelings for either of these gentlemen, she received it pleasantly and gave her answer according to their ideas of love and not her own. She was no
prude, nor coquette; the attention she showed to both these
gentlemen they fully understood; to one she was a source of
great happiness, and he found in her the kindness and faithfulness of a sister, and to the other she was all that he could
reasonably expect, but nothing that his heart could lay hold
upon to satisfy its strong emotions towards her.
Charles Jamieson was now in his thirty-first year. He
was still living as when first introduced to our notice. The
people over whom he was placed were strongly united to
him; his congregation had indeed increased in numbers, and
his church on the Sabbath was well filled. But those who
had been added brought no additional strength, so far as




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   287
pecuniary matters were concerned; and his salary was still
paid by those who had provided for it from the first. It was
enough for him in his present condition, but not sufficient to
allow him to think of establishing himself as the head of a
family. Of this he never thought as a cause of complaint.
At times, indeed, his mind would dwell upon the idea of a
happy home with one he loved, but the thought never produced restlessness, nor a desire for change. His sphere of
labor was not so large as that of many less gifted than himself, but he always found work to do. A considerable number of his people were poor, and some of them lived remote
from the place of worship, and were not able to attend regularly on the Sabbath. To these he carried the gospel, holding frequent meetings among them, visiting from house to
house, and bearing about the whole of his parish in his beautiful deportment, those graces which emanate from the pure
Christian as visibly as light from a burning torch. He, therefore, did not repine because the field assigned to him was no
larger. He only felt anxious to do his work well.
But that rich flow of feeling with which he had been
endowed, although a gift of great value, which mellowed his
character, and made a way for him to every heart, was like
every other precious inheritance, subject to its attendant
trials.
Few, indeed, would be the hearts in this strange world,
whose sympathies could unite and beat in beautiful harmony
with his. But to such his strong affections would cling with
a power the common heart knows nothing of. And such an
one he had met in Lucy Johnson. Nor could he any more
contyrol that subtile influence which communion with her
wrapjped about his heart, than he could have driven from the
air around the rose its precious perfume. He did not ask
himself the serious question, Whether a corresponding emotion
affected her? No sign had he ever discovered-no word, or
look had reached him that gave the least assurance of her
love. For reasons all sufficient, he had refrained from indulging in visions of bliss which could only tend to unfit him
for his work. And yet he had thoughts of her, as one whom
he loved, and whom he had no power or wish to banish from
his heart.
Nothing had ever been said to him about the smallness of




288            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
his salary. His people knew how limited it was, and they
knew better than he what they could afford to give him. He
labored not for hire, he loved his work; and he well knew
that the Master whom he served, had all hearts and all pos.
sessions at disposal, and there he left himself.
It was one of the loveliest days of summer, about the middle of the afternoon; he was sitting by the window of his
pleasant study enjoying the cool shade of the large weeping
willow, whose sweeping branches hung nearly within his
reach, when a visitor was announced, and on rising to receive
him, he met the friendly grasp of the old colonel.
" How are you, my dear sir?"
" Colonel Johnson, I am extremely happy to see you
here."'" And I am very happy to be here, for you have got such
a charming, cool box of a room here; but it is something
of a walk; heigh ho! I am getting old, I do believe; I can't
stand it as I used to; and that hussey has gone off with
Josey to see about this wedding that's coming off in a few
days; but she is to call for me as she goes home."
All this was said while he was taking possession of the
large, easy, study chair, which his young pastor had placed
for him in the most airy situation.
"N' eat as a pin, neat as a pin, everything in order," and
the old gentleman cast his eyes around upon the shelves of
books, and on the spotless green cover of his desk, and the
bright polish of his furniture. " You are as snug here as a
man need to be; I mean a young man without a family; snug
enough; but you know, my dear sir, that I am a meddlesome
sort of a man, always dipping into other folks' affairs. I suppose it is because I have not a great deal of my own to see
to.":
"I believe, sir, your friends never complain of your interference."'" Well, I believe, in the main, I don't mean to harm them.
But I sometimes think that we are, in general, too apt to let
one another alone; and many a fine fellow has to suffer a
good deal because no one asks him, in right good earnest, and
with a meaning to it,'How dost thou do?' and it is for this
purpose I have taken the liberty of calling on you this afternoon. I don't come as an officer of the church, but as a




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   289
friend that feels, to say the least, very kindly towards you,
just to ask you, how do you do? how do you get along?"'''
" I have not the shadow of a doubt, my dear sir, as to your
kind feelings. You have manifested them in too many ways.
I thank you for your kind inquiry, and am happy, to say, in
reference to all personal matters, I have great cause for
gratitude."
" That is all well enough; it is well to be grateful even
for small favors. But you certainly could have no objections
to receiving an addition to your causes for gratitude; you
have made a little go a good way."
" I have endeavored, sir, to make the most of my means,
and have limited my desires to what my ability allowed."
"A very wise arrangement. It would be a deal better for
all your parishioners if they could be induced to adopt your
practice; but to make the matter short, Mr. Jamieson, a few
of us have'been talking the matter over a little, and we think
something ought to be done by way of giving you a chance,
if you feel so disposed, to-to-to settle down-that is, if you
feel so disposed, you know-" at the same time putting his
hand upon the shoulder of his young minister; " you may,
like other young men, wish to take to yourself a wife-you
understand me."
The young man smiled, and at the same time his fair
countenance was suffused with a blush that would not have
done discredit to the cheek of a delicate maiden.
" Ah, I see how it is; you feel a little shy; well, that's a
good sign; a young man that can talk about such a matter as
marriage, without being a little put out of sorts at the first
brush, why, you see, he don't show just the right feeling on
the subject. But you must understand me, my dear sir, I
have not come to pry into any of your secrets-to know who
it is you are to be linked to, or anything about that-that's
your look-out, only wishing you the utmost happiness, and
just as good a partner as we think you deserve. The fact is
just here; it has been hinted around of late, and I suppose I
can guess how it has come, that you are engaged to a lady
out of town, that it is a matter that has been on the carpet
now for some time, and I for one feel, such being the case,
that you ought to have an increase to your salary. Now, I
have been frank with you, and I want you to be so with me,
13




290            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
You know that there are not many among us that can give
very liberally, but we mean to do the thing that is right. If
you are engaged to a lady that has an income of her own, or
friends that are able to give her one, why, perhaps, in that
case, you would not need so large an addition as if she had
nothing. And I tell you, my dear sir," again patting him on
the shoulder, "we are not going to keep you among us to be
pinched out of your manliness by keeping you on beggar's
fare; no, no, we have called you to be our spiritual guide,
and we shall sustain you in respectability and comfort, if we
have to make a common concern of it, and share our own
incomes with you. Make your mind easy on that score, and
now just let out the whole truth, as you would to a father."
It was impossible for one possessed of any sensibility not
to have been touched by this paternal address. Mr. Jamieson was so overcome, that for some time he could only grasp
in silence the hand of his kind-hearted friend. But there were
some things in his address which required, on his part, a decided answer, and as soon as he could speak with composure,
he replied:
" I will not attempt to thank you, my dear sir, for the token
you now give me of your own kind feelings and those of this
people; such unlooked-for generosity demands more than I
can now embody in words. But will you please say to those
who have united with you in this act, that I hope each of them
may enjoy the reward of the liberal soul. As to what you
say, Colonel Johnson, about my private arrangements, I must
correct the error into which my friends have fallen. I am
not, sir, nor have ever been on terms of such intimacy with
any lady; nor have I ever yet sought such a favor; my circumstances hitherto have forbidden me the privilege. But, sir,
I frankly acknowledge to you, that nothing but my limited
means could have prevented me long ere this from seeking
the affections of one whom I most ardently love."
"'There need be no hinderance now, I assure you, my
young friend; I pledge you a good support; I am authorized
so to do. Just go to work, then, as quick as you can."
Mr. Jamieson was much excited, and for some moments
was silent, merely answering in a rather oblivious manner to
some questions of the colonel on parish matters. At.leth
with a tremulous voice he began:




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   291
"I have always conceived it right and proper, sir, that any
attempt to gain the affections of a lady, must, if she have parents, be through their approbation. I lay my suit, therefore,
sir, at your feet, humbly asking your permission to gain if I
can your daughter's heart."
The old gentleman had been sitting before him, and looking
with intense interest. He kept his mouth going as though he
had something there very hard to chew; and as the full idea
was unfolded, his countenance assumed a cast of most unfeigned surprise. At length, pushing his chair back a little:
"Handsomely done, sir —handsomely done; I little thought,
sir-I trust you will credit me, sir-that things were to take
such a turn as this. Well, well, well," pushing his chair each
time as he spoke, "I see a man never knows when he begins
to meddle with such matters, where or what the end will be;
I am sure I did n't. You have gone a little faster to work than
my calculations. My Lucy! well, I can't say you have made
a bad choice; and so far as I am concerned you shall have no
obstacle in your way. I don't know the gentleman I should
be able to commit her to with so much confidence. But, bodya-me! what a predicament I have placed myself in!"
"By no means, sir, regret what has taken place. It was as
far, sir, from my intention to have made this declaration to
you at this time, as it was unexpected by yourself, sir. But
I could not allow you, sir, to take an active part in advancing my interests under such circumstances."
"' That is true; you are right. Body-a-me! how it would
have looked! Well, well, you know better than I do what
chance you have for success. My best wishes are on your
side, at any rate. And here comes Josey."
At a fine flowing pace, the noble horse came along the
smooth road, bearing the neat and roomy carriage behind
him; while the fair hands of his young mistress merely held
the reins as a kind of ceremony. It seemed by no means a
nmatter of necessity, for at the first sound of her gentle voice
the obedient creature stopped, with so easy and graceful a
motion, as if he feared too sudden a halt might discompose
the fair one whom he carried.
"Whoa, Josey, whoa."  The old gentleman seemed to be
in a great hurry to be off. He sprang in quite nimbly, and
as soon as he touched the reins Josey became restless, tossing




292            A LOSx LOOK AHEAD;
his head, and pawing the ground, and looking back to see if
all was ready.
"Whoa, Josey; good morning, sir-good afternoon-I
mean good day, sir."
The two young folks had barely time to pass a slight salutation, before Josey tripped away with his load, as if suppertime was drawing near, and he must be there by the hour.
Whether Lucy was able to define to herself, or to anybody else, exactly in what way she loved William Jamieson
besides as a minister, a pastor, and a gentleman, it will not
be worth while to inquire. Neither will it be best to draw
the veil and see how the reverend gentleman made her to
understand the difference between a pastoral visit and that
of a lover  Somehow or other the thing was managed, and
not very long either after the scene recorded above.
The old gentleman probably suspected what was the business on hand, for, contrary to his usual custom, he left the
young people to entertain themselves as they best could, and
retired to his own room. It was adjoining the parlor, a fine,
spacious, cheerful apartment, with windows reaching to the
floor, and opening upon a wide piazza, surrounded with shrubs
and flowers, and from which you entered immediately into a
highly-cultivated garden.
Seated by one of the long open windows, in his large,
leathern-bottomed chair, his hair frizzled and powdered, his
shoes highly polished, his knee-buckles shining like new silver, and with his book in hand, he might have passed for a
good personification of dignified repose.  And everything
about the room corresponded to its master. The furniture
was of the most substantial kind, of an ancient fashion, when
mahogany was cheap, and money plenty. Large square bottomed chairs, with high, pointed backs, and heavy legs, resting on broad lion's feet curiously carved. Tables tham seemed
made to be stationary, or only moved on special occasions;
with a high secretary or book-case reaching almost to the
heavy cornice on the ceiling.  Every chair conveyed the
idea of repose, and told of days when there was time enough
to lean back and take one's ease; whe? men, and women too,
had some leisure in this bustling world, and knew how to
enjoy it. When they could fotbi  the social ring about the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   29t
blazing hearth, and with the fragrant cup in their hand, and
the plate upon their knee, pass round the sparkling wit and
the hearty laugh, and make the atmosphere about them
jovial with their cheer.
The twilight had come on, and the little birds were singinrg their last notes, ere they closed their eyes upon their
swinging perch; and there the good old man sat, indulging
in those thoughts which so become the evening hour, and the
silvery age, when his door was gently opened, and William
Jamieson, with Lucy leaning on his arm, came in. As they
approached he rose to meet them. Not a word was spoken
until Lucy, as she leaned her head upon his bosom, in a calm,
clear tone, simply said:
"Your blessing, father."
He put his arm about her, and fondly pressed her to him.
"May you prove as rich a blessing to him upon whose
arm you lean, as you have to me, my dear, dear Lucy. May
God bless you both."
He took the hand of Mr. Jamieson, and pressing it cordially:
" I commit to you my dearest treasure; and I thank God
that I can do it with the utmost confidence, without a fear but
you will prove all that you seem to be. And now, Lucy, I
wish you just to leave your friend a little while with me; I
want to have a talk with him."
And Lucy, taking a good hearty kiss as her father released
her from his embrace, tripped lightly away, and the two gentlemen were once more alone together.
"And now, sir, will you please to come and sit down here
by me, for I want to finish that business you and I were upon
the other day, when things took siuch a strange turn, and
knocked all my plans in the head-those chairs were never
made to lift, just drag it along; and now first of all I must
say to you that I am hereafter not going to make any stranger
of you. You have of your own free will taken my Lucy, and
whoever gets her must be my son whether or no."
"No hard condition, I assure you, sir."
"You can't tell yet what the conditions may be; but first
of all you must have' an increase to your salary, and as I am
not now going to run round to see about that matter, I shall
take the liberty of adding to it what I think will be sufficient




294            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
to make a pair of young folks comfortable. I shall to-morrow morning settle upon Lucy three hundred dollars a year;
it is no great sum, but with your income will make what I
call a good beginning for young folks."
Mr. Jamieson was much moved, and about to express his
gratitude, but the old colonel, putting his hand upon his arm:
"No matter now, not a word, if you please. I am not a
rich man, as many suppose, but I have got enough; my gift
to you and Lucy will still leave me a thousand a year more
than I shall want for myself. But there is another thing you
will be obliged to submit to. I have a large house here, and I
call it a very comfortable one too. I shall want you and Lucy
to take possession of it.:My apartments I shall keep just as
I have done; the rest shall be yours and Lucy's. You shall
be your own master and mistress. I shall be with you as much
as I please, and when I wish I can be alone; but Lucy and I
must be under the same roof. Not a word, just keep quiet.
Our old servants are used to their young mistress, and everything can go on just as it always has; so you see, you will
have no need to depend upon the people to get you up a parsonage, and all that. And last of all, you will have Josey at
your command to go about just when you please; and I don't
see why we can't be as happy as-at any rate as we deserve.
Not a word; I know how you feel; thank the Lord as much
as you please; but I am consulting just my own happiness.
You can go now and tell Lucy how it is all fixed; and I shall
say to our good friends who have wanted to raise your salary,' Raise away as much as you please, but I shall have nothing
to do with it.' Now, not a word. God bless you. Just go
and see Lucy."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   295
CHAPTER XIX.
THE Institution in which Adelaide Vincent had received
an appointment, that is, provided, upon inspection, she should
suit the views of the Lady Principal, was in that day a s" celebrated Institution."  It was under the charge of MRiss 1'Martinett, probably a very accomplished lady. She was tole-hably
well versed in the several branches which she professed to
teach, and had several assistants to aid her in the various
classes; a little Frenchman instructed the pupils in music
and dancing, and two young ladies assisted in hearing the
recitations in history, rhetoric, moral and political science,
natural and mental philosophy, and several other things of
like necessary attainment. One peculiarity which Miss TMartinett had adopted, and which answered her turn very well,
was, that the books used at this " celebrated school" should
be all prepared with questions and answers, so that no matter
how abstruse the subject, neither teachers nor scholars could
at any time be put to any very great trouble in accomplishing their several tasks. It was a happy expedient. The
teachers could never be at a loss, with the book before them,
and the scholars would be sure to graduate with eclat; that is,
if they had tolerably good memories.
It did indeed, at times, to some of the pupils whose minds
were more grasping than the rest, seem to be a very "' humdrum" way of spending their time and some who had graduated with high honors, were bold to say, after they had left
school for a few months, that it was difficult for them  to imagine that they had learned anything; but that was r, mnatter
of no momeut.  Miiss Martinett's school was a "celebrated
Institution;" all the first people sent their daughters there;
and if the first people approved of it, why, surely the more
moderate portion of the community ought to be satisfied.




296            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
But, although Miss Martinett was so very particular in
confining her teachers to the question and answer system, as
they found it in the books, she was, herself, very much given
to lecturing, not indeed on the sciences, but on the manners,
and customs, and proprieties of genteel life. She had a great
idea of the manners of the "' old school," as she understood
them. That was, great stiffness in dress, very erect postures,
very regular motions, very long garments, and great shyness,
towards young men. As to the latter item, it may have been
all well enough. Young men need watching; they always
have been, and perhaps always will be, meddling with young
girls, to the infinite distress of prudish old aunts, and maiden
principals of "popular Institutions."
She had, also, a great regard for the complexion, and was
very sensitive as to any tendency in her pupils to grossness
of form, and had an exalted idea of an attenuated diet, as
helping to give true lady-like delicacy to both.
" High living," she said, " ought never to be indulged in
by those who made any pretensions to gentility; and I shall
never, depend upon it, young ladies, be charged by you, in
after life, with having contributed to a gross and vulgar
form."
And, so far as diet was concerned, there was little probability that any such sin would be laid by them at her door.
Rice was her favorite comestible, and many were the varieties in which this innocent grain was served up. The most
famous, however, and those which were most likely to be rememnbered by them, was paupau and chickee; the latter being
what is commonly known as devil'd chicken. That being, however, a vulgar name, Miss Martinett had given it a much
more simple term. Chickee certainly has a better sound.
What the first dish consisted of, besides boiled rice and a
little dash of strong butter, it would have been difficult for
one, not in the secret of its preparation, to determine. But
Mliss Martinett called it " paupau," an East Indian dish,
and as paupau they eat it-all they could.  The chickee
was rice, also, with a scattering of chicken meat sprinkled
through it, and so mixed up that with a very little of the
chicken, a great deal of the rice had of necessity to be forked
up. The chickee was, however, the favorite dish. It had
some flavor to it, was always smoking hot, and once in a while




OR, THE FIRST STROKE -AND THE LAST.   297
one might happen to get almost a good mouthful of chicken.
This created an expectation that more would be coming, and
thus they may have been said to have " eaten it in hope."
Miss Martinett was also very precise in all her arrangements.  Every young lady was obliged, immediately on
conling from her room in the morning, to present herself in
what Miss Martinett was pleased to call the " ante-room," a
slnall apartment adjoining the one in which the paupau and
chickee were to be eaten. There, seated in a large chair, was
the Lady Principal, holding herself very erect, a matter of necessity to all appearance; for from the frill that lay around the
crown of her head to the flounce at the bottom of the long
dress, everything was so very stiff with starch, or something else, that there could not possibly be anything like
bending.
" That is pretty well for you, Miss Ketchum; your hair has
not been quite drawn up as tight as it should be." The poor
girl looked already as though every hair was being pulled the
wrong way.
" Your hair is well enough, Miss Shawn; but of all sights!
you must have forgotten your stays this morning, miss."
" No, ma'am-Miss Marsh drew them for me as tight as
she could."  She was a fine wholesome-looking girl, and appeared to have been well fed at home.
" I fear you will never get into shape. I do my best for
you while you are under my care, but the long vacation
spoils it all. If you will stuff so, there is not much use in
my strict attention to you while you are here. But I must
try what can be done this term. You are really a fright;
you must be put upon paupau and nothing else; ah, here
comes a grace."
Enter a young slender creature, naturally pretty, but so
distorted by dress that she appeared more like a bandaged
corpse than a living girl of sixteen. Hair exceedingly smooth
behind, and lying over very far on the foretop, arms down,
waist straight and long, and nothing to speak of in circumference; dress sweeping the floor. With measured step she
stalked before the lady inspectress, and really seemed proud
of the approbation which was bestowed upon her.
"You can eat freely of chickee, my dear, it won't hurt
you."




298            A LONG,LOOK AHEAD;
"Nor me either," said Miss Shawn, in a whisper to one of
her companions.
"Whispering! whispering! in my presence too! who
is it?"
But it seemed to be nobody, for all looked round very in.
nocently at one another to see who had done the naughty
thing.
Tingle, tingle, tingle! That was as much as to say,' The
paupau is ready." No one appeared in any haste. The lady
arose, and in a very stately manner made motions, which
were perfectly understood, and passing again in review, they
proceeded in a solemn manner into the adjoining room, and,
taking their seats, sat like so many statues, until the lady had
taken her station at the head of the table.
The table was quite a long one, for it was a very "cele.
brated institution," and there was no want of pupils. Plates
of bread cut very square, and in small pieces, were distrib.
uted throughout its length; and an occasional plate of butter, a few scattering dishes of dried beef cut very thin, with
a full supply of smoking paupau, made up the variety of
eatables. To each young lady was distributed a cup of tea,
made as tea ought to be made for young ladies with weak
nerves. As everything went by rule in this celebrated establishment, it was of great consequence that those concerned in
the matter should do what was to be done in the way of eat.
ing with all possible expedition; for the moment the lady
principal had accomplished her task of supplying her own
precious casket with as much paupau as she thought expedient, her little bell sounded a gentle alarm, and all must cease
operations, and the paupau, and bread, and butter, and beef,
if any was left, were to remain in statu quo. This was the
law of the table, and it was well understood; and by several,
Miss Shawn in particular, was generally anticipated by using
great diligence in the work before them; the last-named
young lady making no scruples of putting down her bread
and butter double, besides making rapid movements with her
paupau spoon.
In general, most of the business was acomplished by the
time the bell tinkled; for what with their heads strained up,
and their bodies strained in, and their want of relish for the
food, a very few mouthfuls answered all purposes.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    299
But the most trying of all the duties which the lady principal had to perform, was in guarding her precious charge
during their daily walks in pleasant weather.
It happened that not very far from this noted establishment for young ladies, there was a school for boys.  They
were wicked boys, all of them, as the lady principal assured
her pupils; and, under terrible threats for disobedience, they
were forbidden to speak to, or even look at them. Now, it
was a matter of daily occurrence, that while the lady would
be marching along in great state, with her long line of the
graces in her rear, these naughty boys would use all manner
of contrivances to pass a sly word to some little favorite in
the group, or to thrust into their hands a paper of peanuts,
or sugar-kisses, or maybe a bundle of round hearts. It was
very wicked for them to do so; but the girls, some of them,
had such little witching smiles, and such pretty roguish black
eyes, and took the little gifts in such a delightfully sly manner, and tucked them out of sight with such evident good
will that the boys were really not so much to blame after
all. It was very trying to the lady principal, and she did
what she could to remedy the evil. It would not do for one
in her station to turn round, and in a commanding tone order
off the vagrants. All she could possibly do in person was to
frown at them indignantly. But the boys were such hardened
little wretches, that it was said they were seen to smile when
she did so. Her assistants in the school, although able to
hear recitations when the questions and answers were all before them in plain print, were not just such as she wished to
parade before the public. One of them had such a careless
manner of walking, and made such sad work with her heels,
that the lady principal feared she might be taken for some
very common person; and the other had an unfortunate twist
to her nose, which might not only make her too conspicuous
to passers-by, but might possibly excite the ridicule of those
wicked boys, and so only make matters worse.
These untoward circumstances may seem very trifling in
themselves, but it so happened that they were helpful towards
the completion of an engagement with Miss Adelaide Vincent.
When Adelaide left the house of her aunt, she at once repaired to the house of Mrs. Willis, and after spending the
Sabbath there, started early on -Monday morning in the pub



300            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
lie stage for the town of, on the banks of the North
River. As there was still some uncertainty whether she
would be able to make an arrangement. with Miss Martinett,
that lady declining to say anything positive before seeing the
person who wished to be employed, Adelaide entered the institution with rather a trembling heart. She was not long,
however, doomed to a state of uncertainty, for no sooner did
the lady principal look upon her beautiful countenance, and
perceive that her form was a perfect model of symmetry,
and that her carriage was marked with gentility and grace,
than she resolved to engage her. She did it, too, upon her
own terms, for Adelaide was in no condition to bargain.
All she wished was a situation of respectability, where she
could use the talents she possessed in providing for her own
independence. She little thought another woman could be
found as unjust, as arbitrary, and as tyrannical as the one she
had been under, and, with little regard to her own advantage
in the contract yielded to the fair words that were addressed
to her, and, in fact, threw herself upon the generosity of Miss
Martinett.
After all arrangements had been completed, and she had
left the presence for her own room, the lady could not help
ejaculating, I "What an acquisition!"
And this was very true; an acquisition indeed was she in
a place where young and loving hearts were thrown under
the deadening influence of pride and selfishness.
The assistants whom Miss Martinett had hitherto engaged
were neither very ill-natured nor remarkably selfish. But
they had no very fixed character, either for good or evil.
They knew but little, were very poor, and although the compensation they received was small, yet it was object enough
ibr them to command an obsequious obedience to the rules
of their employer. The tender and guileless hearts of the
pupils found no sympathy from them; and they had every
reason to look upon them as mere spies upon their few hours
of freedom.
Adelaide's first appearance among the girls was like a ray
of sunshine after a season of dark and lowering weather.
Bright smiles met her salutation on every side, for she smiled
upon them. The lady principal never smiled, and her as.
sistants did as they saw her do.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   301
"Oh, I do hope she will hear our class," said one.
"And I hope she will be the monitor in our sleepingroom," said another.
"It makes me hungry to look at her," said Miss Shawn;
"I'11 bet anything she has got cakes in her pocket."
Miss Martinett heard nothing of these sly remarks, and
appointed Miss Vincent to a class, according to her own excellent judgment. She selected some of the dullest scholars,
or those she esteemed such, and placed them  under the
charge of the new -assistant. Miss Shawn was one of them.
She dared not laugh, so she had to "make-believe-cry;" tears
did absolutely come; how she got them is of no consequence.
" Here are the young ladies whose recitations you will attend to, Miss Vincent; and you will feel yourself especially
bound to watch over them, and see that in all things they
conform to the printed rules. You will also find your bed
in their room, and for all their delinquences I look to you as
responsible." Adelaide colored deeply. " The rules are to
be observed, you will understand, Miss Vincent, without deviation, and without the least abridgment."
The stately lady stepped off to another part of the room,
and left Adelaide to her task.
The hearing of their recitations was a very easy matter;
but it occurred to the mind of Adelaide, that it might add
some interest to the tedious routine if she should, after having gone over the lesson according to the prescribed rule,
review it by varying her questions and adding a few explanations of her own. At first, this was such a novel procedure,
that but few of them could give a correct reply to even the
simplest question that was not down on the book. But by
degrees they became much interested. They listened with
strict attention to her explanations. They liked to hear her
voice, and to look at the pleasant features that beamed upon
them so kindly. They began to love their studies the more
they comprehended of them, and their hour of recitations
became at length the most pleasant of all the twenty-four,
excepting that which brought them all together, and alone
with their sweet teacher in their sleeping apartment. The
tying up of the hair in the morning had been to them a very
unpleasant matter, but Miss Vincent had such a soft and
easy way of doing it, and had so many expressions of tender



302            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ness for them while under the operation, that they bore it
with as little complaining as possible.
"All very well," said the lady principal at the morning
review, "all except Miss Shawn; she seems to me to grow
more out of shape, do all I can."
Adelaide looked at Miss Shawn, but saw nothing out of
shape except what was caused by the measures used to compress her round full form to the beau ideal of Miss Martinett.
" I believe I shall even have to deny her the paupau."
As the paupau was a new dish to Adelaide, she could form
no opinion of the propriety of Miss Martinett's suggestion.
"You will prepare yourself, Miss Vincent, to accompany
me in my walk with my pupils this afternoon. You will remember that we allow no familiarity with our pupils by any
persons foreign to the institution; and if you are annoyed in
any such way, you must show by your looks, at once, that
speaking to the pupils is not allowed."
As soon as it was known that Miss Vincent was to accompany them in their walk, there was a general rush towards
her on the first opportunity afforded by the absence of the
lady principal.
" o, Miss Vincent, walk in our division;" and " Do, Miss
Vincent, walk in ours;" and " Do, Miss Vincent, let me take
your arm."
Adelaide smiled. She could not yet comprehend why her
presence was of so much consequence. She could not realize
that their young hearts, separated from the loves of home,
were panting for tokens of the sympathy they had been accustomed to there.
Whether it was that those wicked boys were deterred by
beholding one who had the bearing of a real lady, in company with those they fancied, or that there was some secret
understanding with those little witches, certain it was, Adelaide had no occasions for making up a hard face, even if she
could have done the thing. The only annoyance experienced
was from a fine-looking youth, who bowed very respectfully
as he passed, and in a sly way slipped a parcel into the hand
of Miss Shawn, and then continued on his way. Where the
young lady disposed of it would be idle to inquire; but that
evening there was great doings in their private room; cakes
were in abundance, and pieces of candy, and pea-nuts, and




OR, THE  FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   303
sugar-almonds. And Adelaide found a heap of good things
lying on the top of her own bed.
" Do taste them, Miss Vincent; you don't know how good
they are,"
It would have done no good for her to refuse, for they all
put in their plea; and when she had gratified them in this,
Miss Shawn was so delighted that she ran up and kissed her.
And as they saw that no offence was taken, but Miss Vincent
kissed the kind-hearted girl in return, they all came up for a
like favor.
" Oh, dear, how good it is to have some one that a body
can love. You are going to stay here a long time, aint you,
Miss Vincent?" said Miss Shawn. Every one in the room,
at the same time, turned an inquiring look at Adelaide.
"I cannot say, my dear, how long. Perhaps Miss Martinett may not be satisfied with me."
" Where is your home, Miss Vincent?"
Adelaide colored deeply, and hesitated a moment.
"This is my home, for the present."
The idea of such a place being home to any one, seemed to
be something they could not comprehend. Home, to them,
was a place where there was neither paupau nor chickee.
Where there were no arbitrary rules, and stiff processions,
and hard looks aid bells to tell them when they must stop
eating. Home was a place of smiles, and kisses, and kind
words, and freedom, and happy evenings, and bright mornings. To speak of the institution as home, they could not
quite comprehend it.
" Oh yes, you stay here at present, and we hope you will
stay a long while; but what I mean is, where is your home?"
"I believe I understand you, dear, but —" Adelaide's lip
trembled, " I have no other home at present."
" No other home!" and the sweet girl threw herself upon
her breast and burst into tears. Adelaide pressed her fondly
to her, and kissing her, replied:
"If I am faithful to discharge my duty, and trust in God,
He will provide for me. He will make kind friends for me,
just as you are, dear, and when I cannot stay here any longer, there will be some other place, no doubt, where I can
earn my support."
"I know what I mean to do then; I mean to study hard,




304            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
and behave myself, and mind all the rules, and be just as
good and particular as I can be, just so Miss Martinett will
like you and want to keep ycol."
"And so will I."
"And so will I."
" And so will we all."
Blesings on your guileless hearts! ye are yet unspoiled by
contact with a selfish world. All you would love if they
would let you. How little do you think that your kind designs will work the evil that you so much dread, and that
she whose interests you are designing to further, will but find
that your love for her has made even this poor resting-place
a refuge no longer.




