Chapter IV: How the Overlook Papers Came to Be Written (5)

The house looked desolate only because it was deserted, and had a dark history. There were two rooms on the first floor; one was a kitchen of considerable size. The other the sitting-room,--stove-room,--or parlor,--as it might happen to be called by the inmates. This was an apartment opened a few times in the year for company on great State occasions. Yet it gave all the year round,--a fact which weak critics often overlook when they talk about a useless room, and laugh in their dreaded but unproductive way,--gave all the year round a sense of ample accommodation and dignity to the mansion. From the kitchen a winding staircase ascended to the upper rooms. The small landing-place rested on the back wall of the house. Small garrets were over these rooms. The cellar was of the size of the dwelling, and afforded no hiding-place, nor any means of access to the interior from without, which we could not easily secure. A small shed rested against the back of the house, from the inside of which there was no door by which you could enter either room. It was obvious, from the pathway to this shed from the kitchen door, that the access of the family to it, was in the open air.

The most desolate thing to me was the well. It was one of those still seen in the little State--so elbowed by its big brothers of New York and Pennsylvania, and able to bear a great deal of such pressure. It was lorded over by that huge apparatus of the great long scale-beam, with a pole and bucket on one end, and a great weight on the other. A vine had crept up the pole, which must be torn away before water could be drawn. When had the matron called the good man to draw water from the deep and damp abode of truth? when had the children, returning from school, slaked their thirst from the bucket, covered in places by the green moss?

We could discover no manner by which any one disposed to disturb the inmates of the house, could secretly enter. It was amusing to notice how some of the students, had no conception of pranks to be played upon us in any other way than those known among collegians. However, we all agreed that our regulations for self-defence must be very simple. We had to wait for the demonstrations of the enemy, before we could do more than draw up our forces in a simple line for attack or defence.

The night, of course, came on. The whole class entered the house. We had good fires in the two rooms below, and in one above. Mr. Hollman sent chairs and tables, and a good stock of solid provisions. Lights had been provided, and we had with us a number of lanterns--two of which were to be kept burning all night. Some excellent cider had been sent to us; and if any had desired it, we would not have permitted the introduction of stronger drink. Our honor was concerned; Dr. Smith having reposed such entire confidence in our proceedings. There was an implied contract between us, and there were men in the class who would see that it was complied with, not only in letter, but in spirit. It was also obvious that if we had any intoxicating beverage among us, and should report strange sights, men would account for it in their own way. Indeed, if the young gents had engaged in a noisy revel, and their intellects had become clouded, we should have tempted some mischievous creature to try and create an alarm.

We soon were a lively party. The house was cheerful with its blazing fires and lights. But as that noble-hearted K----k, who became in aftertime so eloquent a preacher in the Presbyterian church--and M----r, for so many years a representative of his district in Congress--and H----t, afterwards a distinguished Bishop, took their seats by the fire in the kitchen--they soon drew around them the whole of our little army. We became so joyous and free from care, that we regretted that there were not other haunted houses requiring our aid. We had no more thought that our talk would be exhausted before morning, than the bird that its song will cease before the season for its melody is over. It was put to the vote by the leanest fellow in the class that we should not have our supper until we had passed the midnight hour.

All remained quiet for a long time, when a dismal sound near one of the windows arrested us, and caused a strange silence. It was the common opinion, that it was the visit of an owl. Before midnight a scraping noise was heard, and as we moved about, R----k insisted that he heard a sound of moving boards, as if some one had climbed hastily over the garden fence.

All soon subsided into silence. Our animated conversations proceeded. I ought to say, that almost the whole evening had been spent in the discussion of metaphysical questions. In those days these were unfailing topics. We did wonderfully well, considering that the German school had not yet thrown open its gates, and let in its flood of waters, not muddy, but stained with all sorts of dyes, so that the eye is dazzled on the surface in place of penetrating the mass before you. The doctrine of the freedom of the will, as expounded by the great President Edwards, was a sure mountain of gold for every adventurer. I always observed that all who pretended to argue at all, could argue fluently on this subject. I also noticed that no student ever hinted that he did not understand what his opponent had said, and that none of us ever complained that those who replied to us, had misunderstood us,--a wonderful proof of the clear manner in which we all reasoned. And indeed there was so much genius among us for this branch of disputation, that it did not appear to matter whether a student had in any degree mastered the great treatise, of which a celebrated Scotchman, no profound judge to be sure, has said that it never had been refuted.

As we were thus arguing these great subjects, and saying things which Locke, Malebranche, Leibnitz, and Reid could never have said, K----k amused us by a story,--for the actual truth of which he gave us his word. He said that in a part of the country where he had spent many years, the people had a debating club. It was held in a school-house during the winter evenings, and drew large audiences. On one occasion the topic of debate was the free agency of man.

