Chapter 14

"I cannot bear to part with an inch of the farm--it is so dear to us," said Mrs. Fabens.

"How can we part with a rood or a tree," asked Fanny, with a sigh. "Every tree seems one of the family, and every rood has transferred a picture of its beauty to our hearts."

"But something must be done to wipe off the thousand dollars. The hundred on hand will help; and where shall I raise the rest? They may sue me, and sacrifice double the amount, if they have to wait too long," said Fabens.

"O well, we shall have enough left after paying the thousand," said Mrs. Fabens. "Any one will loan you nine hundred, and take a mortgage. Then we should not have to sell a single rood. We could all turn to, and raise it off from the farm in three or four years."

"I cannot bear to mortgage the farm," said Fabens. "I should then feel in debt. I hate debts as I do sin and Satan. Hadn't we better sell off a little strip joining Nimblet's, and stand free and clear once more? It is handsome land, I know; my heart leans to it warmly, for I have labored along there a good many pleasant days. But hadn't we better let the pretty piece go? He has been at me these three years to sell it; and he can pay for it all down. Wouldn't the farm be large enough without that strip?"

"That may be best," said Mrs. Fabens. "I dislike debts and mortgages as much as you. But the farm is so handsome with that green border, and its lovely shade-trees!"

"That is the most beautiful fringe of fields on the farm," said Fanny. "The trees are the finest;--think of those charming chestnuts, and how their white blossoms sweeten the air in July! And the handsomest walnuts and maples wave along there. And there is my lovely linden, and mother's balm of Gilead. And how level the ground is; and how the bluebirds and robins love to sing there!--But perhaps it may be best to let it go, and be out of debt. We shall all feel so much better. You cannot sell the loveliness of those fields, and he could no more buy it than buy the songs of the birds, or the light of the blue skies. The handsome prospect, the verdure, light, and song, are the property of all who have eyes to see and hearts to enjoy them; and Mr. Nimblet will take pains, I know, to make the fields more lovely, if he can."

"Then I may say to Mr. Nimblet, he can have the north fields?" asked Fabens.

"O, wait a little while," said Fanny, "and see if we cannot keep them. It looks so beautiful in the middle field in the spring, when the dandelions blow; and the strawberries blossom; and the butter-cups wave in the wind; and the bobolinks light on the red clover and sing;--there would be more comfort in knowing it was all ours as we enjoyed the sight!"

"But we cannot have everything, Fanny, as we wish in this world," said Mrs. Fabens. "Let it go. I am willing, if you think best. As Fanny says, the landscape will be ours as much as ever. And after all, how much better off are we without that strip of land than many of our neighbors! Think of the poor laborers and mechanics that Fairbanks owes for work! How much more ought we to think of their loss than our own!"

"Yes, but, how much good we could have done with that thousand dollars," said Fabens; "giving some of it to the poor, and lending the rest to worthy young men who are struggling against hope to get something, and would be set on their feet by a little lift. But it is of no use to cry for spilt milk."

"And what is this trouble, compared with the loss of poor little Clinton, and our grief for him?" asked Mrs. Fabens.

"Dear me,--I would give the beauty of the world to see my brother Clinton!" cried Fanny, her blue eyes sparkling with tears. "I cannot remember seeing him; but how could I help loving him when you have said so much about him, and wept so many sad hours for his loss? O what would we not give to see Clinton? And how foolish it will be to mourn for a small deception and a thousand dollars! _Don't_ let us mourn any more for that!"

"Clinton!" said Fabens, kindling to a glow, and rising and pacing the room. "Give all the world to see Clinton? I think we would, and we would be rich and happy, if Clinton were alive and here, though we were without money and handsome fields, and had no more than a bark shanty to shelter our heads."

"Indeed we would!" added Mrs. Fabens, rocking more earnestly in her chair. "And let us pay up the debt, sell the land and pay it, and thank the Lord that he has been so good to us, and taught us how to bear our troubles."