OR. THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   305
CHAPTER XX.
THE neat carriage of Colonel Johnson had been standing
for some time before the gate, and Josey was getting restless,
and, as he had tried tossing his head and pawing with his feet,
he gave a loud neigh. Just then his old master came forth
from his front door, dressed with more than usual care. He
was in his suit of brown, his court dress, as he called it, and
with his black silk hose, his largest silver buckles, his wellpowdered hair, and large brimmed beaver, he made, indeed
a very respectable appearance. Dressed, likewise, in a neat
suit, becoming his profession, the Rev. Mr. Jamieson came
immediately after him.
" Well, well, I hear you; I suppose you are tired waiting
for me, Josey; but we are ready now. Whoa, Josey."
" I suppose you will be the driver, sir?" said Mr. Jamieson, as he stood by the side of the carriage, waiting respect.
fully for the Colonel to step in.
" I am not going to do any such thing. A son of your age
ought to drive his father, and I want you to learn Josey's
ways."
c" I will, sir, with great pleasure; I am fond of driving a
good horse."
The old gentleman stepped in and took his seat on the
broad, well-stuffed cushion, and was immediately followed by
his intended son-in-law.
" Whoa, Josey, whoa, sir."
Josey had started off at a tremendous rate, and was increasing his speed every moment, shaking his head violently,
and showing signs of being in a very bad state of feeling.
" Whoa, Josey; don't pull on the reins, sir, don't pull; it
only makes matters worse; slack them up quick; there now,
you see, whoa, Josey, you see now, he wont bear it. He will




306            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
mind when he is spoken to, if you don't speak too hard. He
won't bear scolding, and he won't bear pulling; just hold the
reins with a gentle hand, so that his mouth can feel your
guidance, that is all you want. Now you see how he has
cooled down. He is something like his master, easily guided
and checked by gentleness and a kind word, but only made
perverse and headstrong by pulling tight on the reins and
hallooing at him. He don't know what a stroke of the whip
means. There, you see how beautiful he goes; and no matter
what happens behind him or before him; only speak gently
and in a soothing manner, and he will fear nothing."
" It is certainly a great pleasure to drive such an animal.
He must have cost you a large sum."
"By no means; you see I got him when a colt and made
him very tame and fond of me, so that he always seemed to
know that I was his friend. I had a little trouble in breaking
him. It required, indeed, a great deal of care, but I have
been richly repaid; no money could buy him now. Away
with you, Josey."
And along the pleasant winding road, amid all the variety
with which the fields were loaded, rolled the easy vehicle,
borne at a good free pace by the noble horse, with apparently
as little effort as though travelling in the open field, with no
burden behind him. It was a bright afternoon, and not warm
for the season, and the journey they were upon was of a nature to inspire kind and pleasant feelings. They were to
meet a concourse of neighbors and townsmen at the house
of Mr. Foster, to celebrate his marriage with the lovely
Fanny Pearl.
As they drove up, and the old gentleman was about to
alight, "I wish," said he, "you would just drive Josey under the shade of that tree, and there let him stand, but don't
attempt to fasten him-he won't bear to be tied."
It was a small house of only one story in front, but with a
gable roof; there was abundant space in the attic for rooms;
and, therefore, on both ends of the building were windows
above, corresponding with those below. A small back building projected from the rear, containing a summer kitchen
and wood-house, and adding greatly to the appearance of the
place a$to convenience and comfort. The house had never
been painted, and of course the clapboards now were well




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   307
browned, and quite in contrast with its newly-shingled roof.
But to one who understood country matters, it had a very
pleasant aspect, for the reason that every part which was essential to comfort externally had been repaired, and gave it a
thrifty, substantial appearance. Even the old picket fence
in front, and at the sides, was all straightened, with its gates
swinging freely, the paths cleared of every weed, and as hard
r a boarded floor; old apple-trees and cherry-trees clustered
around; and one tall pear-tree, well loaded with fruit, hung
its branches so near to the south window, that one might
easily pluck them from thence.
The curb around the well, with its long sweep and dangling bucket, appeared also to have been thoroughly attended
to, and gave promise of many a refreshing draught.
The old colonel cast his eye around with a satisfied air,
and, turning to his companion:
" It looks well-it looks in order —it looks as though, other
things being right, there might be a deal of comfort enjoyed
here. That Slocum knows how to fix things."
At the door they were met by Mr. Somers:
" Col. Johnson, you are the very man I have been wishing
to see. I have been looking over the premises, and it does
one's heart good to think what a nice, snug box the dear
young couple are going to have."
" (Glad to hear it, sir, " shaking Mr. Somers very cordially
by the hand; " glad to hear it; and, to tell you the truth, I
have come along a little before the time just to take a peep
myself. The young folks I understand will be here at four
o'clock."
"But how is it, brother Jamieson, that you are not in your
canonicals? You are to marry them, are you not l'" My canonicals are on hand, brother Somers," lifting up
a leather portmanteau; " I think too much of them, and of
the ceremony too, not to have everything done in the best
style. But I don't fancy riding in them."
The parents of Fanny Pearl were poor, and their house
too small to accommodate the numbers who had been invited.
It wVas, therefore, concluded that all the young friends should,
in company with the bridegroom, go to her house, and attend
her and her parents to the new home, where the marriage
ceremony was to be performed. Lucy Johnlson and Julia




308            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Rice had been selected as bride's-maids, from the Episcopal
and Congregational societies, and a young lady from the society to which the Rev. Mr. Foster belonged. The same
order had been agreed upon for groom's-men. Fanny Penrl
being a member of Mr. Jamieson's church, of course he had
been invited to perform the ceremony, while the Rev. Mr.
Somers was to ask the blessing on their new abode.'; There is nothing here, you see, Col. Johnson, that wo4
be thought much of by those who have been accustomed to
the show of a city establishment."
"And what of that, my dear sir?  Do you think there is
a couple about to be linked together in the great city, that
has a better prospect of happiness? Everything indeed is
plain, but it has a comfortable look. That carpet is homemade, but one does not feel afraid to tread on it- and those
chairs have neither mahogany nor gilding about them, but
they are very easy to sit in; and that table may be of
cherry, possibly, but it has a fine polish on it; and I doubt
not those who sit around it will feel that they have great
cause for gratitude."
"I doubt it not —but step in here, colonel."
"Well, well, well, this does one's heart good; what a snug
box of a kitchen, and what a pleasant view from those windows, and all so conveniently arranged; that door, I suppose,
leads into their bedroom, and that one into their keepingroom, and that one, I suppose, leads into their buttery 2?"
" Yes, sir-and well stocked it is, too. I should think they
would not be obliged to lay out any money for food for a
year to come.:'
"Have you been into Mr. Foster's study, brother Somers?" said Mr. Jamieson, who had followed them through
the rooms;" I am not quite so much an amateur of kitchens
and butteries as you two gentlemen; my experience in that
way being all to come. But I profess to know when I get
into a snug and convenient place for books, and the pen."
The two gentlemen followed him to the north side of the
house, where, separated by a passage from the other rooms,
was the place selected for the peculiar use of the young minister. It was about twelve by eighteen feet in size, lighted
by three windows opening to the south and west, and from
each a pretty view met the eye,-green grass, and flowering




OR, THE FIRMq STROKE AND THE LAST.   30,9
shrubs, and trees scattered here and there, and through their
openings the blue waters of the distant Sound. The interior
of the room had few adornments; one end of it was fitted
with shelves and plain glass frames, within which was stored
a handsome collection of books recently presented to him,
and near one of the windows was an oblong table neatly
covered with fine green cloth. Upon it lay a portfolio, a stand
*r ink and pens, and a Bible of convenient size for common
use. A large easy-chair, well cushioned, stood by the table,
presenting a very invitintg appearance. The old colonel, at
the suggestion of Mr. Somers, placed himself in it.
"I dont feel that this is quite the place for me, although
I must say that I would a little rather be in the shoes or the
chair of that young man, than in that of many who would
stand a good deal higher in the estimation of the world."
"That you might well say, sir, and I have no doubt could
the walls of this little room speak, they would tell of many
ardent prayers put up for us all here; for this has always
been his study, although its present appearance is owing to
the effort we made last winter. And I think no one of us
will ever have to regret that step. It was indeed a blessed
sight to behold here so many of different persuasions, all
uniting in harmony and love to do an act of kindness. You
were not here, Colonel Johnson, but your name was blessed
by many lips, and I have no doubt many an ardent prayer
ascended for blessings on your head."
"I aint a-going to stay here if you talk so. I don't care
how much they pray, but I don't want to hear about it."
And the old colonel arose, but Mr. Somers seized his hand.
" You and I, colonel, have known each other a great many
years, and I believe you will do me the justice to acknowledge that I was never given to flattery."
"I never thought you was."
"And I know you too well, sir, not to feel that you are
far above desiring your own praise. But I know that you
like to see your fellows happy, and you also like to know
that when you design a benefit, it has accomplished its end."
"No ddubt, sir, no doubt; that is natural enough. But all
I try to do in my small way is just to give them a lift, just
to help them, so that they can begin to help themselves, and
it don't take much in most cases to do that."




310            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"I cannot tell, my dear sir, how much you have expended
in this way, but I know that there are many who freely own
that you have helped them to independence."
" Tut, tut, tut, they talk a great deal more than there is
any need of; but just sit down, my good sir, here by the
side of me. We shall have at little time to spare before the
young folks are along. I suppose Mr. Jamieson has gone
to put on his regimentals, to be ready for service. And noz;
what I tell you is for two reasons. The first, that you may
not give me credit for what I do not deserve. And the second, that you may be able to instruct some of your rich
men how to do a great deal of good without materially injuring their own capital. You say, sir, and it is true, I do
not deny it, that I have helped a great many people who are
now standing on their own foundation, independent men.
Well, sir, it is true what I tell you, I am not out of pocket,
by all I have done, over one thousand dollars."
"Colonel Johnson, you utterly surprise me."
"I thought I should. But this is the way I have managed.
I have no great property, much less than many suppose, but
enough for all my purposes. I have always kept a little loose
money on hand for the special purpose of being ready on an
emergency to give a helping hand at the right time. Well,
sir, I have a friend, a queer sort of fellow sometimes, but
his heart is big enough to fill a dozen common men. You
know him. He belongs to your church, Stlhcum."
"Aye, a good man that; much better than he tries to appear."
"He is a noble fellow, sir; he ought to have a monument
of brass erected to his memory. Well, sir, Slocum you see,
knows everybody and everything, for he has his nose into
everybody's business, and they all take it in good part because they know he don't mean any harm. Well, Slocum
will come to me and say:'Colonel, there is a young fellow
that's been rather wild, and he has got into bad company,
and he has run a little into debt, and he is getting clear dis.
couraged, and I'm afraid if something aint done for him,
he'11 stick fast and go to the dogs; and I do believe, if he'
could just be encouraged a bit, and feel that he is a free man,
he would cut loose of bad habits and make a first-rate man.
And then again he'll come with a long story about some
other fellow that has got a family, and is somewhat in debt;




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   311
and some who are impatient are about to lay hold of his
property and break him up, and maybe break down all his
resolution into the bargain. And then, maybe there is another
who has been struggling to get along with a young family,
but can't get ahead because it takes all his earnings to pay
rent. A small place is offered him very cheap; if he could
only be helped to buy it he would raise enough on it to support his family and keep a cow, and all thaw  Well, sir, I
I run the risk, one hundred here, two hundred there, and
maybe five hundred elsewhere, or even as high sometimes as
one thousand dollars; let it go, and see how it turns out.
When I help, I help. I take no interest. I tell them all the
interest I want is to know that it has done them any good.
If they get along, they may pay me when they are able.
There, sir, you see,'is the thing of it.' The help I give
them is without security; it raises them, you see, right up on
their feet. It gives them a fair chance. It puts hope in their
heart."  And the old gentleman very significantly clapped
his hand on the arm of Mr. Somers. " It gives him hope, sir.
It takes off his burden. He goes to work with a right good
will, and a light heart; depend upon it, sir, there is many a
poor fellow obliged to tug along through life under a burden
that he cannot throw off himself. A little help at:the right
time might take the wrinkles from his brow, and throw sunlight on his dreary path."
Mr. Somers looked at the old man with intense interest,
as he thus let out not only his secret of doing good, but also
the warm glow of his kind heart.
"And you say, you are only one thousand dollars out of
pocket by all you have done?"
" I'11 explain to you, sir, how that is. Some men, you
know, who have a little loose money to spare, will take, say
five or six thousand dollars, and use it in a speculation.
That sum, they say, they will risk. If they make by it, well
and good; if they lose, it will be but the six thousand dollars;
they shall not risk any more than that sum. Well, sir, I
thought I would try how the thing would work as a kind of
speculation. Not that I cared to make anything by it; but
somehow it seemed to me that I could get a greater amount
of happiness, and confer a greater amount of happiness, by
just setting apart five thousand dollars for the purpose of




812            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
using in the way I have told you. Some of it I keep out at
interest, and some I keep on hand, ready for a call. Well,
that which is' at interest helps to keep the other good, as I
add the interest to the principal."
"And do you get any that you thus lend, back again?"
"Almost invariably. I never ask for it. But, sir, you
know that most men would feel, under all these circumistances, very anxious to repay. The help afforded them has
given them such a start, that they soon get above-board. But
what if I should lose sometimes? Don't men in any speculation lose sometimes?"
"' Yes, colonel, but yours is a certain gain either way. A
rich enjoyment for your heart here, and a treasure laid up
above."
" Don't, sir, don't talk so, I beg of you; don't talk about
my laying up anything anywhere. I get full pay here, and
more than pay up there, sir;" and the old man raised his
hand. " All I hope for is of free grace."
Mr. Somers grasped his hand, and shook it fervently.
"' Colonel Johnson, you and I have long been on speaking
terms; but, sir, you must let me look upon you hereafter as
a bosom friend."
" With all my heart, sir, and proud shall I be to call you
so. "
" I have learned a lesson this afternoon that I shall try to
profit by."
" You won't mention names!"
": Not if you forbid me."
" I do; unless-unless, your judgment tells you that you
can do some good by it. But here comes our reverend, all
fixed up for the ceremony. Do you know that I and your
brother here, as you call him, have been telling one another
some secrets?"
Mr. Jamieson, to whom the latter part of the address was
made, seemed somewhat confused. A slight blush tinged his
cheek, as he looked first at one, and then at the other of the
gentlemen.
" Don't be alarmed, Brother Jamieson, our secrets have
had no reference to you."
" Not as yet; but as Mr. Somers and I have been' forming
a sort of a league of friendship, it is but right that he should




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   313
know all about matters and things in particular, for I mean
that he shall perform the ceremony, when you and Lucy are
made one."
Mr. Somers eagerly grasped the hand of Mr. Jamieson:
"1 My dear brother, I can almost say,' Now let thy servant
depart in peace.' What could I have asked more for you, as
my best friend, than such a treasure as that young lady? I
hope your prospect of earthly happiness will not cool your
heavenly zeal."
"I'll see to that, my dear sir," said the colonel clapping
his hand on the shoulder of Mr. Somers. "I'll see to that.
He has got to take me, you know, into the bargain; I'11 be a
thorn in his side; I'll see to it that he aint too happy."
The tidings, " They are coming," now were heard, and all,
at once, prepared to receive them. It was a beautiful sight
to witness such a long cavalcade of youth; all dressed in
their best, and their smiling faces in such unison with the bright
sky and the green earth. As speedily as possible, they
alighted, and without forming a regular procession came arm
in arm following the happy pair. The bride was very tastefully dressed, but few seemed to think of that or of their own
display. They loved her, for she had been among them as
the beauteous lily, never seeking to be noticed, but shedding
around her quiet path the sweet fragrance of a loving spirit.
And all were happy, because she was; all rejoiced in the
pleasant prospect before her, and were heartily glad that Fanny Pearl was about to have such a pleasant home.
The bridal party was arrayed, the impressive ceremony
performed by Mr. Jamieson was soon over, and those who
had long loved were pronounced to be, for good or ill, one until death.
The Reverend Mr. Somers then arose; his eye sparkled with
delight, as he looked around upon the assemblage of happy
faces:
" May heaven's best blessings rest upon these two beloved
youth, who have now thus solemnly pledged their troth to each
other. We all rejoice in their happy union; we rejoice in all
the mercies that meet them in this home, provided for them
by the kindness of their covenant God. And now in their
name and at their request, I rise to consecrate it to the service
14




314            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
of Him, for whom they wish to live, and to implore His blessing on it, and on them."
The bridal party knelt before the man of God, as his uplifted hands arose towards heaven. Hushed in breathless silence, the-whole assembly listened to the outpouring of his
short, but ardent supplication; and when he closed, amen resounded audibly from many, whose hearts, with unaffected
interest, united in every wish that had been sent on high.
Happy pair! you have commenced with God. Yourselves, your home, your service, your basket, and your store,
you hold as His. Arise and take the cup of bliss which
your Heavenly Father holds out for you. Take it freely,
for He gives in love, and safely rest upon His arm, who has
the fulness of the earth at His disposal.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   315
CHAPTER XXI.
FROM the happy scenes of a bridal hour, and the cheerful
home of the newly-married pair, to the " celebrated institution" of Miss Martinett, if not an agreeable change, is, however, a very necessary one, in the progress of our story.
Time passes quickly away when in the constant discharge
of duty. Adelaide had now for some months faithfully pursued her daily course. The little circle of girls assigned to
her had become so essential to her happiness, that she looked
forward to the hour of separation with a sad heart. The
term had nearly expired, and the girls were counting the
days which would intervene before they would be released
from the tedious ceremonials of Miss Martinett's rule, to the
freedom and happiness of home. Adelaide was too unselfish
not to sympathize with them, and would often listen with
deep interest to the free expressions of delight which they
indulged, when, together with them in their room, they felt at
liberty to let out their feelings.
" I do wish," said Caroline Shawn to her, one evening, after
they had been thus talking together of all that they should
see and do; " I do wish you could just see what a time there
will be when I get home. The first thing I shall meet will
be Hector, old Hector, the watch-dog. First he will begin
to bark, and then as soon as he knows me he will begin to
sneeze and wriggle himself about, and then he will jump on
me, and caper round, and make such a fuss; and father and
mother will be running out on the stoop and down on the
lawn; and then Judy, the cook, she will run up from the
kitchen, and take me right into the buttery and show me all
the nice things she has made ready for me, and then she will
cut me a nice large slice of pie, and stuff my hand full of
cakes. Oh dear! how I wish you could go with me!"




316,           A LONG LOOK AHEiAD;
" I am very glad, my dear, that you have such a home to
think of, and I hope you may enjoy all your anticipations.
But I hope, my dear, you will not forget what we have talked
about, but will remember that all your blessings demand
from you a very grateful heart."
" Oh, I hope I shall not forget," and the affectionate girl
leaned her head on the shoulder of Adelaide, and threw her
arms around her neck. " Oh, I do wish you would go with
me. I know I shall feel better, and do better, if you are with
me; it seems so easy to be good where you are."
Adelaide felt that it would-not do for her to foster such an
idea, and after endeavoring to impress upon her the importance of acting rightly, independent of the presence or countenance of friends, turned the subject of conversation. Caroline Shawn, however, was a girl of strong feelings, and not
easily turned aside when her mind was fixed on an object;
so, without saying a word of her design, at once wrote home,
stating her wishes, and requesting leave to invite the teacher
who had been so kind to her, and whom she so much loved,
to spend the vacation at her own home in company with her.
In a few days an answer was received; a letter came to her
enclosing one for Miss Vincent, from both her parents, urging her in the most cordial manner, and adding that their
own carriage should be sent to convey them.
The letter came at a time when they were all convened in
the "ante-room" preparatory to breakfast. Miss Shawn had
no sooner opened her letter and found one for Miss Vincent,
than she ran up to her and placed it in her hands:
"Do read it quick, I know it's an invitation; do read it."
"Miss Shawn, Miss Shawn," said the hard voice of the
lady principal, "you forget your manners. Where are
you?"
The happy girl was immediately silent; but the severe
look which Miss Vincent received from Miss Martinett manifested that her displeasure was excited. Adelaide calmly
put the letter in her pocket, and stood ready for marching
orders. But there was a severer scowl than usual on the
brow of the lady, and more than one noticed that the little
bell sounded some minutes sooner that morning than common. Poor Caroline Shawn, with all her despatch, declared
" she had n't got half down what she wanted to."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   317
"And, oh dear Miss Vincent, you will go now, won't you?
Oh we shall have such nice times; we can have such beautful walks all alone with Hector, and Aunt Judy will fix us
such nice lunches, and you shall ride Janet, my pony, whenever you like. And, oh-"
There is no telling how long Caroline would have gone on
enumerating the many fine things in prospect, had she not
been interrupted by the sound of footsteps near the door.
" I wonder who that is?" said Caroline. "I have heard it
several times when we get alone."
" Oh, I presume it is some of the girls, my dear, walking
in the passage."
"Shall I go see?"
"Oh no, dear; if they wish anything they will come in,
no doubt; but what makes you look so anxious? you are not
afraid?"
" Oh no; but I should like to see who it is, for the girls
say that Miss Sharpe goes round listening at the doors."
" Perhaps that is unjust, my dear. You know we ought
not to think evil, and we ought always so to conduct as not
to fear being overheard."
" Yes, I know; but Miss Sharpe don't like you, I know
she don't, and —"
": Hush, hush, dear Caroline; let us always endeavor conscientiously to discharge our duty, and not be anxious about
the love of others."
" I don't believe Miss Sharpe loves any one."
"Let us drop her name, my dear, and talk about our
journey. I have made up my mind, since you desire it so
much, to accept the kind invitation of your parents."
"Oh dear," and the warm-hearted girl threw her arms
round the neck of her teacher, and kissed her again and again,
in the fulness of her joy. Adelaide had used no art thus to
gain the love of her pupils. She had been faithfnl in reproving their faults. She had required perfect lessons and
strict attention to the rules of the school. But she had taken
pains to enlarge upon the subject she was teaching, and had
endeavored to give them an understanding of it. This had
excited their minds to study, and increased their respect for
her. Her manners, also, had ever been dignified, whether at
recitations or in their private rooms, although so blended




818            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
with kindness that they felt under no painful restraint; and
beyond ill this she had endeavored to instill into their minds
the principles of religion. She nightly read to them a portion of Scripture from her prayer-book, and then knelt down
with them, and in the beautiful petitions there provided, commended herself and them to God.
All this had thrown a charm about her to their young
minds. They could confide in her; they could not help loving her, for they were sure that she loved them.
Miss Sharpe, the elder assistant of Miss Martinett, had,
for some cause not worth inquiring into, begun to look upon
Adelaide Vincent with an eye of jealousy. Miss Sharpe was
also famous for finding out things, and on that account was
more dreaded in the institution than any other individual,
except Miss Martinett herself. She was always going about
with a noiseless step, and many wondered what her business
was that carried her into so many different parts of the establishment. She had a great way of entering rooms suddenly,
where she had no particular supervision; stepping in and
looking round a moment, and then apologizing for having
come into the wrong room. Two or three girls could never
get together to exchange secrets, but all at once they would
find Miss Sharpe fumbling about after something very near to
them, paying no particular attention to them, but never finding the thing looked for. The girls said-but what will not
boarding-school girls say sometimes-that "Miss Martinett
kept her for a spy." It was naughty and dangerous for them
to say so. But so many little things that they said, came to
the ears of Miss Martinett, that they could not help charging
some one as an informer; and as Miss Sharpe was not very
popular, they charged it to her.
It was a very common occurrence for Miss Sharpe to be
summoned to a private interview with the lady principal,
and therefore she was not at all surprised, after the little
affair in the "ante-room" that morning, on receiving, after
the exercises of the day were over, a command to attend
Miss Martinett in her private room.
" I am glad that you have been so ready to obey my summons, Miss Sharpe; you are my oldest assistant, and I feel
that I can rely upon you in carrying out my plans for the
proper subordination of the school. Things seem to be get



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   819
ting into a very loose way. I have never allowed liberties
in my presence, and I never will. How is it that the youngest assistant I have gains such attention, not only from those
she teaches, but also from all the other scholars. She is indeed, I perceive, the chief star among you all."
"Indeed, Miss Martinett, it is not for me to say, ma'am.
I always try to do your bidding, and to see that all keep the
rules. But I know what I know, ma'am, and I have been
thinking this blessed day, ma'am, if there was n't something
done, I for one would have to give up. It is n't in human
nature to have one's own class all the time a-listening to another teacher, and running after her, and showing such
favoritism. But it aint done without means, ma'am."
"Means! what means do you refer to?"
"Well, ma'am, there are great means used, more than I
should dare to tell of."
" And why should you not dare to tell? is anybody here
to be feared besides me?"
" Ah, no ma'am, surely not, but how could I know that it
was not all done with the approbation of Miss Martinett."
"My approbation goes with the observance of my rules,
and not otherwise."
"Then it is not your will, that all the time of the class
should be taken up with talking to them, instead of hearing
them recite from the books?"
"By no means; and who dares to deviate thus from my
positive instructions?"
" Oh, well ma'am, I did n't know but you had given liberty
to Miss Vincent to do so, as she spends so much time at it."
" And is that so?"
" Indeed it is ma'am, and that aint all; there is a great familiarity going on with the scholars; sometimes they will get on
her lap, and put their arms round her neck, just as if she was n't
your assistant and bound to keep them at a distance; but
I'm afraid that aint the worst of it."
" Let me know the whole truth, Miss Sharpe.  I am the
principal, and ought to know everything that is going wrong."
"That is what I think, ma'am. I don't know if you will
think it wrong, but your other assistants have n't thought it
right for them to be teaching any kind of religion to the
scholars. You know, you have said to me that my duty was




820.A LONG LOOK AHEAD,
to hear the lessons, and see to the rules, and not to be teaching my religion to the scholars; and it seems to me a right
thing, for I don't think the parents would all like to have their
children made Catholics or Episcopalians, which is pretty much
the same thing."
"And is this done?"
"Well, ma'am, I think if you could know what I do, you
would think it was so; for I have seen it, and anybody can
see it that should happen to go into Miss Vincent's room about
the bed hour."
"What have you seen 9"
" Well, ma'am, I have seen them all on their knees round her,
just as if she was some saint or other, and she reading from
a book, a prayer or something of the kind. If they aint all Catholics, then I miss my guess; and that's the way they are so
won over, so that Miss Vincent is invited to their homes, and
all that."
"To their homes! who has invited her?"
"Well, it is Miss Shawn. You know her father is called a
very rich man, and lives in great style, and his carriage is to be
sent for her, just as if she was some great lady like yourself,
ma'am."
" Well, well, it is so, is it? I shall see about it; I shall
teach all my assistants that I am not to be undermined. You
can go, Miss Sharpe."
Miss Sharpe curtseyed very low as she left the room, and
Miss Martinett again rang the bell, saying to herself, as she
resumed her seat:
" We shall see."
A young woman soon answered the summons.
"Is Miss Vincent in her room, Margaret?"
"She has gone, with ever so many of the girls after her,
down the garden, ma'am."
c" Call her to me, Margaret."
The manner of the mistress at once assured the servant
that something was wrong, and, taking the same tone in which
she had been addressed, called aloud to Miss Vincent, even
before she came up to the group of young ladies:
"The mistress wants you, Miss Vincent, right away in her
room.."
Adelaide colored, but immediately prepared to obey; while




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   321
the girls, looking indignantly at the servant, exclaimed to
each other:
" What can it mean 2 Dear Miss Vincent, what is the
matter?"
" Oh, nothing of consequence, I presume."
While Caroline Shawn, clinging to her arm until they had
gotten a little way from the group, whispered:
" I'm afraid it's the letter. Oh dear, I am so sorry I did
not wait until we were alone."
" You did nothing wrong, my dear; then do not fear the
consequences. The servant may have been out of humor for
some cause of her own."
But Adelaide soon perceived, on coming into the room,
that Miss Martinett was much excited.
" You seem to have made no great haste, Miss Vincent, to
obey my summons."
", I believe I made no delay, madam, after I received your
message."
"I expect prompt and implicit obedience to' my requests,
and to all my rules, and I must and will have it. I believe,
Miss Vincent, you perfectly understand that you are here yet
on probation."
" That was the understanding when I engaged, Miss Martinett; but I had hoped my term of probation was past, and
that my services met your demands, and were satisfactory."
" No term was specified. Of course it cannot be expected
in an institution like this, whose reputation is world-wide,
that teachers can be permanently engaged without a long and
severe trial. Six months, at least, I require."
"I believe it is nearly that period since I came."
"It is so, and therefore I have thought proper to let you
know that your services will be no longer required. You
are at liberty to go now at any moment."
Adelaide was confounded, and would fain have inquired
" why it was 2" but no opportunity was afforded her so to do.
She merely said:
"Then I may consider that my engagement is at an end 2?"
"Your probation is at an end, and I shall have no further
need for your services."
Adelaide arose, but stood a moment, as though she expected something further would be said. She could hardly
14'




822            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
think that Miss Martinett would suffer a separation, so harsh
in its manner, and so cruel to one who had depended upon her
sense of justice for remuneration, to take place without the
offer of some compensation. But the cold, stern gaze of the
unfeeling woman soon told her that all hope of mercy or justice from her was vain. She made her obeisance, and at
once retired to her own room. For a few moments she gave
way to her over-burdened feelings, and then, calming her
spirits by the thought that the Father of the fatherless knew
all the honesty of her intentions, she sat down and reviewed
her course since she had been in her'present situation. She
saw nothing to charge herselfwith;f no6ding to regret; nothing that she would have done otherwise, could she have
foreseen the consequences which had befallen her.
But the review of the past finished, the future with all its
realities was now to be encountered, and into its dark mist she
tried to penetrate.' She must leave her present abode, but
for what other shelter? Her aunt had solemnly forbidden
her ever again to pass her threshold. Her kind old uncle
was far away, and her Aunt Halliday was among relatives in
a distant State. She had some acquaintances, apparent
friends, who might be glad to see her under different circumstances. To cast herself upon any that she knew, and tell
them she was in need of a shelter, was too much like beggary; the thought was abhorrent to her sensitive spirit.
Almost in despair, she rose and paced the room. It was,
indeed, a wide, wide world upon which she was thrown. At
times, in her agony, she was almost tempted to go down and
tell that stern, selfish woman all the desolateness of her situ.
ation, and ask her in charity to keep her until some place
should offer. But that dark, cold gaze would immediately
come back, in all its forbidding power. No, death itself
would be better than such a step.
At length the thought occurred, that in the great city some
situation as teacher in a private family might be found. And
she remembered the humble home of Mrs. Willis, to which
she had once in her extremity fled, and who had been, in former years, under great obligations to her Uncle Halliday.
She had to think quick and act with promptness, for she even
feared at any moment a messenger might be sent to order
her from the house. She went to her trunk, and took -out




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND TEE LAST.   323
her little purse, and, with a trembling hand, counted its contents. Five dollars alone remained to her, with which to
venture abroad into the crowded avenues of life, where money
alone could be her security for even a lodging for the night.
She closed her purse, and, placing it in her pocket, conzmenced packing her trunk. Just then there was a gentle
knock at the door. She opened it, and Caroline Shawn, with
noiseless step, entered.
" Oh, what is it? what is it, dear Miss Vincent? Do tell
me."
" I an going away, my dear."
" Oh, but you shan't go. I won't stay here if you do."
At the same time clasping her arms around Adelaide, burst
into tears  Deeply affected at this token of her love, Adelaid wept freely with her.
"But where are you going."
" I can hardly tell, my dear; but —"
"You shall gp to my home; you shall go there, and I will
go with you. I will go this minute; nobody shall hinder me."
" Stop, stop, Caroline, be calm. I am sorry that I have
given way to my feelings; only stop and think one moment.
You know Miss Martinett; you are under her power at present. She would not allow you to leave this house; and if
she should know how you feel, you might be made to suffer
a great deal. Mind what I tell you now. You know that I
love you, and I am very sure that you love me; but let no
one see that you grieve because I am gone. You have some
weeks yet to stay before your vacation. I dread to think
how you may be made to suffer in that time; be a good
gial."
It was with great difficulty, however, that Adelaide could
calm the excited girl, and not until.she had promised to
write to her, and let her know what school she was in.
"For I know that my papa will let me go anywhere where
you are a teacher."
As soon as Adelaide had packed her trunk, she went out
and sought a person to carry it to one of the sloops, as she
knew that one or more sailed that evening for the city.
Another fond embrace, not only from Miss Shawn, but from
each one of her class that was fortunate enough to see her,
and then she walked away and sought the boat that was to




324           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
carry her from a place where she had enjoyed and suffered so
much, to new and untried scenes.
Adelaide had never before been upon the Hudson, but she
had no heart to enjoy its enchanting scenery. The dark and
rugged highlands, shutting in the prospect and enclosing her
within their massive ramparts, were too much like the present circumstances in which she was so strangely placed. And
yet her eye would fasten on them as though there was a
charm in their dreariness.
It was not until the afternoon of the next day, that she
found herself gliding, behind a moderate breeze, along the
outskirts of New York. It had no welcome for her; no
friends awaited her, a fugitive and a stranger. She watched
the clustering houses and the long streets as they passed, only
as tokens that she had reached the place where she must supplicate a few days shelter as an act of friendship.
" Where, Miss, shall your trunk be sent?"
Adelaide was much confused, as the captain, having fastened his sloop to the dock, came up to her and put this question.
" Perhaps, if it would not be inconvenient to you, I should
be glad to let it remain awhile."
" Just as you please."
And, accepting his assistance to reach the dock, she quickly
walked on her way amid carts, and packages of goods, and
rolling casks, and rough, boisterous men, and dirty, forbidding women and children. It was some distance to the house
of Mrs. Willis, and the afternoon was already far advanced.
So, threading her way as rapidly as she could, into one of the
less crowded thoroughfares, she hastened to make sure at
least of a shelter before the evening should be upon her.
At length she reached the house, and hurried up the steps,
and with a trembling hand rung the bell. Again and again
she pulled the little brass knob, but no sign was returned that
she was heard. Her heart began to beat violently; again
she pulled the bell with greater force. She could hear it
echo through the house, but no footstep approached to give
her entrance, nor could she hear a sound that gave token of
any living being within. She looked at the windows; they
were closed, and her attention was attracted by a written notice on the side of the house, "This House to Let."  A cold