A stone-mason who had attended the meeting during the discussion gave an animated account of the scene. The teacher of the school was his particular hero. He acknowledged that the opponent had merit,--was, in country parlance, "a smart man." But little Charlie the teacher was too much for him,--he was still "smarter." It had been a long argument. The little teacher held that man was not a free agent. The evening was passing away. The friends of each champion were much perplexed. Would it be a drawn battle? Just at the happy time, the little teacher thought of a happy argument. "Man," he said, "could not be a free agent; for if he was, he would never die." "That settled it," was the comment. Man would never die, if he was a free agent. So we gave him the vote. He is an "uncommon smart man." We laughed,--and Thompson said that a story was not an argument, and was preparing for a new onset, when the lean student,--whom some called, improperly, Bean-pole,--interposed with the assurance, that it was time for our repast. Some said not yet,--but he who argued on the side of the lean one, had one vast advantage; that is to say, his statements, particularly his reference to the tender ham, and tempting bread and butter, created an appetite even in his opponents. So the night was carried,--and we soon arranged our viands. The metaphysical discussions ceased,--probably from the instinctive conviction that such severe exercise of the mind was unfavorable to health, when one was making a hasty repast.

While we were engaged in this agreeable duty, one of our number, Shockford, a fellow of the kindest disposition, but always saying things in a grumbling way, declared that he had some scruples of conscience, as to the nature of our present occupation. What business had we to interfere with ghosts? They had never done any harm to us. He used to groan over the dull, unimaginative brains of the people of his neighborhood. One day a weight of lead was taken off from his mind. He sang his triumph in the best Latin and Greek which he could summon. He thought that his neighborhood was about to improve. Could it be credited, some of the people had seen a ghost. He knew a part of the country where the inhabitants were too mean ever to have seen a spirit. Lonely places, awful shadows by the woods, grave-yards, bridges in dark hollows, were all thrown away upon them.

And no man ever heard of a generous thought that originated there, or, being sent there, found a hospitable reception. They are as dry in their natures as the old posts in their fences. They never saw anything in the grand old woods, which are rapidly disappearing, those majestic trees with their deep shades, that elevated their souls higher than the furrows, which they turn over year by year. The trees are but so much fire-wood, so much material for lumber,--so many posts and rails. All the beauty of the harvest, is submerged in the expectation of the silver for which it could be sold. Is it any marvel that such clods are despised by the ghosts? If you were one, and had your own way, would you appear in such a dreary society? Would you go before the stupid eye, that never gleamed at the glorious unfolding of the stars, or rolled, in some little transport, as the autumnal clouds drifted towards the sunset, and were so radiant in the beams of the setting orb, that they were too grand a canopy, for a world on whose surface men do so many deeds contrary to the holy will of the Great Ruler of the universe?

Happy he was to say that he knew other parts of the country where the sojourners are a people of different characteristics. Many ghosts were seen in the favored spot. What was the consequence? The young ladies are, as it might naturally be expected, much more attractive in their personal appearance, of gentler voices, of more sympathizing manners, and form husbands on a much more elevated plan. Of course there is much variety in their descriptions of the ghosts which they have seen. One most commendable trait which I have observed among them, is that the sights which they have witnessed enhance their social respectability. There are slight grades in rank among the ghost-seers. Those who have seen a spirit at midnight, are superior to those who have beheld one early in the evening. Those who have seen one near the graves, rank above those who have met one only in the fields. But the crowned head of all is my old neighbor, who begins apparently to tell you an awful history,--his manner indicating that he can give strange circumstantial evidence of the truth of the event which he is about to narrate,--and all at once the blood, which began to cool, flows freely, as he cuts short his tantalizing narrative, with the information that he shall never inform any soul what he saw that night. No one of our neighbors dares to think that he has ever approached such a transcendent vision. The shake of the head with which the old man concludes his last sentence, is too impressive for the most presumptuous man, having a tendency to a doubt.

After our meal, and many a hearty laugh, a number composed themselves in the different rooms for a good sleep. It was determined that three of the class should sit up awake before the fire in case of emergency. I must say that there was an undefined doubt over our minds whether something very exciting would not happen before morning. I felt this even in the gayety of the room. The young men laughed and talked as if their minds were wrought up to an unnatural state.

The hours sped on,--rapidly for those who slumbered, and heavily for those who did duty as waking guards before the fire. Now and then some one would awaken, as if from a dream, and ask in bold speech whether the ghost had yet come.

I remember that it was my turn to be off guard, and to join the sleepers. The fires were kept up brightly, and gave a cheerful light to all the apartment. I was watching the flickering of the flames, and had forgotten almost entirely the place and position which we occupied, and was philosophizing on the nature of sleep, and recalling some observations I had read on the happy state of healthy little children who are sinking to their sleep. I recalled the evidence I had received of that kind arrangement of Providence, in the case of the little ones at home, smiling on you in such perfect benignity and peace, as you drew near them in their little beds. This, of course, recalled the home. As I was bringing loved faces and scenes before me, the whole house was throw into a sudden commotion,--just like that which you may imagine to occur when a whole ship's crew, having been devoid of fear, is suddenly startled with the report, communicated as by some mysterious power from man to man, that an iceberg is near at hand, or breakers, or that the good vessel has been subjected to some shock which endangers the common safety.

A loud sound was heard, evidently in the centre of the house, and all agreed that it was occasioned by the discharge of a large pistol. The dwelling was shaken by the report, and the windows rattled. In a moment all was activity. By a common impulse all above and below gathered at the staircase. We distinctly smelt the fumes of the powder, and holding up lights, were satisfied that we detected the lingering smoke.