George Ludlow was present to sympathize and counsel, and he said "Let the land go;" and Fanny repeated, "Let it go; we have all its beauty pictured on our souls, and will possess it with our estate;" and before the week was over, Mr. Nimblet had purchased the row of fields on the north side of the farm, and the debt was paid, and happiness became, for that misfortune, no stranger to the household.

XXVII.

SUNNY SKIES.

Time and reflection, mutual sympathy, and a happy knack of always hoping for the best, completed their resignation, and prosperity and peace once more attended their efforts and desires. The farm was found quite ample in what was left, to employ them all, and satisfy their hearts. In fact there was more land left than Fabens could manage without much assistance, and more than a supply of all that heart could wish.

They seemed to enjoy home and prosperity, and everything around them better than before; for the loss and anxiety given them by Fairbanks awakened a new appreciation of all good, and taught them to be more thankful for what they could call their own. They also learned how to exercise a will that conquered all misfortune, and rested in a faith that overcame the world. As they looked back to early life, and counted all the sorrows they had seen, though some had been heavy as humanity can bear, they could not select one and say, it had not seemed to soften their hearts, and open to their minds a sense of the goodness of God and the mercy of every providence. "I can cry with David," said Fabens, "it is good for me that I was afflicted, although it is difficult, at all times to see in what way good out of evil may come."

After this, George Ludlow was employed to assist in managing the farm, and the progress of time only quickened the increase of their love for him. He grew manly still more in appearance, though to strangers he was homely; he grew intelligent still more in mind, and his society in that home was not its smallest joy.

And Fanny Fabens had now attained to full maturity, and she presented a person and a mind that all admired and loved. Her form had a round and erect development; and her step was as light, and her carriage as proud as the colt's that ranged the hills. Her hair was a shaded and glossy flaxen now, and her eyes were a darker blue. Her beauty was unchanging as the Pleiades, in all situations; for whether she hetchelled flax in the kitchen, or spun wool in the barn; whether peeling apples, or piecing quilts; whether churning butter or dressing cheese; whether gleaning wheat or picking berries; or dancing at a wedding, or singing hymns at church; she was the same rosy, brisk and brightly smiling creature; the same full, free and glad-hearted life; giving grace and honor to labor; light and beauty to nature; joy and virtue to amusements; peace and holiness to worship, and love and happiness to home.

One day when Fabens happened to stop at the tailor's, in the village, he thought to inquire into Frisbie's story, concerning the handkerchief, which he would have them believe George Ludlow had stolen. The tailor was positive in denying the truth of the whole affair. It was false, he said, and much like many other lies they had told.

The next time Fabens saw Troffater, he inquired if Tilly knew any evil of George Ludlow, or if he ever warned Fairbanks and Frisbie against him.

"They never said so much as boo, about 'im to me, nor I to them; that's honest," said Troffater. "But I tell you, Fabens, I never thought a great 'eal o' them scamps. I itched to give you a jog, when they come so thick around you. You was green as a mess o' cowslops, or you'd a seen what they was arter. I thought you'd git nipt a grain, or my name wasn't Troffater. But I dasn't tell you what I thought on 'em. You wouldn't a' b'lieved me, I ben such a witch with my word. I spose you know the fellers have been heern from? They run out of all they cabbaged here perty quick. Frisbie, they say, is jugged up in jail, and there's better men sometimes hung than that Jock Fairbanks. I guess some o' the gals are kindy sorry they sot their caps for 'em! The Faddle gals, I guess, would give all their old shews, if they'd a' kep away from the whelps. My gals is all in titters about it; and Beck Teezle, says she, 'I wonder, says she, if Des and Luce Faddle, says she, will feel above us now?' They couldn't git me to dew their dirty Work, with all their ile and palaver. I bought a pitchfork on 'em, once in hayin', and got a platter there when Josephyne was married, and I paid 'em tew in mink skins; and that's all I had to dew with 'em. You lost a good 'eal by 'em, didn't you, Square?"

"A thousand dollars," said Fabens. "It seemed a great sum to lose, at first. It _was_ too much for me. But it has been a good lesson to me, in many ways. The lesson perhaps will give me my money's worth."