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   325
chill ran over her, and she felt her limbs failing; just then a
voice from behind called out:
"I guess you needn't ring there, there aint no one in;
they're all gone."
She turned, and her eye met a dirty looking object, in the
shape of a woman. She had a pail in her hand from which
she had just thrown some slops into the street. Adelaide
stepped down to her.
"Do you know  if Mrs. Willis still lives here, good
woman."
"I know she don't, they moved away more than a week
ago."
"Do you know where she has removed to?"
"It's what I don't; but their servant woman told me they
were going into the country somewhere; that times was too
hard in the city; and that's all I know about it."
The effort to question the woman had, for the moment,
diverted her mind, and the weakness of her frame passed off.
Without waiting any longer, she at once began to retrace her
steps. The signs of evening were now evident, and already
the men, with little ladders on their shoulders, were hurrying along to light their lamps for the night. All she met
seemed to be hastening to their homes. A deadly weight
pressed upon her heart as she glanced at the passers-by, with
the desperate hope of seeing some face that she knew. It
soon grew dark in the city, and some means she must at
once devise, to avoid the horrible dilemma of finding herself,
late at night, a wanderer through the streets.
Should she return to the boat and ask a lodging there?
But she remembered that the captain and his hands were
rough, profane men; and all the passengers left when she
did.
Should she go to a public house? But ignorant as she was
of all establishments of the kind, she might find herself in
full as rude company.
As she thought, she still walked on down the crowded
passage of Broadway, until at length she found herself in the
midst of a multitude of lights, scattered about in different
directions, and people of all ages and conditions walking to
and fro, and jostling each other in their haste to get along.
She had never before noticed it at night, although often had




826            A LONGT LOOK AHEAD;
she passed by the old Oswego Market-Swager, as it was
usually called-by day-light, in her aunt's carriage. Those
who may be able to remember that nuisance at the junction
of Maiden Lane and Broadway, can well imagine the feelings
of Miss Vincent, when she found herself in the midst of the
old rookery itself, and its kindred buildings on each side of
the street. She stood a moment and watched the bustling
throng, and listened to the babel sounds that filled the air.
Dried-up old women, wrapped in dirty cloaks and hoods, were
busy around their different clusters of baskets; some measuring out small quantities of vegetables; some talking
loudly in their earnest bargaining; some seated at their
ease, and refreshing their wearied frames with a nut-cake and
a bowl of tea, and some laughing merrily, and apparently
as joyous as though the rude materials around, and the
rough nature, of their occupation, had as much to excite the
merriment of the heart as if housed beneath a gilded ceiling
and surrounded by the fineries of life; and doubtless, to
them, it was so.
Adelaide saw that all were busy, too busy to notice her;
and more than once she was thrust aside by some, who having purchased their supplies, were hurrying with baskets on
their arms away for home. And all at once she remembered that it was the last evening of the week, and the morrow was the Sabbath. And where should she spend it?
She passed out of the crowd, and then paused, if possible to
to make some decision as to whither she should direct her
steps. The lights from the windows shone full upon her, and
more than one glanced a second look at her as they passed,
as though wondering why one like her should be there, and
alone. A young woman plainly dressed, just tripped by her
at a sprightly gait, and gave the poor trembling girl a hasty
glance, and then another, and then she paused, and turning
round, watched her a moment, and then with a slow step, as
though not well assured of the propriety of what she was
about to do, came up and looked her full in the face.
"Have you lost your way, Miss 2"
There was something so quickening to the heart of Adelaide, in the kind tone and look of the speaker, that the
tears started as she replied:
"    you tell me where I can find lodgings for the night?"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   327
"Are you a stranger here?"
Adelaide was too excited to reply.
"Will you please step a little one side, Miss, until I can
speak to you, where there is not such a crowd."
Adelaide followed her, and then in as few words as possible explained enough of her situation to excite the deep interest of the stranger.
"I am not acquainted enough with any public house that
I could take you to, but if you will go with me, I can give
you a room, though it may not be so good as you have been
accustomed to."
" Oh! can you? Any place will be good enough in a decent family."
" I am a poor girl, and work for my living with my needle,
and board out myself; but you will find the house clean and
decent, and maybe you will be much safer than in a large
place. Have you any trunk 3"
And when Adelaide had told her, she replied:
" Then.we will go right down and get a boy to carry it."
" Oh, you are very good; but it is giving you a great deal
of trouble."
" Oh, I don't mind the trouble, for I should n't have slept
a wink to night, if I had gone on after I saw how sorrowful
you looked. I knew you must be a stranger and in trouble,
and I know what it is to be a stranger in such a large place as
this, where every one is only thinking of themselves. When
I came here from the country I did n't know a living soul in
this great city. Oh, it is a terrible thing to be a stranger in
the city. It aint like the country, where every one's house
is open, and all are ready to do you a kindness. May I be
bold enough to ask what part of the country you came
from?"
"My home has been at Wellgrove."
"Oh dear! and that is the next town to Melton, and I am
from Melton. Oh, I am so glad I have happened to come
across you."
They talked as they were walking, and soon reached the
pier where the sloop lay. The young woman showed that
she understood the ways of the city, by bargaining with the
boy before he touched the trunk, and then kept looking back
continually to see that he was close behind them. It was not




828             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
far they had to go, for she turned down Ann street, and at a
small low frame building she told the boy to put down the
trunk, and his shilling being paid, he went whistling on his
way back.
"Now," said she, "I don't want you to say what is n't
true, but I must make as though you was a neighbor of mine
from the country, for the old lady lives all alone; there is
only us two, and she is very particular who she takes into
her house. May I ask your name?"
"Adelaide Vincent."
"And if I call you Miss Adelaide, you won't take offence?"
Adelaide assured her she would not, and that she could leave
out the Miss.
" And my name is Margaret Leslie-be sure and call me
Margaret."
The little knocker was then raised, and an elderly woman
cleanly dressed, with her spectacles thrown up on her cap,
opened the door, and stood holding it in her hand, as though
somewhat amazed at seeing a stranger.
"Don't be frightened, Aunt Polly; this is a young lady
from my part of the country, that I have brought to spend
the Sabbath. She is alone in the city, and I don't like to have
her go to a public house."
"Ah, well, come in;" and Margaret seizing the trunk, would
carry it in spite of Adelaide's efforts to assist.
"You aint been used to carrying trunks, I know, and I am."
It was a small house, to be sure, and very plainly furnished,
but everything was clean and in order.
"I could n't think," said the old lady, after they were all
seated,' what made you so late to-night; and I began to be
uneasy, for the city is getting so big, and there is so many
different kinds of people getting in it, that it aint safe to be
out much a-nights, as when I was young."
Adelaide enjoyed the simple fare on their little tea-table,
and laid her down to rest in the plain, clean room, with a sense
of obligation for God's great mercy to her, which she had
never before experienced.
The Sabbath had passed, and Adelaide arose early from a
sleepless bed, in order to prepare herself for the work which
lay before her. She thought before the close of the day, that




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   829
the old lady had manifested signs of uneasiness, and after
retiring she heard quite a loud and earnest conversation between her and the young woman, and the idea suggested
itself that she was the subject of it. Sensitive by reason of
her late experience, her mind became to much agitated to
allow of repose. She dressed herself, and sat by the little
window that looked out into a small yard, Tall houses
reared their rough walls all around, and every object wore
that bleak and cheerless aspect which a cloudy winter-day
presents in the city. All without was b;t too true a picture
of her own desolate path. Away from earth she turned her
thoughts towards Him who " comforteth them that are cast
down," and there she tried to rest for support and direction.
" Will you come to breakfast, Miss?" said the trembling
voice of Margaret, and as Adelaide looked at her she saw
that she had been weeping. There was no opportunity then
to ask any questions, so Adelaide immediately arose and followed to the table. As she came into the room and pleasantly
saluted the old lady, she received but a cold nod of the head
in return. It was a short and silent meal, and immediately
after Adelaide had returned to her room, Margaret came to her:
" I don't know but you will think me very rude, but may
I ask you, Miss, what you are going to do? It may be none
of my business, but Mrs. Strong, the lady who keeps the
house, has taken a notion against you, and, say what I can,
she says you shan't stay here no longer."
" I am sure I am very sorry if I have done anything to
displease her, and if I knew what it was I would tell her so.
Shall I go and see her, Margaret?"
" It would n't do the least good, Miss. She is very set in
her way. She is deaf, you know, too, and it is hard making
her understand. I tried to tell her all I knew. But she said
it was n't very likely that a young lady dressed as well as you
was, would come here all alone, and be in such a fix. And
she said a great many things I should n't like to repeat. But
if you have any friends anywhere, please do go back to
themh; for what will you do in this wicked city, and all alone
too. And she threatens me if I have anything more to do
with you, she won't let me stay in this house another day.
And indeed, Miss, I have to work hard with my needle every
day just to keep myself in a decent place."




330            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
". You shall not be troubled, I assure you, Margaret, on
my account. I will go away immediately. My trunk, perhaps, may remain until I find a place to board."
And the good-hearted Margaret sat down, and burst into
tears. Adelaide did what she could at once to soothe her.
" Oh, I am so sorry, after all your kindness, to have caused
you so much trouble."
"It is not for myself, Miss, that I feel. But what if you
should n't find a place to stay? Oh, you don't know what it
is to be alone in the city, and one like yourself, You don't
know how shy people are, I mean the decent sort; and then
you are so likely to get among them that aint what they
ought to be. If you was only a working-girl, and wanted a
serviceplace, that might be got in a day or two. But any
one that looks on you knows you aint fit for no such thing."
Adelaide felt the terrible reality which the honest girl pictured to her, and the difficulties which surrounded her were
such as she could never have imagined. She felt now what it
was to brave the world, without having first been prepared for
the encounter. Her situation was one of extremity, that must
be met at once. She could stay no longer where she was, and
therefore, first of all, went to settle for what expense she had
incurred. The old lady was very moderate in her charge,
but the trifling sum she took left merely a pittance in her
purse; a few shillings alone remained.
With a heart fluttering with weakness, she returned to- her
room, and tried to collect her thoughts. Money she must
have at the sacrifice of anything which she could possibly do
without; and the only article which she possessed that might
be available for that purpose, was her watch. It had been
a present from her uncle, and she valued it on that account.
But her feelings must now give way to her necessities. She
went to her trunk, and withdrew the little treasure from its
casket, and at once left the room to go forth and seek for a purchaser. As she was going through the passage, the old lady
met her:
" I want to say a word to you before you go. You ought
to go right home to your friends, where you came from; now
I tell you so. You did very wrong in coming away so, all
start alone. And folks can't see into it; and it aint reputable
for a young gal like you to be prowling about the streets of




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   331
a great city, without any friends or kin to take care of you.
You aint brought up to work and take care of yourself, and
you aint nowise fit to be alone. So I tell you go right home,
and behave yourself, and stay there before folks talk more
about you than they do."
Adelaide was too much confounded to reply, even if it
would have done any good; and, therefore, with this addition
to her misery, she left the house and went on her way. Her
steps were directed towards Broadway, where she knew some
of the largest jewellers' shops were located. With much
trepidation in her manner, she offered her little treasure. It
was a splendid establishment, several persons were in attendance behind the counter; one of them took it from her trembling hand, opened it, looked at its contents, shut it up again,
and examined the outside, occasionally looking at the pale and
anxious girl. At length he handed it back, and merely said:
"We don't wish to purchase," and walked along towards
some customers who just then came in.
Adelaide turned, and went on her way. And so at each
place she passed, where watches wed hung out for sale, she
called, and at each received the same cold answer. One, indeed, apparently more frank than the rest, told her that they
did not like to purchase such articles from strangers; that they
had run risks enough that way.
"But it is my own property," she replied.
"Very likely, Miss, but we don't want it."
And thus rebuffed, she walked along, her limbs growing
more and more feeble, from the extreme agitation of her
mind. She passed the great park, and then on and on, until all
signs of those shops where jewelry was sold were gone, and
few stores of any kind were to be seen, except at the corners
of the streets. At length she thought she spied a large watch
hung over the sidewalk as a sign, and she. hastened towards
it. It proved to be a watchmaker's; a small, unpretending
place. Once more, with a deeply agitated mind, she made
the attempt to dispose of her treasure. She saw but one
person, and he was seated before the window, with an eyeglass over one eye, examining the inside of a large and costly
watch. She waited until he very leisurely took the glass
from his eye, and laid down his work, and arose and stood
ready to wait upon her.




332            A' LONG'LOOK AHEAD;
" I want, sir, to sell this," handing him her watch. The
man looked fixedly at her a moment. " I want to sell it very
much, and will part with it much below its value."
The man opened it and examined its works, and then closing it, laid the watch down on the glass case before her.
"It seems to be a fair article, but to tell you the truth I dare
not buy from a stranger anything of this kind; I have already suffered by it."
For a little time Adelaide said nothing. It was the deathblow to her hopes; she took it up, and, about to, depart, asked
in tones so broken, as scarcely to be understood:
"Then you cannot give me anything for it?"
The man did not answer, for just then a gentleman, whom
Adelaide had not before noticed, came from the back part of
the store, and walking up behind the counter looked at her in
a very scrutinizing manner. He was a gentleman of middle
age, portly in his make, well dressed, and with a fine open
countenance. He had a newspaper in his hand, which he had
doubtless been reading.
" Will you let me tee your watch, Miss? it is your own
property, you say?"
"It is sir, truly."
" Have you tried to sell it elsewhere."
" I have, sir, at almost all the jewellers, but they all decline
to purchase."
" The trouble is this; there are so many tricks played upon
them by persdhs offering such articles for sale, that have not
been honestly come by, they fear to purchase from strangers."
Adelaide was about to speak, but he interrupted her.
" You need say nothing as to that; I believe you are the
rightful owner of the watch. I tell you what I will do. I do
not want to purchase the watch, but I will give you twenty
dollars on account of it, and you can leave it here with this
gentleman to dispose of; and whatever he gets more for it,
you shall have; or if you should wish to redeem it, in three
or four months, you can do so. Will that answer you?"
" It will, sir; it will be a great favor to me."  And, as the
gentleman looked at her, he saw that her eyes were filled with
tears. He took out the money and handed it to her, and then
walked to the back part of the store again.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   333
The other took the watch, and asking what name he should
put down, she opened her purse and handed him a small
card. As soon as she had left, the gentleman who had so
promptly- assisted her, again came behind the counter, and
made an apology for thus interfering in the way of business.
"I have no doubt, now, that is a case of real distress. Did
you ever see a more beautiful countenance? Poor young
thing, I should like to know more about her. Did she leave
any name 2"
The shopman, who was about resuming his work, opened a
small drawer, where lay the little watch, and taking the card
laid it down on the case. The gentleman had to put on his
spectacles, for the writing was in a very fine hand.
"What is this? Ade-laide-Ade-laide Vin-cent-Adelaide
Vincent-Adelaide Vincent-that name is familiar-let me
think. My heavens! Mr. Grinnel, which way did she go?"
and running back to get his hat and cane, stopped as he was
about to leave the store:
" I will call for my watch by-and-bye; what time will it be
done?"
"At four o'clock."
"Did that young lady say anything about her place of
residence —where she stayed?"
" No sir; I say no, but it strikes me I heard her say something about Ann street; but I paid no particular attention to
what she was saying, as I had no idea of purchasing the
watch."
" You heard no number?"
" Not that I remember."
" You say she went down street?"
" Yes sir. But I think there is another gentleman in pursuit of her."
" Another! who?"
" Why you know, probably, the character of Bob   -.
I saw him dodging back and forth the window, while she
stood here, and the moment she was off he was off too. Bob
is never after much good."
" The scoundrel!" and with a rapid step the gentleman left
the shop, shaking his cane, and muttering some hard things to
himself.




334            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XXII.
OLD Colonel Johnson was sitting in his snug room; a fire
was blazing on the hearth; it was not quite the time for fires,
but the old gentleman, as the latter part of the fall approached,
would have one, at least in the morning and evening.
He was now sitting before it with his newspaper, which he
had just received, held open to be thoroughly dried, preparatory to his enjoyment of its contents, when a visitor was announced, and, turning to receive him, sprang from his seat
with the agility of a young man.
" My good fellow, how are you? But I don't know but I
ought to give you a good scolding. It is all of two weeks
that you have not had your feet in this house. Come, sit
down, Master Charles, and give an account of yourself."
" I have been unusually busy, sir, of late, getting off my
crops to market."
" Ay, ay, yes, yes, I heard you was sending off a boat-load
of potatoes. - A great man you are getting to be! I thought
the old landing would never be used again, in my day. And
I understand you have persuaded old Duncan, the miller, to
repair his kilns again, for drying corn-meal, and we shall
have vessels here, I suppose, loading for the West Indies and
all that. A pretty upstart of a fellow! But tell me candidly, what is the truth about it?"
" Well, sir, I have been putting my potatoes on board a
sloop. It does not quite load her, to be sure, but there were
enough to induce the captain to run up here, from Wellgrove,
and take them in."
" And that is the reason why you went so largely into the
potato line. Ay, ay, I see you know not only how to work
but how to manage; if you had been obliged to cart them
all to market it would have cost you about half you would
get for them."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   335
"It would have been a very serious undertaking, sir, to
have carried seven hundred bushels of potatoes so many
miles."
"And have you sold them out-and-out l"
" Yes sir. I suppose I might, possibly, have done better
by sending them on my own account; but the captain offered me forty-three cents per bushel, cash, and I thought I had
better accept of it."
" You are right. Why, you will get three hundred dollars
for your potato crop?"
" Yes sir; not quite what I expected, but the drought injured them somewhat. I am well satisfied, however."
" And how did your corn turn out? Did the lime answer
well?"
" I think it has, sir. We have sold one hundred and fifty
bushels, besides reserving what we need for ourselves. But
I have been buying; I laid out two hundred and fifty dollars
of the money, which I received for my potatoes, in corn."
" And have had it kiln-dried?"
"Yes sir; and have cleared, altogether, fifty dollars on
the operation."' And that, added to your own crop of corn, and your potatoes, gives you five hundred dollars for your summer's
work. A pretty good operation; and your land in a better
state in the bargain. Well, well, that will do."
"We feel well paid for our labor, and have now a little
capital to work upon. A few hundred dollars loose money
we find of great advantage."
" Yes, it is a great advantage if one knows how to use it.
A man wants a clear head in farming, as well as strong
hands. And may I ask, what you are going to do with your
money this winter?"
"We do not intend to let it lie idle. We have cut quite
a crop of hay this season, which, with all our other provender,
will enable us to keep much more stock than we have on
hand. And as I wish to teach my brother to lean upon his own
judgment, I have concluded to let him take two hundred
dollars, and go north about fifty miles from here, where they
have a short crop of hay, and are selling young cattle very
low. I think he can invest it to advantage, and very safely,
too."'




336            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Ay, ay; I see you keep your eyes looking in all direc.
tions. That will be a fine thing for your farm next summer."
" That is what I thought; and if we have more than we
can pasture in the spring, we can easily get them kept in the
mountains for a small charge."
" So you can, that is true. But to change the subject a moment; Lucy has been telling me a strange story about a
family down on Oyster Island. What is it about them?"
" Well, sir, to tell you the truth, it was with reference to
them that I have called to see you. I feel quite concerned
for their condition."
"What is' the matter with them? Are they suffering?
Who are they?"
"That I do not know, sir; there is some great mystery
about them. They are not suffering at present. They have
probably provision enough to subsist on through the winter.
But the hovel they live in is not a fit habitation for human
beings, in our country, in the winter months. It is a fixture
I should think the man bad put up himself with boards and
straw."
"Bless my soul, how you talk!"
"And that is not all, sir; there is something strange about
the family."
" Well, do tell what it is; you are getting as bad as Slocum; tell right off, what the trouble is."
" Well, sir, they are evidently persons far superior to their
condition. The man, with a rough exterior, betrays occasionally, by his language and feelings, a refinement that I have
never before met with in like circumstances. His wife is a
lovely woman, quite young, and manifestly does not belong
to the class with which they are now associated. I have been
several times to see them, and feel more interested for them
each time. The man seems, at times, very sad, almost like
one who was broken-hearted; but he makes no complaint,
and rather avoids any reference to their condition, as though
he feared they might be thought objects of charity. He
seems peculiarly fond of his wife and child, and I should
judge, from what little I have occasionally seen, that on their
account his mind at times is in great agony. But she tries
to put on a cheerful air, and makes the best of things..But




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   337
it pains me to think that she should be thus compelled to
live, while possessed of those sensitive feelings which must
have been nourished in some superior situation."
The old gentleman had arisen and thrown down his paper,
and was walking about as was his custom when under any
excitement. He stopped, however, before Charles closed,
and looked steadily at him.
"It pains you, indeed! and so it ought. I tell you what
it is, neighbor, this world is sadly out of joint. How it has
got so, aint worth quarrelling about. But how things are
ever going to be all righted, is more than Ican see through. I
have tried, Mr. Lovell, in my small way, to straighten them
a little, but what does it amount to? As fast as one is up,
there is another crying out for help. I am glad of one.
thing, though, that I don't live in a city, where poverty and
distress exhibit their misery whenever a man sticks his head
out of the door. I should n't dare to go out, nor to stay in.
But what can be done for these folks? You'd better go
right off and see Slocum, and get some kind of a thing put
up for them. Body-a-me, what a world it is! and the season is getting so late, too, and they are such a ways off!"
The colonel began to move about again, and to hitch up
his small-clothes, and to manifest so much restlessness, that
Charles had to do his best' to keep from smiling, and dared
not attempt to speak.
" Come, Master Charles, you are quick enough about your
own business, and smart enough, too. Can't you think of
something? Hadn't you better go right off and get Slocum V"
"I have been thinking that perhaps some better plan
could be devised, to get them off the island."
"Well, well, what is it? Anything to get them out of that
hovel."
" Well, sir, you know the old house that has been stand.
ing empty for three or four months, down in the hollow near
the end of your meadow lot; I don't know to whom it belongs, but it might be hired probably, and with a little fixing
would be, in comparison with their present place, quite comfortable."
"I don't know what you may please to call comfortable,
if such a place as that can be made so.  Why, man, I
15




338            A LONG LOOK AHEAD,
bought that old rookery lately just to keep people out of it.
Old Munson owned it, and as long as he could get any miserable wretches to give him five dollars a-year for it, he would
let them in. It aint decent for any human being to live in,
and I was going to pull it down as a nuisance."
"I know, sir, it has been a bad place, and that bad people
have generally lived in it. But the timbers are sound, and
most of the roof is good; with a few shingles to patch the
roof, and a few boards to cover the broken places in the clapboards, and some hinges for the doors, and some glass for
the windows, and all well cleaned out, and white-washed, it
might be made quite comfortable. I am sure it would be
infinitely better than the place they are now in."
" Well, if you can make that place decent with a few shingles, and boards, and hinges, and so on, I don't know what
you can't do. But somehow you have made a picture of it
already, that makes me think better of the place; I am glad
I did n't pull it down. I'll never pull down anything after
this that has got three legs to stand on, until I let you go and
see it. But there is one thing, perhaps, you have n't thought
about. How are they going to live when they get there?"
" I have thought of that, sir. The man is able to work,
and I think very willing. In winter he can earn good wages
by going into the woods, and at other seasons, there is little
need for a man to be idle; there are enough to employ him."
"True enough; and now do you go right straight off and
see Slocum, and tell him for me to go right away and fix that
place according to your directions. You ought to be made
captain-general over all old rookeries that want fixing up;
you would make them quite comfortable places. Come, go
right off, for I am in a hurry to see the thing fixed; and stop
one minute-when you and Slocum have worked it into
shape and whitewashed it, so that it is decent for a Christian
manl to go in, just let me know; and then there is another
thing-do you tell Lucy to go into our garret, and pick out
of her stores there of old tables, carpets chairs, and what
11ot, such things as you and she may think will add to their
comfort, and we will have them put in; and here, stop-don't
go yet." The old gentleman had him fast by a button of his
coat.
" Don'b you say a word to the family about it, nor to any




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   839
living soul, what we are fixing the old house for; and then,
when all is done, I will have you and Lucy go over to the
island, and break it to them, and we will have them brought
right over, bag and baggage, and clap them right in their'nice comfortable' home; and maybe we will have a few
things put into their buttery, a little pork, and molasses, and
tea, and sugar, and such trifles, to make them feel a little easy
like; and you can say to the man that as soon as he is ready,
I have some chopping and sawing to do."
Slocum had, as usual, a job on hand, but the old colonel
must be attended to whether or no, and he and Charles were
soon working with a right good will at the old building.
"' It's a pretty hard case this, Lovell, ha! ha! ha! but I
guess we'11 make her tight and trim before we've done."
In a very few days there was quite a new face on things.
The roof was somewhat speckled, the new shingles here and
there, and everywhere, all over it, made a pepper and salt
appearance; but it stood the test of a hard rain to the full
satisfaction of Slocum, who was a great friend to tight roofs.
He often said,'. if a man had a tight roof over his head, and
plenty of pork in the barrel, it was n't much matter how
things looked." But Charles had a great idea of looks, and
as he felt that his credit with the old colonel was somewhat
at stake in the matter, determined to make "the old thing,"
as Slocum called it, look as well as circumstances would permit. So he went -to work at straightening things on the outside, righting the fences, and hanging the gate, and clearing
away old rubbish; and finally, after the inside was whitewashed, he made a composition that would stand the weather,
and gave the clapboards two good coats of it. Slocum
laughed at him a good deal at first, but, when he saw how
much more finished it looked:
"I tell you what, Lovell, ha! ha! ha! you are the best
hand to make the most out of an old thing I ever saw. The
colonel won't know his old crow's nest."
And then Charles and Lucy went to work rummaging in
the upper loft, among the cast-off things, that had been accumulating for many years; and it was wonderful to them how
much they found that Charles said would help to make them
comfortable; and when they put them in the building, and
spread down an old carpet, which, after Lucy's mending,




840            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
looked " most as good as new," and set the wooden-chairs
around, and an old cherry-table, and even a rocking-chair to
which Lucy had fixed a cushion, and some andirons, with little brass knobs on the top, and shovel and tongs to match, it
really looked, as Charles said, "quite comfortable," and
Lucy was so struck by it herself that she could not help
saying:
" How much better this is, than to keep these things up in
our garret lying useless. I mean to give away everything up
there, if I can find any one that can make use of them."
The little bed-room, too, was fitted up with a plain bedstead,
with bed and bedding, and such things as Lucy knew would
tend to give it a snug look. The old colonel took the charge
of the buttery stores upon himself, and Josey was sent down
with the lumber-wagon pretty well loaded; and from his
lively manner, seemed to understand that'he was upon an
errand of love, and bore the wagon along, as if there was no
weight to it at all. It was, however, quite a load, for there was
not only a fair supply of lighter articles, but the colonel had
filled all the spare room with potatoes, and turnips, and cabbages, and even some heads of his choice celery.
Old Duncan did not like the idea of loaning his boat, when
he found upon what errand Charles was bound.
" There were poor folks," he said, " enough round the mill
already, without bringing any more. The first thing they
would do, would be to run to him for meal to fill their bellies, and no money to pay for it. But I'm getting to be a
big fool, and can't say any more that my soul is my own.
Yes, you may take it, but there aint another man living in
the town should have it for such a purpose. I'd stave her
bottom in first."
It proved a pleasant day for the season; and Lucy, well
wrapped up, enjoyed the bracing air on the water, and the
errand on which she was bound. She was going to carry
good tidings to a weary soul. To tell to the lonely and desolate that there were yet loving hearts in the world; hearts
that fed on angel's fare, whose richest enjoyments sprang
from the warm sympathy which bound them to their kind.
At Charles' request, Frank, the colonel's gardener, and his
brother Augustus, had acconm-panied them, and when they
reached the island, remained in the boat, while he and Lucy




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   841
walked on, and apprized the family of their object. Lucy
had never seen much of poverty. The form in which it had
been presented to her in her native town was far from being
repulsive. Charles had endeavored to give her a description
of the place, but she had formed no true idea of it; for when
they had passed through the cedars, and were at once in full
view of the little low, straw-covered hut, she stopped, and clasp.
ing her hands, exclaimed:
"And human beings live there!"
"Let us be silent, and appear as little as possible to notice things. I feared you had formed no conception of the
truth."
Just as they were about to enter, McDougall came from a
side of the building, against which he had apparently been
casting up an embankment of earth. He had a shovel in his
hand, which, as soon as he saw them, he laid down; and with
a look of surprise, but still with a welcome air, extended his
hand.
" I did not expect this pleasure, sir, so late in the season."
"I had a little errand to you, sir; and being a pleasant
day, have taken the liberty of bringing a lady with me, as I
thought Mrs. McDougall might be glad to see one of whom I
have often spoken to her. Miss Johnson, MtIr. McDougall."
His bow was with a grace that utterly confounded Lucy;
and it was evidently the result rather of instinct or habit,
which had its way before he had time to reflect, for he immediately assumed rather a clownish air, and there was a marked
change in his language as he addressed Lucy.
" We are rather poor folks, you know, and things be rather
helter skelter; but my woman will be glad to see the lady,
no doubt."
He opened the door, remaining without himself, and permitted his guests to enter. If Lucy had been affected by a
sight of the dwelling, and surprised at the strange contrast in
the man, her wonder was at its height when, on entering the
small apartment, she beheld a beautiful female, apparently
not much beyond her own age; although her head was covered with a cap tied under her chin, and which concealed
almost the whole of her hair, and gave to a casual observer,
at the first glance, an idea of a middle-aged matron. She was
dressed in a very plain manner; that is, the materials of her




342            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
dress was of a very cheap kind, but it fitted snugly to her
person, and Lucy noticed at once that her form was of the
most graceful mould. With a bright smile she arose, and
with -great ease of manner approached to welcome her visitors.
And, giving her hand to Mr. Lovell:
"Oh, sir, how glad I am to see you once again, before our
long and dreary winter has set in. And this must be your
sister?"
" I am quite willing to own the title, ma'am," said Lucy,
smiling, and looking archly at Charles.
" I dare not quite claim so high an honor, madam; this is
Miss Johnson, of whom you have heard me speak, and this
is Mrs. McDougall; pardon me for not having made the introduction sooner."'
" I am very happy to see you, Miss Johnson; your name
is quite familiar to me through Mr. Lovell. I presume he
waives the privilege of calling you sister, for the sake of a
dearer title."
" By no means, ma'am; if he will not own me as a sister,
he shall claim no relation to me whatever. But he is a good
boy, and I shall love him whether or no."
" I believe that all must do so, that know him. Take this
seat, Miss Johnson. Our accommodations are not designed
for visitors such as yourself," offering her the only apology
for a chair that was to be seen.
" Oh no, I like this bench quite well; and is that your
boy?"
A fine, manly little fellow, of four years of age, came up,
at once to Lucy, and held out his hand. She parted his dark
locks from his fair forehead, and gave him a kiss; wondering
both at the beauty and polite bearing of the boy. The whole
was, indeed, to Lucy a vision of romance.
" Miss Johnson has a little business with you, Mrs. McDougall, while I spend a few moments with. your husband;
our stay must, of necessity, be short."
It had thus been arranged between them, that Lucy should
unfold the plan to the wife, while Charles arranged matters
with the husband.
It will be unnecessary to detail all the arguments which
Charles made use of to overcome the reluctance of the man
to make any change in his location, And it was not until




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   343
he ventured to urge the propriety of his removal, by reference to the trials his wife and child must be exposed to du —
ing the severity of winter, that he seemed at all disposed to
yield. IIe was, indeed, deeply moved. He sat down upon a
log, and covering his face with his hands for some time, appeared to be agonizing under a severe struggle. At length
he arose, and grasped the hand of Charles, while the big tears
rolled down his manly face:
" You have touched a tender chord, sir. Hardships I can
endure myself, but I must confess to you, that the thought
of keeping my dear wife and child under the circumstances
they now are in, is a trial I should not wish my bitterest
enemy to endure. I thank you, from my inmost soul, for
all your kind and generous treatment of me. You have a
heart that will make your path through life a blessing; and
may the blessing of the stranger, the suffering, and the deeply
wronged, rest upon you and yours forever. I accept your
generous offer, and only hope I may be able to prove my
gratitude."
Charles could only press more cordially the hand he held.
He was now convinced that the being before him was far removed from the class in which circumstances had placed him.
A man of education and refinement in the garb of a rough
fisherman.
McDougall now, as though anxious to communicate with
his wife, entered the house, and Charles followed. At once
she sprang towards him, and he fondly embraced her:
"We will go, Agnes."
" For our boy's sake, Robert."
Although they spoke to each other scarcely above a whisper, Charles heard the name by which she addressed her husband. He had always been known as Jacob McDougall. In
the excitement of the moment. she had breathed into his ear
that name which was dearest to her love.
" And now, Mr. McDougall," said Charles, "we have no
time to lose; our days are short, and the sooner we are getting ready the better. I have a boat large enough to carry
us all, and such things as you may wish to take, and help
enough to assist in carrying them."
"' You are very generous and thoughtful, sir, but we shall
need but little aid in taking our few necessaries."




