a halter to hang himself, since he blunted my iron wedges, and broomed
up my beetle so! And I guess, you wouldn't talk about lendin', if the
chain had been hooked from you!"
"But I don't like this hurry and passion you manifest. Get rid of this
before you think of bringing a neighbor to justice. We become criminal
ourselves just so far as we harbor passion and vengeance while calling
criminals to account."
"Wal, will ye give me a warrant? tell me that," said Bogle in a huff.
"Tell me, Square, if you'll give me a warrant. Cause I _ken_ go to
Sempronus, I guess, and git one of Square Moss, if ye don't."
"I tell you this, neighbor Bogle," replied Squire Fabens. "This is a
very serious affair you have brought before me. I want time to
consider it, and you must go home and think it all over calmly, and
sleep on it; and then if you think something must be done in law, come
to me to-morrow with your witnesses, and we'll see what must be done."
"Jest as I expected," cried Bogle, turning on his heel in a swelling
rage. "Jest as I expected. You're as fit for a Square as my dog
Pomp--jest about! I'll go to Square Moss. Ye needn't trouble yourself
any more. He'll give me a warrant, I guess. And if I don't vote agin
you next year, then my name aint Simon Bogle!"
Away he trudged in a gnashing rage, muttering back his threats and
reproaches, and Fabens turned into the house and enjoyed his early tea.
By the time Bogle was home, however, he had altered his mind, and went
and consulted his witnesses, and ascertained more definitely what was
surmised, and what could be proved. Passing Troffater's on his way,
that incarnate mischief came out, and hailed him, saying, "Here, ho!
Bogle--hello there! How d'ye dew? come back, come back, and see a
feller! Don't be scornful!"
"I aint scornful. I'm in a hurry," grumbled Bogle.
"Wal, come back a minute--a man broke his neck in a hurry. What you
goin' to dew with Sculpin, eh? He hooked your log-chain, I heern,"
said Troffater.
"I'm goin' to see Square Fabens agin to-morrow, and try and fetch the
feller to justice. Sculpin _may_ be sorry for this. I know what I ken
prove," said Bogle.
"I don't b'lieve the Square will try 'im. I never could git a hearin'
of 'im. He's stiff as steelyards, and short as pie-crust since he got
in office. But mebby he'll knuckle a little to you. If he will, put
Sculpin through a course of sprouts, and larn 'im better'n to hook
log-chains. But I'm sorry I know anything about it; _I_ don't want to
go to court," said Troffater, with a mysterious elongation of his
little monkey face, and significant rollings and crossings of his black
and blue eyes.
"But what do you know, Troffater?" asked Bogie, with new light
animating his anxious eye and cheek. "What do you know? There's
somethin' to help me on a bit, I guess."
"O, I'm sorry I spoke," said Troffater, and spit through his teeth. "I
don't know nothin' about it. I don't want to go afore Fabens, and be
obleeged to look 'im in the face. I wish I'd never seen Sculpin, nor
his little thievin' capers."
"Don't bother me, now," said Bogle. "If ye know anything--and I bleeve
ye dew--out with it, and be my witness. I'm afraid it'll give me a
sweat to beat 'im arter all. Out with it, Tilly."
"O, go long! go long!" said Troffater. "I hope you'll lick the rascal.
He's guilty's a dog. But don't ax _me_, now, what _I_ know! I
wouldn't go afore Fabens for a fat turkey, I wouldn't. And then agin,
why should I want to hurt Sculpin, or lay a straw in his way? Mebby
he'll dew better, sense the trap liked to ketch 'im; and I'm sure I
don't want to expose him."
"But tell me what you know, if you stay away from court," said Bogle.
"Tell me, and relieve my mind."
"Go long, I say, and don't ax me agin, for I don't know nothin'--that
I'd like to tell in court."
"I shall suppeeny you!" cried Bogle, departing in a huff.
"Don't ye dew it, Bogle! O, don't ye dew it for all the world, Bogle!
I shall hev a caniption fit if ye dew!" shouted Troffater after him.
The next day Bogle came before the justice with evidence against
Sculpin, which Fabens regretted to believe was but too well founded;
and he issued a warrant, and a week from that day the action was
brought to trial.
The crowd of spectators was large, and the interest felt by all, at
least, curious and wakeful. Squire Fabens took his magisterial seat
with an air of unaffected gravity, glanced around the assembly with a
mild, intelligent eye, and presented before them a noble form and
reverend mien, which inspired the virtuous, with new admiration for
goodness, and filled the vicious with secret remorse and apparent shame
for the evil of their doings.
