The furniture arrived, and the country residence was very soon in order.
Howard took the direction of the farming part. But it was no object to
Frances to have much ploughing or planting. She loved the "green
pastures and still waters," and often repeated those beautiful lines of
the hymn--
"To dewy vales and flowery meads,
My weary, fainting steps he leads,
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow."
Clyde Farm was a singularly retired spot, notwithstanding its vicinity to
a country village, which, on a straight line, was about two miles from
it. But there was a high hill between, that belonged to the farm, and
was crowned with oak and chestnut trees; while here and there was an
opening which gave a perfect view of the village, with its church,
academy, and square four-story tavern, with windows enough to give it the
appearance of a huge lantern. The high road was a mile from the house,
and no dwelling was nearer. The hill overlooked one of those New England
landscapes that could not be wrought into a well-composed picture;
objects were too abundant; it was dotted with farms and sheets of water;
and beyond, the beautiful Merrimac wound its way. On this spot, Frances
had a little open pavilion erected, and it was her resort at sunset. As
her health improved, her mind opened to the impressions of happiness, and
she grew almost gay. "There is but one thing more," said she to her
brother and sister, "that I now desire in this world."
"Always one thing wanting for us poor mortals!" said Charlotte; "but let
us hear what it is."
"That my husband, who is the liberal donor of my enjoyment, should
partake of it."
"Pray be contented," replied she, "and let him enjoy himself in his own
way."
"I have a letter for you," said Howard, "that came enclosed in one to
me;" and, with an air of hesitation, he gave it to her.
Frances hastily took it; her color came and went as she read. It
informed her, that the offers her husband had received for his estate in
town had not only opened his eyes to its value, but had convinced him
that, as a patriotic citizen, he had no right to retain it for his
private use; he had therefore come to the conclusion to reap the benefit
himself which other speculators had proposed to do. He should take down
the house, make a street through the land, divide it into small lots, and
erect a number of houses upon it, one of which he meant to reserve for
himself. "I should regret what I conceive to be the necessity of this
thing," he added, "if you were not so perfectly satisfied with your Clyde
residence. As you will always repair to it early in the spring, it
matters little if you return to walls of brick and mortar in the autumn."
We pass over the involuntary tears that followed this communication, as
speculators would pronounce them unreasonable. It now became necessary
for Frances to visit the city to make arrangements, and take a last leave
of her pleasant mansion. In justice, it must be said, she thought less
of her own deprivation than of the new accession of care and toil that
her husband was bringing upon himself.--When she returned to Clyde, she
had lost by fatigue nearly all the health she had previously gained.
Most people have witnessed the rapidity with which the work of
destruction goes on in modern days. In a very short time the splendid
mansion was a pile of ruins, a street laid open, and buildings erecting
on the spot.
Mr. Draper's visits to Clyde had been hitherto confined to the Sabbath,
and generally terminated with it: but he now wrote to his wife that he
intended to "pass a month with her. It was a comparative season of
leisure; his vessels had sailed, his buildings were going on well, and he
should be able to enjoy the quiet of the country."
Frances received this intelligence with new-born hope. She felt certain,
that one month, passed amidst the tranquil pleasures of the country,
would regenerate his early tastes. She talked eloquently of the
corrupting atmosphere of the city, and was sanguine that now all would go
well; that his inordinate engrossment in business would yield to the
influences by which he would find himself surrounded. And so it turned
out, for a few days. Mr. Draper was as happy as an affectionate husband
and father must naturally be, reunited to the objects of his tenderness.
He said that "he felt uncommonly well, had much less of the dyspepsy than
he had experienced for years," followed his little girls to their
favorite haunts, and seemed to realize the blessing of leisure. Howard,
with his family, passed the third day with them. Towards evening, they
all ascended the hill. Mr. Draper was struck with the extensive view,
and the beauty of his wife's domain, for he scrupulously called it her
own. "What a waste of water!" he exclaimed. "What a noble run for mills
and manufactories!" Poor Frances actually turned pale; but, collecting
her spirits, she said, "It is hardly right to call it a _waste_ of
water."
"Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand."
