Part 6

Providence smiled upon the labors of the band, in a productive harvest, the first year of their location. The land proved even better than they expected. Uninterrupted health, the result of their simple and regular habits, enabled them to enjoy life as they had never done before. And what was it gave such a spring to their labors? They each had a personal interest in the crops. If profits accrued, they were to gain by them; if losses occurred, they were to lose by them. But better than this, they all lived in an elevated atmosphere. Subjects of deep interest employed their hours of rest and refreshment. They were living in the school of love and brotherly kindness. No rivalry excited their passions; no competition embittered their intercourse; every act of each one was felt to be the act of all; and they were as much interested in the success of each other as of themselves. It is astonishing how one earnest mind may spread its influence over masses of men, and give tone and harmony to the most discordant elements. Such was the influence of Rufus; and hardly less that of Philip. The young farmers caught the spirit of their discussions, and as they became informed in their minds, they began to take part in their animated debates. This made their hours of rest seasons of real improvement, and they became as much concerned for their intellectual harvest as for the crops on the soil. Their evenings were not spent listlessly in smoking and lolling about on benches, drinking cider and picking their teeth with straws, as many farmers spend them, but in the library, where one read aloud for the benefit of all, or in the general discussion of some topic of sufficient importance to cause them to forget their bodily fatigues. And thus are we kindly constituted by nature; study is rest from bodily labor, and bodily labor is rest from study. It has been proved by experience that one man may more easily do the intellectual and physical labor of two men, than the two can do it separately. The student without exercise becomes the invalid or the madman, and the laborer, without thought and intellectual culture, becomes a brute.

With the majority of our farmers money-getting is the prevailing motive. Are they temperate, it is out of regard to their health and pocket. If they are honest, it is often more a matter of business and credit than of virtue. Can it be denied that the farmer's standard is too low? Does he live for his soul, his mind; to make life a scene of noble progression in knowledge and virtue? Is he not generally more anxious to enlarge his farm than to expand his intellect? Does he not sneer at learning, and glory in his coarseness? Would that he might try the true life; keep up the balance of his powers; make his body the servant of his soul; and look toward knowledge and virtue as the destiny of his being!

Rufus Gilbert had arrived at that point of attainment. He really and sincerely valued money only as a means, an unusual refinement indeed; and this principle he had instilled into the hearts of all his disciples, so that they were elevated beings, and had high views of the object of life. No man who has been by circumstances 'born again' to this new being, ever can go back to the low aims and filthy pursuits of party ambition, or heap up money for money's sake. 'To him that hath shall be given;' such men are always improving, always advancing; they cannot help it. 'From him that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he hath;' such men are always retrograding, sinking, falling; they too cannot help it.

As the reader must by this time begin to feel some interest in the financial state of the Meadow-Farm, let us look in upon them at the end of the third year of their experiment. The writer will give the statement as it was given to him, and as nearly as may be in the same words.

'Our original purchase cost five thousand dollars, and consisted of five hundred acres of land, mostly in a wild state. The expense of the house, furniture, and stock, was about two thousand dollars more, for we began with the smallest amount practicable. We numbered at the outset fourteen souls, among whom were seven able-bodied young men, ready to endure hardships and work their way wherever I should lead them. Four of the remaining were women and three were children. The first year was spent in clearing enough land to secure us against want in the way of corn, and potatoes, and wheat; and contrary to my own fears, at the end of it we were able to pay the interest on our borrowed capital, beside having greatly improved our farm. The second year was still more fortunate. We had admitted five new hands, four of whom were able-bodied men and good farmers; so that we were strong in force. The other was a good tailoress whose services we began to need. Mechanics of all sorts flocked in upon us, many of whom we could not receive. At the close of the third year, now, our affairs stand thus:

'Our farm with the buildings we have erected, is estimated at, and taxed for, eight thousand dollars. We have paid the two thousand dollars borrowed capital, and do not owe a farthing. We have three hundred sheep, and fifty head of cattle and horses. We have a good library; are all well clothed and fed. Some are richer than others, in proportion to the time they have been with us. We now number twenty-five persons, including my own two children, one an infant. John Stewart considers he has earned six hundred dollars toward the thousand which is the condition of his possessing before he can claim the hand of Clara Welton. Not that I think it necessary a young man should possess a fortune before he marries. I think with Cobbett upon this point, that the sooner a young man marries the better for him, if he has good and industrious habits; but we thought it necessary to test the case with John, as he had the reputation of being an odd fellow, and we thought while he was earning the specified amount, we could do it to our satisfaction.

