Part 4

It was the mercy of God that had struck her down to the earth, insensible to the shrieking winds, and the fears that would otherwise have killed her. Three hours of that wild storm had passed over her head, and she heard nothing more than if she had been asleep in a breathless night of the summer dew. Not even a dream had touched her brain, and when she opened her eyes which, as she thought had been but a moment shut, she had scarcely time to recal to her recollection the image of her husband rushing out into the storm, and of a daughter therein lost, till she beheld that very husband kneeling tenderly by her bed-side, and that very daughter smoothing the pillow on which her aching temples reclined. But she knew from the white steadfast countenances before her that there had been tribulation and deliverance, and she looked on the beloved beings ministering by her bed, as more fearfully dear to her from the unimagined danger from which she felt assured they had been rescued by the arm of the Almighty.

There is little need to speak of returning recollection, and returning strength. They had all now power to weep, and power to pray. The Bible had been lying in its place ready for worship--and the father read aloud that chapter in which is narrated our Saviour's act of miraculous power, by which he saved Peter from the sea. Soon as the solemn thoughts awakened by that act of mercy so similar to that which had rescued themselves from death had subsided, and they had all risen up from prayer, they gathered themselves in gratitude round the little table which had stood so many hours spread--and exhausted nature was strengthened and restored by a frugal and simple meal partaken of in silent thankfulness.

The whole story of the night was then calmly recited--and when the mother heard how the stripling had followed her sweet Hannah into the storm, and borne her in his arms through a hundred drifted heaps--and then looked upon her in her pride, so young, so innocent, and so beautiful, she knew, that were the child indeed to become an orphan, there was one, who, if there was either trust in nature, or truth in religion, would guard and cherish her all the days of her life.

It was not nine o'clock when the storm came down from Glen Scrae upon the Black-moss, and now in a pause of silence the clock struck twelve. Within these three hours William and Hannah had led a life of trouble and of joy, that had enlarged and kindled their hearts within them--and they felt that henceforth they were to live wholly for each other's sakes. His love was the proud and exulting love of a deliverer, who, under Providence, had saved from the frost and the snow the innocence and the beauty of which his young passionate heart had been so desperately enamoured--and he now thought of his own Hannah Lee ever more moving about in his father's house, not as a servant, but as a daughter--and when some few happy years had gone by, his own most beautiful and most loving wife. The innocent maiden still called him her young master--but was not ashamed of the holy affection which she now knew that she had long felt for the fearless youth on whose bosom she had thought herself dying in that cold and miserable moor. Her heart leapt within her when she heard her parents bless him by his name--and when he took her hand into his before them, and vowed before that Power who had that night saved them from the snow, that Hannah Lee should ere long be his wedded wife--she wept and sobbed as if her heart would break in a fit of strange and insupportable happiness.

The young shepherd rose to bid them farewell--"my father will think I am lost," said he, with a grave smile, "and my Hannah's mother knows what it is to fear for a child." So nothing was said to detain him, and the family went with him to the door. The skies smiled serenely as if a storm had never swept before the stars--the moon was sinking from her meridian, but in cloudless splendour--and the hollow of the hills was hushed as that of heaven. Danger there was none over the placid night-scene--the happy youth soon crost the Black-moss, now perfectly still--and, perhaps, just as he was passing, with a shudder of gratitude, the very spot where his sweet Hannah Lee had so nearly perished, she was lying down to sleep in her innocence, or dreaming of one now dearer to her than all on earth but her parents.

EREMUS.

MY NEIGHBOUR EPHRAIM.

I went this afternoon to pay a visit to my neighbour Ephraim; indeed I find his cheerful fire-side so much more pleasant than my own little solitary dwelling, that I am afraid I go there rather too often; however, as yet I have not remarked any coldness or distance in their reception of me. Ephraim had been a little indisposed, and I found him reclining on the sofa; his wife was preparing something comfortable for him by the fire, and his daughter, having arranged his pillow to his mind, sat with her work at his feet, while Ezekiel read to him--his other son was engaged in superintending the business of the farm; but when the hour of tea approached, he joined the circle in the parlour with a smiling countenance, cheeks glowing with health, and an appetite which appeared in no wise diminished by the exercise of the day. When I returned to my own lonely habitation, I could not avoid contrasting a little my situation with that of my old friend. Happy Ephraim! said I, thou hast an excellent wife and dutiful daughter, to smooth the pillow of thy aching head, to hover with feathery footsteps around thy peaceful couch, and watch over thy slumbers with the assiduity of anxious love--thou hast two manly intelligent sons, to attend to thy business, to protect thy interests, and support thy tottering steps; whose only strife is that of kindness, whose only rivalship, which shall be most attentive to thee, each of whom would gladly say with the poet,