844            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
While the men were busy removing the things, Mrs. McDougall ran to the neighboring dwellings to say farewell
to those who had treated her with much kindness; and in
less than an hour from the time they had decided to remove,
the boat, with its little cargo, was winding along up the creek
towards the old mill.
Lucy and Charles, thinking it would be more delicate for
them not to be present on their first entering the house, parted from them for the night, leaving Frank to assist in carrying their things, and to show them the way.
The old colonel had been quite restless all the afternoon,
getting up frequently and peering through the windows for
signs of Lucy's return. At length her light step was heard
in the hall, and the'happy girl was soon giving him a hearty
kiss.
" Back safe, are you, darling? and what kind of a time
have you had?"
"Oh, delightful, father; we have brought them along, bag
and baggage. But oh, father, what a place they have been
living in! and such strange people! or rather, so strange is
it that they should be in such circumstances."
" And what did they say to their new place?"
"Oh, we can very easily realize that, father; but Charles
and I thought it would be better to leave them to enjoy it,
without our presence; so we sent Frank to show them the
way, and we came straight home."
" Hut, tut, tut; but I should have thought you would have
wanted to see how they liked things. But I see Frank is coming."
Frank and his employer had been many years together; a
pretty good sign for both. As he passed through the hall,
the old colonel called him into his sitting-room.
"Well, sir, you have brought them all safe back."
"In faith I have, sir. The good luck has been with us."
"Strange sort of folks they say they are?"
" Indeed, and its not far from the truth."
" Very poor, they say."
"Poor! well they are not like any poor folks as ever I see.
Poor, indeed! no, no."
"But Lucy tells me that they lived in a wretched hovel,
and all that:"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   345
"That is true enough; it was not the place for decent people of any sort, and it's like enough they have not the wherewith to help themselves. But, sir, they're as careful of manners as yourself, or Miss Lucy, or Mr. Charley, either one.
I've seen poor folks, and am well acquent with their ways.
But-," and Master Frank carried out the rest of the idea by
shakinng his head.
" You don't think they are impostors!"
"Not in the least, your honor, no imposture about it; but
it's the queerest upshot of luck, or misfortune, or whatever
ye call it, that has happened to the folks; take my warrant
for it. You see, sir, Miss Lucy bid me just show them the
way to the new biggin, and I was fain glad to do it, for having
myself a little curiosity in that way. So I walks along a little
on the head, and the boy he comes and takes me by the hand.
The man himself had a large bundle on his back, and another
in his hand, and his woman was fain to help him with one or
the other, but deuce a bit would he let her touch a finger's
weight. Thinks I, if ye were like other poor folks, ye would
e'en let the woman bear her share of the bargain; help and
help alike.
" And then, at the rising of the hill-you know it's a little
steep like, your honor-what does he do but drop his weights,
and make her lean upon his arm, until the top was gained,
and then back he goes in a trice for his bundles; no, no, sir,
they are no poor folks, depend on it."
"And maybe they did n't care much about the house after
all?'
" Aha, your honor, ye should have seen'em; it would have
done your heart good. You know, sir, that as you get to the
top of the hill the house is close to the hand. Well, sir, I'm
a-thinking Miss Lucy and Mr. Charley had n't been very forward in speaking of the place, for no sooner did I point my
finger towards it, than they both stood stock still, as if they had
been shotted. And then I see the tears a-coming, as the woman's hands was raised up, as if imploring heaven's mercy on
you. Your honor ought to have seen that look, it would have
been worth ten years of your life."
The colonel saw it as much as was necessary, for his face
began to swell, and he could n't have told Frank to go on if
Frank had been at all disposed-to stop.
15"




846            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" And it's no wonder, your honor, for a nice bit of a place
it is. That Charley Lovell is a dabster at making ould things
new. Gin I wanted a house I'd buy an ould shanty and put it
into his hands to fix; it would be better than to build one
span new. But the half aint told your honor yet. Thinks I,
if your hearts warm so at the sight of the shell, what will ye
do when ye get into the nut itself. So I hands the box I carried to the side of the door, and bids them good even. And
they turned and looked at me. It was all the thanks I wanted.
I saw from their looks, there was no spaking to be done; so
I makes as if I would throw up the wood a little that Charley
Lovell had brought there, just for pretence-like to be hanging
around. And a peep was no hard to be got through the little
window in the room. But, ah me, such a sight!"
" Were they pleased, do you think?"
"Pleased, were they! Ah, well; it brought the heart to
my mouth, your honor. They jist fell into one another's
arms, with the boy between them. Oh dear! oh dear! And
then down on their knees to thank the Lord, and your honor,
no doubt, and maybe all the rest of us. Ah, sir, I doubt not
they are true Catholics."
"Catholics! Catholics! what do you mean by that, sir?"
" I mean in respect to their praying, sir."
" Why, don't you think any but Catholics pray?"' It's like they do, sir, in their churches on Sundays; but
I've been in many a family that calls themselves Protestants,
but de'l a bit of praying was there, but maybe a little bit
over their dinner, to season it like."
The old colonel was silent, and Frank, thinking that he had
no further occasion for him, made his obeisance and with-.. drew.
"He is a blunt fellow, that Frank; but he& is honest, and
I don't know but he is right about our Christian manners;
perhaps we keep things a little too secret."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   347
CHAPTER XXIII.
ADELAIDE left the shop with a much lighter heart than she
entered it. She had now some means of command, to sustain her for a few weeks. She had also met with unexpected
kindness from a stranger, and that encouraged her. And
now the great question with her was-where she should find
a resting place? Without thinking why, she went back
again towards the house where she had as yet found a refuge;
perhaps with some faint expectation that she might be permitted to make explanations that would satisfy the old lady.
But what was her surprise, on reaching the house, to find that
her trunk was standing on the stoop. She felt that such
treatment was rather cruel, but was determined to avoid giving, if possible, any further trouble to the old lady. Margaret had directed her to a family in the upper part of the
city where she might possibly obtain board, and thither she
immediately went. She found, on making inquiries, that the
kind-hearted girl had been there before her, and made such
a statement of what she knew and thought in reference to
the stranger, that all difficulties were removed. It was a
plain establishment, but neat, and apparently respectable.
Her next care was to return and get some one to carry her
trunk from its exposed situation to her new place of abode;
and with a lighter heart than she had enjoyed for many days,
she tripped along, unconscious of evil, and thinking only of
the pleasure of having, if only for a few weeks, a resting.
place-a spot on earth where she could feel that she was not
barely on sufferance.
Her trunk still remained as she had last left it, and she be.
gan at once to look round for some one who would be likely
to carry it for her, And just then, a young man rather fashponably dressed, and who appeared to be walking very much




R48            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
at his leisure, passed by her-looked at her, and then at the
trunk. He bowed respectfully to her.
" Can I be of any assistance to you, Miss? Are you in
want of a porter?"
She thanked him for his politeness, but said she would not
trouble him, as there would doubtless be one along soon.
"It would be no kind of trouble to me, Miss. As this
street is not much of a business place, you may have to wait
for some time. Allow-me to step into the next street and
call one."
The offer was made in such a civil manner, that Adelaide
thought it might be deemed prudery in her to refuse. She
thanked him, therefore, for his kindness, and consented. He
was about to depart, and had advanced a few steps, when
turning round and again addressing her:
"May I take the liberty to ask if you accompany your
trunk? and if it is any distance? If so, had I not better procure you a hack; the charge will be the same, probably, unless you prefer walking."
She was conscious of being somewhat fatigued. It was
some distance, and for a moment she hesitated.
"Allow me then to do so. I know an excellent fellow
that will carry you safely, and will have him here in a moment."
Thinking of no real objection, as the cost would be the
same, and yet with a faint idea of some danger, she, without
absolutely saying that he might, still allowed him to go and
do as he wished. Alas! poor girl! She little thought that
through all her wanderings that day, an evil eye had been
upon her. The " lurker in secret places" had followed-had
kept her in view amid the multitude," waiting at the corners
of the streets;" unseen or unnoticed he had tracked her, and
at last he has got his coil about her innocent steps, and she
will soon be in the net, as thoughtless of harm as the sweet
bird that sits and sings upon the bough, and then flies into the
snare where lies the tempting bait.
The gentleman who had been  so kind to Adelaide
that morning, and had left the jeweller's shop in such
haste to overtake her, found, as many do in a large
city, that it is not worth while to be in a hurry, that
is, if one has many acquaintances and only an occasional




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   349
visitor. The gentleman in question had, moreover, a wellfilled purse, and was extensively known in the money
market. And it was utterly out of the question for him to
resist the hearty salutations he received, or the kind inquiries
concerning his family and his farm. Nor could he break
away as he wished to, from some proposals made to him for
investments, or questions and answers about stocks, or the allabsorbing topic of our foreign relations, and the prospects of
a commercial crisis. It was, indeed, rather an exciting time
just then, for such as had much to lose. He released himself, however, from each as soon as politeness would allow;
but in all, much time was consumed. At length he reached
Ann street, and walked leisurely along on its narrow, broken
sidewalks, crossing the street occasionally, and looking up at
the windows, and strictly scrutinizing the faces of such ladies
as he met. At length the trunk standing on the stoop attracted his notice, and he crossed over and looked up at the
house, and into the windows as far as he could, and finally
took the liberty of stooping down to see whether there was
a name on the trunk. He had to stoop, because the platform
on which it rested was nearly level with the pavement.
The only direction upon it was in two capital letters on the
top, formed by brass nails, A. V. He thought a moment,
" It must be the same;" he stepped up and knocked at the
door; the old lady, after two or three alarms had been
given, opened the door.
"I wish to inquire, madam, whether the owner of this
trunk lives here?" She did not, probably, hear what he said,
but as he pointed to the trunk, took something of his meaning, and answered very short:
"'No, no, I knows nothing about it," and without much
ceremony closed the door. He stepped off from the stoop,
more confounded than ever, but firmly resolved, if possible,
to find the owner —the conduct of the old woman increasing
the interest he already felt. For awhile he lingered round,
and then, having some business in a neighboring street, he
concluded to walk there, and after he had attended to it,
return, and in some way watch until the trunk was called
for. The business detained him longer than he expected, and
it was past two o'clock when he again entered Ann street.
He walked with a quick step, and as he approached the house




350            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
saw that the trunk was gone, but a young woman was standing in the door, and wringing her hands, and manifesting
signs of deep emotion. He stepped up and asked:
" If the trunk, which had been standing on the stoop, was
owned by a young lady, Miss Vincent 2"
" Oh dear, yes; but I am most out of my senses for her;
for, just as I was coming I see her getting into a carriage, and
a young man, after he had shut the door, stepped to the driver —so that woman told me on the next stoop-and handed
him a bank-bill, and the driver cut up his horses, and went
like everything; and then I see the young man myself run
round the corner, and jump into a handsome gig with a negro
fellow in it, and he drove off too, just as fast as he could;
and they tell me he's a dreadful bad man."
"Is that the carriage?"
" Yes sir, that's it, away up there; oh, its turning now,
it will be out of sight. Oh dear, dear, I am afraid she's
lost."
The gentleman called loudly to a hack just passing:
" Are you engaged?"
" I am, sir."
"I will give you ten dollars for an hour's drive. Did you
see that carriage just turn into Nassau street?"
"With one white horse? 2"
" Yes, the same-bring me up with it, or keep it in sight
until it stops; I will give you ten dollars an hour if you
come up with it."
" I will do my best, sir; but you must be quick-jump in."
The carriage was now out of sight, but the driver guessed
that it was probably making for Chatham and the Bowery,
or one of the low streets forking off from Chatham, and the
great thing was to get a view of it before leaving the lastnamed street. Urged by such a fee in prospect, but little
regard was paid to the city regulations against fast driving,
and many a one who had come near being injured by the
furious speed, turned and uttered various curses, and shook
their canes. But had they known what need there was for
that reckless haste, they would have urged him with their
shouts of encouragement, and joined in the race themselves.
When Adelaide found herself really in the carriage, and
received the polite bow of the young man, as the driver




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   351
closed the door, she could not but feel grateful for his attentions, and wondered at the strange turn which her affairs had
taken, when kindnesses were thus unexpectedly meted out to
her. As Nassau and Chatham streets were in the direction
she wished to go, of course she felt that all was right. The
only thing which at all disturbed her, was the unusual rapidity with which she was driven; but this she accounted for,
by supposing that probably the hackman had an appointment,
and wished to get this job accomplished as soon as possible.
So setting her mind at rest, she amused herself with watching
the multitude of human beings as they jostled each other in
the crowded sidewalks.
It was not until she had proceeded some distance up the
Bowery, that she noticed even that the carriage had taken
that route; she thought it could not possibly be the nearest,
but still she hesitated to speak to the driver, especially as
she would be obliged to put her head out of the window to
do so, there being no other means of communication with
him.
In those days, dwelling-houses were only scattered at intervals beyond the Bull's Head, in that now densely-populated
avenue, and all east of it was an open country. Lanes, or
unpaved streets, ran off from it towards the East river, but
they were not built upon, and only served to point out how
that region of the city was to be laid out. Here and there,
amid the extended fields, could be seen a mansion, erected as
the summer residence of some wealthy citizen; but there
were not many of these. A few moments would, therefore,
suffice to pass from the crowd into the stillness of an open
country; and, before Adelaide could make up her mind to
arrest the progress of the driver, she found herself whirled
into a lane, and beheld on each side the plain post and rail
fences, and the extended fields that she had been so long accustomed to.  However agreeable such a prospect might
have been to her under other circumstances, it now filled
her with terrible fears, and she endeavored at once to lower
the sash of the door that she might speak to the driver, or
call for help; but to her dismay, she found the strap had been
removed on each sash, and also that there was no knob within whereby the bolt of the doors could be turned.  She
called aloud to the hackman, but he either did not hear, or




382            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
paid no regard to her call, and she thought the speed of the
horses was increased. A distressing faintness oppressed her,
and her whole frame was in a violent tremor. She felt her
strength departing.  Terrible thoughts came rushing upon
her; all she had ever heard of the sad victims to the satanic
stratagems of abandoned men, came fresh to mind. Again
she made an effort to raise the glass, but it refused to stir.
They were now near a clump of cedars, a swamp lay on one
side, and a field covered with large rocks and wild briers on
the other. No signs of a habitation but at a great distance,
too far to be of any benefit to her. She seized her small
parasol, which had been lying on the seat before her, and
with one blow shivered the glass, and, at the imminent hazard of injury to her person, thrust out her arm and turned
the fastening of the door. The driver at once reined up, and
in a boisterous manner, accompanied with profanity, demanded the reason for her conduct. She stopped not to argue or
explain, but sprang in the instant from her dreaded prison.
It was, however, only to meet worse evils, for, almost as she
alighted on the ground, the young man who had been so polite to her was by her side. She saw him spring from his
gig, which was also reined up just behind the carriage.  He
approached her with the same polite bow, and begged her not
to be alarmed:
" It is a mere ruse of mine, as I saw you was a stranger in
town. My house is close at hand; you shall have every attention that hospitality can afford you. I beg you not to be
in the least alarmed."
The effort Adelaide had made to release herself from the
carriage had driven off her faintness, and she was fully sensible of the terrible necessity for all the command of her mind.
The house the wretch had spoken of she saw now indeed
close at hand, near the cedars already mentioned. She threw
a hasty glance around, and perceived that it was a low place,
and even the road by which she had come there was hidden,
except for a short distance, by a declivity, at the foot of
which they then were. She felt that to make an alarm could
be of no avail; she therefbre answered, with as much composure as possible:
" I am sorry, sir, since you believed me to be a stranger,
that you should thus have brought me out of my way; but,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   853
if you will order the driver to deliver my trunk at the place
he was to have left me, I will find my way there, without
giving you any further trouble."
The driver, however, feeling that he had performed his part
of the contract, had already cast the trunk upon the ground,
and, springing to his seat, drove off on a different road from
that which he came, and at a rapid rate. At the same moment the unfeeling wretch, who had thus ensnared her,
grasped her arm, as he perceived she was about to go on her
way. No longer able to command herself, and seeing the
servant, at his master's command, about to aid him in compelling her to enter the house, she uttered a loud scream.
At that instant a carriage was seen descending the declivity,
the horses at their full speed, and two men seated on the
driver's box. At once she was hurried within the gate and
up the path. She knew not whether friends or foes were in
that carriage, for it suddenly'stopped, and in a moment her
eye fell upon the portly form of him who had befriended her
that morning:
"Oh, save me, save me, dear sir."
One blow from his hand laid the servant prostrate on the
earth, while his heavy cane, wielded by an arm nerved almost
with frantic fury, flew against the vile wretch, his master.
He staggered, but did not fall, the blood gushing from amid
his hair and running in streams down his face, now distorted
by rage, pain, and disappointment, into the aspect of a fiend.
In an instant he drew a dirk from his bosom and sprang
towards his assailant, but the weapon flew into the air, and
his arm, broken by the blow, fell helpless by his side. It
was but the work of an instant more to bear the weeping,
trembling girl back to the carriage.
" Fear nothing now, dear; you are in the hands of a friend.
I am the father of Caroline Shawn; and, if I am not mistaken,
you was but a few days since her teacher."
"I was; and oh, are you her father?"  And, overcome
with the excitement she had passed through, and the sudden
change from the hands of a dreaded foe to those of a trustful
frieud, she fell helpless into his arms. Mr. Shawn waited
not to use means for her restoration, but taking her with him
into the carraige, ordered the driver to pick up her trunk, and
hasten back.




854            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" That fellow is howling like a maniac, and there will probably be more of his gang upon us."
And, scarcely were his words uttered, when two, at least,
were seen rushing from the house towards them. The carriage, however, was off, and at good speed on its way, by the
direction of Mr. Shawn, to the City Hotel.
The streets were being lighted when the carriage stopped
at the more private entrance of the hotel. Mr. Shawn had
done all that was in his power to calm the excitement into
which Adelaide had been thrown; but she was still so weak,
as to need his assistance to mount the steps. He led her
into a private parlor, where sat a lady of fine appearance,
and much younger than the gentleman.
"My dear, I introduce you to Miss Adelaide Vincent, the
young lady. we have heard so much about, and who was so
rudely dismissed from Miss Martinett's institution."
Mrs. Shawn embraced her affectionately, and Adelaide
wept for joy.
Mr. Shawn took her hand, and soothingly said:
" Be as calm as you can; you are with friends now, who
are able and ready to protect you. Mamma," addressing
Mrs. Shawn, "I have a long story to tell you of the scenes of
this day; but we will leave it until after supper, which you
may order in our room here, as quickly as possible."
It was the intention of Mr. Shawn to have made complaint
against the vile creature who had caused so much suffering.
But believing that he had, for the present at least, received
something of a chastisement, and knowing that a public prosecution would be attended by many trying things for the
young lady, he concluded to let it drop.
The kind attentions of tMirs. Shawn, and her assurance that
Adelaide was to return home with them, and that Caroline was to be at once sent for, and to be placed under her
instruction; and that she was to look upon their house as her
own home, was, indeed, like the oil of gladness to a wounded
heart. Light and joy had suddenly broken upon her path,
so lately surrounded with darkness and sorrow. She had
trusted in the Lord; she had tried to discharge her duty; she
had looked to Him to be her guide, and she had found her
deliverance. The girl who had manifested such a kind spirit
was not forgotten. Mrs. Shawn went to see her, and, liking




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    855
her appearance, engaged her, for handsome wages, to become
a member of her family, and take charge of her sewing; and
glad was she to leave a place where constant toil but barely
provided her with the means of living.
"Oh, what a fine roomy carriage," said Adelaide, as she
took her seat, as they were about to start for home.
"'; This is the carriage, my dear, that was to have been sent
for you and Caroline. I hope we shall all enjoy the ride the
better for the thought, that you are to spend a longer time
with us than the month's vacation."




856            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHARLES had determined to spend the winter in cutting
and drawing timber, as he had made up his mind to commence the great work of preparing for himself and brother a
home of their own. But, although his plans were pretty well
digested in his own mind, he chose to submit them to his
good friend Slocum, as he had so often found him a valuable
adviser.
It was a fine clear morning, the ground covered with a
light crust of snow, sufficient for a sleigh to run with ease;
and Pomp being harnessed, in a short hour Slocum jumped
from the sleigh in front of the old stone building.
"Ha! ha! I say, Charley, that colt's a staver. But aint
you afraid he will do mischief sometimes? he looks as if he
wanted to tear things."
" Oh, he only feels in good spirits; he is as kind as a kitten. Just see now; Guss, call Pomp."
Augustus was at the barn, about ten rods' distance. He
gave a peculiar whistle, and repeating it once or twice, the
horse moved gently off, arching his neck, and trotting in a
slow, graceful gait, stopped at his usual place for being unharnessed, and gave a gentle whinny, as much as to say,
"IHere I am."
" Ha! ha! ha! Well, if I ever! I'll give it up now. How
did you ever learn him that?"
" Easy enough. We always give him a taste of something
good. Guss will, as like as not, give him an ear of corn
now, or a handful of oats. I don't believe he would' stir, if
the wagon or sleigh should come upon his heels, if we were
by him, and he heard our voices."
" I should n't like to try him, though."
"Nor I either; the safest way is to keep a good look-out
for things, to see that there is no danger of breaking."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   857
"I say so too; but what are you up to this morning,
Charley?  you would n't tell me till you got me here. I
did n't know but you are so fond of fixing up old things that
you had taken a notion of fixing up Aunt Casey's old house,
and make it as good as new, ha!'ha! ha!"
"It might be fixed very well, and make a very pretty
place-the timbers are sound."
"Ha! ha! ha! upon my soul, patch the roof a little,
straighten up the sills, put on a few clapboards, and then a
coat of your patent paint, ha! ha! ha! how she'd look,
Charley? wouldn't she? a neat, comfortable place;" and
Slocum amused himself with a good hearty laugh that brought
tears from his eyes.
"You'11 kill me laughing yet, Charley, you are so in earnest when you talk of making an old place look neat and comfortable. But say, what are you up to now?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, Slocum, I want to consult
you a little about fixing things up here;" pointing, at the same
time, up at the rough, uncouth looking building before which
they were standing; " laugh away; don't be afraid, let it out."
Slocum, however, had done laughing for the present. He
merely smiled as he cast his eye over the place, and then
round upon the trees, which were sprinkled about in all directions, and then at the view which was presented from the
spot.
"I tell you what it is, Charley, it is a plaguy pretty spot
for a house, anyhow; a man can't ask for nothing finer than
your view from here. And then; when these trees grow up a
little, ding it, if it won't be taking, no matter. But the thing
of it is, what you'11 do with the old jail here, as I call it; them
stone and mortar is so welded together, it will be like digging
into a rock; you'11 have to put powder in and blow her off;
it will be the cheapest way."
" But I have no notion of taking it down, Slocum; my idea
is to make an addition to it."
Slocum looked at him a moment, and then began to sing:
"Hie dum,diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon.;.
The little dog laughed to see the- sport,
The dish run after the spoon."




358            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"You are a smart fellow, Charley, about most things, and
folks say you are going to be'forehanded; but if you can
show me, in any manner of way, how this old stone barrack
can be made into any such kind of a house as a decent; gentlemanly sort of fellow ought to live in, I am ready to hear
it. But I guess you will trip up this time-it is no go, Charley,
depend upon it."
So, Slocum took a seat on a log that lay there, and, shutting one eye, fixed the other intently on the building; and
Charles, seeing-that he was in earnest, took a seat beside him,
and drawing a roll from his pocket, unfolded and presented
a paper from it to Slocum.
"What is this? a drawing! who did it?"
"I drew it."
"You! now you don't! I should like to know what you
can't do?  It's a pretty picture, though; what house is it?"
"It is a front view of this old one, as I mean to fix it;
and it is all proportioned by rule."
Slocum looked at the picture, and then at the house.
"How many inches to the foot 2"
"One-half inch to the foot."
Slocum jumped up in his spry way, and taking his rule
from his pocket, opened it, and with great exactness measured the front, and then taking a pole ran it up to the eaves,
carefully measuring the height; he then measured the picture.
" You are right to a fraction; but the plague of it is, my
eye generally serves me truer than that."
" I tell you how it is, Slocumr; you see, the house, as it
looks now, appears top-heavy; the roof rising a gamble form,
and the eaves projecting so far over it, give it an awkward,
unnatural appearance. Well, this verandah in front remedies that; then this addition to the north side, which I design
for a summer-kitchen, being thrown back a little to allow of
a broad shed and stoop, helps to give a more correct proportion to the whole front; don't you think it does?"
" I don't know what does it, but something does it; it is
as like to be that as anything. But the windows aint nowise
comparing with those up there; they aint no bigger than the
windows of a jail."
"Yes; but they must be enlarged. I have calculated them to
be nearly five feet-they are not over three and a half now."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   359
"But you don't pretend that your front is going to look
like this picture. That old front is as rough as any stone
fence need to be; this looks most like marble, or some grayish kind of smooth stone."
" Cement will do that. I read a receipt, not long since,
by which, with a little coarse sand and lime, a composition
can be made as hard, almost, as stone, and the cost will be
trifling."
"Plague on it, Lovell, I want to go into the place, and
look at it; are the rafters good, you suppose?'-'
"I guess you will find them so."
"These stairs aint very sound, though. My jimminy!
who ever saw such rafters! why, there is timber enough to
build a ship. Sound! they're like iron, and there is space
enough up here for three good-sized bed-rooms."
" When you have satisfied yourself here, I want to show
you about the back building. In my plan here, I have designed for three good rooms, in addition to those in the body
of the house. Here is the other picture. It is a side view
of the house, showing the front of the back building, with its
piazza."
" Well, this beats cock-fighting;" and Slocum looked at the
picture, and then at the house, and burst into a hearty laugh.
" Well, Charley, you have mistaken your calling; you ought
to set up for a boss carpenter; you would take the wind out
of my sails pretty quick. You will make a right down
pretty place of this; and when it is done I would n't swap
it for two such square, straight, staring looking places as Vanderbose has put up on Roder's point. And now, what do
you want me to do? go right to work at it!"
" Not quite yet. This is the plan I design to accomplish,
if ever 1 am able. But, to tell you the truth, I am afraid it
will take me some years yet. I have no idea what it is going
to cost, but my plan was to be getting logs along to mill
this winter, and maybe some of the timber, so as to make a
beginning."
"Well, I tell you what it is, Charley, I don't know how
you calculate about the finishing; if you are intending to
have much gingerbread work about it, why, you see, that
counts up fast."
" Not a bit of it. I want it well done, but perfectly plain;




360           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
all its ornament must be in its proportions. I want the
wood-work to be of the solid order; good, plain, heavy mouldings, doors and Window-frames."
" That's your sort."
" I want the timbers to be solid, and plenty of them, and
the floors laid solid, and well grooved together, and the whole
concern to match with the heavy walls of the main building.
I want something that won't shake under me, or over me,
and that will be a home for more than, one generation."
"That's the sort, that is just to my mind; and now I can
tell you, Charley, that it is n't going to cost you a nation
deal of money, after all. You see, you have got timber
enough of your own, you need n't buy a stick; and then
you have got white and yellow pine enough, that you can
carry to mill and get sawed for joists and under-covering for
the roof and sides. The most you will have to buy will be
shingles, and clapboards, and lime, and some odd things. The
shingles will be the heaviest bill you will have to pay for
materials. I'll bet the whole thing can be done for six huandred dollars outlay of money."
"You think so!"
" I know so. But I tell you what you must do; now is
the time to be getting your timber along, and t6 get your
logs to mill. The sooner you can get your floor plank sawed
the better, and let it be seasoning; half the comfort of a
house is to have it tight; I hate cracks staring at a fellow.
What a pity it is that old Simon Duncan won't set his sawmnill a-going, it would be so handy for you."
" Perhaps I can persuade him?"
"Well, perhaps you may; you seem to have the luck
with you about most things. But that puts me in mind of
something I heard up town this morning. You know, some
time ago there was some kind of a report that you was
going into business with Frank Rice, in the great city. It's
well you did n't. They say Frank has all gone to smash."
"Oh, I am very sorry; I hope it is not true."
"I am afraid it is, though; the news has come pretty
straight. You see there has been a terrible hubbub among
business folks for some time; everything looks like our
getting into a muss with England. Our Congress folks seem
all hot for war; and if that should come, the mischief Would




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   361
be to pay with things. I tell you what, Charley, a little, and
sure, slow and steady, is my motto; better keep where we
can stand, strong and stiff. I always make my own scaffolding, and then I feel safe to go on it. A plague of this climbing up high, till a man knows what he has got to hold him,
when he gets there."
Charles looked very sad. He felt a true interest for his
former companion; and although he had not thought best to
venture with him, most sincerely did he hope that Frank
might succeed. Nor could he believe that so sad a catastrophe could occur in so short a time.  But his doubts
were put an end to, for a boy from the family of Deacon
Rice rode up in much haste, and placed a letter in his
hand.
"Well, good-bye, Charley; I must go now and see the
colonel. When you want me I'll be on hand."
Charles opened the letter. It was from Miss Julia Rice,
requesting that he would come and see them as soon as possible, as they were in great trouble. And, with all his feelings
of friendship at once warmly roused, he lost no time in hastening thither.
The sight of a friend in the hour of adversity, of a friend
whose heart we know to be true, and whose sympathy we
are sure to have, is indeed a consolation. That friend may
have no worldly substance to bestow, nor any very great skill
in worldly matters; yet if he or she bring a true and loving
heart, the grasp of the hand, the tender moistening of the eye,
the soothing voice, have a charm to lull the troubled waters,
and revive the sinking spirits. Why Julia Rice should send
for Charles Lovell, she could scarcely have defined to herself;
for the trouble which had involved her family was that which
needed all the boldness of friendship together with the strength
of substance, to afford such consolation as could really be of
any avail. But she knew that Charles had a warm heart,
that he felt a deep interest for her brother, and that Frank
thought much of him. And, somehow, she had herself learned
to look to him almost as a relative, so much had he endeared
himself to all under his weekly instruction.
Julia met him at the door. Her voice trembled slightly
as she addressed him.
"I sent for you, because I knew both my brother and my
16




362           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
father think a great deal of you, and will be advised by you
sooner than by any one else.'
"Is your brother here, Julia?"
" ie is; but he keeps in his room, and I almost fear he
will lose his reason. There is something terrible on his
mind, and all we can say affords him no comfort."
" Do you think he would wish to see me?"
" I have no doubt he would; but I will see."
In a few moments she returned.
"My brother will be very glad to see you, but oh, the
poor fellow!" And the lovely girl could say no more; but
weeping bitterly, led Charles to the room where the sufferer
had secluded himself.
Frank was walking to and fro as Charles entered. Cordially they grasped each other's hand, but no word was uttered. Charles took a seat, and for some time indulged in
sad musings. He saw that it was no feigned grief. The
pale and sunken cheek, the wild stare from his bright eye,
the dishevelled hair, the unsteady step, and the loose and
nerveless appearance of his whole frame, spoke too plainly of
that sorrow which " maketh man's beauty to consume away
as a moth."
At length young Rice took a seat, and placed it near to
Charles.
"You have no doubt heard the news?"
" I have heard that you was in great trouble, and the report is that your business has been unfortunate."
"They are both true. I am a bankrupt-I am ruined, and
many others, if not utterly ruined, will suffer greatly by me.
Oh, Charles, death would be a welcome messenger. Life is
too great a burden when the heart is dead."
" But, Frank, we must sometimes show our manliness by
bravely meeting our trials, and doing our best under the circumstances."
" Yes, I know we ought. But to think how unwise I have
been! to stake the comfort of my whole life upon such a venture! And now, in the beginning of my days, to find myself
with a wehijt about my neck that I can never hope to throw
off! Debt! —debt! Oh, how it sinks my heart, a debtor
for life! to know that when my name is mentioned or thought
of by many, it will only be as their debtor!"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   363
"Will your father suffer, Frank?"
At the mention of his father the young man arose, and
again walked the room, apparently in great agony, and then
resumed his seat.
" I am heartily glad that you are here, Charles. My father
thinks highly of you, and perhaps you can do what I cannot.
You will remember I once told you that my father gave me
five thousand dollars to commence with; that, of course, is
lost. But, besides this, he is on my paper for ten thousand
more. This being confidential, by our custom in the city, is
secured. It is thought right by all our business men, that
confidential arrangements must be attended to, in preference
to others. Of course I have secured him for the ten thousand dollars. But what troubles me on his account is, that he
must meet his endorsements before the securities can possibly be made available, and I know he has no funds. He is
called a rich man, but you know how that is. His property
is mostly in lands about here. He is probably worth twenty
thousand dollars. And you know by our laws this can all
be attached, and at once sacrificed; and if forced off at such a
juncture, when money is not to be had, it would be his utter
ruin. It would bring his gray hairs with sorrow to the
grave. And how can I bear to think of the evil which I shall
bring upon him 3"
Charles knew not what to say; he was powerless himself,
or how soon would he have interposed his aid.
"Might not your father, in justice to himself and family, make over his property to prevent its sacrifice?"
" He might do so; but you know he is very determined
in his way. He thinks it is not right, and how can we attempt to persuade him against his moral sense?"
"Does he know that these payments must so soon be
made?"
"He does not; and oh, Charles, how can I tell him?"
And Frank covered his face, and groaned aloud in his
agony.
" Would it be a relief to you if I should tell him; for it
seems to me he ought to know the worst."
" It would be a great trial to you, I fear. You know my
father is a man of strong passions; he cannot always command himself; but he has a great respect for you."