'But, Sir, the best wealth we have, in my opinion, is the amount of good habits of mind and body among us. Our young farmers are chemists and botanists. We have poets, musicians, and painters among us. We cultivate the sciences as well as the land. Our wealth is in our heads and hearts, as well as something in our pockets. As to myself, I have lost nothing, but on the contrary have received a better interest on my share of the investment than I could have received in any fair business. Thus you see what united labor can accomplish; in three years we have converted three thousand dollars into eight thousand. Our profits in happiness and improvement cannot be estimated in money.'

Now although much was said and written against this new-fangled scheme of Meadow-Farm, when the public saw how successful and happy were the members, what peace and harmony reigned among them, and more than all, how much money they were making, the tide began to turn the other way. Parents gave the best evidence of what they thought of it, by striving to get their children received into Philip Welton's school. The few boys placed at first under his charge had made such improvement, not only in their studies but in their dispositions, living in an atmosphere of love and kindness, that the school began to be very popular, and many pupils were refused for want of room. Let us look in of a summer morning, at the library, and see the charms the place had for the youth. It was a large and spacious room, kept studiously clean. Books were arranged around upon the walls; historical pictures were seen here and there. The bust of WASHINGTON, which, though never so badly executed, always tells us of firmness and virtue, patriotism and heroism, stood conspicuously fronting the entrance; that of FRANKLIN, the true man and republican, the wise man and the practical man, stood near it. Flowers were placed here and there upon the tables. There was no master's desk, no pedagogical throne, the sceptre a ferula. All formality was banished from the place, and they found their seats as suited their taste and convenience. They came and went as in the order of a well-conducted reading-room, without restraint, and looked like those who came to seek knowledge, rather than like the pupils of most schools, whose anxious faces seem to say, 'When will it be my turn to be crammed?' 'How long will it be before it will be time to leave this prison?'

Or listen to the words of the teacher as he meets his pupils in the morning, and cordially takes each one by the hand, and thus removes all feeling of distance and reserve between himself and his scholars. 'My dear children, our law is love; see, it is written yonder,' pointing to an inscription on the wall, 'God is love;' 'let us to-day strive to obey this law in our thoughts and actions. It is our first duty to be good, and then, if we can, to be learned and honorable, and graceful and happy. You have collected here to learn history, and language, and useful sciences; but all these will avail you nothing, unless you first learn to govern your passions, and obey your conscience, and try to be like Christ, in preferring to bear and suffer every thing rather than commit sin. This is the enemy of happiness; the only evil in the world; for a good man cannot be unhappy. Let us, before we do any thing else, ask our Father to assist us in forming this character.'

The pupils all kneel devoutly; they all pray mentally. It is no hurried form of prayer, run through without preparation, and which robs the young of respect for devotional exercises. They are all impressed by the service, and the great idea that they will be assisted in whatever they purely undertake, gives encouragement and hope to their hearts. The words, the manner, the confidence of their teacher, lift the pupils into an elevated frame of mind, and they are ashamed, or rather forget, to do wrong, so wholly are they occupied with that which is good.

In our ambition for a high intellectual training for our youth, is there not danger that we may forget that moral and spiritual discipline, without which learning and education are a curse? Better is it that the child remain untaught in human learning, and be left to the influences and teachings of nature, than to be so engaged in the works and inventions and plans of man, that he rarely thinks of or regards the great purpose for which he was born, and received a living soul.

We are so bigoted and sectarian, that religious instruction is excluded from our common schools, for fear some sect should get the advantage of the others. We know it is allowed to teach the great principles of morality and religion, the existence of a God, and a future state of rewards and punishments; but these a child gets any where in a Christian land; he drinks them in with his mother's milk. But what folly it is to suppose that the teacher can help giving the bias of his own mind to the children, in teaching even the general principles of religion! He is aware himself that he cannot, and so he abstains from the subject altogether, or alludes to it in such a manner that it would be better let alone. At the present time no wonder there is no reverence in the young. The name and laws of God are not taught as the first and most important lessons in our common schools.

When Walter Scott was asked how he educated his sons, he said, 'he taught them to ride and to speak the truth;' showing the high value he placed upon moral and physical training, and not even noticing their intellectual pursuits. For he undoubtedly meant to convey the idea that so good principles are established in the hearts of the young, and their physical health properly cared for, there is but little fear that they will be deficient in those elevated studies whose tendency is so kindred with virtue, and whose essence is the great immutable truths of creation. Seek first the kingdom of heaven, and every thing shall be added unto you; even knowledge and power.

* * * * *

CHAPTER NINTH.

THE STORE.