Cicero Bray, Esq., appeared as counsel for the plaintiff, and C. Fox
Faddle, Esq., was counsel for the prisoner.
Lawyer Bray was a mountainous man, about thirty-five years old; and he
had impudence ingrained with his brawny meat and muscles, and his
tongue, let loose, would run like a mill-stream. His head rose a
little above his ears, and was huge of girth in a horizontal measure.
His hair was a sort of wolf's gray, was clipped all over within an inch
of his head, and stood up like the bristles on a wild boar's back. His
brows were bushy, and jutted, roof-like, over his deeply-sunken eyes;
his nose was bluff as a bull-dog's; his cheek-bones were rough and
high; his eyes were wide-set; his mouth was cut square across almost
from ear to ear; his chin was square and massy; he had an Adam's apple
as large as a gilly-flower ripening on his throat; his hands were large
and bony, and his voice "grated harsh thunder," as Milton said of the
gates of hell.
Lawyer Bray was prompt and saucy in court, and often won his case in
other towns by the thunder of his voice and the force of his action
while on the floor. He could always read an abundance of law to
sustain any point he argued, although the law quoted might not be found
written in the book. He was a capital shot, and kept a pair of the
fleetest hounds, and often hauled in his shingle and hunted week in and
week out, leaving business to follow suit. He made light of religious
and sacred things; he could curse the sky when it thundered, and swear
the lights blue with the boldest voluble tongue; and yet he would
appeal to God to judge him in a plea, and silence, and exclude a
witness for any unpopular religious belief. He rose to an extensive
business in the towns about, at last; and is quoted at this day, for
some wild gale of a speech, or some saucy joke, or strange adventure.
Lawyer Faddle was equally original. He was as tall as Bray, whenever
he straightened up in an animated speech; but his long form commonly
bent over, and described a segment of a rainbow. His head was small,
and his hair long and thin, and light and shiny as flax; his eyes were
almost white, and were set obliquely; his nose was long, aquiline, and
pinched together in the nostrils; his teeth were long and broad, and
those above shut over upon his lower lip and kept it in a constant
chafe. His voice was clear enough, and it never failed in a speech;
but it seemed to reside in his little thirsty throat, and it piped like
a killdeer's in its proudest swell.
Lawyer Faddle excited some mirth for his originalities, and more
contempt for his vices among the farmers of Summerfield. The opinion
of the town at that time may be given in the language of Uncle Walter,
who declared he was "hollow and foul as a sooty stove-pipe."
Lawyer Faddle however succeeded in creating an extensive business in
time, though most of his cases an honorable lawyer would have scorned;
and he reared a large family, and wanted to figure in later times as
one of the aristocracy of Summerfield.
Cicero Bray opened the case by a lengthened speech of very ambitious
eloquence, paying several unfelt compliments to the 'justice' and
'wisdom' of the 'worthy magistrate;' while he glanced through the
course of the trial, with an air and tone of triumph, stating in
thunder what he should undertake to sustain in evidence; and after a
most exhausting peroration, he hauled in his ragged voice, and arrested
its rumbling echoes, and gave way for a brief remark from the counsel
for the prisoner. A son of the plaintiff, Welcome Bogle, was then
introduced to the stand, and testified that his father had owned a
log-chain with the initials of his name, "S. B." marked on one of the
hooks; and the chain in court being shown him, he said with audible and
honest emphasis, "Yes, that's the article." He was cross-examined,
with considerable tact and much severity by C. Fox Faddle, Esq.; but he
stood the trial with remarkable composure and consistency, making no
variation of the facts testified, although he gave them in different
connections and words.
'Becca Ann Teezle was next introduced. She had again and again
declared she was not afraid of a lawyer, and on this occasion her words
proved true. Without the slightest diffidence, but with a boldness
rather which encouraged the other witnesses, and with a toss of the
head that Lawyer Faddle did not like, she said, "she had been out in
the woods pasture picking blackberries, and saw Mr. Sculpin pass that
way from the direction of Mr. Bogle's barn, with a chain on his back."
When cross-examined, she stated that "it was slung over his right
shoulder, and under his left arm, and it was _not_ a trace chain, nor a
halter chain, nor a breast chain, as Mr. C. Fox Faddle endeavored to
have it appear, but a log-chain; yes, _sir_, a log chain, for I saw it
with my own eyes."