364            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"I will do it, Frank, or anything else I can do. You know
I have no pecuniary means, but my heart bleeds for you, and
for your father, too. I am ready, if you say so."
" It will be a great relief to me."
Charles immediately left the room, and sought an interview
with the old gentleman. He was kindly received, and lost
no time in making known the errand with which he was entrusted. The old man heard him through, and, with great
calmness in his manner, replied:
"You have told me sad news, my young friend. I did
not, indeed, expect that the hour of trial was so near. I
have worked hard for what little property I have, and I believe I have accumulated it by honest means. I am too old
to get back what I have lost, and can only say,' It is the
Lord, let him do what seemeth unto him good.'"
Charles was much affected; there was something in his
trembling tears and patient piety that was truly touching.
It was an old man's trouble-an old man's piety. And
Charles could no longer restrain his excited feelings.
"I You have a warm heart, and a true heart, Mir. Lovell;
and you are making many friends. And I trust you will
never live to see the day when you will be obliged to say:'no man careth for my soul.' I have not made many friends.
I have, rather, I fear, been too careless in that matter. I have
indulged my prejudices, and kept too much aloof from my
fellows; but the Lord has met with me. It will, no doubt,
be a matter of rejoicing with many, that Deacon Rice has
been brought down. But I cannot mend the evil now; it is
too late."
Charles would have proposed some steps to be taken, to
save a waste of property by the selfish and unfeeling. But
the calm and resolute manner of the old man clearly convinced him that his own mind was made up to bear the consequences of his own acts. The old gentleman grasped his
hand very cordially as he departed.
" Whenever you can spare an hour, my young friend, to
step in, you will be welcome. And if you can be any com
fort to my poor Frank —"
He could say no smore. Charles parted from him, and
not knowing of what service he couid be, left the house and
proceeded on his way home. As he rode by the dwelling of




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   365
Colonel Johnson, he remembered that he had an errand for
Lucy, and turned up to the gate. The old colonel heard his
voice at the door, and called aloud for him to come in.
" I think you might, just once in awhile, ask if I aint in.
It's all Lucy, Lucy; but come, sit down. Lucy has gone
down to that'neat and comfortable' house, as Slocum calls
it, which you and she have fixed up so for those folks from
the island. The woman, it seems, is sick, and Lucy has
gone to see about matters there; and that reminds me of
something that happened to me a few days since, and I don't
know hardly what to make of it. You see I have noticed
that McDougall a little, since the stories you and Lucy have
told me about him. He's the oddest fish that has come
on to my hook yet. But one thing is certain, he has never
been used to hard work."
"Does he not seem willing to work sir?"
"Yes, yes, willing enough; he will work himself to death;
he aint used to it. My heart really ached for the poor fellow
the other day, as I was out in the woods, showing him a little
where to cut. I could see every time he stopped a moment
to rest, he panted like a dog after a chase; and although the
weather was what I call pretty cool, the perspiration ran down
his face in streams. But the queerest thing that ever I see
was a little circumstance that took place as he was cutting
down a small tree; as it fell he stepped a little one side, but
the end of the lowest branch just grazed him and knocked
off his hat. But, body-a-me! I was never so surprised in my
life; the firs; thing I saw was a head of hair as black as my
beaver. A black head, and red whiskers 1" and the colonel
put one hand on each knee, and looked most expressively at
Charles. " A black head and red whiskers! the oddest sight
it has ever been my luck to witness. I have seen brown hair
and sandy whiskers, and I have seen whitish hair and red
whiskers; but coal black hair and red whiskers! In all my
born days, I have never seen such a sight before."
" Were you not mistaken, sir? I am very sure his hair is
sandy, and very thick and bushy."
"Have you ever seen him with his hat off?"
"Yes sir, frequently."
"Well, it is very queer; my eyes aint in the habit of serving me such tricks. If his whiskers had changed color too,




366            A LONG LOOK AHEAD
and all looked black together, I might have thought that my
eyes had got some kind of a kink in them. And that aint all;
he had quite a youngerly look. I should have taken him for
a young fellow of twenty-seven. But it was only a glimpse
I had, after all; for he sprang like a squirrel for his hat, and
clapped it on as if his life depended upon it, and then
all was right in an instant. I tell you, my friend, I never came
so near misbelieving my own eyes. But I shan't puzzle my
brains any more about it. So come, tell me what's the news;
anything stirring."
"Only the news about young Rice —I suppose you have
heard that, sir?
" Slocum mentioned to me that there was an unpleasant
rumor of that sort, but I have hoped it might be some idle
story. "
" It is too true, sir; and I fear his father will be ruined too."
"The poor old gentleman! oh dear, oh dear! that is sad
indeed."
Charles then related all he knew, as he saw the colonel
was deeply interested. He told him that he had been there;
of the state in which he found the young man, and of his interview with the father, and the sad prospect before them.
The colonel listened very attentively, working his jaws very
hard, until Charles had closed. He then got up and walked
about the room, pulling up every now and then the waistbands of his small clothes, and making sad exclamations at
the changes, and worryings, and vexations, that a man was
liable to. At length he stopped suddenly, and asked:
"What do you really suppose will be the consequence to
Deacon Rice, if he is not able to meet those endorsements at
the time they fall due?"
" Why, sir, they are payable to people who will doubtless
immediately attach all his property; and you know in such
cases a man is rendered helpless, and his property recklessly
squandered."
"Are you here with your horse?"
"I am, sir."
"Do you just drive down to old Shirley's-you know who
I mean, Squire Shirley, you all call him-and tell him I want
to see him just as soon as he can come here; tell him to lose
no time."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   367
The summons which Squire Shirley received was such a
remarkable event that he had to ask Charles several times,
"What under the moon the old colonel wanted of him."
But as Charles could give him no satisfaction, he was obliged
either to decline the honor or to go and risk the consequences.
He concluded upon the latter course, saying to himself many
times on the way:
" What under the moon is to pay?"
His reception, however, was very cordial. " I have n't sent
for you, squire, to hold an argument to-day; you and I have
squabbled long enough about Presbyterianism and Episcopacy, and we have called one another hard names enough.
It is altogether for a different purpose; so come, sit down.
"I will sit down gladly, colonel, for it is something of a
walk from my house. I am glad to find you in such good
health. Mr. Lovell rather startled me with saying that you
wanted me to come right off, and I did n't know what was to
pay. "
" You have done just the thing, squire, just the right thing.
I am some years older than you, and they have gone off with
my horse this morning, so I thought you could get here easier
than I could get to you."
The colonel then arose, and took from the table a large
Bible, and turning over its leaves until he found the first
Epistle of John, read as follows:
"' Whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother hath
need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from himhow dwelleth the love of God in him?"' and then shutting
the book, he turned round and looked his visitor full in the
face:
" Now, neighbor, what do you think of that?"
Mr. Shirley's countenance was what would be called an
austere one. It was strongly marked with deep lines, as
though the battle of life had been a hard one, and yet around
his mouth the deep indentations might easily have been taken
for those in which the smile could readily find its course, so
that at times it would be difficult to say whether displeasure
or mirth was the predominant feeling. It would have been
impossible just then.
"What do I think of it? Why, I think it's right-it's
good doctrine."




368            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Well, how do you understand it, neighbor?"
" Understand it? Why, it's plain enough, aint it? it is as
plain as the nose on your face."
"That it is our bounden duty to help a brother in distress?"
"I should say so-certainly."
"So should I; there is no getting round it that I can see;
and, neighbor Shirley, if you or I should see a friend of ours
about to fall, so as maybe to break his neck-he was hanging by his hands, and could n't hold on much longer, and we
could, either by boosting from below or pulling from above,
just get him out of the scrape, and set him tight and strong
upon his legs again, don't you think we ought to do it?"
"I do so; and we ought to be in a hurry about it too."
" So I say. And now, neighbor, I suppose you have heard
that our friend, Deacon Rice, is in trouble."'" No! he is n't though! But I have feared he would be.
He has been endorsing for his son in New York, and I have
been pretty sure that, sooner or later, the Deacon would rue
it."
"Yes, perhaps it was not prudent. But what father is
there, that deserves the name, that aint willing to risk something for a son or daughter?"
"That is true, very true."
"And now, if some one does not step in, and just hold up
the old man for awhile, he will be utterly ruined." And the
colonel, in a very business-like manner, detailed, so far as
Lovell had revealed to him, the circumstances in which the
good deacon was placed. " You understand it all now, friend
Shirley. You know all about law, and what likelihood there
would be that he would come off with a cent in his pocket."
" He will be ruined, broken to pieces, unless, as you say,
some one steps in and gives him a boost or a pull."
" That is the thing of it, neighbor; and now who shall do
it? I am not a rich man, but I can spare a few thousands
for awhile. And, as you are one of his people, I have thought
you might be willing to do the same, and perhaps we both
together could give him all the aid he needs just now, and
save his heart from a great deal of suffering."
"Well, colonel, I tell you what it is; friend Rice has never
been a very particular friend to me, and I don't know as he




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   369
has to any one. He has kept pretty much to himself. But
he has certainly been no friend of yours, and if you are man
enough to overlook all that, and come to his rescue, I'11 go
you halves. I never liked partnerships much, and never had
a partner; but, colonel, I'll risk it with you. It shan't be
said that an old townsman was left to go to the dogs, because
Joe Shirley would n't risk a little for his help."
The colonel grasped his hand, and shook it heartily.
" That is a deal better than snarling at one another about
apostolic succession, or ministers wearing gowns or round-abouts, or whether we should pray with a book or without
one. And now, neighbor, what we do must be done quickly.
I see Josey has come, and we will be right off."
"Who is Josey?"
"Josey! why there he stands at the gate. I'll make you
acquainted with him in short order."
it took the colonel a little while to get ready, for his beaver
had to be smoothed, and his cloak brushed off, and his
shoes dusted; at least the ceremony had to be gone through
with.
"Whoa, Josey; just keep easy until I get in."
"I never knew the name of your horse before, but I have
often admired him. You keep him nice and fat, colonel."
"And he carries me safe and strong; he treats me well,
and serves me cheerfully, and I see to it that he has all he
wants. Whoa, Josey; take your time, neighbor, and fix yourself; he won't start until I say the word."
" It don't take much fixing in this carriage of yours, for
there is room enough for a man's pockets and' his legs too."
"I don't like being cramped; there is no comfort in riding
if you have to be squeezed. Come, Josey, ahead with you."
" Well, I declare, he seems to understand what you say;
he goes off at a spanking rate, and through the snow too."
"I don't usually drive so fast, but somehow, just now I
feel rather in a hurry."
When a man's heart is sad it is not the presence of every
acquaintance that is agreeable. And if the feelings of Deacon Rice could have been spoken out, when it was announced
to him that Squire Shirley and Colonel Johnson had called,
and were waiting in the parlor to see him, they would have
said " that he would a little rather they had stayed at home."




870           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
He, however, prepared to see them, as a necessary duty,
which must be performed, however unpleasant.
It had been decided between the two gentleman, that the
colonel should introduce their business; and after a few mo-'ments spent in the usual compliments, the colonel edged his
chair up a little towards the deacon, and offered him a pinch
from his box.
" Esquire Shirley and I have called upon you this morning, friend Rice, to have a little talk about business matters."
The colonel just then was taken with a violent fit of sneezing,
and the deacon had time to indulge his thoughts a moment.
" Business! ay, I warrant, in some way they think they are
going to lose something; they've heard the news."'
" I suppose you will not think hard of us for alluding to
what seems now pretty generally known; that your son has
been unfortunate, and that you are somewhat implicated."
The deacon interposed abruptly:
"I have property enough to meet my responsibilities;
people need n't feel so anxious; you'll have your money if
you are so unfortunate as to have any of my notes. I
shan't shrink from my name, nor from any of my debts, that
I can tell you."
" And it is for that very reason, friend Rice, that we have
called upon you. We know you to be a thoroughly honest
man, and that you will hold every dollar you own sacred to
sustain the honor of your name. You don't owe me a cent,
and I believe our friend here can say the same. But we have
called upon you as neighbors; we heard that you was in
trouble, and I will say more. I have heard through Mfr. Lovell the nature of your trouble, and that you are in danger of
having violent hands laid upon your property; and perhaps
that which you have earned by your industry, and saved by
your prudence, squandered to pay half its value. And we,
as neighbors and friends, have come to let you know that we
stand ready to prevent any such calamity. You shan't go
down, Deacon Rice, if friend Shirley and I can hold you up."
There was something so perfectly unexpected in this
announcement, that it was out of the power of the good deacon to make an immediate reply. He looked at both the
gentlemen a moment, and his eye met their kindly gaze.
Prejudice and distrust flew away. They were not the men




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   371
to trifle in such an hour; and he knew they could accomplish what they promised. And Deacon Rice was not the
man to hold out against kindness.'" Gentlemen, this is to me a most unexpected, and I must
say most-" But the good man could go no further; the
strong feelings of his heart-excited as they had been by
poring over the state of his affairs, and now much more by
this prospect of deliverance, and by the sense that he was
not left to battle with his troubles alone —burst forth. He
rose from his seat, and with the silent tears streaming down
his furrowed cheeks, grasped both their hands.
" That's it, neighbor Rice, that is a kind of shaking hands
I like; don't you, squire?"
" It is a deal better than snarling at one another, and calling hard names; but, deacon, you must thank the colonel;
it's all his doings."
"' Hut, tut, tut, squire, tut, tut, we are partners, you know;
only think of that, friend Rice. Joe Shirley and old Colonel
Johnson have entered into partnership. But, neighbor, let's
be about business; we will settle matters first, and then we
will talk about other things. So sit down by us, friend Rice,
and just let us know the upshot of the whole thing, and then
we can see what is to be done first.
It required but a short time to place the statement of his
affairs before them, to show the notes which had been put
into his hands, and the assignment of them, and the goods to
meet the responsibilities he had come under.
"' And now, squire, you know much more about business
than either Deacon Rice or myself; you see it all, now what
is to be done?"
" It is all plain enough; the trouble with friend Rice will
be to raise the money which must be paid in so short a time.
It seems to be well secured. The goods, if not sold under
the hammer, must amount to pretty much all his indebtedness. If he can be helped to means so that these payments
can be met, and keep all hands off from his property here,
and some safe persons found to receive for those who shall
advance the funds, an assignment of the securities, so that
they shall be made the most of, and sold to the best advantage, I don't see but all will come out straight yet."
Both the gentlemen agreed with Squire Shirley, but the diffi



372            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
culty of procuring the right man seemed for the time a serious
one.
"Neither of us " said the colonel, " is of an age that will
allow us to think of such an undertaking. But for my part
I know of a man to whom I should be willing to trust my
part of the risk; he is young, though."
Both quickly asked:
"Who is it?,'
"It is one who.feels most deeply interested for you too,
deacon, a noble-hearted fellow; Charley Lovell."
"' He is the man of all others I should choose," said Deacon Rice.
"' He is a shrewd and stable young fellow. He is not acquainted with the city, but he would soon learn the ways."
"' So I think, squire. He must be paid, though; we cannot
ask a young fellow who knows how to make the most of his
time, and his pennies too, to go off from his business for nothing."
"By no means," said Deacon Rice; "he should be well
paid. But will he go, colonel?"
" Leave that to me, friend Rice; he and I are on pretty good
terms. I will see to his going, and I will warrant if there is
a penny to be saved or made, he will look out for it. And
now, friend Rice, we must go. Only one thing I want to say;
neither friend Shirley, nor myself, want you to say one word
about this matter; your responsibilities will be met, and no
body need know h6w, or anything about it. And when this
hubbub is a little over, and your mind gets settled, just come
up and give me a call. We are both getting to be old men,
and those who were young when we were, are getting scarce
now. And I think we can have many a pleasant chat together."
"Colonel Johnson, I will say nothing now about the past.
I have a great deal to regret, and to be sorry for. But if you
and I have any more sparring in this world it shall not be my
fault. You have taught me a lesson to-day, which I shall not
be very apt to forget. And what I say to you, I apply equal.
ly to this good friend beside you. May God bless you both,
and all that belong to you."
The colonel would insist upon driving Esquire Shirley
home. And as the latter stepped down from the carriage, he
looked up with much significance:




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   373
"They say, colonel, that when a certain personage begins
to quote scripture, you must keep a sharp look out for mischief; now I don't want you to apply this to yourself."
" You need n't fear that, squire; I never make any application, but what I think suits me."
" But when you began upon a fellow so strong this morning, I must say I put myself a little on the guard; for though
I have often heard you quote from the fathers, in favor of
your notion about apostolical succession, I don't remember
ever having heard you say much about the Bible."
" And for a good reason, squire; I don't like' casting pearls
before swine,' not that I mean to apply this to you."
"By no means, colonel."
"You see, friend Shirley, the fathers I have read pretty
well. and I've studied them mainly for the purpose of contending with such stiff-necked Presbyterians as yourself.
But I take my Bible to find out what I ought to be, and the
more I read it I find that there is better work to do than railing at those who don't see just as I do. And when I quote
from it, you may always think I am in solemn earnest."
"I will after this, colonel; and whenever you have any
little business on hand, like what we have been at this morning, just let me know. I would n't have missed that squeeze
of the hand from neighbor Rice for double what it should
cost, if we lose the whole.  I shall sleep better to-night,
colonel. And another thing, I aint a-going to wait any more
for you to send for me, but I mean to drop in just as I feel
like it."
"And I promise you, friend Shirley, to drop the fathers;
and if you and I should be in doubt any time about what we
are to believe, or to do, or to be, we will just open the good
book, and see what that says. Whoa, Josey-good-bye,
neighbor-go along, sir." This last was addressed to his
noble beast, who bore off his master as if he was proud to
have such a burden behind him.
Squire Shirley looked at the neat establishment as it rolled
away, and then, turning to enter his house, could not help exclaiming:
"I never knew what was in that man before."




874            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XXV.
THE circumstances under which Frank Rice and Charles
Lovell started together for the city of New York were so
peculiar, that it might have been supposed much embarrassment would be experienced by them both. But the conduct
of Charles had through the whole been so magnanimous, and
the real reluctance with which he had yielded to the entreaties of Frank himself and all his family, to take upon him the
responsibility of his present position, had scattered every feeling but that of sincere regard. There was confidence, and a
perfect good will, on one part, and a sincere desire to discharge his duty to those for whom he acted, on the other. As
they had some business to transact with a gentleman who
lived near the border of the North River, they concluded to
take a private conveyance thither, and from thence the public stage to the city.
The day was a lowering one, and, as they progressed, the
clouds assumed a more fixed and heavy cast; and by the
middle of the forenoon, snow began to fall, and the wind
shifting to the north-east, a regular storm set in. When
snow falls in earnest, it gathers fast, and soon forms a serious
obstruction to a carriage. The horses, after a few hours,
began to lag, and were glad to walk when they could; and
by the middle of the afternoon, it was only by constant urging that they could be kept upon a faster gait. At five o'clock
they reached a village, where the driver advised they should
remain for the night; but as their business was urgent, they
induced him by extra pay to make the attempt to reach the
place of their destination, about eight miles further on.
And on they went through the unbeaten track, the storm
increasing in violence as the evening advanced, the wind
whistling round the carriage, and roaring through the forests,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   375
and driving the fine snow so as to blind the horses, and make
them unwilling to proceed. At length the carriage suddenly
came to a stand.
"What is the matter, driver?"
"I fear the nigh horse is giving out; he staggers so that I
am afraid he'll be down next."
" Are we near a village?"
"I can't say, I was never on this road before; but I don't
see any signs of one."
"Are there any houses near?"
" I see a light ahead, maybe it's a tavern; as soon as my
horses have rested a little, I'11 drive there."
With a slow pace they proceeded for some quarter of a
mile, and bolted again. The gentlemen looked out and perceived by the lights from the windows, that they were before
the gate of a large house, that stood a little back from the
road, but it was evidently no public-house.
"It is a private mansion, Frank," said Charles; " shall I
step out and inquire how near we are to a tavern?"
"Perhaps we had better; but let me go."
"By no means —I am more used to storms than you are;"
and so saying, Charles sprang from the carriage, and proceeded
to the house, and as he drew near perceived that it was probably the residence of a wealthy family. His summons was
soon answered by a servant, to whom Charles put the question:
" How far am I from a public-house?"
Before the servant could answer, a gentleman arose from
his seat in what appeared to be a large hall, into which the
front door opened, and as he approached, Charles was struck
with his fine manly form, and open, pleasant countenance.
" Come in, sir, come in out of the storm;" bowing at the
same time, in a very courteous manner. Charles returned his
salutation, and entered as requested.
"I only wish, sir, to inquire if we are near a tavern. The
storm has proved more violent than we anticipated, and our
horses are much fatigued."
The gentleman looked at him keenly a moment.
" There is no tavern, my young friend, within some miles,
and that is hardly decent for a gentleman and lady to stop
at.'"




376            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Charles smiled as he replied, " I am very happy to say,
sir, that my companion is a young gentleman."
"Well, sir, you might manage, then. But I fear you will
find great difficulty in getting there; this road is narrow, and
always blocks up in such severe storms. I can propose to
you a much easier path; do you just bring your companion
in here, and my men will take charge of your horses until
the morning, and then we will see what can be done to help
you along."
"Your offer, sir, is extremely kind; but I fear it will be
taxing your hospitality too much."
" Not in the least, sir-not in the least; room enough, and
provender enough, and ladies into the bargain, if you like
their company; so ask your companion in at once."
It would have appeared like affectation to make any further resistance, and in a few moments the young men were
seated before a good blazing fire in the hall, or ante-room of
the house, enjoying its warmth, and looking round on the appearance of unostentatious gentility and comfort which surrounded them. The room was evidently designed as a passage-way to different parts of the house. It was a large,
square apartment, with several doors opening into it, and a
wide stair-case on one side, with a very heavy broad rail running to the upper story; a neat English ingrain carpet
covered the whole floor; a large mahogany book-case stood
between two of the doors; a round table, covered with
newspapers, occupied a position near the fire, and old-fashioned leather-bottomed chairs stood at different locations
round the room.
" What a delightful place this room must be in summer,
or on rainy days, with that book-case so handy," said Charles
to his companion. as he saw him looking round.
"I don't know as to that; but it is a most delightful place
just now; this fire goes to one's heart after such a ride."
"Gentlemen," said their host, who then came in, having
left them a few moments, "you have come in very opportunely; our cook has been late with the turkey to-day; our
usual supper-time is half-past five; but I am happy, for your
sakes, that it has so turned out. So soon as you are sufficiently
warmed, I will introduce you to my family, and then we will
attack the turkey."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   377
Both young gentlemen immediately arose, signifying their
readiness; and receiving their names he opened one of the
doors leading from the hall, and ushered them into a large
room, stepped up to his lady and introduced them individually, and then to the circle, at the head of which she was
seated.
One is often so blinded by the lights, and that strange
mist which spreads over everything at a first introduction to
a company of ladies, that it is not often that a man, especially a young one, is able to distinguish either names or faces.
It is not to be wondered at, then, that Charles did not recognize any one he had ever seen before, until a young lady
stepped up, and putting out her hand, said:
" Oh, Mr. Lovell, how glad I am to see you!" Charles
took the hand; we fear he did not realize that it belonged to
a lady, for the dear little thing grasped his with such a true
interest, that there is no telling how he returned the embrace.
He had no thought for the moment of anything but the most
exquisite delight. At length he replied:
"Is it possible?"
"It is possible; and now let me introduce you again."
"Mrs. Shawn, my friend, Mr. Lovell; Mr. Shawn, Mr. Lov" Well, well," said Mr. Shawn," this is a most unexpected
pleasure. Little did I think, Miss Addie, that I was so fortuhate as to be introducing, in a stranger, one in whom you claim
such an interest."
" Oh, you know, sir, it is so long since I have seen any one
with whom I was acquainted at my uncle's.7"
She could not hide the blush that spread all over her beautiful face.
"You are very excusable; I am only too glad that your
friend has come along so opportunely. And now for the supper." And Mr. Shawn led the way at once into the eating
apartment, where was spread a long table filled with a supply
that would have been sufficient for very many hungry folks.
" Dear Miss Vincent," said a young lady, taking hold of
her, and speaking in a low voice, " is this the Mr. Lovell 1
have heard you speak about l"
"Hush, Carrie dear."
"Introduce me; won't you 2"




378            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Miss Caroline Shawn, Mr. Lovell."
Charles bowed low to her.
"Ah, but I must shake hands; if you are a friend to her,
you must be a friend to me, too. I am going to love all whom
she loves."
Poor Adelaide would have been in a sad condition if it had
not been that there was some little confusion at the time.
Charles had leisure, during the long meal, to collect his bewildered thoughts, and to examine a little into persons and
things. He found that the family proper consisted of Mr. and
Mrs. Shawn, their daughter Caroline, and Miss Adelaide Vincent; the latter being treated by them with marked attention
and respect. There was also a Miss Lawrence, who, with her
brother, appeared to be visitors from the city. The young
lady had a very agreeable countenance, and her manners
were faultless; every grace of the lady shone from her;
about the age, he thought, of Miss Vincent, to whom she seemed peculiarly attached, and on terms of great intimacy. The
brother was, as near as he could judge. of his own age, of
pleasant, easy address, free from affectation, and very attentive
to those about him. It was, however, evident to Charles, that
his attentions were more peculiarly directed to Adelaide, and
he noticed some little passages between them which perhaps
none others at the table thought of.
Eating did not appear to be the main idea; that part of
the business was doubtless attended to by each, as far as necessary; for all hospitality was exercised by those who held
the places of honor. And there was no reserve; perfect freedom from restraint seemed to be enjoyed by each of the circle, and a lively stream  of conversation, and good feeling,
flowed along through the whole entertainment, and continued
until some time after the matter of eating and drinking had
been finished. Never before had Charles seen such a perfect
family party around a table; and when he arose, and gathered with them in the parlor, he could scarcely realize that, but
two hours since, he was a stranger to nearly all of them.
The same ease of manner he also noticed attended the social
scene when they had collected for the evening. There was no
attempt to get up amusements; those who pleased sat together and communed at their own ease, some resorted to the
piano, and some, with light needlework in hand, sat by the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   879
round table near the lamp. Mr. Shawn arose, after chatting
a little time with Charles and his companion, and left the
room, merely saying, as he was about to go:
" Gentlemen, I am going to spend a little time in the hall
with the newspapers; when you get tired of the ladies' company, I shall be glad to see you there. Make yourself perfectly at home."
Charles coi4d have wished for a long and social chat with
Adelaide, but he found no opportunity to be alone with her.
He had no reason, indeed, to think that she avoided him; her
whole demeanor towards him was marked with the most
perfect kindness and frankness. For she expressed much
pleasure, when she learned that he was on his way to the
city, and told him that she hoped to meet him often then, as
she was expecting on the morrow, if the weather would permit, to accompany Miss Shawn on a visit there. Remarking,
at the same time, that the family of Mr. Lawrence, where she
expected to stay, was a delightful one to visit at. And Charles
really thought, if the specimens he witnessed of that family
then present were correct, it must be as she said. He had
never met with those before, whom he thought exceeded
them in true refinement. But-and dear reader, you would
be tired, and perhaps disgusted with any attempt to define
the workings of a mind in the state his then was-completely
wrapped up in one lovely object, and that, object, although
within his sight, and listening to his words, yet acting inde.
pendently of his will, and thrown by circumstances entirely
beyond his control. He was, however, for the present, diverted from his uncomfortable thoughts by the intervention
of young Lawrence, who in a pleasant manner whispered to
him, so as not to be heard by the ladies:
"What do you say to a cigar 2"
"I don't smoke, but I shall be happy to accompany you."
The young gentleman made the same application to Rice,
and leaving the room, the three young men entered the hall
where Mr. Shawn was enjoying the news in his large chair
beside the blazing fire.
" I have been thinking, young gentlemen, that as you are
all bound for the city to-morrow, you had better make a single party of it, and go together."




380           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Good," exclaimed young Lawrence; "I agree to that
with all my heart, sir. But how shall we get a conveyance?"
"I can tell you. Let Peter put the bays to the large
sleigh; it will hold six of you with ease. I think it more
than probable you will find good sleighing all the way; but
if not, he can take you as far as the snow has fallen, and then
you can, no doubt, when on the stage road, find conveyance
easily enough. But, perhaps you two gentlemen have business that may take you some other route."
"Thank you, sir," said Charles; "our business will require us to stop for a short time at the village of -, probably not over half an hour. But it seems like taxing your
kindness too much, sir, although it would be most agreeable
to us to have the pleasure of such good company."
" Not at all, sir. I know that young folks like to flock together. The village you speak of is about half way to the
city; and a half hour or an hour's rest there, will be just the
thing for the horses."
" But would the ladies, sir, fancy such an addition to their
party?"
"That is well considered, Mr. Lovell."
" I will soon put that matter to rest," said young Lawrence, leaving the hall. In a few moments he returned.
" The ladies, with one consent, each held up both hands;
only Miss Caroline says that she shall put herself under the
special care of Mr. Lovell. So you see, sir, you have made
an impression already."
"She does me great honor."
"Well, gentleman, the thing is fixed then. But where are
you going, Lawrence?"
"Oh, well sir, I have a little business to transact with
these two young gentlemen in the library."
" Ay, ay, you rogue, I understand; but don't let your cigars keep you too long from the ladies."
Smoking is a very bad practice, and we would advise old
folks and young folks to quit it at once. But we fear they won't,
so we will waste no time in lecturing against the use of the
abominable weed. But, good or bad, it has somehow a very
comfortable look. A man seems so satisfied with himself,
and all about him. There appears to be such a buoyancy to
his thoughts, if one can judge from the complacency with




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   381
which his eye follows the curling smoke, that really one can.
not have the heart to scold very hard. It is also said to have
a mighty charm in removing all that stiffness which is apt to
attend a new introduction; like a third party, intimate with
both, and bringing them through itself into close communion,
and inspiring mutual confidence; opening, also, the flood-gates
of the heart, and thus connecting itself with our happiest
hours, the scenes of social intercourse. That it has such
power, those who have had experience must decide.
There was probably, however, no need for any such medium to draw together the hearts of the young men assembled in the large and pleasant room dedicated as the haunt
of literature, in this family mansion, more especially those of
Lawrence and young Lovell. Frank Rice had too many
burdens just then pressing upon his, to enter very heartily
into any social scene; but he had too much good feeling to
allow his own cares to interfere with the enjoyment of others.
But with the other two life sat lightly, as the swan upon the
glassy lake. They could sympathize, too, in their tastes, for
both had cultivated a relish for literature. The fine ideas
thrown out by nature's true poets, had been stored in their
minds, and were ready "to come forth at their bidding."
And as each, in turn, would bring out some passage of
beauty that both could appreciate, they were imperceptibly
linking their feelings in a pleasing chain. Charles thought he
had not met with a more congenial mind; and young Lawrence more than once exclaimed:
"Lovell, you and I must see more of each other. How
glad I am that this storm has kept us here, and driven you
into the same harbor."
From poetry to love, is a very short and natural step for
youth. Charles had accustomed himself to keep his thoughts
in abeyance to his judgment. Not so, however, was it with
young Lawrence. Both loved, but not in the same degree.
With Charles, it had been a long, deep passion, kept in subjection only by strength of reason. With the other, it was
a light summer cloud, tinged with golden rays. None could
tell whether it might gather into the fierce thunder-storm, or
melt away into the blue above. It was the thought, however,
apparent in his mind now. At first it came out as a jest, but
by degrees lapsed into expressions of deep earnestness, which




882            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
could not be mistaken. Love must have an object, and,
strange as it may seem, desires others to admire its choice,
provided the admiration be indulged at a safe distance. It is
not improbable, that on the present occasion, however, there
was something more than the mere desire to give prominence
to the name of a loved one. There were, no doubt, some
little misgivings that one who had been called so emphatically a friend, might claim a more tender title; for after
bantering awhile, young Lawrence assumed a more serious
air:
" I don't know, gentlemen, but this subject is very uninteresting to you both."
"I think it cannot be to Mr. Rice," said Charles, "for I
believe he is already engaged."
" And I don't believe," answered Frank, " that it is a very
dull subject to Mr. Lovell; for, if reports speak true, he has
chosen his mate, and a fine one too."
Charles knew well to whom he alluded. It was an old
story about him and Lucy. He, however, did not think
best at present to contradict it.
" Well, I must say," exclaimed Lawrence, " that is a great
relief to my mind; for when I saw Miss Addie clasp your
hand so cordially, and introduce you in such a particular manner, I feared that it was all up with me. But don't you
think she is a lovely creature?"
" She certainly is." This remark was made by Frank, for
Charles was so excited that he dared not trust himself to
speak.
" My mother says she is too good for any young man she
knows, and I know she is too good for me. But if I can gain
her heart, I shall be a happy man. Whoever gets her,
though, must gain her affections. If she don't truly love, all
other considerations would have not the least weight with
her. But come, I think, Lovell, you have had enough of our
smoke; it don't agree with you, you look pale. Come, let
us go back to the ladies."
Charles made no objections; he was glad of any change,
just then, that would break the embarrassment under which
he was suffering.
The morning proved as pleasant as the last evening had
been stormy. The clouds had passed off, the winds had




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   388
ceased, and the earth was covered with the virgin snow, reflecting brightly the rays of the rising sun. An early start
had been proposed, and all were ready for it, and with gladsome hearts gathered into the roomy sleigh, and were borne
off after many a kind farewell-the noble beasts tearing
their way through the deep drifts, and scattering the light
snow before them like spray from the bosom of the driving
boat.
Yet all were not happy. Charles did his best to assume a
cheerful air; but when the heart is uneasy, it is a difficult
task to bring the light and happy smile upon the lip. Adelaide, too, was much more serious than she had been the past
evening, or than Charles remembered to have seen her; perhaps the realities of-life, which were gathering about her,
were too palpable to escape her notice.