"That _is_ a big _sum_ to _luse_, I swanny! I wish I had a jogged your elbow a grain. I seen threw the cunnin' scamps the fust time. Didn't you know, Square, that Fairbanks was gray as a wharf rat, when he let his hair alone?" said Troffater.

"No, I did not. _He_ was not gray; his hair was a glossy black," said Fabens.

"Ha! ha! ha! you was _greener 'n_ cowslops, or you'd a seen that was all dye-stuff!" said Troffater. "Why, I seen the gray roots glisten for half an inch, the fust time I seen 'im. But didn't you know 'im, Square? He come from the Hudson."

"I never knew him till he came here," said Fabens.

"But, you've got a clean conscience," said Troffater. "If I had that, I wouldn't lay wake o' nights, nor grow hatchet-faced a great 'eal. I see your cheeks don't fall in, and nobuddy would spose by your looks that you had a _great_ grist o' trouble. Wish I could look as cheerful, and had a bit o' your pleasant peace o' mind."

"But you have forgotten one of my questions; I asked if you knew any ill of George Ludlow," said Fabens.

"All I know, I can tell perty quick," said Troffater, and cooked his quid, and spit through his teeth. "What do you know, Tilly?" asked Fabens.

"I know an awful cuss hangs over the feller," said Troffater.

"How you talk! Curse! what do you mean?" asked Fabens, with emotion, and a searching glance of his large and loving eye: "George Ludlow under a _curse_?"

"Yis, under a cuss, an' may it please your honor," said Troffater.

"Who pronounced it?" asked Fabens.

"Scriptur!" said Troffater, drawing down his monkey brows over his little, black-and-blue eyes, and looking wise as a magistrate. "Scriptur pernounced the cuss."

"The Scripture!" exclaimed Fabens. "The Scripture pronounced a curse! What do you mean? What does the Scripture say to condemn George Ludlow?"

"A good 'eal, I guess," said Troffater. "The Scripture says--'_Woe_ unto him that all men speak well of;' and George Ludlow is the man!"

"O, you will be Tilly Troffater, as long as you live!" said Fabens. "Why can you not be serious once in a while? You are getting to be an old man, and such levity shocks one's reverence for your gray hairs. But if that is all you know, I am sure you never spoke ill of the young man."

"Not I, Fabens, not I," said Troffater, sobering down at this mild rebuke. "He's a likely feller. _He'll_ dew wal enough, I'll warrant. Tell Fan, for me, if she gits George Ludlow, _her_ fortin will be _fixed_. A good many young bucks, that feels above him, might thank the powers, if they knowed as much as he, and was half as likely. Wish I had ollers did as wal as George, and my mind was peaceful as his'n. But I must go hum. I calkilate to start on a journey to-morror, for the Holland Purchase, and I've a little fixin' to dew."

So they separated, and Fabens went home, musing in his heart, and inquiring what fresh remorse could have seized on Troffater's conscience, and what might be the object of his journey.

Under the joint management of Fabens and George Ludlow, for a period of good prices and great prosperity, the farm yielded a return of a portion of the sum lost by Fairbanks, and a year or so was anticipated as time sufficient to retrieve the entire misfortune, if misfortune it might really now be called; and place the family and their young friend in very desirable circumstances. The smaller farm yielded an extra increase for receiving the care and culture formerly bestowed on the fields that were sold; the seasons seemed more genial; the rains more timely, and the sun more liberal in his bland, warm beams, than for years gone by. The beneficence of God was pictured out on all the glowing sky; blooming in all the fields and woods, and sung by the birds and breezes. Lessons of grief, quite as much as those of joy, had taught them to discover the signs of that beneficence; to rejoice in all its light, and repose in its blissful promise.

Mr. and Mrs. Fabens had arrived at a period of life when old age was approaching, yet most tardy in its advances; and their relation as parents was most interesting; and their convictions and sentiments, as trusting Christians, gave daily refreshment to their souls.

As one good consequence of the late trial, our excellent farmer considered his cure of a love of praise, which had grown insensibly upon him, and commenced already to make him unhappy, by warping his independence, and making him almost a slave to the vain opinions of men. As another effect in which he discovered a blessing, it weakened his worldly cares, and taught him to set his affections on things above.