In the mean time, Mr. Draper had taken his pencil, and on the back of a
letter was making lines and dashes. "Look here," said he to Howard. "See
how perfectly this natural ledge of rocks may be converted into a dam: it
seems precisely made for it: then, by digging a canal to conduct the
water a little to the left, there is a fine site for a
cotton-manufactory, which, built of granite, would add much to the beauty
of the prospect. Just here, where that old tree is thrown across the
stream, a bridge may be built, in the form of an arch, which also must be
of stone. It will make the view altogether perfect."
"I cannot think," said Howard, "the view would be improved; you would
have a great stone building, with its countless windows and abutments,
but you would lose the still, tranquil effect of the prospect, and take
much from the beauty of the stream."
"Not as I shall manage it," said Mr. Draper. "I am sure Frances herself
will agree with me that it adds fifty per cent. to the beauty of the
prospect when she sees it completed."
In vain Frances protested she was satisfied with it as it was; the month
that she had hoped was to be given to leisure was one of the busiest of
her husband's life. Contracts were made--an association formed. Mr.
Draper was continually driving to the city, and mechanics were passing to
and fro. Clyde Farm began to wear the appearance of a business place. A
manufacturing company was incorporated under the title of the Clyde
Mills. The stillness of the spot was exchanged for the strokes of the
pickaxe, the human voice urging on oxen and horses, the blasting of
rocks; the grass was trampled down, the trees were often wantonly
injured, and, where they obstructed the tracks of wheels, laid prostrate.
Frances no longer delighted to walk at noon day under the thick foliage
that threw its shadow on the grass as vividly as a painting. All was
changed! It is true she now saw her husband, but she had but little more
of his society; his mind and time were wholly engrossed; he came often,
and certainly did not, as formerly, confine his visits to the Sabbath.
All went on with wonderful rapidity; story rose upon story, till it
seemed as if the new manufactory, with its windows and abutments, was
destined to become another Babel. When Charlotte came to Clyde, she
gazed with astonishment. "All this," said she to Howard, "is the project
of a speculator! Grown men now-a-days remind me of the story of the boy
who planted his bean at night, and went out in the morning to see how it
grew; he found it had nearly reached the chamber windows; he went out the
next morning, and it was up to the eaves of the house; on the third
morning, it had shot up to the clouds, and he descried a castle, or a
manufactory, I don't know which, on the top of it. Then it was high time
to scale it; so up, up, he went, and when he arrived at the building, he
put his foot into it, and then he perceived it was made of vapor; and
down came bean, castle, and boy, headlong, in _three seconds_, though it
had taken _three whole days_ to complete the work."
"You must tell your story to my brother," said Howard.
"No," replied Charlotte; "he would not profit by it; but I will tell it
to my children, and teach them to train their beans in the good
old-fashioned way, near the ground."
Thus passed the autumn at Clyde; that period which every reflecting mind
enjoys as a season of contemplation; that period when our New England
woods assume every variety of color, and shine forth with a splendor that
indicates decay. Still the two families had much enjoyment together; the
health of Frances and little Charlotte had decidedly improved; but when
the leaves began to fall, and the wind to whistle through the branches,
they quitted Clyde and returned to the city. Their new house was not
ready for them, and they were obliged to take lodgings at one of the
hotels.
Mr. Draper met Dr. B., their friend and physician, in his walks, and
begged him to call and see his wife. "I rejoice to say," said he, "that
her health does not require any medical advice; she is quite well."
Probably Dr. B. thought otherwise, for he suggested the advantage that
both she and the little girl might derive from passing the winter in a
warm climate. Never was there a fairer opportunity; they had no home to
quit, and their residence at a hotel was one of necessity, not of choice.
But Mr. Draper said it was quite impossible. What! leave his counting-
room, State Street, India Wharf, the insurance offices! leave all in the
full tide of speculation, when he was near the El Dorado for which he had
so long been toiling! when Eastern lands and Western lands, rail-roads
and steam-boats, cotton, and manufactories, were in all their glory; when
his own Clyde Mills were just going into operation! It was impossible,
wholly impossible; and Frances would not go without him. The suggestion
was given up, and she remained in the city almost wholly confined to the
atmosphere of a small room with a coal fire. Unfortunately the measles
appeared among the children at the hotel, and Mrs. Draper's were taken
sick before she knew that the epidemic was there. They had the best
attendance, but nothing supersedes a mother's devotion. Frances passed
many a sleepless night in watching over them. With the eldest the
disorder proved slight, but it was otherwise with the youngest; and when
she began to grow better, the mother drooped. It was a dreary winter for
poor Mrs. Draper, but not so for her husband. Never had there been a
season of such profits, such glorious speculations! Some _croakers_ said
it could not last; and some of our gifted statesmen predicted that an
overwhelming blow must inevitably come. But all this was nothing to
speculators; it certainly would not arrive till after _they_ had made
their millions.