384            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XXVI.
Lucy JOHNSON had become a constant visitor at the
McDougall's, in consequence of the indisposition of Mrs.
McDougall. The change in their situation had not operated
as might have been expected, especially on the mind of the
latter. Her spirits lost their elasticity, and a deep and settled shade of melancholy settled upon her countenance; and,
although at times she would smile, and try to be cheerful,
yet Lucy could plainly perceive the change that was passing
upon her.
One day when she called, Mrs. McDougall had not yet
risen, and as Lucy entered her room, she was alarmed at the
sight of her pale and emaciated features; she was evidently
wasting away under the power of some hidden malady.
Lucy earnestly addressed her:
" Do, Mrs. McDougall, let me call in our physician; you
certainly need his aid; it shall be no expense to you."
She put out her hand and took that of the lovely maiden.
"Oh, thank you, dear; your kindness is very great; but
I assure you that no skill of physicians can reach my case."
" Is there any trouble on your mind that you cannot tell
me? I promise you the most sacred secresy."
As Lucy said this she put her hand on the forehead of the
sick woman, and smoothed it gently, pushing back, as she did
so, the long frill of her unsightly cap. She saw the tears
starting from her long lashes, and stealing down her pale
cheek; and, at the same time, her breathing became hurried,
her breast heaved, the blue veins on her white temples swelled,
and her whole frame seemed to be moved with some powerful excitement. Lucy was alarmed, but Mrs. McDougall
feebly said:
"Take it off, dear, take off the cap."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   385
And Lucy gently untied its strings, and drew it from be.
neath her head, and at once there lay before her, a young
lady of her own age, with a rich head of hair of the purest
auburn, whose long tresses fell down upon her pillow and
around her shoulders, forming a beautiful contrast with her
pale and delicate features. Lucy clasped her hands in amazement, while the other burst into a flood of tears.
" You shall know it all," she sobbed out; " you shall know
it all. I cannot any longer deceive you, and I must have one
heart like yours to pour my burden into. Fasten the door,
and come, sit by me."
Lucy almost trembled as she obeyed her request.
" I had thought when, by the kindness of yourself, and that
dear young man, Mr. Lovell, I. came to this place, that I
should be comparatively happy. I thought it would be such
a pleasant change, to have occasionally a sight of you or him.
But alas! I find I am like an encaged bird, only made more
wretched by being placed where my mates are flying around
in freedom."
" But you are with us, dear, and you shall be more with
us; and if your present circumstances distress you, we will
see what more can be done."
"Oh, hush, hush, don't speak of it; you have all done
what can be done; no power on earth can roll back the dark
cloud that shuts me from the world."
" Your mind is depressed by your sickness, dear."
" Oh, but you don't know. You see that I am yet young;
life is yet in its freshness. No common circumstances could
have impelled me to shut myself away from all who have
ever known me; to endure the most bitter privations, and
mingle with the lowest of my species. I have told you that
you should know all; but how shall I begin! how shall I
make you understand!"
"Perhaps you are not equal to the task now?"
"I feel that I shall never be more able to do it than at
present. It is a strange recital, but you shall hear it. My
mother died when I was but a child, and there lived with us a
youth to whom my father was much attached. He was an
assistant in his office, as well as a -member of our family.
He was most comely in his person, and of gentle manners,
and pure in every thought. I know, I am sure he was.
17




386            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
Thrown much together, we became as brother and sister; he
knew all my thoughts and feelings, and I knew his.
" As I advanced to maturity our intimacy became a strong
attachment-stronger than death. My father saw it, and it
met his approbation, and our union was to have been completed by marriage.
"A terrible change, without any warning, came over our
fair prospect. My father, man of wealth, was defrauded of
many thousands of dollars, and, horrible to say, the charge
was so substantiated against him to whom I had given my
heart, that there was no alternative for him but flight, or the
walls of a prison.
" I saw him in the night, in a low place, and there he swore
to me, by all that was sacred it our affection, that he was innocent of the crime, but felt that the circumstances were
such as rendered it impossible for him to prove it; and he
was about to bid farewell to me fbrever. I little knew until
that moment how much I loved.- I could not let him go; I
knew my father's temper, his unbending will, his strong belief in his guilt. It was an awful moment; my reason
seemed to have deserted me; and, even against the remonstrances of him I loved, I resolved never to leave him. We
were both young, too young to act with judgment; we were
married and fled in disguise together; we were utterly without means, and penniless; we threw ourselves upon the world.
I need not detail all I have passed through. We have lived,
we have suffered-suffered more than I can bear to think of
now. At length we sought an asylum where you found us;
and there, where nothing could remind me of what had been,
with my husband's love, I had almost, I thought, forgotten
the world; but it is now proved to me that I had not. My
heart is yet alive to that which is refined and beautiful; it
pants for fellowship with kindred spirits, and that can nevernever more be mine."
She ceased, apparently much exhausted, and Lucy was so
confounded by what she had heard, that she knew not what to
say, nor how to administer comfort. She gazed, with silent pity, on the pale sufferer. She felt convinced that she
had acted rashly; even'wrong. She had probably brought
her father in sorrow to the grave. She had violated a command of God, and the bitter fruit she was then partaking.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AD THE LAST.   387
But it was not for her to upbraid; the past could not be recall.
ed; the future, so far as earth was concerned, would now apparently soon be of little consequence. So she spake words
of kindness to her; smoothed her throbbing temples with
her soft hand, and prepared some nourishing draught to sustain her exhausted frame, and did all those little things which
woman knows so well how to do either around the bed of
sickness, or to ease the agony of the heart.
As Lucy had promised, she retained in her own breast the
secret which had been revealed to her. She was constant in
her attendance, whenever her duties at home would allow.
But from day to day she could perceive that the object of her
care was growing more feeble. The husband was not an unconcerned witness of the declining strength of her who had
thus followed him down into degradation. Lucy could not
tell whether he was innocent or guilty; but her heart bled
for him, as she saw his sad gaze fixed upon his suffering wife,
while bending over her pillow, in vain attempting to administer consolation, and revive her dying hope. She could not,
nor did she try to hear what arguments he used, and only
once was their meaning conveyed to her, by the answer of
the sufferer:'I No, Robert, never; it will never be bright to me again
in this world."
Soon after Charles Lovell had taken up his temporary res.
idence in New York, the Reverend Mr. Foster was appointed
by his superiors in the ministry to the charge of a congregation in a new part of the city; that is, a part which had been
pushed from its outskirts, where a poorer class of inhabitants
resided. It was on the north-east part of the city, where small
frame buildings had been erected, to accommodate mechanics
and laborers in ship-yards. Many of the inhabitants were
of a decent class, but mingled among them were those of a
loose and abandoned character. Mr. Foster not only preached
to them in the small church which had been erected there; he
also visited from house to house, talking to them as he found
opportunity, and praying with the sick and dying; for death
was very busy among those children of poverty and vice.
About the middle of this region stood a building, that had
in its day been a favorite resort for young men from the city.




388            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
It had a kind of respectability attached to it, in its best days,
because those who were the first people hesitated not to visit
it; being one of the favorite drives from the lower part of
the city. The old Belvidere may even now bring back, by
the mere mention of its name, reminiscences to some, yet lingering in old age, of scenes that they could wish might not
have been.
Its glory, however, had now departed. The green fields
around it had been built upon, the knoll upon which it stood
had been so far dug away as to leave merely an unsightly
gravel hill, barely large enough to contain the building, and
access could be had to it only by a long flight of rough steps
rising from the level of the street below. It was still kept
as a sort of tavern, and being within the bounds to which
Mr. Foster was assigned, was not passed by unnoticed by
that faithful watchman. Among its inmates lay a sick man,
nearly advanced to middle age; he was evidently drawing
near his end, and he was conscious of it. A " horror of great
darkness had fallen upon him." The shadow from the unseen
world was gathering around, and his spirit trembled beneath
its cold and cheerless pall. All that the minister of Christ
could say to him appeared to give no comfort. The cross of
Christ, that hope for the perishing, was held up before him
without effect. He did not despise it. He apparently tried
to get the hope which it was told him it would impart; but
some hidden power, some film about the mind, shut from his
view what was in itself so omnipotent to save. Mr. Foster
had spent much time with him by day and night, because he
could not bear to leave him to the ministration of those who
knew not how to deal with one, who, in the valley of the
shadow of death, had no staff nor guiding star.
Charles Lovell had often accompanied his friend, Mr. Foster, at times when business did not demand his attention,
in visits among the sick and suffering, and greatly strengthened the hands of the young minister in his arduous work.
And as Mr. Foster had great confidence in his skill around a
sick bed, or in dealing with the impenitent, he concluded to
take him on a visit to the poor sufferer at the old Belvidere.
Charles hesitated not to go, and finding that no suitable person was at hand, to spend the night with the sick and dying
man, resolved to stay by his side. While he was awake,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   889
Charles made every effort to get an understanding of his
mental trouble. For his body there was little to be done; its
energies were gone, and decay was marked upon it. But his
mind was clear, and, like a criminal about to meet his doom,
he looked about in restless agony, to find, perchance, some
opening for escape. During some of the hours of the night,
the sick man slept; but still his mind exhibited its restless
state. At times he would utter incoherent sentences, the
meaning only so far intelligible, that an idea could be caught
now and then. And once or twice he spoke audibly a name
that was in part familiar to the ear of Charles. He believed
there was some burden resting on his conscience, and he resolved to do his duty by the dying one, and show him how
alone he could have peace. As soon, therefore, as he awoke
from sleep, at the breaking of the day, Charles approached
him with all kindness in his manner and look, and told him
what he thought, and asked him why he had called upon a
certain name.
With a wild look, the eyes of the sick man were fastened
on him.
"Did I? did I?  Did you hear me speak that name?
Oh! if that-but-"  And then he closed his lids, and
clasped his hands, and rolled from side to side as far as his
weak frame could move. Again Charles urged, by all; the
motives which a present eternity held up before him, to do
his duty; and if there was a wrong he could undo, to lose
no time. but free his spirit from the burden before it was too
late. Once more he settled into rest, and fixed a long, piercing look on Charles:
"I believe you are right. I will —I must do it. The injured man may be dead, but his name must be cleared.
Oh! I must, I must." And Charles wiped away the big
drops from his emaciated forehead, which had been forced
out by the suffering spirit.
"Do you know Abijah Field?"
" I do not."
"He lives in -.  street, No. -90; quick and bring him
here. Tell him, if he hesitates to come, that - is on his
dying bed. Tell him I can give him infbrmation of great
consequence to him, and his -; go, be quick."
Charles lost no time. He easily found the place. Mr.




890            A LONG LOOK. AHEAD;
Field was an old man, and surrounded with every token of
wealth. And when he heard that he was thus sent for, and to
such a place, at first seemed reluctant to go; but when
Charles told him all he had heard, and what he believed, he
at length consented.
" Young gentleman, if you will accompany me, I will go;"
and instantly ordered his carriage.
Charles was too much interested not to be willing to do as
the old gentleman requested; and soon they were both ascending the long tottering steps of the old Belvidere.
It was a pitiable sight to behold the expression of mental
agony, as the sick man cast his eyes on the tall, feeble frame
of him who had once been his benefactor.
" Sin-sin-wickedness —a life of dissipation has brought
me here, Mr. Field. Oh dear!"
Charles administered a little brandy and water, being the
only medicine now prescribed.
" Oh, sir, I am dying, and I cannot go before my God till
I tell you all. Robert Vincent was an innocent man. God
forgive me! I plotted his ruin-I deceived you. But he is
innocent. He is probably dead. But I ask you to bear witness to the world that Robert Vincent was innocent, and I
call this young man to witness what I say. You believed
me, Mr. Field, and you kept me in your employ; and all the
circumstances were against him, who was to be your son. I
got the money, but I lost what I wanted more; no matter
now. Here I am, dying in poverty, in shame, in despair.
Oh God, have mercy!"
Mr. Field sank down upon the chair which Charles had
placed near the bed for his use, and covered his face, and
groaned aloud, and seemed paralyzed with the tidings his own
ears had listened to. At length Charles ventured to- say to
him:
" If what this sick man has just told you, sir, involves the
character of an innocent man, whether he be living or dead,
ought not his testimony to be at once taken down by competent authority?"
The old gentleman immediately aroused himself.
"By all means; and thanks to you, young man, for mentioning it."
"Shall I go for a notary, sir?"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   891
"Or send for one; I should prefer to have you remain
with me at present."
The proper officer was soon on hand, and a full and clear
statement made. As soon as it was closed, Charles requested
a private interview with Ur. Field. It was readily granted;
and in one hour from the time he parted from the old gentleman, now most deeply interested in the object of his journey, Charles had taken leave of Frank, and was on his way
to Melton.
At the close of one of those days that Lucy had spent
almost entirely by the bedside of Mrs. McDougall, there
was a slight tap at the door, and Lucy at once answered the
summons. Putting up both hands, she exclaimed as she
opened it, although in a low voice:
"Charles Lovell!"
He smiled as he took her hand, but his countenance at
once assumed a more earnest cast than usual.
"Is Mrs. McDougall ill?"
"She is; I fear she is very ill."
" I can see her?"
"Oh yes; but she is very weak."
I wish to communicate with her alone. Is her husband
at home?"
"He has not yet come in. He has gone to procure some
article which we think may nourish her a little; but I fear,
Charles, she can last but a few days."
All this was spoken in a low tone of voice, so as not possibly to be overheard in the sick room. Lucy then entered,
and informed Mrs. McDougall that Mr. Lovell had come,
and wished a private interview with A;ir. She looked very
significantly at Lucy:
"You have been true?"
"I have, dear; not a word has ever escaped my lips."
"Let Mr. Lovell come in, by all means."
Charles was much affected by seeing the change which had
taken place. He addressed her in the most soothing manner:
" You have confidence in me, Mrs. McDougall?"
" I have the utmost."
"The most urgent reasons require me to be plain, and to




392           A LONG LOOK1 AHEAD;
ask you at once to tell me whether you have not assumed a
feigned name. I beg of you to tell me if it is so. Circumstances which have transpired during our acquaintance lead
me to think so; and it will be of the greatest consequence to
you and yours if my surmises are correct. Give me your
true name, and that of your husband."
She took his hand and drew him close to her, and whispered; and Charles immediately exclaimed:
" God be praised! your day of darkness has passed. Oh,
Lucy!" And Charles, strongly excited, left the room, and
gave vent to his feelings. Lucy followed him immediately.
" Tell me, Charles, is it true? Is her husband innocent?"
"' He is innocent, and a deeply-injured man. But try to
cheer up his poor wife, for wealth and happiness are yet before them. Try to rouse her spirits; tell her that her father
lives, and is in an agony to know whether my surmises are
correct, and his children living."
The interview  with McDougall, or Robert Vincent, as
he must now be called, was deeply interesting. Charles met
him a short distance from his house, and there detailed the
scene which had passed at the Belvidere, and the interview
he had with old Mr. Field. Overcome with the sudden
transition from disgrace and degradation to favor and a good
name, he sat down an the ground, and gave vent to feelings
that had long been suppressed by the energy required to support himself, and those entrusted to him; and then he arose
and grasped the hand of Lovell:
" Dead be my heart to everything that can give consolation when I forget your generous kindness. God's blessing
rest upon you to your last hour of life. And now I must see
my poor Agnes."
It were but a vain attempt to paint the scene around that
bed, when, with his disguise thrown off, he leaned his head
upon the pillow, and received the tender embrace of her who
had loved him but too fondly."
" Agnes, my dear one. Oh, cheer up, cheer up; the bright
day has come!"
" And my dear father lives! and will come, if for nothing
more, to let me see his dear face, and hear his words of forgiveness before I die. But must you leave me, Robert?"
"Only for a few days. Mr. Lovell can tell you I must go.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   893
I must see your father, and assure him of all this. All he
knows at present is, that Mr. Lovell, from circumstances,
trifling in themselves, had strongly believed that you was his
child, and I his."
" Well, go at once, my dear; hasten all you can, for my
time is short."
Old Abijah Field had been a most kind and indulgent
father; but he was a man of impetuous passions. Having
wealth at his command, he had made himself believe that all
dependent upon him must bow to his will. Agnes had been
the idol of his heart.  But when she fled, he thought his
feelings were dead to her forever. But time wears out anger
from a parent's heart, even if that hateful passion should
ever get the dominion there. Long had he mourned over his
lost child in secret. Again and again, in his hours of reflection, had he mourned over the hard words he had said to her,
when he saw that she still clung to one whom he believed
guilty; and the terrible threats he had made if she dared
even to mention his name. But now the scene is changed;
and, with him whom he once cursed, he is now hurrying on
to see his own, his dying child.
"Hasten, hasten, driver; don't spare the horses.  My
life depends upon your speed;" and on, and on they go.
Drive fast, thou fond, but rash old father; drive fast, for
death is on his way too, and ye are both bound to the same
abode.
"Do you think they will soon be here?" and the feeble
sufferer looked up at the dear, kind Lucy. Lucy had not
left her for a moment, as she promised her husband she
would not.
"They will, they will."
"Do you not hear the sound of wheels?"
Lucy listened.
" I surely hear them," said the anxious wife and daughter.
She doubtless did, and then Lucy heard it too; and in a moment more the rattling carriage halted at the door. With
trembling steps, the old man, leaning on the arm of his son,
descends, and Lucy is by them.
" You say she lives. Oh! let me see her quick."
" My dear, dear Agnes!" A faint smile has settled on
her once ruby lips, and her eyes stare wildly.
170




894            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Oh, Agnes! my dear Agnes! It is your father, your
own dear father. My love-my dear one!"
But the eye is fixed, and the lips are pale, and the breast
heaves not. And the old man presses his lips, and drops his
burning tears upon the cold, cold clay.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST. 895
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHARLES LOVELL had not enjoyed much from the visit of
Adelaide to the city. He saw her occasionally, but only
went at the urgent solicitation of young Lawrence, for that
youth had really formed an attachment to him that Charles
could not resist, and, under other circumstances, would have
been glad, and even proud to cherish. Surrounded with
every luxury, and with wealth at his command, or which
amounted to the same thing, at the command of an indulgent
father, he seemed to be free from all thought of such external
advantages; of an open, frank, and generous spirit, and above
all that littleness which too often attends the inheritance of
wealth.
But, although Charles took delight in the company of this
new friend, it was really no pleasure to visit Adelaide, with
the consciousness that every circumstance was conspiring
against his heart's desire.
One evening, however, some weeks after he had been in
the city, he received a polite note from Miss Lawrence, inviting him to a party at her home, and he felt, under such
circumstances, compelled to go. It was quite a gay assem:,
blage, and composed of a more polished class than Charles
had ever found himself among before. Adelaide was very
pleasant, but he fancied she entered too heartily into the engagements of the evenings, and was too ready too accept the
offers of those who presented themselves for partners. Love
is keen-eyed, a little too keen sometimes, and our Charley,
much as we admire him, was to all intents and purposes
human nature; he had a good deal of it about him. He
could dance to be sure, a little, but he was very conscious
that he would have made but a poor figure among those who
had been trained to it, and who moved with poetic beauty




896            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
through the splendid rooms. He, therefore, had declined to
dance; but when the time for music had arrived, and the singers
were hunted up, Adelaide whispered to young Lawrence,
"that Mr. Lovell was a delightful singer."  Charles saw the
act and as his friend came up to him, and, with much politeness
of manner, requested him to favor the company with a song,
Charles replied; he did it, however, with a pleasant manner:
" That he really did not feel like it, and begged, as a particular favor, that he might be excused."
But in a moment Adelaide came up to him. She did, indeed, look beautiful. She was richly dressed. He thought he
had never seen her look so lovely before, nor move with
more grace, and a most winning smile was upon her lip.
" Did you realize that you were refusing a lady's request,
when you declined favoring us with a song?"
Charles was just then so troubled with a palpitation of the
heart that it was with great difficulty he replied:
" I presumed that Mr. Lawrence was prompted to do me
the honor he did."
Adelaide noticed that he was very pale, and she thought
his voice trembled; but attributing it all to his native modesty, she playfully rejoined:
" But you surely did not imagine that you were refusing
the request of a friend? Do you know that I always expect my friends to comply with my demands?"
"I should have felt myself guilty of presumption had I
classed myself among such favored ones."
Perhaps Charles tried to smile, as, bowing to her, he made
this reply. But if he did, it was a failure; and the fair girl
4before him only saw his lip curl with an ironical expression
upon it, that came like a bolt to her heart. She colored
deeply, apologized for the liberty she had taken, and, retiring
amid the circles in the other room, he saw her no more.
A few days after, he met his friend Lawrence, who rallied
him a little on his dulness that evening, at the same time
remarking:
"But I don't blame you; I never feel quite at home myself in those parties. I have no doubt you and I would enjoy
ourselves much more in a little. quiet confab by ourselves,
and I must come and have a good talk with you. I am quite
down in the mouth since Miss Vincent has gone,"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST. 897
"Has she returned to the country?"
"Yes —and taken my heart with her. Plague on it, Lovell,
if you knew all, you'd pity me. But it's no use; I see
clear enough there is no hope for me in that quarter; she
has been'spoke for,' or her heart, at least, is engaged, and
that's enough for me."
" Perhaps you misjudge; my opinion has been that you
were quite a favorite."
" Ah, well, I know she treats one openly, frankly; there is
no prudery, n6r coquetry about her-she is a noble girl.
But take my word for it, she has fixed her choice. It is an
an old flame, from what I can learn; but who the happy fellow is, you nor I, probably, don't know. She has a cousin
Montague, a lieutenant in the navy, that she talks much
about. Did you ever see him 2?"
" I once was introduced to a gentleman of that name, and
became quite intimate with him; but it was before my acquaintance with Miss Vincent. He was a fine fellow, indeed;
a noble-minded, sensible man."
" Well, perhaps it's the same. Heigh ho! Well, so we
go; there is no getting all we want, at any rate. But I
have n't told you that I am getting ready for Europe 2"
"No, indeed!"
"Yes; my father has been anxious, for some time, to have
me go off and see the world a little, and now I mean to clear
as soon as I can. But I am coming to see you in a day or
two, and have a good long talk."
This was the last, then, that Charles concluded he should
ever see of her who had been so long the idol of his affections.
He could not blame himself for the past; he had endeavored
to curb his feelings by the effort of his own reason, but reason
had always failed to suppress the passion, although it had
prevented him from openly declaring it. He loved her still,
hopelessly now indeed; but he could no more drive her image
from his heart, than keep his mind from thinking.
His agency had come to its close, the money he had received was faithfully appropriated, and the good friends of
Deacon Rice were fully refunded what they had advanced,
and Frank was enabled to make a much better dividend to
his creditors than he at first anticipated. He" had, also, be



398            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
come strongly attached to Charles. His kind and unassumn
ing manners, with his prompt and diligent habits, had won
his respect and affection; and when Charles was preparing to
leave, he could not refrain from again urging his former plea,
to become his partner when he should commence business
anew. But Charles could not be persuaded. And after listening to his arguments, he replied:
" I thank you, Frank, most heartily for your friendly feelings; and I assure you, that with no one would I so readily connect myself as with you, for I can testify to your noble conduct under all your trials. I can also assure you, that I see
much in the business here that is very desirable. I find a
generous, liberal spirit among the merchants-a disposition to
assist the young and feeble. There is a manifestation of confidence in each other that is most grateful to the feelings, and
less, much less of that littleness in bargaining which I had
once supposed. And I do not at all wonder that you are
charmed with it. But my tastes are still unchanged. The
country has my heart. Its employments are more congenial
to my feelings. Its labors are not irksome to me; I like
them. You have my most hearty wishes for your success;
but, as I feel, Frank, nothing but a sense of duty could keep
me shut up, all my best and most joyous days, within your
brick walls."
" And, Charley, you have my most sincere desire that your
life may be as pleasant as your true heart and refined taste
merit. I hope yet to spend many happy days with you at
your country home, for I know it will be a spot hallowed by
all that is noble and good."
The happy day at length came when Charles was to bid
adieu to the city. It was but a day or two after the return
of Mr. Field and young Vincent from the gloomy scenes at
Melton, and Charles could not return without calling upon
them. Great, indeed, was the change in the circumstances
of him whom he had known as the fisherman of Oyster Island.
But the blow he had received was just beginning to manifest its
severity. He was now surrounded by every luxury; he walked
amid all the elegance that money could procure; he was
treated with the most tender care by his father-in-law; his
independence for life was secured, Mr. Field having made an
immediate settlement upon him. But, alas! of what avail




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   899
was it all to a broken heart! His Agnes was ever before
him. Her gentleness, through all her bitter suffering-her
patient trust in his integrity-her sad departure just as their
fortunes changed —all came over him with a power that was
too much for a mind already overcharged with the burden
of past years; and Charles saw too plainly, in his blank and
sorrow-stricken look, that the present had no happiness for
him. He was lying on a sofa when Charles entered, from
which he quickly arose to greet him. But he seemed oppressed with weakness, and his hand was cold and clammy.
" Oh, how glad I am to see you! How kind in you to
come! Sit down by me here, and let us talk together.
When do you go home l"
" This very day."
He heaved a deep sigh.
" How I wish I could go with you! And yet, how could
I bear to be there! There is no place in this world for me
now; no more rest."
"You have been much excited; it is not strange that you
should feel so now. It will take time to recover from such a
blow."
"Time will never do it. The cup of misery has been too
bitter. But' His will be done.' I have, however, one more
request to make of you. You will remember asking me one
day about my connexions; and I was prevented at the time
from replying by the intrusion of a third person. My only
near relative is a sister; and for whom I feel deeply anxious.
I can learn nothing about her from our aunt, to whom I have
sent to inquire. It seems some misunderstanding took place
between them, and my sister left her house —"
Charles interrupted him:
" Give me her name."
"Adelaide; she was-"
"A niece of Captain Halliday?"
"The same. Do you know anything of her?"
"I do; and you can set your mind at ease. She is in the
family of a gentleman of fortune, a kind and noble-hearted
man, and is treated with every consideration."
Young Vincent looked at Charles a moment, with the most
perfect astonishment depicted on his countenance, and then
hrew himself back upon his seat, while his eyes filled with tears.




400            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Ah! how merciful is God! Strange, strange, are the vicissitudes of human life!"
A few moments he was silent, and then he said: " I want
to see her, and yet I am not able to go, and I am not even
competent to pen a letter. Oh, my dear Lovell! what poor
creatures we are, when the hand of God is laid upon us! I
have not the strength of a child."
" Can I do anything for you?"
"Oh, you have done so much already, I cannot bear to
burden you further. I was going to ask you, when you came
in, just to pen an advertisment for me to put in the paper.
But there is no necessity for that now. Strange enough, you
have been enabled to relieve my anxiety. But where does
this gentleman, this Mr. Shawn, live l"
" About twenty-five miles from here, on the banks of the
North River."
" It is out of your way, then?"
"Would you wish me to see her 2"
" It would be a great comfort to me."
I am on my way now to Melton. I shall be occupied a
day or two after my return home, and then, if you wish, will
go there. Would you wish me to bring her here?"
" I will not ask you to do that; but if you could go to her,
and tell her what has happened, and let her know that my
character is redeemed from infamy, and that I have abundance to supply all her wants for the future, and-and tell her
all you know, it- would be indeed a great favor to me."
" I will certainly do it."
"You are very good. And now, before you go, Mr. Fields
wants much to see you; he has been very anxious to do so."
Charles had made the promise to see Adelaide, but it was
rather the consequence of his readiness to oblige, than from
any choice of his will or judgment. He truly felt that the
time had come when he must no longer indulge those fond
and pleasing hopes which had so long been master of his
heart. And to see again one whom he till loved so tenderly,
when he felt assured there could be no return of affection, was
only adding to his unhappiness. But he had promised to go,
and he was resolved to- perform the duty, cost him what it
might.
In a few moments he was relieved from the tumult. of con.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   401
tending thought by a request from Mr. Field, to whom no.
tice had been given of Mr. Lovell being there, "that he
would be very happy to see him in his own room."
The old gentleman was sitting with his grandchild on his
knee. The little fellow quickly flew towards Charles, and
caught him by the hand.
"Ah, Mr. Lovell, Mr. Lovell," said Mr. Field, rising to
meet him. "The boy knows you, and I hope will never forget you; no, Abijah, you must never forget this kind friend,"
taking Charles by the hand, and grasping it cordially.  " He
has been the friend in need, the friend of your poor father and
mother, when they were outcasts from the world." The old
man's tears flowed freely, and he spoke with difficulty. " Love
him, my boy, love him always, and, when you grow to be a
man, pity the poor and the outcast. Come, my dear young
friend, and sit down by me. I want to talk with you."
Charles took his seat, with the boy still clinging to his
hand.
" There is no need, Mr. Lovell, to go over with the past;
but deeds of friendship like yours must not be forgotten,
and ought not to go unrewarded. I know money cannot repay you, yet it will be some relief to my mind to do something for you."
He arose before Charles could reply, and, opening a small
drawer in his desk, took out a paper.
" Here, my dear sir, is a check for a sum that will give
you a good start in life. And if at any time you may need
a friend, remember that while Abijah Field lives, he will ever
stand ready to meet your demand. Take it, and may God's
best blessing attend you."
Charles was at a loss what to do. He took the little
paper, but it was only for the moment. He felt the blood
mantling his cheek, and a strange consciousness of doing that
which his heart did not hpprove, at once came over him.
" Mr. Field, I thank you most heartily for your generous
intentions, and I can sympathize with your feelings. But I
hope you will not think me unnecessarily particular if I respectfully decline your gift. I am neither poor, nor am I
above the desire for money honestly and honorably obtained;
But this would be too much like taking advantage of your
feelings wrought up by recent trials. All I have done, sir.