There was a time of general happiness in Summerfield. Some of the old people had passed away; among whom Mr. Flaxman and old Mr. and Mrs. Waldron were much lamented. Many worthy sons were left behind; and several who had been prodigals were now reformed, to render the old neighborhood pleasant and happy.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were still alive, and possessed a fine property, and rejoiced in the society of several dutiful children. Colwell and his wife were still alive and happy. The Teezles had not succeeded greatly in worldly affairs; but they had a home and a good family, and none saw pleasanter days. Uncle Walter and Aunt Huldah lived in a ripe old age; and he loved a hunt and a fine story, and she loved stubbing and scouring still; and could boast the whitest linen, the whitest floor, and clearest maple sugar. And these had all learnt wisdom since the feast at Aunt Polly Waldron's, and were more refined in thought and speech.

Tilly Troffater carried still about him, as he did his scars, a few of his early habits and characteristics; as for instance, his love of levity slightly corrected; his love of indolence, and an occasional glass of whisky; his swaggering loquacity, a little improved; and once in a while the mischief of the busybody. But all regarded him, on the whole, as a reformed man, and were quick to give him credit and encouragement, where they could see any change for good; expecting that he would carry a few peculiarities with him to his grave.

George Ludlow was solidly esteemed and affectionately regarded as a son by Mr. and Mrs. Fabens, while Fanny responded to his sentiments, and answered his heart with something deeper, and more a principle of her soul, than common passional love. He was esteemed by the neighbors as quite a second Fabens; and those few vain youths and maidens who had affected contempt for his humble parentage and life, were now compelled to blush for their heartless folly, and respect him. The week arrived in which George and Fanny were to be married, and great preparations were made for the happy bridal day.

XXVIII.

CONCLUSION.

Life in the country has many scenes for pictures. Its customs and festivities, though sometimes rude and homely, are never without their romance. The country courtship may not be conducted by laws laid down in books of etiquette, but it is all the more romantic for its frank simplicity. The city courtship may appear the most genteel in the splendid parlor, with the lover on a sofa displaying his stocks and certificates of wealth to the matron, and through her winning his sweetheart; while the maiden at her piano opens absorbing ears to catch his wooing words; but all must confess the country courtship makes the best picture, with the ruddy maiden in the farm-yard, in her cool sun-bonnet and clean checkered frock; the bloom of the season on her cheeks, and its fragrance in her breath; making music with sweet streams in her milk-pail; while her lover at her elbow, or leaning over the wall, as jocund as a bobolink, tells her of his horses and cows; his wheat-lands and meadow-lands; his berry-fields; his melon-patch, and maple-orchard; his nice little rural home, and his pleasant love of her.

The country wedding also makes a charming picture of one of the happiest scenes under heaven; and it was determined by the Fabenses that Fanny's wedding should lack no joy or enjoyment which they had means to give. The season was never more lovely, and the fruits of the garden, orchard, and field were never more abundant. The commodious farm-house had been re-painted, and it looked as well as new; its doors could open to a goodly company, and a goodly company came before three o'clock to make merry with them.

Neighbor Nimblet and his wife were the first of the wedding-guests who entered; and Nancy and her husband entered soon after. Then came Uncle Walter over the fields, a-foot, with his coat on his arm, in his new wide-brimmed hat, long Lon'on-brown vest, with gilt buttons and scarlet back; his white wristbands turned up, and white collar turned down; enjoying, in the tidiest way, a clean little quid of Cavendish, and selecting and cooking a story for the feast. And Aunt Huldah came with him in the neatest cap, the nicest dress, and the brightest gold beads that any old lady wore. Then came the Teezles; then came the Colwells, followed soon by their young people. Then came the Wilsons; then came the widow Flaxman, thinking how sad it would be to sing one of her old nasal songs alone. Then came Mrs. Troffater and Ruth; and they were able to offer no satisfactory excuse for Tilly, who had refused all their pleas to come with them, and taken to the woods without his dog or gun. Many remarked that they never saw Mrs. Troffater appear so well before. She wore a brand-new calico frock, of a rich de laine appearance; she had a nice cap, and handsome amber beads; and though her cap-border was rather too wide, and plaited too thinly for perfect taste, and the young people smiled to see it rise and fall with the wind; she appeared well enough; and no one attended the wedding with a warmer welcome than she. Then came Seneca Waldron and his wife; and soon all the guests were there.