"Then you sometimes see with eyes not your own, do you, Miss Teezle?"
said Lawyer Faddle with a comical leer, and a peculiar pipe of that
killdeer voice.
"Yes, I take owl's eyes when I want to look at a lawyer."
"Why do you do that, Miss Teezle? what can owls see that you cannot see
with your _own_ eyes, Miss Teezle?" asked the lawyer, attempting to
turn the laugh back from himself upon her.
"They can see _low fowl_ creatures in the dark," replied the blooming
maiden.
"Enough of this," said the lawyer; "and if Miss Rebecca Ann saw these
things with her own eyes, can she name any circumstances? Did you
notice Mr. Sculpin very particularly? Did he seem confused and
agitated when you met him? or was he calm,--was he possessed?"
"He was _possessed_--at least of the chain."
"Indeed, Miss Teezle, and you are certain of this; and now can you tell
me if it was when you were going _after_ the berries, that you saw him;
or _after_ you had picked them, and had started _after_ home?"
"It was _after_ we had been _after_ the berries, and _after_ we had
started _after_ home."
"Yes; and did you notice the _gait_ in which he moved along; notice it
with your own eyes, Rebecca?"
"He was in the _gate_ of the woods pasture south of Mr. Bogle's when we
saw him last."
"Yes, and you are so wise and discerning, you can tell whether his
course across the field, was straight or crooked?"
"Crooked, sir."
"About how crooked? can you tell this court, Miss Teezle?"
"Crooked as your questions, sir," the confident girl replied; and
though the lawyer appealed to the court several times to "silence the
insolence" of this witness before she was through; the court protected
the witness and rebuked the lawyer for impertinent questions, and the
insolence he charged upon her.
Nancy Nimblet was called, and she testified that "She was with 'Becca
Ann Teezle, on the time specified, and she remembered it too, as if it
was yesterday; and the prisoner came from the direction of the
complainant's barn, with a log-chain round him, over his right
shoulder, and under his left arm." Lawyer Faddle declining her
cross-examination, Adonijah Nixon was called. He testified that Mr.
Bogle and he were second cousins. Cicero Bray objected to this as not
relevant; C. Fox Faddle insisted that it was relevant, and after some
arguing and sparring, the justice ruled it out. Then Mr. Nixon said,
"on Simon's having expressed to me a suspicion that Jared had taken the
chain, I went with him to Jared's house and found the chain which you
see before you."
Seneca Waldron and Crispus Flaxman were called; but their evidence was
challenged and ruled out for non-age.
G. W. Pugg was called, and no one answered. G. W. _Pugg_, repeated the
magistrate, slighting the initials and laying most emphasis on the
name. No one answered; but two persons in the corner, a father and
son, exchanged significant glances and looked very acute and wise. The
Squire raised his voice, and let it fall like an auctioneer's hammer on
the name.
"G. W. _Pugg_--is Mr. _Pugg_ in the room?"
At that imperative question, the gray-skirted, bushy-headed,
grog-bruising hunter of a father in the corner, rose and said, "Call
'im George _Washintun_, then I guess he'll cum!"
"_George_ WASHINGTON PUGG; will you come and testify?" said the Squire
with an emphasis on all the names, but rising and fairly hammering the
last; when a greedy-eyed, brockle-faced, over-grown blade of seventeen
opened up like a flax-brake, and loped forward over chairs and benches,
responding in a houndish flat-and-treble voice, "_I_ reckon I'll
_doo't_! O yis, I reckon I _will_, Square Fabens."
The business of the court then proceeded, and when his evidence was
taken, Tilly Troffater mounted the stand, with an affected hesitancy,
and a genuine restlessness of his little earthen eyes; eager to indulge
his meddlesome humor, anxious for revenge upon, he little cared whom,
and yet awed to a look of shuffling shame, by the commanding mien of
the justice. Clambering to his place, he was questioned by the court.
"Well, friend Troffater, what do you know of the action pending?"
"I telled Bogle I was sorry _I_ knew anything for I didn't want to come
to court," said the witness.
"But, what do you know, Mr. Troffater, that would tend to convict the
prisoner? Tell us _that_," said the court.
"I don't want to tell," said the witness. "Let the critter go clear,
for all me. I wouldn't lay a straw afore im. Mebby that's the last o'
his thievin' capers. If 'tis, _I_ wouldn't tell what I know for all on
airth."