402            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
was only what we are all bound to do for each other. I have
not injured myself. And I have enjoyed untold comfort in
the late development of divine providence. I have not acted
from selfish motives. And I want still to retain the con.
sciousness of having done a kind act for its own sake."
And, in the most respectful manner, he handed it back to
the donor. The old gentleman saw that he was in earnest,
and, when Charles held out his hand, he took the check back
without objecting.
"  dare not, indeed, urge it upon you, if so you feel.
May you ever retain such noble feelings; but here is something you must take as a memento of her who is now no
more. I purchased it for her, a few days before the sad occurrence that parted us forever. This you cannot refuse me;
take it and keep it, and let it go down to your children's
children, as a token to them never to turn their backs upon
the child of misfortune." And he held out to Charles an elegant gold watch, richly adorned with chain and seals. "Remember it was hers."
Charles took the glittering jewel; he looked at it a moment; he thought of the poor sufferer for whom it had been
designed, and his overcharged feelings burst forth. He sat
down awhile, and covered his face; but, as soon as he became
sufficiently composed, replied:
" I will keep this, sir, most sacredly, as you request, and
will ever look upon it as a precious relic of one for whom I
have been so deeply interested."
The little boy still clung to Charles, as he arose to depart,
and, as he stooped to kiss him for good-bye, he threw his little arms up to his neck, and hung upon him and sobbed bitterly. He seemed to feel, although he said nothing, that the
friend he was parting with was associated with her he should
never see more.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    403
CHAPTER XXVIII.
WHEN Adelaide Vincent left Charles Lovell, after the
strange reply he made to her playful sally, on the evening of
the party, she mingled with the company a short time, and
then, asking Mrs. Lawrence to excuse her for the rest of the
evening, as she did not feel very well, retired to her room,
and there in a flood of tears sought relief for her wounded
feelings. When her tears were spent, she busied herself in
trying to unravel the strange mystery in which the conduct
of one she had always so much respected, was involved.
She could, however, think of nothing she had said or done
that might or ought to give offence. Never before had he
been deficient towards her in the most delicate attention, the
most respectful and kind manner.
And thus, in perplexity, she sat and mused until the corn
pany had gone, and her friend, Julia Lawrence, found her
sitting before the coal-fire, in their common bed-room, when
she came to retire for the night.
"And are you not a pretty one to be sitting here all alone
by yourself? Mamma said that you had gone to bed, as you
were not very well; and you have been weeping! Now, dear
Addie, just tell me what is the matter!" and the sweet girl
threw herself upon her lap, and put her arm around her neck,
and pressed her lips to hers.
"Now tell me, Addie, what is the matter! and there is a
naughty tear stealing down that pretty cheek again. Do tell
me, Addie, has our Willie been saying or doing anything to
trouble you?l
"Oh, by no means-not in the least."
"I thought not, for to tell you the truth, Addie, he thinks
too much of you-he feels too tenderly towards you. I




404             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
don't know that I ought to tell you, but I love you so much
myself, I want so much to have you for my dear sister, that I
must tell you. Willie loves you to distraction, and nothing
but delicacy prevents him from declaring himself, while you
are here as a visitor."
" Dear Julia, you forget, you know, that you and I never
jest about such things." Adelaide knew of no better way to
turn aside the direct revelation, to her, of such unpleasant
tidings. " Do not let us break what we have considered a
rule of propriety. I know you do it to make me smile, but
I had rather be amused by some less serious subject."
" You are right, Addie dear. I know we have made that
rule; but, although I ought not to have said what I did, yet,
truly I was not in jest. The expression escaped me thoughtlessly, and, since I have told you, I must assure you they are
words of truth. No, dear, I will never trifle about such matters. But let it pass. Come, cheer up, and just tell me
frankly what troubles you."
And Adelaide repeated to her, as well as she could, the occurrence of the evening that had so severely tried her, adding,
as she closed:
" Oh, you cannot think, dear Julia, how very-very strange
it was; so very different fiom what I had a right to expect;
so totally unlike himself; and I have been trying to think
what I may have said or done. He has, I know, very sensitive feelings, and I know I would not designedly have injured
them."
Julia had taken a seat beside her on a bench that was at
hand, and looked up at her with affectionate interest all the
while she was speaking.
" You surprise me very much, Addie, and I cannot but
think that you must be under some delusion yourself. He,
certainly, is most gentlemanly in his bearing, and I should
judge of a most amiable disposition. Willie says he is the
best fellow he ever knew. If it was not, Addie, that he is
engaged, I should say he was in love, and that this was
merely a freak of that tormenting power, for it is said to
worry folks aleosit out of their senses sometimes. But
there! love again. Well, I expect we had better get upon
some other topic, very different from that which leads us into
the danger of breaking through our good rules."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   405
And, in her lively way, with the sincere desire of diverting
the mind of her friend, she recurred to other and pleasanter
scenes of the evening; and very soon, as though all the
world was at peace with them, and they with it, retired to
enjoy that rest which is generally, by the young and guileless,
so easily obtained.
To Adelaide, however, it was no night of rest. The revelation which her friend had made of the feelings of her
brother were not by any means agreeable. She had no love
to return for his. She liked his easy manners, his gentle attentions, his light and agreeable conversation, and she had
great confidence in his pure morals, and the kind qualities of
his heart. But none of these commanded the reverence of
her heart. She could not look up to him, nor lean upon
him with that confidence which she felt alone could satisfy
the full expectation of her heart. She had never thought of
him as a lover, and never could; and the idea that she had
inspired him with emotions towards her which she could not
reciprocate, was most painful to her sensitive mind. Again
and again did she regret having made this unfortunate visit.
And what course must she pursue? Julia had made known
to her, although without thinking, the feelings of her brother;
and it would not do for her now to receive his attentions, with
the knowledge she possessed. It would be an unpleasant
task, but her duty was clear, and she resolved at the earliest
opportunity to let her sentiments be known.
But Julia had revealed another fact which she could not so
easily dispose of. She dared not name it to herself. She
could not reason about it. She could not throw it off. It
pressed beneath its burden all her hopes. It took away from
earth its beauty, and from her future all interest. Her tears
flowed freely, but weeping gave no relief; and when she
slept, and woke again, the same sad load was there.
Caroline Shawn was too young to be made a confidant, but
she was strongly attached to Adelaide; and, when she noticed
the change in her appearance, she clung around her, making
constant inquiries as to the cause. At length she said:
"Has any one been unkind to you?"
"No one, my dear."
"Then I mean to write to my papa to send for us home,
for I know you are not happy here. And I am tired of run



406            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
ning round these dull streets, and we will ride the pony, and
play with Rover, and go but in the woods and hear the birds.
I heard them this morning, and I know they must have come
in our woods, now the weather is so mild."
"But I am afraid, dear, you want to go on my account. I
would not be so selfish as to take you away from so much
pleasant company."
" Oh, well, I know it is pleasant, but one has to be so tied
up here. It is just the same thing over too, day after day. It is
all fine people, and fine dresses, and fine furniture; and it is
company to dinner, and it is company in the evening, and I am
just tired out with seeing people, and answering their questions about the country, and how we get along there through
the dreary winters, just as if we had any dreary winters, or
summers, or anything else. They don't know anything about
the country, do they, when they ask such questions 2"
" They are not accustomed to it as you and I are, dear; we
are never lonesome there. And if you truly desire, Carrie
dear, to return, I am sure it would be pleasant to me."
" Then I will write to papa this very day."
Adelaide bade adieu to the city with very different feelings
from those which animated her when she came upon the
visit. It had been a severe trial to her to make known to
her friend Julia the true sentiments of her heart towards her
brother. But it was done in such a proper manner, that it
neither injured their affection for each other, nor lost for Adelaide the respect and kindness of any member of the family.
They parted, as all had met, in the most pleasant manner.
Adelaide was not one who took delight in nourishing her
grief. She would not cast away all the enjoyments of life
because some thilngs were contrary to her will. And she
felt too sincerely desirous of cultivating a spirit of submission
to the will of her Heavenly Father, to allow her disappointments, however bitter, to create a distaste for what of comfort
was still meted out to her. She could not forget the past,
although she would not permit its reminiscences to hinder the
cheerful discharge of present duty.
A few weeks after her return, as she was one day engaged
in the library with her friend Caroline, a servant entered, and
said that her presence was requested in the parlor.
She waited not to inquire who was there? nor did she even




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   407
cast a glance at the mirror, to see how she looked; but, with a
light step, passed down the broad stair-way, and through the
hall, and at once into the room designated. A gentleman
arose to meet her. She paused a moment; and then, with
her pleasant smile, frankly held out her hand.
"Mr. Lovell! you are a very unexpected visitor."
" It is very unexpected to me, or it was so but a few days since."
Charles saw that a deep blush had suffused her beautiful
face, and, wishing to relieve her from the embarrassment of
supposing he had any business of his own, immediately added: "I have come at the request of one, with whom you are
intimately acquainted, and should not have taken the liberty
on my own account. I come at the request of your long-lost
brother."
She looked at him a moment as though hardly comprehending what he said.
" What do you say-? my brother! Oh! what do you know
of him! Is he yet alive?"
" He is, and I must say at once, that the stain which has
been upon his character is completely removed."
She sank upon the chair beside her, and gave full vent to
her feelings; while Charles could only sit in silence, and
bear, as he best could, the deepest excitement which the heart
of man is susceptible of,-that of beholding the object of his
adoration bathed in tears. So soon as she could command
her feelings, with all the pathos of the most tender interest
she addressed him:
" Tell me all you know about him; do tell me."
And Charles told her all that he knew; commencing with
their first acquaintance, in his state of degradation, and detailing, as far as was necessary, the whole history.
She took not her eye from him nor lost a word that fell
from his lips,-admiring, most of all, the slight notice he took
of all that he himself had done in the eventful tale. And
when he ceased, her eye still rested on his manly countenance,
beaming with the interest which the recital had rekindled in
his breast.
" And you have been the friend of my poor suffering brother! have stood by him when forsaken by all others!"
She could say no more, but, stretching forth her hand,
Charles gently clasped it.




408            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"What can I ever do to repay this deed of love?"
"I have already, my dear Miss Vincent, been richly repaid in the happy development that has raised one dear to
you from degradation to honorable station. And believe me,
for I speak in all the soberness of truth, to give one emotion of
joy to you, I would make any sacrifice that was not sinful."
She still held his hand, and her eye gazed upon him. She
was about to speak, but the words came not forth; and
Charles thinking he had gone too far, was alarmed at his own
rashness. He immediately added:
" Excuse me if my feelings have caused me to utter that
which is painful to your ear."
Just then the step of Mr. Shawn was heard approaching,
and at once he entered the room.
" Upon my word! right glad am I to see you, sir. Mr.
Lovell, you are welcome here again. But," looking with an
arch smile at Adelaide, "I fear I have intruded."
"Oh, by no means, sir; Mr. Lovell is quite through. He
had an errand to me, bringing me good tidings from a lost
friend, whom I have not told you about yet."
" Another friend, ha! Well, I think, Miss Addie, you will
have a host of friends around you by-and-bye. If MAr. Lovell
will excuse you a moment, I must ask you to accompany me,
as there is another gentleman in the next room very anxious
to see you. Please be seated, Mr. Lovell, I will be with
you presently."
It was not long that Charles was left to himself, for Mr.
Shawn soon returned, and requested him to go with him into
the other room.
" It seems that the gentleman is an acquaintance of yours,
too, and wishes to see you."
As they entered the apartment, Charles was surprised at
seeing a young man in an undress naval uniform, and Adelaide leaning on his arm as they walked the room. The
young officer, smiling as they approached each other, very
cordially grasped the hand of Lovell.
"Mly dear sir, I am very happy to see you."
"Lieutenant Montague! Excuse me for not sooner recog,
nizing you. I surely did not expect this pleasure."
It was, indeed, an old friend; and Charles, under other circumstances, would have been most happy, But the unaffect



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   409
ed pleasure which beamed from the countenance of Adelaide,
as she still clung to the arm of the officer, together with what
he remembered had been suggested by young Lawrence, at
once dashed all his hopes, and he could have wished-he did
wish most heartily-that he had refused to come upon this
untoward errand. But her words added to his dismay:
" Oh, how glad I am that you know each other. How is it
that I have never heard either of you speak of the other? for
I know of no two gentlemen so much alike."
"Not in looks, Addie dear," said the officer smiling, and
turning towards the blushing Adelaide; 4" I think you hardly
do justice to Mr. Lovell."
" Oh, I was not thinking of the looks; my friends all look
well to me; but I think your sentiments and feelings are so
much alike."
All three were now seated, and, after engaging awhile in
conversation on the subject, principally, which had called
Charles there, Lieutenant Montague recurred to their past acquaintance and old friends:
"How is the old colonel, and that charming daughter of
his? and my friend Jamieson? and that old lady —let me remember-Aunt Casey, how is she? I often have thought of
you, Lovell; how snugly you was living there, in that old
house among the trees! What fine times you and I and
Jamieson used to have there of. an evening, on that little
piazza, where everything was so beautiful and still, the moon
shining on the distant water, and down through the trees
about us. Believe me, there is no spot among all I have
visited that is associated with such agreeable thoughts."
Charles replied to all his questions, and added as he closed:
" We did, indeed, spend many pleasant evenings together,
and I hope I may have the same pleasure again. -We change
but slowly in the country; you would probably notice but
few alterations."
" Is the old stone house there yet? I have often wondered
whether you would keep to the views which Jamieson and I
used to laugh about so. You remember how you talked
about making that the nucleus to a good substantial dwelling."
"I am of the same mind still, and am now preparing to
carry out my plan."
"Then you have not made a permanent change of your
s18




410           A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
business 2"  Adelaide asked this question, and Charles
thought her countenance evinced deep interest, but whether
for or against the change, he knew not.
" Oh, by no means. I have been in the city attending to
some business for others; and I return to my old employment with greater zest than ever."
Charles could not tell how his answer had affected Adelaide; her countenance still retained a serious cast; she said
nothing, and left the gentlemen to carry on the conversation.
The lieutenant now arose, and bowing to Adelaide:
"I should like to see Mr. Lovell for a short time, and may
we be excused, if we leave you for a walk in the garden?"
"Oh, by all means; only don't stay too long."
"What a sad and changeful world this is," began Lieutenant Montague, as soon as they were by themselves. " There
is ever some thorn springing up in our path, or some ominous cloud rising upon our horizon, to annoy or fill us with
apprehension."
"I should not have imagined, from the agreeable circumstances in which I met you but a few moments since, that
there could possibly be either a thorn in your path, or a
cloud on your sky."
" Well, I don't know why it is, but I am always cheerful
when Addie is by me. There seems to be such sunshine
about her, that one partakes of its bright influence, and
almost necessarily falls in with her happy state of feeling.
I was very sad, though, on my journey thither. I had
been to see my sister, and found things in such a sad state
there, that I was tempted to wish I had no relatives. I
thought, of course, that I must come and see Addie; but all
the way here, I have been planning and planning what course
to pursue in reference to my sister. You know, I suppose,
that she married Vanderbose'?"
"I do; and would have prevented it if I could."
" Had I been here, Lovell, it never should have taken
place. But it was all brought about through the means of
our foolish aunt. I use the word purposely, and with a
meaning. She is a woman without feeling or principle.
But the deed is done, and regrets now of no avail. But
when I saw my poor sister too feeble to rise from her bed,
her cheek sunken and pale, alone in her large and splendidly



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   411
furnished room, with no friend to comfort her, and only selfish
and unfeeling domestics to administer to her wants, while
her wretch of a husband sat below with his companions,
drinking and gambling, sometimes through the long night,
it almost distracted me, and I was tempted to turn the whole
profligate gang from the house, and bolt the doors against
them."
" I feared it from the first. But can you not take your sister away; the law would certainly give you the control of
her, under the circumstances."
" Perhaps it might; but there are difficulties in the way.
If he had committed violence upon her person, the magistrate
could at once interfere. But a man may kill a tender and
delicate wife by cold neglect, and ruin himself and her too
by debauchery; but if he keeps within his own dwelling, and
does not disturb his neighbors, the law would be slow to
move against him.
"But they have no neighbors; alone, as you know, the
house stands on that point of land, and the miserable wretch
has of late built a high wall across the isthmus or neck, that
connects his property with the main land, and keeps the
gates continually locked. lie says he does n't want the rabble
prowling around him. The laws, however, will do this. A
conservation can be appointed over him, so that he cannot
squander what property he has in Connecticut.' And this must be done, for I learn that he has spent
already a great part of his property. I intend at once to take
steps for its accomplishment. But whom shall I get to accept the office 2 I am ordered on service in a few weeks, and
cannot take it myself; and, to tell you the truth, Lovell, I
have been thinking of you, as just the person I should choose.
Could you undertake it 2?"
"I will do anything I can to aid you in the matter. But
your sister, I fear, would only be the greater sufferer by any
such step. It would greatly enrage her husband; and, if left
in his power, I dread to think of the situation she would be
in. Can you not get her away?"
"I can, and will. I must do it, if it cost my life."
"Will she willingly abandon him?"
"Oh yes; she has suffered so much more than I have the
heart to tell of. Why, Lovell, her very home is made the




412            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
resort of the most abandoned outcasts of the city.  She
asked me if I could not get her away. She cared not if it
was only a hut I could put her in, so that it was a place of
safety.
"There can be no difficulty then. Once away, he could
have no control over her, and the property could be kept
from being squandered, and, no doubt, a provision settled
upon her.
"I care not for that, I can support her myself; but it
would be a resource in case of my death."
Immediately their plans were digested; and then on
other subjects they conversed awhile, as they walked arm in
arm. What these were need not be told just now; but
both came in, apparently with lighter hearts.
Late hours were kept at Mr. Shawn's that night. And yet,
Charles was-up by the breaking of the day, for he had asked
Miss Adelaide if she would not like to take another ride behind
the horse she had once admired so much. And she had said
"She would like to very much; it would bring back old
times." She seemed much confused, however, as she said
it. But when the morning came, she had not forgotten the
engagement, and was in readiness as soon as Charles.
Just at the hour of six, the servant of Mr. Shawn drove
up the plain, but neat and comfortable establishment, which
Charles had provided for himself.  There was nothing
showy about it but Pomp himself, and he seemed to be in
high glee. And, as his master stepped towards the gate, with
that lovely burden again leaning on his arm, Pomp began to
toss his head, and manifested signs of great restlessness.
" Oh, how he has grown!" said Adelaide, as she was assisted to mount her seat; " but handsomer than ever."
It was a morning to make the heart, that had no oppressive burden, to leap fbr joy. Just cool enough to require a
slight over-garment, but with all that brightness in the sky,
and that mellow tint on the horizon, and that music in the
woods and fields, which mark the days, the pleasant days of
spring at the early dawn.
It was not far they rode, ere they reached a little copse
of trees, standing at intervals from each other, and sufficiently distant to permit a carriage to drive between; and, attracted by the beauty of the spot, Charles reine1 Pomp from the




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   413
road, and drove some little distance into it. It was vocal
with those little songsters, who, silent so many months, and
skulking in hiding-places from the storms of winter, now
seemed to go mad with joy. Far off the blue tops of the
highlands shot up their heavy masses against the amber sky,
and the lovely Hudson sparkled through the branches which
surrounded them. The sun, too, was just lifting his bright
disc above the eastern hills, and gilding the summit ridge of
the long line of the palisades. Whether it was to behold the
pleasant view, that Charles drove in there and ordered Pomp
to stop, is not worth while to inquire. But there Pomp
stands, tossing his head, and pawing among the leaves. And
Charles has dropped the reins, and holds instead a little
plump, white hand, that makes no effort to be released. And
oh, rash youth! he has raised it to his lips, and there he holds
it, while its lovely owner has hidden her sweet face, and
leans it upon his breast.
Sing away, you little warblers! Sing the happy union of
two loving hearts. No eye but yours and His who made
you looks upon them. In one sweet stream of bliss their
souls now flow together. No more doubts, no more anxieties, no more jealousies, ever to mar their peace.
" And you thought I could not love you, because you had
no wealth to give me. Oh, you naughty Charles. Did not
I love you from the first hour we met -together! And, ever
since, yout alone have filled my heart. Only be what. you
have been, the same Charles Lovell. I ask no more."
Charles spoke not. He had said all he had to say; andit
was enough to hear her loving words, and feel her warm
breath so near his heart.
" And now, you never more will have one jealous feeling?
Never doubt I love you? Never think that wealth has any
charm for me, unless you were its owner. I have spurned it
from me, when offered by others. I have suffered the hatred
of my friends, and ill-treatment of strangers, and have gone
through more than I can bring myself to tell you, because I
could not yield my hand when my heart was yours. And
now I am happy. Oh how happy, dear Charles; my whole
heart trusts in you."
And all that Charles could answer to these loving words
was to press the-little hand, and hold it to his lips.




414            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
But breakfast will be waiting, and they must leave this spot,
sacred to them now through all their life to come. And again
Pomp is in the road, and travels gaily on, and Charles has
placed the reins in the hands of Adelaide.
"You are his mistress now, for you I have trained him;
for, almost hopeless as my love has been, yet, strange to say,
the thought of you has mingled with all my plans and purposes. See how proudly he arches his neck, and hardly seems
at all to press upon the rein; as though he knew some gentle hand is guiding him."
" How delightfully he goes! it seems to be all play to
carry us behind him. And this wagon! how very snug; and
goes along so smoothly. There is no show about it, but I
think I never sat so much at ease before,-but once."
And then she looks at him, with an arch smile upon her lip.
" You mean the sleigh ride?"
"To think how you tucked me in, and fixed my feet so
warmly, and sat by me so demure, and drove so slow,!4ind
kept looking at the moon, and made me feel so strangejy!
But here we are, only think of it! back again so soon!"
As the young men wished to lose no time in attending to
the business which they had resolved to accomplish, they concluded to depart for Melton immediately after the breakfast
should be over.
Charles would have been happy to accompany Adelaide on
a visit to her brother, but the kind-hearted Mr. Shawn, to
whom they had communicated all their arrangements, entered into their interests, as though they had been near relations
of his own.
He told them to "go on their way, and he would see to
Addie." He was also delighted to hear that she had united
her fortunes with Charles Lovell.
" Joy, joy to you, my dear girl," stooping to give her a fatherly kiss. "You have chosen a man after my own heart;
and when Carrie gets old enough, I hope she may do as well.
He is a man with an intelligent mind, and a warm and pure
heart, if I am a judge. He will make his way in the world,
and I am sure he loves you."
Caroline, as soon as she heard the news, knew not whether
to laugh or to cry. She did both at times. "She was so glad,"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   415
she said, " and so sorry too; for now her dear Miss Adelaide
would be going away."
When Charles was about to depart, she ran up to him and
whispered:
" Have you got a brother'"
"I have."
"Is he just like you?"
"Not exactly. I hope he will be a much better man."
She then ran, and whispered to Adelaide:
" He's got a brother, and I mean to have him, see if I don't;
and then won't it be nice?"
Adelaide laughed heartily at her childish notion, kissing her
at the same time, saying:
"We will always be good friends, dear, wherever we are."




416            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
CHAPTER XXIX.
IT was a warm and pleasant night in the month of April,
and a boat containing six young men was moving rapidly
along, impelled by the strong arm of two steady rowers. She
was coming from the cove, that sets in around Roder's point,
and nearly opposite the large house erected on the summit of
that strip of land.
" Gently boys, gently now; make as little noise as possible.
A little more to the west Charley; let her go to the shore easy,
boys."
"What o'clock is it, Slocum!"
" I guess it is about the hour he appointed. Yet it wants
five minutes to twelve."
" Then we are here just in time. Now, Slocum, strike your
light."
The little lantern was scarcely elevated, before a light was
seen in one of the upper windows of the house.
" He sees us; that will do; put out the light; and do you,
Charley, lead the way. I almost wish we had a pistol or two,
in case of need."
"Pshaw, Slocum,"' said a stout young fellow, as he jumped
ashore; " a fiddle-stick for pistols; we should be as likely to
shoot one another, as to shoot them. Let me but get a grip
of them! that's all I ask."
The little party having well secured the boat, moved in
single file behind Lovell, who had arranged matters with
young Montague, and knew where to lead them.
The lieutenant, having made an excuse for spending the
night at the house of Vanderbose, had retired early in the
evening, and before most of the companions of the master of
the mansion had arrived.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   417
He lay upon his bed without undressing, and watched anxiously for the hour of twelve. He had arranged with
Charles to come in a boat, with a few trusty companions, as
near to the house as possible. There might be difficulty in
getting through the gates; and, in case of an alarm, or resistance and pursuit on the part of Vanderbose and his company, the object of his solicitude could much more readily,
and with greater certainty, be conveyed beyond annoyance.
Hour after hour rolled slowly by. Until ten o'clock, there
was a great hurrying about the lower part of the house; servants running hither and thither; doors slamming, and the
shrill voice of the house-keeper calling out to them, at times,
in coarse language of abuse, and then again mingling with
theirs in the loud laugh.
" Alas!" he thought, "and my poor sister, night after
night, has been obliged to bear all this. But she shall bear it
no longer."
As midnight approached, the noise of the servants died
away, as one by one they retired to rest; and then, at times,
there would come up from the room below a loud peal of
laughter, and then a loud huzza, and then a confused mingling of angry voices, and oaths terrible to the ear, and heavy
blows striking upon the tables, while the crash of glasses
could be distinguished amid all the.uproar; and then again
the doors would be opened, and the wide hall would ring
with obstreperous laughter, and confused moving of chairs,and tables, and hurrying about, as of children in their frolics.
At the hour of twelve Montague arose and watched from
the window, and soon a light near the shore gleamed upon
the water. Immediately he struck his flint, and held the appointed signal for a few moments at the window, and then,
taking the light in his hand, stepped softly to his sister's room.
She was dressed, and, as he entered, arose and sat upon the
side of the bed. She was deadly pale, and her whole frame
shook with the deep excitement of the moment.
"Be calm as possible, my love; your brother will never
leave you more in this horrible place, and there are strong
hands to aid without. Be calm as you can; lean all.your
weight upon my arm."
And he put his arm around her, and with stealthy steps
they walked along through the upper hall, and down the back
18*




418            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
stairway; his intention being to go out by the back door. To
his utter dismay, it was locked, and the key withdrawn. He
stooped and felt upon the floor, supposing it to have fallen
out, but he searched in vain.
" Oh, Philip! hold me; I am so faint. Oh, I shall die!"
IIe took her up in his arms. But one way of refuge was
before him, and that through the lower hall, and past the
very room in which the rioters were assembled, and out of
the more common passage of the front door. Every moment he expected to see the excited wretches bursting from
their den, for they were in the midst of a tumultuous uproar. Bearing his precious burden, with his pistol drawn
from his belt, and already cocked, held firmly in his hand,
he hastened through, turned the latch of the door, and it
opened; in an instant he was in the open air, and breathed
freely. But a cry of "thieves! thieves!" from a female
voice, told him that they were discovered. He called loudly
for Lovell, who, true to his trust, rushed with his companions
towards him; and at that moment his arms were seized hold
of by several of the aroused inebriates, who, at the alarm,
had rushed from the house.
" Here, Lovell, take my sister, and hasten to a place of
safety with her."
Charles caught the once lovely girl in his arms, while two
of his comrades walked beside him, to protect her from violence; and, freed from his burden, the young officer by a violent effort dashed his assailants from him, and laid them
prostrate on the earth.
"You're a robber, you're a thief, you're a villain. I'll
prosecute you for a midnight robber. I'll have you in jail
by the morning light; you thief, you robber, you villain,
bring back that woman."
Montague knew by the voice that it was Vanderbose, who
was thus letting out his- feelings, irritated, no doubt, more by
the fall he had received, than by the loss of her he called
"that woman."
" Mr. Vanderbose, you have, by your infamous conduct,
forfeited all claim to her who is unfortunately your wife.
Don't stir one step nearer, sir, or I shall do you an injury.
And keep in mind, sir, that nothing hinders me from chastising you as you deserve, but the fact of your being so




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   419
nearly allied to my unfortunate sister. Stand back, each
soul of you, for I will take the life of the first man who dares
to follow me."
There was a ring to the tones of his voice that made each
of the miserable gang step back, rather than forward. Montague turned at once, and went on his way; but he heard one
of them ask Vanderbose:
"Where is your rifle?"
"That's your sorts, Bob; run and get it-it's in the hall;
and bring the lights, and call the men; we'11 shoot the villain yet."
Only anxious to get his sister out of the way of all excitement, Montague hastened to the boat, although those around
him urged him to let them run in upon them, and take the
weapon from their hands; and even offered to stay and fight
it out, while he went off with his sister to a place of safety.
But he would not allow it.
"' We have accomplished our object without violence, and
I wish, for my sister's sake, to keep the law on my side. But
let us hurry from the shore, for they may do great mischief
yet."
" Jump in-jump, in all," cried Slocum; "they are coming-a whole gang of them, and may be the death of some
one yet."
The boat flew from shore, for they felt that life depended
upon every stroke.
" Straight out-right off shore; the further we get from
their reach, the better. We can turn our course when at a safe
distance;" and almost immediately Montague again called,
but almost in a whisper, " Hold up-hold up your oars; they
are trying to know in what direction to fire."
He was instantly obeyed, and in a moment more a ball
struck the water near them, and the crack of a rifle was
heard, and again another in the same direction.
" Now pull away as hard as you please; we shall be beyond their reach before they can load again." But no further
attempt was made, and soon they saw the lights returning to
the house, and heard their drunken shouts as they went back
to their revels.
Julia happily knew nothing of what had happened, she
had swooned just as they reached the boat; and when she




420            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
was again conscious, her brother was bathing her temples
with water, and telling her " she was safe now."
A carriage was waiting as they reached the shore, to convey
her to the home of a respectable family, where she was to remain until some permanent provision should be made for her.
"And now, gentlemen," said Lieutenant Montague, stepping up and taking Slocum by the hand, as he seemed to be
the leader of the company, " I give you my most hearty
thanks for the service you have rendered to me and my unfortunate sister this night. I thank you from my heart; but
you must allow me to do something more; anything you
say-you have done me a great service —and so far as
money —"
" Don't speak of it, sir; we have all got our pay, have n't
we, boys?"
"Yes-yes," they all answered. "Only I should like to
have had one good poke at the scamp; I only would have
asked for one," said one of the young men.
"You would have done for him, Bill; that paw of yours
is no joke, though I don't believe it has ever been laid on
anything softer than a piece of timber."
"But, Mr. Lovell," said Montague, "surely I must, in
some way, compensate these kind-hearted fellows. Tell me
what to give them."
" My dear fellow," said Charles, " you do not yet quite
understand a true country heart; it is like your own. This
job has been undertaken in the true sailor spirit; you can
understand what that is; and all they want as compensation
is to know that they have accomplished a good deed. A cordial grasp of your hand is all the pay we want."
" And that you shall all have with a right good will. God
bless you all, gentlemen."
A hearty shake of each offered hand, and Montague and
Charles entered the carriage, and the band of social spirits
that had risked their lives for a deed of kindness, walked
along together, chatting in a lively manner about the events
of the evening.
Old Colonel Johnson had some little business with his
friend Squire Shirley; so, ordering Josey, he was soon
seated in the easy chair, which the squire kept more espec



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.    421
ially for his own use. It was the morning after the scene
just described, and the squire was busily engaged with some
papers, in reference to an application to the court for appointing a conservator over the property of the wretched Vanderbose. He had already taken the deposition of his wife, and
was anxious to get matters arranged as speedily as possible.
" Colonel, if you will excuse me a few moments, I will be
back soon. The Judges of the Superior Court are attending
to some business in the next house, and I want to hand these
documents to them, and get their action without delay."
"By all means, neighbor; don't let me hinder any good
work you are about."The squire was not long absent, and when he came in, and
threw his hat down on the table, and took his seat:
" Colonel," said he, "I tell you what it is; sometimes I get
disgusted with my profession, because I come in contact with
so much deviltry, for even roguish acts, you know, must be negotiated according to the strict letter of the law, to make them
binding. Rogues would have nothing to do with law, I'11 warrant you, if they could help it. And then again, I like my
profession, because I have a chance, once in awhile, to get
the better, by means of it, of some villain who ought to be
hung, or put where he can't do mischief."
" You mean Vanderbose, I suppose 2"
" Yes, I mean him, and perhaps another that is not much
better, though he has policy enough to conceal it. You see,' this is the thing of it,' as you say, colonel,: I was called upon
a day or two since, by Lucas, to make out a mortgage-deed
for Vanderbose to sign in his favor,'for ten thousand dollars,
and Lucas in confidence, as he said, told me how it was.
Vanderbose owes him five thousand dollars; he says it is for
money he lent him, but most likely it is some gambling debt.
Well, the only way he can get it, he says, is by loaning the
fellow five thousand more, and taking a mortgage on his
estate at the Point, for ten thousand, and Vanderbose has
agreed to do it. Now, the probability is, if he gives him the
money it will go right out of his hands as the rest has, for
they say he has pretty much run through his estate in the
city. Lucas will foreclose, and get that place for half its
value; and I don't believe, between you and me, that he will
have paid much money out of pocket either."