The fathers and mothers were gathered into the white north-room, exchanging glad looks and hearty salutations, as if each had been autumn itself, smiling in great and abundant heart on the scene; and they were discussing the beauty of the day, and the excellence of the season; relating each other's history; and recalling incidents of the olden time, when the country was new, and neighbors were farther apart and more friendly; while the young people, happy as a flock of birds in the sunny days of mate-choosing, and freshly blooming as the landscape--around them, were out on the mown field adjacent to the house, whirling in the sportive ring, bounding in the merry dance, chatting in agreeable groups, or chasing one another on flying feet to exact or administer some little forfeit, or whisper some mirthful word or tale.

Father Lovelight, the travelling Minister, had long been expected on another visit to Summerfield, and he came three or four days in advance of the appointment, to attend the wedding and perform the ceremony. The time drew near for the company to be called in, and the ceremony to commence, and Mr. and Mrs. Fabens talked to each other of the joy that sat as a guest in their home.

"We feel well for our daughter," said Fabens, "we believe that life to her must be a blessing, and we are glad to meet our friends when we find it in our power, as in our pleasure, to make them so happy."

"Certainly, this is a happy occasion as I ever attended in my life," said Father Lovelight; "and I wish my good wife could be here. I know her whole heart would enjoy it. I have attended weddings, where the parties were unequally matched, or unprepared for a union so sacred, and they have given me funeral thoughts. May this joy be prophetic of the future bliss of the young couple. May my offices this afternoon be always a subject of pleasant thoughts."

"There's nothing at all unpleasant in a time like this," said Uncle Walter; "and I tell you what, Fabens, we have had a good many merry times in these parts."

"That we have," answered Fabens, "and I do not recollect any party we have had among us, that did not more than pay the trouble and expense, in the proceeds of joy and love it added to our treasury."

"Uncle Moses and I determined before any of you came, that there shouldn't be any hermits in the settlement; but if we could have our say, all should be neighbors, and have our joys and griefs together, without respect to high or low. We have kept our word pretty well; and, if we have not, like the chipmonks, laid up quite so many nuts in our nests, we have had acorns of pleasure in thousands, laid up all the more comfort, and held our ages better."

"Ay, ay," answered Fabens; "these neighborly loves, these social regards and reunions, have been the life and wealth of our place; and I for one have been more blest than Hezekiah, as I am sure that more than fifteen years have been added to my life."

"Our lives are greener and wider, as well as longer for these things," said Uncle Walter. "Men are like corn, growing all to stalk, and looking sallow, and scrawny, when standing alone; but branching out in broad leaves, abundant silks and lusty ears, when they grow and wave together."

"Even the young man who came here last night a stranger, Mr. Sumner, I believe he called his name,"--interrupted Mrs. Fabens, glancing out on the green where the young people lingered in merriment:--"even he seems to enjoy it with the rest. I am glad we invited him to stay and refresh himself, and share our happiness all he can. And I see he is already acquainted with several, and often smiles. But he frequently looks serious and absent, as though his mind was away. He may be reminded of his home, and of some good time like this with hearts near and dear."

"A stranger?" asked Mrs. Nimblet, "a stranger! and how could you persuade him to stay where all were strangers to him?"

"We urged him considerably," said Fabens, "and thinking it would rest and refresh him for finishing his journey, he concluded to tarry and enjoy what he could. See, there he stands talking with Jeanie Waldron, near the bee-house on the left,--the girl dressed in white with a flower in her hair."

"Near the girl with a flower? O I see him, I see him," cried Mrs. Nimblet. "And I," cried another, "and I" another.

"Well, he's a real nice-looking fellow, I vow he is, if that's he with Jeanie," said Mrs. Wilson.

"I tell you what, he looks like a manly major," added Uncle Walter.