"You do know something, Mr. Troffater," interrupted Cicero Bray, Esq.,
obstreperously; "you know something, upon which we greatly depend to
convict the prisoner, and vindicate the majesty of law, and I insist
upon your evidence, sir."
"_Insist_, then, dew ye!" asked Troffater, gathering up into a comical
attitude; crossing and flashing his black and blue eyes, spitting
through his teeth, and ranging the stand, like a dancing bear.
"_Insist_, dew ye, eh? Wal, I spose then I must free my mind; but,
think I'd ruther not."
"Go on, go on, Mr. Troffater, and bother us no longer in this way,"
said the court.
"Wal, I spose I must, if Mr. _Cis-a-roe_ there raily _insists_. All I
know about Sculpin is, one night I went down there, and we got to
playin' cairds, and he acted green as a mess o' cowslops at fust, and
then he cheated; and--O, I can't, I can't tell the story. I wouldn't
hurt Sculpin for the world. Carry me off, and stick me in jail, if you
want to. I _won't_ tell, so there! I'll go to jail fust, and let the
pismires carry me out o' the keyhole!--But what's this, I say? Mister
_Cis-ai-roe_ Bray, Esquare, insists that I _shall_ tell. Wal, then, as
I was goin' to say, he cheated, and so, so, I cheated a little tew, and
by'n by, he got mad, and knocked me into a next-week sleep, and in that
sleep I seen a dream, and in that dream I seen him steal the log-chain.
And now, if ye'll hand over my witness fee, I'll be out o' this
quicker'n ye ken say Jack Robison."
Needless, indeed, were the task, if possible, to describe the sensation
created by this amazing disclosure; and we may only add in conclusion,
that the prisoner was convicted on other testimony; and after an
earnest admonition from the justice, on the turpitude of crime and its
dreadful miseries, Jared Sculpin was sentenced to give Simon Bogle one
good day's work, and one good fleece of wool for his time lost in
hunting the chain, and in bringing the offender to justice; to carry
the chain on his back through the main travelled road, in open
daylight, and humbly ask Simon Bogle's pardon.
The terms of the sentence were promptly and fully complied with, and it
was ever afterward said of Jared Sculpin, that he was an altered man,
and a virtuous citizen.
XIII.
HAPPINESS.
For agreeable cares, and solid interests and pleasures, the life of the
farmer is one of the first to choose. It is indeed a labor, but a
labor peculiarly blest for its manly pursuits and ennobling mental
exercises. Every farmer should be educated in useful knowledge, and
elevated tastes and sentiments: every farmer should have a religion of
the head, and heart, and life.
The farmer goes out upon his fertile fields and plants, and stands by
his own work to behold the growing increase which the Lord waters and
gives. Surrounded by symbols of the Father, he has but to open his
eyes, and read the signs of His wisdom, providence, power and love. He
stands in a temple of beauty and worship. His subjects of thought are
the sky and mountain, the woods and waters, the genial fallow, the
growing crop, the ripening grain. His companions are legion, for all
things in Nature flock to his fellowship; his orchestra is the air and
forest; his singers, the bobolink, bluebird and robin, who may be
fancied incarnate with spirits from the next region, paradise, come
down to gladden his heart with God's hallelujahs, and cheer his mind in
the rural toils. God may appear most intimately with him all his days;
he may plough God's fallows; he may plant sweet affections, and harvest
ripe graces and joys; and every step on the green hills, and through
the warbling groves, may seem a step toward heaven.
Matthew Fabens was a farmer in genuine heart and soul. Of mere book
learning, he did not speak, although he was quite a reader; and in many
acquirements which the world calls knowledge, he was limited as a
child. But for acquaintance with a few fine histories and stories, and
with the ways and wonders of God; for a knowledge of Nature and
Scripture; for an enlightened reading of the lessons of Providence and
human life, he might have been accounted wiser than many who possessed
the wisdom of the schools, and looked down with vain contempt on his
humble sphere. One of the few lovers of learning he was, who could
say, with the shepherd David, "O, God, Thou hast taught me from my
youth, and hitherto have I declared thy wonders!"
Nature surrounded him with symbols, and by the light of Christianity he
sought their interpretation. And to his admiring mind, the presence,
the beauty, and sublimity of God continually addressed their
revelations; and he discovered in the water a mirror of this form; in
the sun, a symbol of His light; in the thunder, an echo of His voice;
in the wind, a delegate of His spirit and power; in the mountain, a
ladder to His sanctuary; and in the rain and dew, the medium of His
favor, and the means of His love.