Me, may the gentle office long engage To rock the cradle of reposing age.--

And when at last, in a good old age, thou shalt be gathered to thy fathers, a train of mourning relatives shall deposit with decent care thy cherished remains in the narrow house appointed for all living; while I stand alone in the world, an insulated, insignificant being, for whom no one feels an interest, and whose pains and pleasures are of consequence to no one; whose approach is greeted with no smile, and whose departure excites no regret, and when the closing scene approaches, no kindred hand shall support my throbbing temples, or prepare the potion for my feverish lip, but mercenary eyes alone mark with ill disguised impatience the uncertain flutter of the lingering pulse, mercenary attendants only receive, with frigid indifference, the last farewell of the departing spirit--

"By strangers' hands my dying eyes be clos'd, "By strangers' hands my lifeless limbs compos'd."

Lost in a train of such like melancholy musings, and pondering on the past, the present and the future, I had suffered my fire to become nearly extinguished, and the feeble glimmer of my untrimmed taper faintly illumined my little study, when I was roused from my revery by the entrance of Ezekiel and his sister: The good girl said she had remarked that I was more silent than usual, and as the evening was fine, they had come over to see if I was unwell: this little act of kindness, though in itself no way remarkable, yet coming at such a moment, affected me not a little.--But I must shake off this gloom and depression of spirit, I am not now to learn that the world had much rather laugh _with_ or _at_ a man than mourn with him; I did not sit down to lament the desolation of my own situation, which cannot now be remedied; but to exhort the young to get married, to encourage them by the example of Ephraim, and to warn them of my own: "Do nothing in a hurry," is an excellent maxim in the main, but in some cases it is possible to use too much deliberation; in the important business of taking a wife, many a man has debated and deliberated, until the season for acting has passed away. An old fellow like myself has little to do in the world, but to talk for the benefit of his neighbours; and I would willingly devote my experience to the service of the rising generation. I should feel no objection to narrate the disastrous consequences of my own superabundant caution in the affair of matrimony, and to enumerate the many eligible matches which have slipped through my fingers; the opportunities to form advantageous connexions which have been unimproved in consequence of my hesitation and indecision, for I have now no plans to be defeated or prospects blasted by a knowledge of my failings, and no vanity to be mortified by the exposure of my disappointments, but I am apprehensive the detail might prove rather tedious and uninteresting; I may, however, mention a few circumstances attending my last attempts to obtain a help mate, if attempt it may be called. I had become acquainted in the family of a respectable farmer, who had a daughter of a suitable age, and although I cannot say that

"Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, "In every motion, dignity and love,"

yet her correct and orderly deportment seemed to promise that she would make an excellent wife; I was therefore pretty frequent in my visits, and though on these occasions my discourse was principally, if not entirely, addressed to the parents, yet I kept a sharp eye upon the daughter, in order to endeavour to form a tolerable estimate of her disposition and character; and as I had in those days a handsome little estate at my own disposal, and was upon the whole considered rather a promising young man, my company seemed always very acceptable, to the father and mother at least.

In this manner, eight or ten months, perhaps, passed pleasantly away, and I was beginning to think that I might before long venture to address her with a little freedom and familiarity, preparatory to a serious negotiation when all my plans were defeated, and my visionary castle crumbled into dust, by the precipitation of others.

One evening I was sitting with them as usual, when after a little time the father and mother, on some occasion, absented themselves from the room, and left the daughter and myself together. As I had not the most distant suspicion that there was any design in their movements, and expected their return every moment, I took up the almanack, (being fond of reading) and had just got cleverly through it, when they returned. I thought I remarked something particularly scrutinizing in the looks of the mother, but I believe she soon discovered that I had done nothing but read the almanack. On my next visit, I felt no small trepidation, having a strong suspicion of what might occur; and, in fact, we were again soon left alone together--and now the consciousness of what was expected, kept me as silent as ignorance had done before. In my distress I looked about for the almanack, but they had taken it away. In vain I endeavoured to find something to say, my faculties seemed spell bound; and I sat, I know not how long, in a pitiable state of confusion and embarrassment, until my companion made some remark respecting the weather--this was a great relief. I immediately proceeded to treat of the weather in all its bearings, past, present and to come, and strove to prolong the discussion until some one might come in, but in vain--the subject at length became exhausted, and silence again took place; which lasted so long, and became so glaringly ridiculous, that in utter despair, I was upon the point of having recourse to the weather again, when we were relieved by the entrance of company.