Spring approached, with its uncertainty of climate; sometimes, the
streets were in rivers, and the next day frozen in masses; then came
volumes of east wind. Mrs. Draper's cough returned more frequently than
ever, and Charlotte looked too frail for earth. The physician informed
Mr. Draper that he considered it positively necessary to remove the
invalids to a milder climate, and mentioned Cuba. Mr. Draper, however,
decided that an inland journey would be best, and, inconvenient as it
was, determined to travel as far as some of the _cotton-growing_ states.
After the usual busy preparations, they set off, the wife fully realizing
that she was blighting in the bud her husband's projected speculations
for a few weeks to come, and feeling that he was making what he
considered great sacrifices.
Almost all invalids who have travelled on our continent in pursuit of
uniformity of climate, have been disappointed. At New York they were
detained a week by a flight of snow and rain, shut up in dreary rooms;
then came a glimmering of sunshine, and Philadelphia looked bright and
serene; but at Baltimore the rain again descended. They were so near
Washington, Mr. Draper thought it best to hurry on, with every precaution
for the invalids. At Washington, they found the straw mattings had
superseded woollen carpets, and the fire-places were ornamented with
green branches. They continued their journey south till they at length
arrived at Charleston. Here they found a milder climate, and a few days
of sunshine. Mr. Draper was no longer restless; he had full employment
in shipping cargoes of cotton, and making bargains, not only for what was
in the market, but for a proportion of that which was yet to grow, as
confidently as if he had previously secured the rain and sunshine of
heaven. There is a constant change of weather on our coast--another
storm came on. The little invalid evidently lost rather than gained.
Discouraged and disheartened, Frances begged they might return. "One
week at Clyde, where they might have the comforts of home, would do more
for them," she said, "than all this fruitless search for a favorable
climate." When Mr. Draper had completed his bargains, he was equally
desirous to return to the city, and at the end of a tedious journey, over
bad roads in some parts of it, rail-roads in others, and a tremendous
blow round Point Judith, the travellers arrived at Boston on one of those
raw, piercing, misty days, that seemed to have been accumulating fogs for
their reception. The physician hastened their departure to Clyde, as it
was inland and sheltered from the sea. This removal was made, and then
they had nothing to do but to get well. Howard and Charlotte were
rejoiced at the reunion, and the feeble little invalid tried to resume
her former sports with her cousins. But all would not answer, and when
June came on, with its season of roses, she slept at the foot of the
mount. It was a retired spot that the mother selected for the remains,
and only a temporary one, for they were to be removed to Mount Auburn at
the close of autumn.
It were well if we could receive the events of Providence in the sublime
simplicity with which they come, but the sensitive and tender-hearted
often add to their poignancy by useless self-reproach. Frances thought
the journey had, perhaps, been the cause of the child's untimely death,
and lamented that she had not opposed a measure which she had undertaken
solely for its benefit. The death of friends is a calamity that few have
not strength enough to bear, if they do not exaggerate their sufferings,
by imagining that something was done, or left undone, for which they were
responsible. To this nervous state of feeling Frances was peculiarly
liable, from her ill health; and it was many weeks before her excellent
powers of mind obtained full exercise. Yet they finally triumphed, and
she became first resigned, then cheerful. The sorrow of the father was
of a different character, and exhausted itself in proportion to its
violence. It was followed by new projects and new anticipations; the
manufactory had succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations. A
discovery had been made that enabled them to afford their cloth a cent
per yard cheaper than any other manufacturing establishment. Bales of
cotton poured in upon him from the south, and ships arrived from various
parts of the world. How could he find time for grief!