''This is the latest fashion, ma'am,' said the young clerk, with obsequious politeness, to a raw country girl, as he spread out before her some damaged calicoes.'

'STORIES FOR THE PEOPLE.'

THERE was no subject which Rufus had more at heart, than to connect with the farm a place of trade for his company and such of the neighboring farmers as chose to benefit by it. Brought up in a country store himself, he felt a thorough disgust for the extortions, tricks, and lures of the class calling themselves country merchants. He knew well that the largest profits are almost invariably put upon the most useless articles; that every inducement is held out to the vain and weak to buy; the temptation of credit, the fanciful adjustment of flimsy fabrics to catch the eye and bewilder the fancy of ignorant servant maids; that what an article will fetch is the price of it, and not what it is really worth. If any one doubts these statements, let him inquire, and he will find that flour pays hardly any profit at all; that sugars, teas, and most of the heavy articles, are sold in the country store at barely enough to pay the cost of transportation, clerk-hire, and store-rent. How then does the merchant amass his gains? By the sale of wines and liquors, which he manufactures himself from alcohol; by selling at exorbitant profits things which cost him scarcely any thing; by obtaining mortgages on the farms for his store accounts, and ultimately getting the land into his possession for half its value.

To obviate these evils, and to secure a fair price for the products of the farm, and to be able to buy at a reasonable profit; to secure the young and giddy against temptation; he drew up a plan which he submitted to a number of the farmers in his neighborhood, who began to show themselves favorably disposed toward him. The main features of the plan were these: A capital of ten thousand dollars was divided into shares of one hundred dollars, and these shares were to be taken up by individuals; no person being allowed to hold more than four shares. Each share was to have one vote in the affairs of the concern.

When all the shares should be taken up, the company were to hire a person who, under a board of directors, was to manage the store. He was to buy and sell goods at such prices as the board should allow; exchange goods for produce, and carry on the general business of a country store as usual, only that the interest so many had in the store should secure them against exorbitant prices and unjust profits. Every holder of a share became so far the merchant; and if he paid a profit upon the goods which he bought, a part of the profit belonged to him. So in selling produce at the store; if he demanded an unjust price, he was robbing himself as well as others; and thus honest prices and profits were made his interest as well as duty.

The plan met with instant approval, and was put into immediate operation. Meadow-Farm began to assume the appearance of a village. Saving a tavern-stand, it had all the appurtenances of one. Work-shops were erected, mills set a-going, and neat cottages peeped from among luxuriant shrubbery in this amphitheatre of hills. The sounds of industry were heard where a few years before all was the unbroken silence of nature; and songs of joy and thanksgiving gushed from many hearts whose youth had been laden with sighs and tears.

Successful beyond his hopes, Rufus looked over the whole, and his conscience told him, 'This is my work; under the blessing of heaven my design is answered; truly may we cast our bread upon the waters, and find it after many days.' He felt at the moment that he had paid back to society all that his father had taken from it, and his heart was at peace.

But what were his own domestic relations, it may be asked, in this kind of common life? Did not his heart pine for a home of his own? Did he not long for the seclusion, the freedom of a hearth he could call exclusively his own? Did not this constant watchfulness over so many, distract his attention from his wife and children? By no means. The domestic arrangements of the house were such that he could retire and be as solitary as a hermit. No member of the band lost his individuality any more than men do by living in cities and villages. The association and its laws did not merge the domestic relations or destroy the family bond. On the contrary, the father had more time to give to his wife and the education of his children than is usual, because both himself and wife were freed from much of that domestic drudgery which so much occupies the time of the middle ranks of men. Three women, by a judicious distribution of labor, can cook and keep house for thirty persons with more ease and much greater economy than one woman can do all the work for five persons, the average number of households. And if the outlay in conveniences and labor-saving machinery which a large establishment authorizes, be taken into account, this truth becomes still more apparent.

Ruth heartily from the first coöperated with her husband, and took her full share of all the hard work; and by her example and readiness at the outset, procured for herself all the leisure she desired in the end. Here the women were not the mere lookers-on at the operations of their husbands. They had an interest in the profits of the concern, and voted upon all questions which involved the general conduct of affairs. Being responsible for their opinions, in one sense, they took care to inform themselves upon subjects which unhappily are too often considered out of the reach and beyond the capacity of the female mind. Woman at Meadow-Farm was not the mere cook of her husband's food, his house-keeper, his plaything, or his drudge; the nurse and convenience of the lord, one or the other of which offices most women fill in society. Her time was considered equally valuable with that of the males; and her heart and ambition were not crushed by receiving for her best exertions the paltry pittance, about one third the wages of males, which the highest civilization awards to her.