Yet, with all his faith, wisdom, and virtue, he was by no means
perfect. Several of the frailties of humanity he had failed to
overcome, and a few of its sinful impulses he found the discipline of
life no more than competent to rule. He was honest and upright to a
nice conviction, and a large and gracious heart lay beating in his
breast; but brief moments would now and then take him by surprise, in
which he sighed for another and more pretending sphere; and he
regretted to feel growing almost imperceptibly upon him, an
unwarrantable love of show and praise. Still, perhaps we should regard
these and other little errors more as misfortunes than sins, and
attribute them measurably to the effect of growing fortune, and the
influence of the world with which he had more and more to do.
Nor did such a faith in the Father, nor such an estate of beauty and
affluence, render his life a perpetual or unqualified joy. Men would
not be men if perfect joy and peace were theirs, and the glowing robes
of angels dressed them. He had never prayed to be taken out of the
world of trials and griefs; but to be kept from iniquity. Religion had
not power to remove all sorrows from his life; but he prayed it might
aid him to overcome them; to rise above them stronger and better, for
the strength and courage required and employed to quell their stout
assaults. That early, and most trying, unaccountable sorrow of his
life, the loss of his beloved Clinton, still chastened his joy, and
returned at times in all the freshness of its agony: and it was
rendered more poignant and lasting by the painful mystery which
concealed his fate, and fed suspense, and excited solicitous thoughts
and cares.
But faith had a power so to lift and sustain the troubled spirit, and
draw it away from communion with its griefs, he enjoyed a preponderance
of elevated bliss. He had loved his parents with an affection which
could endure the loss of their society only with the hope of having
them restored to him hereafter; and many of his pleasures had been
sobered, and life itself became more serious, and at times more
desolate, since they both had been gathered to the grave. But there
was a serene and unsubduable joy of the spirit abiding all the assaults
of sorrow, that shone forth like gold from the fire of the refiner, and
glowed like cheerful sunshine through the dusky wings of a storm.
His home had still remaining much solid happiness, for Julia lived to
participate his fortune, to share his affliction, and strengthen his
hopes; and the genial ardors of her youth, with love of Nature, and
delight in rural fellowships, though calmed and refined by suffering,
were yet her being's light and joy. Her simple home, and its peaceful
scenes, and lovely enjoyments, were symbols to her mind, not
unprophetic of the home of the soul on high.
It was a simple home, for their new frame house was not then commenced,
except in the piles of boards and shingles that were gathering around
the barn; but what if there was no embroidered muslin, or garish damask
at the windows, and they looked through little narrow panes of blue and
blistered glass? Did not their eyes find a recompense in the twinkling
wings and warbling songs that flitted and floated in the air around?
and in glorious landscapes of fields, and waters, and woods, that a
glance could catch and hold through the smallest light! Did not the
curtains of verdure beneath and about, and the infinite canopy of
splendid sky above, make the bravest of all ambitious ornaments hung by
man or woman's hands, look little and coarse as a rag of baize?
One only sorrow remained for Julia to conquer; and how could the
triumph be won? She sorrowed still for the loss of her lovely
first-born. She could not doubt but God permitted it in love. Perhaps
had Clinton been spared, he might have imbibed some sentiment of evil,
which would have poisoned his beautiful nature and prompted him away
into paths of sin. Young Walter Mowry was a prodigal, and likely to
bring down his poor old mother in sorrow to the grave. George Richmond
had no idea of the value of the money left him as a father's
hard-earned legacy; no self-reliance; and was likely to die miserable
and poor. Perhaps, had Clinton lived to enjoy the blessings of such a
home, he had been a poor prodigal, or met misfortunes and griefs.
Then she must acknowledge, that while her heart had been afflicted, it
had been softened and refined; while her faith had been tried, it had
grown strong and buoyant as an eagle's wings. Heaven seemed all about
her now, as it had not seemed before her bereavement; the lights of its
holy joy came gleaming through the veil; and its pure inhabitants were
felt to range around, and sympathize, and bless.
As a central bliss of existence, Fanny had grown to early womanhood,
while her mother seemed still young to be her companion, and Fanny was
blooming as the flowers and trees that had been her communicants, pure
as the fountains that mirrored her loveliness, and blithe as the birds
that welcomed her rural walks. Fanny stood above a medium height, and
though she stooped a little at the wool-wheel, and in a ramble on the
hills, she presented a comely figure and interesting mien.