422            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" And the poor wife have nothing left?"
"Just so; and that is the reason I was in such haste to get
those papers through. If we can only once get a conservator
placed over him, before he signs his property away, the jig
is up. But I am in a terrible stew about it, for Vanderbose
is to be here by twelve o'clock to-day to execute the deed,
and it is ten now. But here comes Lovell and his friend."
Charles and Montague entered, and the latter received a
most cordial greeting by the colonel. Charles immediately
addressed himself to the business.
" Are those papers ready, Squire Shirley?"
" I have handed them to the judges, but they have a world
of business on hand, and you know they must act with great
caution, for it is a terrible power entrusted to them-that
of taking away from a man the right to control his own
property. And moreover, Mr. Lovell, bonds will have to
be given by you for the faithful performance of the trust."
Charles colored deeply; he had not thought of that. He
looked to Montague for an answer.
" Young gentlemen," said the colonel, " give yourselves no
uneasiness about that. I understand the whole affair. You
may offer old Colonel Johnson as security for Mr. Lovell,
that he will fulfil his responsibility faithfully and truly."
"' And I'll go you halves, colonel. I guess they will take
Colonel Johnson and Joe Shirley for your bondsmen, if
the property was twice what it is."' Gentlemen," said the lieutenant, "your kindness is most
unexpected, and I know not how to acknowledge it aright.
If I was worth a hundred thousand, which I am not, I would
not fear to venture it all in Mr. Lovell's hands. But, unfortunately, I have little besides my pay; my own responsibility
would probably be of little account."
" No occasion for it at all, sir. The colonel and I know
Mr. Lovell. Make yourself easy about that. But one thing
doyou do; go at once to the court-the judges are there-get
a private interview with one of them —state the case-they
have got the deposition of your sister, and let them know
that there are urgent reasons for haste. Colonel, suppose
you go with them; you are intimate with the judges, and a
word from you will go further than a whole hour's pleading
by a lawyer."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   423
"That I will; come, gentlemen, let us see what can be
done."
Time flies quickly when much is to be done in a given
space, and it struck eleven before the old colonel was again
back in the office of his friend.
"What luck, colonel?"'Can't say, squire, can't say. I told my story, and they
received it all very pleasantly, and said they would look over
the deposition as fast as they possibly could."
"Did you tell them what was to take place at twelve
o'clock?"
"I did, squire, but they said you must manage in some
way to put them off."
" Manage! how can I manage? The papers are all drawn,
and if they come here to execute them, how can I put them
off? But who comes here? I hope it aint Vanderbose."
A carriage, driven rapidly, suddenly reined up at the office
door, and a portly man, with a full bluff face, jumped in
haste from it, and without knocking opened the door and entered. Bowing politely to both gentlemen, he inquired:
"Which of these gentlemen is Squire Shirley?"
"I answer to that name, sir."
"Your servant, sir," bowing again.
"Take a seat, sir."
"Thank you, sir, I have no time to sit. I have come to
you, sir, as I understand that you are both a lawyer and a
justice of the peace, to inquire how I am to get into a man's
premises which has got a high wall that a man can't climb
over, and high gates bolted, and three or four bull-dogs loose in
the day time, and ready to fly at you the moment you enter?"
"Better keep away; a man that shuts himself up in that
way shows that he don't want company."
" Yes, but I must get through, and into the house too, if
there is any law in the land. Does the law allow a brute of
a husband to abuse a dear little inoffensive wife, and crush
her to the grave? And cannot an old uncle, who loves her
as his own child, be permitted to go to her and take her away,
and give the fellow his deserts?"
Squire Shirley felt almost at first disposed to smile, but
when he heard the voice of the stout man trembling with
emotion, he entered seriously into his feelings.




424            A LONG LOO]K AHEAD;
" The law, sir, doubtless would give redress under certain
circumstances. If it could be proved that the wife was cruelly
beaten, and she should swear that her life was in danger, it
would no doubt interfere."," But a man may destroy a woman without beating her, or
cutting her throat, or poisoning her; he may break her heart
by neglect; he may leave her alone upon a bed of weakness,
while his house is filled with gamblers and outcast wretches;
he may frighten her out of her reason, by allowing base debauchees to prowl about his dwelling. Heavens! it is too
bad. I only want to get at the villain. I only want just to
get within reach of him."
"' Your hand looks as though it might do some execution
upon him; and yet, my dear sir, the penalty of the law might
have to be borne by you instead of the culprit. Come, sit
down, my good sir, and let us understand your case."
" Why, sir, I am the uncle of that poor unfortunate girl
married to Vanderbose. I have just returned from a long
voyage, and have come up here to see her, but such stories
as I have heard about her have set me almost distracted."
"Sit down, sir, sit down; I can tell you all about it.
Your niece is not there, sir; she was taken away by her brother in the dead of night, and is now in a place of safety. I
saw her this morning. She is more comfortable than could
have been expected, and I and others are doing what we can
to get justice done for her."
"' God bless you, sir, and them too," rising, and grasping
the hand of the squire.
"' May I be permitted to ask,"said Colonel Johnson, rising,
and offering his hand, " is this Captain Halliday?"
"- The same, at your service, gentlemen, and I hope you
will excuse my rude manners. I have been terribly excited.
That dear child, sir, was one of two darling creatures that I
nourished from infancy. They were lovely as cherubs, and
dear to me, for all I know, as own children could possibly be.
I was obliged to leave them to the care of a wrong-headed
relative, a sister of mine, who encouraged one to marry a
fool, and, because the other would not do so too, has turned
her off upon the world; and Heaven only knows where she
is, for I can hear nothing about her. And now, here I am
home again, with abundant means to make them and me com



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   425
fortable for life, and they are gone. But Julia, you say, is
safe. The Lord be praised for that. But where is she? for
I must see her, and tell her that her old uncle will stand by
her to his dying day."
And the tears started freely, and both he and the old
colonel had to use their handkerchiefs in spite of their will;
the colonel, however, making as if affected by a bad cold.
At length the old colonel stepped up, and taking the captain
by the hand:
" The Lord has been better to you, my dear sir, than your
fears. I know all about your nieces, for whom you are so
much interested. One of them is out of the hands of the
scoundrel whom she married, and the other is as happy as a
lark, in the family of a Mr. Shawn, who loves her as a
daughter; and she is engaged to be married to one whom I
believe you know, as fine a fellow as ever breathed the breath
of life, Charles Lovell."
"Gentlemen," said Squire Shirley, " I must ask you to be
seated, and keep mum about all these matters while a certain
person I see coming is in here."
They immediately complied, and retired to a corner of the
room where they could converse in private.
" Good morning, squire."
" Good morning, good morning, sir; take a seat."
The gentleman helped himself to a seat.
"Vanderbose not come yet?"
" Hardly time, is it?"
"It wants five minutes to twelve. He was to be here, you
know, by twelve. Ah, good morning, colonel, how are you
to-day?"
The gentleman smiled very complacently, but the old
colonel merely replied:
" Well, I thank you, sir."
"Are the papers all ready, squire?"
"Pretty much."
"I wish he'd come along; I am confoundedly anxious, between you and me, to get this thing along as quick as possible, you understand?"
"I understand."
"Things looks squally;" and then, raising his voice, "pretty
stirring news abroad this morning, Colonel Johnson,"




426            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
"Indeed, sir!"
"They say Vanderbose had his wife stolen from him last
night. Things have come to a pretty pass here. By George,
I should like to catch any one playing such a game with me."
As quick as thought, Captain Halliday was by his side,
and holding out his clenched fist:
" And, sir, if you deserved it as much as that scoundrel
does, I should like to be the man to tear the helpless being
from you, be you who you might."
" Hout, tout, gentlemen, there is no need of this. Captain
HIalliday, will you and Colonel Johnson just step out and
see those gentlemen about our business, and tell them the
sooner they can get along with it the better."
And, obedient to the request of Squire Shirley, the two
gentlemen addressed immediately departed.
" A testy old fellow, that! Who is he? I did n't know
but he was going to fall foul of a fellow. But here, it is getting past twelve; why don't Vanderbose come? Yes, by
George, there he is; he drives fine horses, don't he?"
Esquire Shirley was too deeply excited to reply. All the
ingenuity of his mind was tasked to prevent, if possible, the
completion of the arrangement between these two villains, as
he thought them both. But the carriage of Vanderbose
now drove up, and in a few moments he entered the office.
"' How are you, my good fellow?" said Lucas, rising and
giving his hand. "Squire Shirley has got the,,eis all
ready."
" Well, I suppose I must read them. How is it, squire 
you think they are all right? best to read them?"
" Every man should take great care how he puts his name
to paper. I should advise you, and any one else, to read
every word of any article-I don't care who writes it-before signing it. When a man's name is once down, there is
an end to it. No, no —read every word."
"Well, let us have it."'
" In a few moments, sir; I perceive an error or two that I
have made, which must be corrected before signing. I can
do that, however, after you have read them."
"Shall I read it to you, Van?" said Lucas, who was pale
with the excitement of the moment, and, being too uneasy to
sit, was walking about the office,




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   427
"No-I guess I can read the thing; but whether I shall
understand it is another question. Lawyer's writings, I believe, were never made to be understood."
He laughed as he said this, and turned towards the squire;
but that gentleman took no notice of the remark; he had too
much to think of just then, and was very busy looking out
of the window, and contriving how he should manage to delay
matters. Lucas was also looking out, but from another window, and just then remarked:
"Yonder comes your testy friend again, squire."
"Where 1"
"Down street-don't you see him, and a whole posse with
him; they aint coming here, I hope."  He made this remark,
because he saw Lieutenant Montague among the number, and
he judged there must be such a state of feeling between him
and Vanderbose, as might lead to difficulty, and prevent the
accomplishment of the business in hand.
" Come, Van, aint you most through?"
"Yes, I've done; where's your pen?"
" Stop-stop, Mr. Vanderbose," said the squire, with earnestness; "it will not answer to sign that instrument until
the errors are corrected;" taking the paper from his hand
for the purpose of making the corrections. At that moment
Charles Lovell, followed by Montague, entered the office;
the former, as he handed a paper to the squire, asked with
in his manner:
"lsh to6 late?"
~ " N -just in time; all correct."
The attention of Vanderbose was now arrested, by looking
up and beholding close beside him the person of "his mortal
enemy."  He sprang from his seat, and began to pour forth
a volley of the most abusive language at his command, but
was at once stopped by the owner of the premises.
" Mr. Vanderbose, this is no place for such language; nor
will I allow my office to be thus polluted. And, sir, I can
tell you further, that there is no business that need detain
you here any longer. I hold in my hand an injunction from
the court, forbidding you in any way to dispose of your
effects in this State, either real- or personal, until you shall
show cause why a conservator shall not be placed over you;
that is all, sir."




428            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
At that moment Colonel Johnson, followed by Captain
Halliday, walked in. They had sent the young men ahead,
and then took their own time. The captain cast his eye
around, and the moment it fell on Vanderbose, he made a
rush towards him. His nephew, however, and Charles
Lovell, each seized an arm:
"Captain Halliday! my dear uncle!" and both exerted
their utmost strength to hold him back; but it would have
been in vain had not Vanderbose, in great terror, sprung
from the office and into his carriage. All in the room now,
with the exception of Lucas, who, pale with rage and disappointment, kept aloof, surrounded the captain, begging him
to be calm.
"My dear sir," said Squire Shirley, "he has got part of
his deserts, and the rest will follow. Do no violence, and we
will get the whole thing fixed to our mind."
"And I am to understand, then, Squire Shirley, that I am
to be cheated out of my debt, and partly by your connivance,
after employing you as my counsel l" said Mr. Lucas, looking quite fiercely as he spoke.
"' I do not consider myself, sir, as ever having had that
honor. If you had consulted me, Mr. Lucas, I should have
advised you not to loan money to gamblers; and, further
than that, not to associate with them. We are apt to get
somewhat soiled by engaging in dirty work."
" What is your bill, sir 2"
"Nothing, sir. I am but too glad that the whole matter
has been quashed."
The gentlemen clapped on his hat, and walked off at a very
spry gait.
" And now, gentleman," said the colonel, " this has been
a pretty busy kind of a day; and, as things are so well fixed
to our mind, I want you, Captain Halliday, as soon as you
have seen your niece, and you, Lieutenant Montague, and
you, Mr. Charley, and-"
"And me too, colonel?"
"Yes, and you, too, Squire Shirley, to dine with me to.
day; and I shall send for our good minister, Mr. Jamieson,
your particular friend, Mr. Montague, and we will have a
nice time of it. At three o'clock, gentleman remember the
hour."




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   429
CHAPTER XXX.
TIME, like a mighty stream, bears its voyagers along in
various connections. Sometimes at scattered distances, and
apparently unequal speed, and then a favoring gale to some,
and the dead calm to others, gathers them together, and they
come to anchor side by side.
Dear reader, we have come to the last chapter in our
story. Those in whom we have been interested through its
course, are clustering near, that they and we may say farewell. And if there be some tokens of confusion, or some
last words unsaid, is it not thus in all our partings here?
And if, when under the excitement of such'ccasions, the
common order of the social scene is broken, we take it all
in good part, thinking more of the sad adieu, than of the little proprieties of life. So must your author crave the same
indulgence in a parting hour. It is no easy matter to let go
one's grasp on those with whom we have been in strict converse for many months, when by the lone fire-side, or in the
still watches of the night, or by the silent river, or through
the green fields, or amid the lonely solitude of the deep
woods, they have been with you, and made your loneliest
hour cheerful by their presence, and associated themselves
with your dearest haunts. It must not be a marvel if the
last word and look cause deep regret, and the reluctance to
say farewell create some stiffness in the manner.
It was a scene of mingled joy and sorrow, when good old
Captain Halliday first, after his long absence, embraced his
pale and feeble, yet still lovely Julia. She threw her arms
about his neck, and kissed his weather-beaten cheek, and
could not let him go; and when her sobs would let her
speak, her only words were:
"Dear, dear uncle!"




430            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" There, there, now, Julia dear, there, hush now, that's a
darling; let the tears go now; we will have nice times again,
for I am going to get a home for us; and mamma and I are
going to have you and Addie with us once again.
" Oh, Addie, too, dear uncle?"
" Yes, Addie, too, until that noble fellow, to whom she has
given her heart, shall get his things in readiness to take her
to his own home."
"Oh, how lovely that will be!"
"Yes, and I am about to get my old place back again. It
will seem more like home than any other spot, and I shall
live just in a plain, snug way, and keep my mind free to enjoy its beauties. And there, you know, are the trees which
I planted for you and Addie, and there is the pretty garden
that you both used to tend, and there are the fine walks down
among the rocks and cedars, where we used to look upon the
broad water, and see the boats sailing so sweetly on a summer
day."'
" Oh, dear, dear uncle, how sweet it used to be."
"' To you it was, no doubt, for you had no care to trouble
you; but to me it will, I hope, be pleasanter than ever, for
I have learned some lessons from the past. We will make
no more show, my dear."
" Oh, how glad I am, dear uncle, for I never wish again to
do anything for display. My heart sickens at the very
thought. I want to live for something better, for Him who
has had pity on me, and I hope has pardoned my sins; who
has been with me in the hour of my trouble, and granted
me a great deliverance."
The wretched Vanderbose did not wait to make any opposition to the appointment of the court, but fled at once to the
city, where he dragged along a miserable life among the
abandoned there, for a fiw months, and then his wasted life
was brought to a close. Rich relations followed him to the
grave, in their coaches, and, as they went, said to each other:
" What a pity that such a handsome property should be so
soon squandered!"
The place at Roder's point was sold, for Julia said she never
wished to put her foot in it again, nor see an article she had
ever looked on there. And Charles, by judicious manage



OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   431
ment, with the advice of Esquire Shirley, gathered from the
wreck of her husband's estate a few thousand dollars, which
were loaned out for her benefit. And even that she could not,
for a long time, be persuaded to touch; and would much have
preferred, if her uncle had permitted, to earn her living by her
own efforts.
The only shadow that came over the little family, and especially Julia, was the departure of her brother for the seat
of war, upon one of our northern lakes.
It was his lot, however, to be among the favored ones who,
by their station as well as prowess, made themselves conspicuous before the whole nation. Unharmed through terrible
dangers, and victorious over a gallant enemy, he returned at
the close of our struggle, to be crowned with honors.
The brother of Adelaide never recovered from the oppression of his early misfortunes. He mingled with no society,
and spent his time in seclusion with his father-in-law, endeavoring by every means in his power to solace his declining
years. The false step made in his early career, and its consequences, destroyed the buoyancy of youth, and he ever carried upon his brow the marks of settled grief.
Charles Lovell found, on his return from the city, that his
faithful brother had been, as every one said" as busy a bee;"
drawing logs to the mill, and joists and boards from the mill,
and gathering timber and stone around the old place, and
getting everything in readiness for operations in the Spring.
Charles had received a handsome compensation for his services in the city, as also a commission for the settlement of
Vanderbose's estate, which, added to what he had previously
made, enabled him to commence his building with confidence. He would have a surplus still left as a capital to work
with.
Slocum was ready to begin at the time appointed. And
he said to his hands, as they were about to commence hewing
the timber:
" By jingo, I never was in such a hurry to get at a job in
my life. I tell you, boys, I know it looks dark how anything
is going to be made at all ship-shape out of this old concern, and I
don't wonder you laugh. I've laughed at Charley many a
time about it; but he is not a fellow to be laughed out of his
notions."




432            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" You know we laughed too, Slocum, about these trees.
You remember how they looked! like poles sticking up here
and there. And now just look at them, and only think how
they will be a few years hence."
"That's the thing of it, Bill. Charley looks ahead; he
has had a plan about this place all the while, and what he has
done hasn't cost much; but it tells more and more every
year. He will have a beauty-spot here, see if he don't."
"Take care, boys, that you don't cut too deep; keep outside the line, for I am going to have this timber as smooth as
a house-floor; but there comes Charley himself."
" So he does, and Guss with him, and they have both got
their axes. Now you'11 have to put it, Slocum. You had
better let me take an adze, too, for those fellows will make
the chips fly."
As the house had ever been a favorite idea with Charles, it
was very natural that now it was begun in earnest, he should
make it a subject of frequent conversation when at home.
At such times, Aunt Casey did not join in. Her countenance would assume a serious cast, and often a heavy sigh
would escape her, and she would in many ways manifest
great uneasiness.
One evening, when Charles was more than commonly
elated, in consequence of having that day completed the exterior of his building, and received the assurance of Slocum,
and all hands engaged in the work, that it was even much
prettier in reality than the sketch he had made of it, Aunt
Casey became so restless that Charles could not forbear
speaking.
" Why is it, aunty, that you appear lately so different from
what you have been?  You hardly ever laugh now, and
everything seems to trouble you."
The old lady had, before he spoke, as much as she could
do to keep the tears back, but this finished the matter, and at
it she went in right good earnest. Charles waited until the
shower was about over. At length, in a playful tone, he
asked:
"Perhaps, aunty, you think I am not going to be happy in
my new condition? Did you see anything in Miss Addie
the day she spent with you, that gives you uneasiness on that
account 2"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   433
This only added to the trouble, and Aunt Casey started
off to her little room, and there had a time of it all to herself.
Charles was indeed perplexed, for he knew not how to account for her singular conduct. It was so unlike anything he
had ever noticed in her before.
At length she again entered the room, wiping her eyes
with her apron, and trying to put on a cheerful face.
" It is very wrong in me to do so; it's very childish and
foolish, and it is very selfish, too. But one thing I must
say; don't you never think that I have anything against that
sweet young creature; for a sweeter, lovelier young darling,
I never see in all my born days. And to think how she
took an interest in everything, and see how I did everything,
and asked me in her pretty way how I did this, and how I
did that; and to see how delighted she was to see me feed
the fowls and the chickens, and would take the bowl out of
my hand, and throw the stuff out all around her feet, to get
them up to her, as close as she could; and then she wanted to
see the heifer, and so I took her out to the barn, and you
never see how delighted she was. And I tell you what, she
notices things; for she looked all around the barn, and granary, and all over, and then she turns to me:'He keeps
things in their places, don't he? I hope,' says she,' I shall
be able to keep things as orderly in the house; but,' says
she,'I hope, aunty, you will come up, won't you, and just
show me how to manage, for you know the help I may have,
perhaps will not know much, and he has been used to your
ways.' But, oh dear."
" Well, I hope you will, aunty, and I wish it was so that
you could be with us all the time."
" Oh dear! do you wish so?"
"Yes, I do most truly; and Miss Addie thinks it would
be almost too good just to have you live with us."
"The dear, blessed creature; then it's done. And now,
Charley, just hear what I've got to say. You see I have
been thinking the thing all over; it's been upon my mind
all the time since you've been getting ready to go away,
and the more I think the worse I get,'till I'm a most done
over. You see it has been such another kind of a life to me,
since you boys have been here; we have lived so happy-, and
19




434           A LONG LOKOX Ax1AD;
I have got along so smooth and easy, and I have been a-laying up all the time, too, that come to think of you going
away, and me living all alone, only once in awhile when
Hetty comes home, that I can't stand it; and so I have been
thinking how much better it would be for you to have me
there, doing all that has got to be done, making your butter,
and seeing to things just as I have done here, only I shall
have your dear little wife take all the management, and I
will see that it is done as she says."
"Well, aunty, I feel, now, as if I should be perfectly
happy."
" Oh dear, how glad I am to hear you say so. And
you won't go to hiring no help; I don't want them
round."
" Just as you say, aunty."
And the old lady went off into one of her short chuckling laughs, her sides shaking, and her apron wiping away the
tears at the same time.
The Spring and Summer have passed away. Their bloom,
their showers, their flowers, and their fruit, have been enjoyed, and silently, but with steady progress, the tints of
autumn have been stealing on, until upon the hills, and over
the fields, and by the roadside, and wherever a forest tree
reared its branches, were bright and varied colors.
The dwelling of Charles Lovell had received its finishing
touches. The plain, but neat enclosure, which encircled the
large yard, had also been put up, and the eye could now take
in, at a single glance, the design of its owner. To one not
acquainted with the process by which it had all been a~ccomplished, it would have appeared a costly place for a farmer.
And, doubtless, had any one attempted, in a single season,
and by the purchase of every article, and hiring all the labor, it
would have been so in reality. But, as Charles went forward by a fixed plan, and with his own hands, as opportunity
offered, did something towards it, the real outlay cLmoney
did not much exceed the estimate of Slocum.
As the brother of Adelaide had placed in her hands a sum
sufficient for a handsome outfit, she furnished it to Per own
mind; and Charles hlad as much reason to be satisfied with
the neatness of its house-keeping arrangements, as "he had




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   435
with the completeness of the finish which his friend Slocum
had imparted to every item of his work.
It had been a very lovely day in the latterpart of October, and
as Mr. Slocum had some business at the old mill, just before
evening he walked leisurely around that way, casting his eye
occasionally back as he passed the house and grounds, where
he had been at work so long.
"Jingo! it looks well, and I hope Charley will have many
happy days there. It is finished, upon honor, anyhow, and
paid for too." This he said to himself, as he turned into the
lane which led from the highway to the mill.
He found Mr. Duncan at work with some logs he was sawing into slit work, and he stood and looked on a moment
until the log had passed through, and then, when the noise
ceased, saluted the miller:
" A pleasant evening, Mr. Duncan. You keep hard at it, I
see."
" Yes, I have to; what between the grists inside, and the
logs outside, a man has to step pretty lively."
" Well, that's the way; but I never thought you could
have been induced to set the saw a-going."
"Nor I either."
" I used to be sometimes almost afraid to come here with a
grist, you used to grumble so about the dam being out of
order, and that you had n't but one run of stone, and all that.
But now, they tell me, you have had toJbire a young fellow
to help you."
"Well, it's true, Slocum; but, you see, I've been overpersuaded. That fellow, Lovell, got at me first about fixing
up my old oven for kiln-drying corn; and then nothing would
do but I must rig up the old saw again, because he wanted
some sawing done. And you know what a fellow he is!
What can you do with him? You see he's right into you,
and he's got such a way with him."
"Charley's a fine fellow."
"  ell, now, Slocum, how is a body going to say'no' to
him. Gosh! I can't. Only just see how it is. He'11 come
right up to you, and the first thing you'11 know, he'll up
with a bag of corn and over with it into the hopper; or he'll
maybe catch off a bag of meal from my back, saying,' Uncle
Jo, I am younger than you, let go,' and off he'll clip with it




436            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
into somebody's wagon; or he'll catch hold of the lever, and
whip up a log, and on to the cradle with it-' You go in,
Uncle Jo, and tend to the hopper.'"
" That's his way."
"It beats all creation what a fellow he is. And then when
there's sickness, he's right in among it, doing something or
other. I'll tell you, Slocum, just what he did: Last spring we
had a hard time of it, I tell you. There was Jemime, she
came home, and was took down with the measles, and was as
sick as death; and then Sue, she got the cankers, and was all
swelled up in her throat, so that she wheezed like a brokenwinded horse; and right in the midst of it, Bill falls down
through the trap-door of the mill, and snaps his leg. There
we were, three on'em all on their backs to onst. Well, what
does Lovell do but down he comes, and at it he goes-off
coat, and the first thing he did was to take the baby-and
what do you think?"
"Rocked it to sleep."
"No, gosh; he could n't do that; it aint in the power of
mortal man to do that. It's never slept yet to my knowledge.
But he stopped it's hollering; only think of it!"
"Does it cry much 2"
"I guess you'd think so? Why Slocum, it's screeched
ever since it's been in the world. It come screeching, and
it's been screeching ever since, and it's my opinion it will
screech itself out of the world again, if it keeps on. But only
think, Lovell stopped it; the old woman was clean beat. She
ran out of'tother room to see what was the matter.'She
did n't know,' she said'but it had stopped for good. Oh dear!'
says she,' what is it! it aint dead.' And there was the little
sarpent, looking up at Lovell and laughing; only think of that,
Slocum!"
"Now, you don't!"
"True as the Bible; how he ever got the critter to stop
bellowing is the greatest wonder I've seen this many a day.
And there he was; sometimes he would stay all night, and then
again he'd bring all kinds of nice things for the sick ones,
and they've all got so fond of him, that it is nothing but
Charley Lovell, all day long. Now, what can you do with
such a fellow! I can't, he's got clean round me. But I'11
tell you one thing, Slocum,"




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   437
"What is it?"'The old thing begins to pay. I never was so'forehanded
in my life; and I've fixed the old dam, and mended the wheel,
and put in a new run of stone, and fixed up the saw, and
things begin to look bright. But what upon earth, Slocum,
are you doing with your Sunday clothes on?"
"Going to the wedding."
" What wedding?"
"Why the great wedding or weddings. Did n't you know
that Charley is to be married this evening and Priest Jamieson
too. And it is to be in the church. But what now, Duncan?"
" I'll tell you what in a minute." And the miller fairly
ran into the mill, and was out again instantly.  " I'll tell you
what it is. Charley has been at me this good while to go
to church. You see I have n't been this ten years, and Lovell
says I'll be a heathen yet, and my family too, if I don't turn
over a new leaf, and go to meeting Sundays, and I believe he
is about right. But the thing of it is, when to begin.
Gosh, if I should go there in the day time they'd all turn
round and stare at a fellow so that I should wish myself back
to home."
" Well, then, suppose you begin to-night; it will kind of
ease the way."
" That's what I'm thinking; break the ice like. But come
along over to the house, and we'll talk about our business
on the way, and you just wait'till I put oi my best. But
don't lisp a word to the old woman, or she'11 want to go too,
and take that screeching brat with her."
"I'm afraid you will get it, Duncan, when she comes to
find out."
"I shall get it, anyhow, for the matter of that."
Duncan was not long in putting on his best. But so seldom did such an event take place that it necessarily excited
the curiosity of his good woman.
" What upon earth, Duncan, is to pay now! Your best
clothes on, and your new hat that you have n't never yet had
on your head 2 Where are you going 2"
"Oh, I am just going to take a little turn with Slocum."
"Take a little turn with Slocum! It aint no such a thing;
there's something to pay; you know there is, and you're
ashamed to let me know."




438            A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
" Maybe I'm going to church."
"To church! catch you to church! you're ashamed to be
seen there, you know you are. Aint Lovell talked enough
about that; but never mind, you'11 catch it."
" Oh, Mrs. Duncan," said Slocum, "he is only just going
a little ways. You see Charley Lovell is to be married in
the church this evening, and Mr. Duncan and I feel like going to have a peep at it."
Mrs. Duncan threw the baby down on the bed, and clasping her hands together, exclaimed:
" Did I ever? And now, Duncan, you've done this a
purpose. But-"
Mr. Slocum and her amiable husband either did not
hear what else she said, as the baby, being left to scratch and
kick by itself, was sending forth noise enough to drown even
the clatter of the old mill-or, being in haste to see the
ceremony, took French leave and were off.
As the Reverend Mr. Jamieson, and his much-loved Lucy,
had determined to celebrate their nuptials in the house of
God, Charles and Adelaide had prevailed upon Captain Halliday to forego the pleasure of having the ceremony of their
marriage at his house, and to allow it to take place in company with that of their two friends.  A company of invited guests, from both Melton and Wellgrove, were to escort Charles and his lady from the residence of her uncle
to the church under the pastoral charge of Mr. Jamieson,
and, after the ceremony, to repair for a short time to the
house of Colonel Johnson, and partake of refreshments, and
then to the house of,Captain Halliday, where a feast, consonant with the notions of the old captain, was to be in readiness for all who chose to come.
" There'11 be a nation sight of folks there, I'm a-thinking,
Slocum."
" I should be ashamed if there was n't. It aint often such
fellows as Parson Jamieson and Charley Lovell are married,
nor such girls as Lucy Johnson. And if there aint a raft
of folks at the old colonel's to-morrow, to take the old fel
low's hand, and heartily wish him joy, then I'm mistaken,
and I'11 bet there won't be a horse and gig in all Melton, tomorrow, that won't be on the way to give Charley a call, and




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   439
bring him and his lovely girl to their new home. It will
be a sight, Duncan, that aint often seen, I tell you."
"Punch plenty, too?"
"I don't know about that. Charley, you know, never was
a roysterer; but there'll be enough to eat and to drink, I'11
warrant; and them that are enemies or jealous of Charley, if
there be any such, had better keep out of the way, for we
mean to give him such a' welcome home' as aint been seen
here before."
They were now near the church, and the bright, long,
painted windows shining through the trees which surrounded
it, formed, indeed, a fairy picture. Clusters of people could
be seen ascending the steps, and wagons and carriages driving towards it.
" I'm most afeard there won't be room, Slocum."
" As much room for us, as for any of them; and if there is
any squeezing, Duncan, them that get against your old bones
will have the worst of it."
As Slocum was the pilot, he led the way up the stairs, and
through the gallery to its further end.
"Now, Duncan, we have got a grand seat; we can see the
whole thing."
Duncan probably did not hear him, for he was staring
at the lights in the chandeliers, and at the gilded pipes of the
organ, and at the people gathering in the pews, and at the
bald foretop of old Mr. Somers, who, with his head pow.
dered, and in an extra neat black dress, sat within the altar,
looking pleasantly on the smiling faces of the multitude. At
length Duncan turned to his companion;
"Where's the folks, Slocum l Where's Charley l"
"He has n't come yet."
"Gosh, how them lights dazzle a fellow's eyes!"
"Turn your eyes t'other way then, and whisper what
you have got to say, Duncan. You aint in the old mill
now."
The pews below had all been filled, and an almost breathless silence reigned within the church; when suddenly the
pipes of the organ sent forth a lively air, and all looked
round.
"They are coming now, Duncan."




440             A LONG LOOK AHEAD;
And immediately a procession was seen advancing up the
centre aisle.
"Who is that fellow in black, with them satin small-clothes
on. He looks sleek, don't he?"
" That is Mr. Jamieson; and the lady leaning on his arm,
with that white veil on her head, and hanging down her shoulders, is Lucy-Miss Lucy Johnson; and that is the old coloonel on t'other side of her; bless his old heart, how trim he
looks!"
"Look, Slocum, look! who upon earth is that?"
" That's Charley; don't you know him? his head is powdered, aint it! I tell you, Duncan, that blue coat, with the
light small-clothes, looks well on Charley. I did n't think he
was so much of a man."
"Gosh; I should never know him. He looks taller."
"Yes, he does. And that beauty by his side, aint she a
picture?"
"Charley goes the whole figure, don't he? But see there,
Slocum, if there aint Guss i! sure as I'm alive, and he's got
a gal too. What a nice plump little rosy thing she is?"
" I guess that's the daughter of a rich man off where Charley's girl has been staying. I heard say that they had come
to the wedding."
A long train followed the happy couples up the aisle and
arranged themselves before the altar. As soon as the organ
ceased, Mr. Somers arose, and in his expressive manner, with
simple fervor, but very appropriate words, united in the bonds
of marriage his loved brother in the ministry with the fair
Lucy. The organ, accompanied by a choir of singers, immediately chanted the Gloria Patri, during which Mr. Jamieson left the circle, and entered the vestry-room which opened
from the altar. In a few moments he returned, dressed in
his silken robes, and Charles Lovell and his long-loved Adelaide with their attendants, circled about him. His voice
trembled slightly, but its rich tones could be heard distinctly
through the house, and the beautiful service lost none of its
interest from the evident feeling which he manifested.
Proudly did old Captain Halliday resign the hand of his
lovely niece to the manly youth who stood ready to receive
it. And they, who had so long and steadily loved, were unit.
ted in those bands which death alone can sever.




OR, THE FIRST STROKE AND THE LAST.   441
"Did you hear that, Slocum?"
"Hear what?" Slocum had been too concerned a -spectator to be disturbed by any common occurrence.
" Gosh! she's come;" and old Duncan bolted out of the pew,
and although the organ was again pouring forth its loudest
notes, Slocum could distinguish, above its highest peal, the
shrill scream of a baby.
"Duncan will take it now!"
THE END.