At the end of five years John Stewart was worth _the_ thousand dollars, and the union with Clara Welton was consummated, amid much rejoicing and real happiness of all parties concerned.

Philip Welton still continues to this day to be the school-master, preacher, playmate and friend of all persons who need such offices at the farm. The writer has made several visits to his chance friends since the time when he first became acquainted with them; and now, in conclusion, and by way of apology, would say to the reader that he has been led to undertake this simple and unadorned narration of the _origin of one of the finest villages in the country_, because he thought it remarkable that a scheme of association should have been carried out and accomplished, without making any noise in the world, just prior to the time of a great movement among some leading and philosophic minds upon the same subject.

The village now looks much like other villages; but if you examine into the character of the people there, you will find great union of heart and hand in all philanthropic effort. It is a remarkable place. Rufus Gilbert still lives, and his gentle wife is the happy mother of a numerous offspring. May they long live to bless and adorn the world; but not for ever; for we feel sure that for such hearts and characters there is prepared, in that other world, a blissful reward for their exertions in this, and free from its trials and perplexities; where there is no more sorrow and sighing, and all tears are wiped away for ever.

THE MAIDEN'S BURIAL.

BY MISS H. J. WOODMAN.

I.

VEIL tenderly the pale and placid brow, Round which the floating hair Gleams like a sunbeam, moving lightly now In the soft summer air!

II.

Around her pillow ye have strown fresh flowers, And her small pulseless hand Claspeth white rose-buds, as in childhood's hours, With her own bright-eyed band!

III.

Upon her pallid lip a smile is set, The spirit's parting boon! Why mourn that flow'rs with heaven's own dew-drops wet Perish before their noon?

IV.

The soft, dark lashes rest upon her cheek, Like shadows on the snow; Hiding the full blue orbs whose light we seek-- But shall we find?--ah, no!

V.

There is less beauty in the glowing skies, Less music in the vale; The streams flow onward in a sadder guise, The springs of pleasure fail.

VI.

Give back the precious dust, so still and fair, Unto the waiting earth! Hallow her couch with song and tearful prayer-- Tributes to love and worth.

VII.

A flood of radiance from the spirit-land Dispels the gathered gloom; Near to her God the spotless soul shall stand, Forgetful of the tomb!

A NIGHT ON LAKE ERIE.

BY PETER VON GEIST.

NIGHT upon the waters! The blue waves of Old Erie are black, and loud, and angry; and the good ship sits uneasily, as though they were trying by incessant, convulsive throbs to shake the encumbrance from their bosom. The Heavens above are as though a pall were settling down upon us; and the horizon on all sides is marked by a zone of lurid light, like the distant fires of a conflagration. The light-house, far behind us, glimmers like the rising evening star, and its ray flashes along the dim and swelling surface, revealing the wide and heaving waste that intervenes. The strained masts quiver, and the vessel bends like an overmatched, but unyielding gladiator, before the blast. It is a night to make the timid tremble, and the bold to shout out a wild 'Halloo!' to the winds as they sweep past.

Onward the barque drives; and I sit myself down on the bowsprit, over the water, and look down on the boiling surges beneath. Eternally, in quick succession, the white-capped waves come foaming in, and hurl themselves against the reeling bow. High are they flung back, in broken fragments, and madly, like grape-shot, is the spray dashed far out on either side. Now the ship rears up her head, as if affrighted and seeking to escape from the encounter, and in a moment she plunges desperately down into the foaming mass, which leaps up to receive her.

'On high the winds lift up their voices,' and howl, and shriek, and moan, and rage; and on high I lift up _my_ voice too, but it sounds like the soft notes of a lute amid the smoke and thunder of artillery. Oh! ye spirits that ride on the wings of the wind! and ye spirits of the deep, that roll, and twist, and writhe, like serpents, on the water! who taught you to combat so furiously? The blue sky, that is wont to smile down on your repose, or on your peaceful sports, is veiled by the smoke of your battle; and under a dark canopy, as is most befitting strife, whether of spirits or of men, you wage fierce war. The petty distinctions of society; the vanity, the acquirements, the skill of man, are in your presence awed and abashed. But have their ambition and the evil passions which fill and degrade his heart taken possession of you also? I will not believe it; for Nature never conceived nor uttered an unholy thought. Or perhaps your rage is kindled against this fabric of human construction, which invades your ancient domain? Ah! well; howl and fight on; the cunning handiwork of him who calls himself your master defies your rebellious ravings!