Determined never again to cut so silly a figure, I resolved to provide against my next visit a fund of agreeable conversation. I accordingly brushed up my acquaintance with the philosophy of Aristotle, and of the peripatetics generally; collected some anecdotes of the wise men of Greece, and, not to lack matters of more recent date, stored my memory with a few amusing particulars respecting Mary Queen of Scots, and of the court of Elizabeth: thus prepared, I ventured once more to make my appearance, but I had no opportunity to say a word about Aristotle or the Queen of Scots; it was rather late when I entered the room, and I found my intended in earnest conversation with a young man who had drawn his chair very near to her: their discourse seemed to be of an interesting nature, but they spoke in so low a tone, that I was unable to profit by their remarks; I observed at last, that they frequently smiled when looking towards me, and as I love a cheerful countenance, and smiling is certainly contagious, I smiled a good deal too. This seemed wonderfully to promote their risibility, and my laughter increasing in the same proportion, we had a deal of merriment, although little or nothing was said: how long this might have continued I know not, had not my intended father-in-law called me aside, and hinted that as the night was dark, and there was some appearance of rain, I had perhaps better return. I thanked him for his truly paternal care, and accordingly took my departure in high good humour, and the next week was informed that the young people were married.

[_Rural Visiter._

VIEW OF A GOSSIP.

_Mr. Editor_--I send you the following account of a short inspection of a fellow creature, which, if it will convey any information to your readers, you are at liberty to publish.

I had the curiosity, as a neighbouring gossip was one day at my house, and while she happened to be napping on the sofa, to try if I could obtain a view of her ear, the structure of which I had often speculated about. With the aid of a good eye-glass I succeeded. It was a curious piece of mechanism: the outside folding was of the usual size, but by long habit of eager listening, had acquired a kind of gaping shape, which seemed to bid an indiscriminate welcome to every sound. Next to this was a kind of whispering gallery, so extremely susceptible of noise, that one of my most careful breathings was immediately reverberated to the tympanum, and though not loud enough to awake the sleeper, it was evident that it made her dream of scandal. I was curious to know the construction of the tympanum, which vibrated so easily to an empty breath. I could see it plainly: for the long habit of extreme anxiety to receive every breath that stirred, had pushed it forward to the very orifice of the ear, where it seemed waiting in an agony of impatience for something new, and complaining grievously that all the tit-bits of intelligence had to pass such a distance before they could come to its hearing. Its make was curious: it was an extremely fine sieve of the most elastic materials. It was evidently constructed so that every thing of the least weight should rebound as soon as it touched, and only those articles which were as light as air, should enter. It was too fine to admit any thing larger than a bit of scandal. The whole external ear was designed to catch and communicate every thing audible, for it is a maxim with gossips as well as others, that nothing is too poor for a nice hand to sift some good from it. This sifting was the office of the tympanum: it was in a perpetual quiver. Its nice threads were constantly shaking to pieces what was too light to rebound, and too large to enter whole, and then dropping them to the receiver below. There were a great many curious articles sticking in this sieve, which had got half through but could go no further. There were little pieces of serious and affecting family secrets, tales of distress, cullings from the little failings of good men, morsels of sermons, drippings of church business, ends, middles and halves of people's sayings, anecdotes of funerals, with numerous suspicions, half heard hear-says, and suspicions of near-says.--All these had evidently been operated upon. A kind of scandalic acid had been at work on those parts which had got within. They were partly decomposed; their seriousness had assumed a ridiculous aspect, their solidity had become gaseous: what had been affecting, seemed now to be laughable; what had appeared commendable, seemed now composed of so many disgusting materials as to be odious. Here I learned the reason which I never knew before, why it is that gossips hear so many lectures upon the degrading, injurious, disreputable character of their pursuits, and so entirely without effect. These lectures never passed their ears: their matter was too heavy not to rebound, or the truths too great to gain admission; or, if any detached parts chanced to enter, they were so broken by sifting, and so decomposed and changed by the very pungent acid within, as to retain nothing of their original seriousness, and become fit companions for the nice selections which passed before them.

The sight of the ear excited my curiosity to look for the mind within: whatever may be the difficulty of determining the seat of the mind in persons of ordinary construction, the matter is clear, that the gossip's mind must be as near to the vehicle of sound as possible. This is confirmed by observation; I found it just inside the ear, where there was but a small space, to be sure, for its operation; but its dimensions were of no enlarged description. It had evidently been made for some useful employment: its nerves were strong, its perceptions quick, its action skilful; but it was miserably contracted. Part of it, and plainly the best part, was ruined by long inaction. It contained a few good ideas, grown rusty by long disuse, which evidently might have been made to appear respectable, could they have been delivered from the stuff which covered them. This mind was a complete factory in miniature: there was its picking machine, its spinning machine, a contrivance for weaving, for shearing, for trimming; with dyes of every variety of shade. All these machines were so artfully combined, that you could see nothing of the raw material after it once went to be picked, till it came out in an article nicely dressed and dyed for distribution. There was a very smooth communication from the mind to the mouth, through which the different articles, as soon as finished, were conveyed, to be _kindly_, and _complacently_, and _charitably_, rattled out to every one that should come. A peculiar excellence of this mechanism was, that there seemed to be no refuse: every thing was worked, every thing was turned to some account: the motion here was perpetual, and acid was strangely used instead of oil to facilitate it. All around, there were receipts for the best method of making a good story out of almost nothing; of how to extract something laughable from the most serious subjects; of how to dye white into a good black, and how to find materials for manufacturing, where no one would think of looking. The day-book was a curiosity. "April 1st, eked out of John B's apprentice two skeins of scandal about his master." "Monday, learned a good deal from Mrs. C's cook about her mistress' private ways, and gained a variety of nice bits, which, with a chain of good _home-spun_, will make up a very good article." "Tuesday, heard a whisper about something disagreeable in Mr. D's family, can't rest till I know more about it; must send Sally into their kitchen to see what can be picked up there. A few family quarrels would help finely just now." "Wednesday, caught the thread to the tale which I have been trying these three months to unwind, it seems to lead to some noble pickings." "To-day, must go out and hear the news, and ask about this marriage rumour."

As I was finishing my observations, a little neglected thing struck my attention, which seemed to demand some notice. It was the gossip's conscience. It was a little, contracted, fantastical body, that seemed extremely averse to noise and all kinds of disturbance; to avoid which, it had squeezed itself into a narrow corner, where, with the help of several ingenious contrivances, it kept clear of all interference: it seemed to sleep almost all the time, in which it was assisted by the influence of numerous little nostrums which were kept for the purpose. When conscience did sometimes awake, (as I conjectured) it was mostly on a Sunday, while there was but little doing, _comparatively_, when it looked about a little, made some bustle, and went to sleep again perfectly satisfied. From appearance, I judged that conscience and the gossip had very little intercourse.

One thing was remarkable about this mental factory, which was, the flourishing state of its business; a circumstance which seems the more strange, because such establishments are so very numerous, and their productions so eminently worthless.

Now, sir, having finished my description, permit me to ask, if there is any thing to excuse the employment of gossips, great or small? Can the want of other occupation, or the amusement which this affords them, make amends for such degradation of themselves; such abominable trifling with their neighbour's character; such vexatious meddling with other's business; such remorseless transformation of good into evil; of secrets into public news; of the serious into the ridiculous; of peace into disputing; as they are constantly guilty of? Ought not such persons to be universally shunned as public evils, and if a public law will do no good, should it not be the secret resolution of every gossip-hater, to avoid as a pestilence, the scandalous atmosphere of a scandalous tale-bearer?

There is a celebrated description of law which affords a good outline for the description of what of all things is most lawless. Of scandal, there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is in the temple of fame; her voice the confusion of the world; all things in earth and hell own her influence; the very least as feeling her hate, and the greatest as not exempt from her power; both men and women, and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all with uniform consent, detesting her as the pest of their peace and joy. ANTI-TATTLER.

_To prevent Skippers in Bacon._--Take of red pepper finely powdered one spoonful for every joint of meat, and rub it on the meat with the salt, when it is first cut up. It has been often tried and was never known to fail in producing the above effect.

A DISCOURSE, READ BEFORE THE

Essex Agricultural Society,

In Massachusetts, February 21, 1820,

_Suggesting some Improvements in the Agriculture of the County._

BY TIMOTHY PICKERING, President of the Society.

At a Meeting of the Essex Agricultural Society, at Topsfield, February 21, 1820,

Voted, That the thanks of the Society be presented to the Hon. TIMOTHY PICKERING for his interesting Address, and that he be requested to furnish a copy thereof for publication.--Attest,

FREDERICK HOWES, _Secretary_.

DISCOURSE.

_Gentlemen_--The secretary has put into my hands a vote of the Society, requesting me to "make to it such communications as may in my opinion most conduce to the interest of Agriculture."

This was an unlooked for request. I have myself much to learn from observing farmers, of longer experience, and whose attentions have been exclusively devoted to husbandry. Mine, since I became a farmer, have been diverted by other pursuits; so that at intervals only my thoughts have been turned to this subject.