Then commenced a new and perfect scrutiny of the building. Notwithstanding the evidence that earthly elements had entered into the cause of the shock, some were rather awed.

All our search was in vain. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Yet, in this instance, we looked on the earth for that which we could not find.

Not the slightest trace could be discovered to throw us on the true path of investigation. We could form no possible conjecture as to the manner in which the pistol had been discharged. After daylight we re-examined the house. But all was in vain. The external and internal scrutiny gave us not a hint as to the manner in which the deed could have been accomplished.

I must confess that we returned to Princeton in no enviable mood. We all dreaded an interview with Dr. Smith. We sought him at once,--as nature inclines us often to go through a painful duty as soon as we can, and to have it over.

But the President listened to our story in a manner which relieved us of our apprehensions. He did not seem greatly surprised; and his remarks satisfied us that we had not been made ridiculous, and we were prepared to face the world, or rather the worst part of it,--with reference to our present condition,--the college.

"Gentlemen," said he, "some effort to continue this imposition was to have been expected. I presumed that such a series of inmates would not have been driven from the house, had not some skill been shown in the manner of causing alarm. Now, the affair is more serious than ever. If you allow this to rest here, the fate of the house is sealed. Ghosts will be seen all around the land. Perhaps we shall even have one to disturb the college. Malicious and designing men will be able to torture their victims, and often render the property of those whom they hate, perfectly worthless. You must continue to sleep in this building until you unravel this mystery. For my own part, I would say to you, do not be discouraged. You have made an advance. It is now evident that the noises heard in the house, perhaps sudden flashes that have been seen, are not the work of imagination. A pistol fired there, gives you a clear indication that some man is to be detected. Go there again. Let a portion of the class go to the house, and take possession. Have your fires and lights. At a later hour let another body of these gentlemen go quietly in the dark, and secrete themselves outside of the dwelling, so that they can watch it during the night. Place yourselves so as not to intercept the most natural approaches to the house. Do not let any one know of your plans. I shall wait to hear from you again, and am sure that you will succeed."

Before the evening had arrived we had proof that Dr. Smith was correct in his judgment as to the necessity for the prosecution of this adventure. Night promised to become hideous to the surrounding country. It was already reported on the most indisputable evidence; nay, some of the narrators had heard it directly from the lips of the students themselves, that as we were assembled in the dwelling, the lights suddenly became dim, the fires ceased to blaze, and then an awful stately lady, with the famous red ring around her throat, indicating clearly that a murder had been committed on the premises, walked through the rooms and looked on us, and seemed to enjoin on us the duty of bringing the men who had stained their hands with her blood to justice, and then suddenly withdrew with a terrific noise. Another report was to the injury of an unpopular man, who had owned the property before it was purchased by Mr. Hollman. Its version of the affair was, that the ghost disclosed a secret place in the house where some papers were concealed,--proving that the property had in former times been acquired by the most wicked means. Great satisfaction was intimated that the man would be exposed, and attain his deserts,--a prison having long been supposed to be his appropriate destination.

In the evening we followed the injunctions of the president. The late party left the college one by one, issuing in the dark from the basement of the building, so that no one watching us could know of their departure. They crept along over fields, and by the skirt of the woods. They hid themselves under a thicket, through which no one would attempt to pass to the house.

The midnight came on. I was one of those in the interior of the building. About the same time of the night we heard the strange pistol again. I also thought I heard an additional sound, but could not imagine its cause. Our chief trust was in those without. And we were not disappointed. A moment after the discharge of the pistol, we heard a rush of feet, and many cries. Then there arose a noise of unmistakable triumph.

The noise, and a flash revealed to the watchers without, the direction they must pursue. They surrounded the shed, back of the building. There they seized a form, a base--unspiritual--rough form. It was that of a young negro man, who was brought into the light in the house, and subjected to investigation.

He confessed that his design was to obtain vengeance of Mr. Hollman, who had given him some offence. It seems that above the shed on the back of the house, where he was secured, there was a small trap-door, opening into the interior. It was so cut out of the boards, and so often white-washed within and without, that we had never observed it. He had once lived in the house, and knowing of this small opening, had availed himself of it, for the success of his wicked design. Climbing up the shed, he lifted the door, held the large horse-pistol deeply loaded, as far as he could over the landing of the winding staircase, and then discharging it, dropped the door, slid from the shed, and was soon far off, and free from all suspicion.

He had heard from the people at Mr. Hollman's, that we were to attempt to satisfy the public mind, that the house was not haunted, and that any family might reside on the premises in peace. Hence he resolved to alarm us all, and drive us away.

Some of the class were for summary vengeance on the fellow. We determined to take him into Princeton, and hand him over to the magistrate. You may imagine that we entered our town on the following morning, with an air of triumph,--which was quite a contrast to our looks on the preceding day. We went in figuratively speaking, with banners flying, and drums beating. And we had some literally blowing their trumpets.

The ghost attracted some curiosity, and some said that as we looked for something in white, we were disappointed.

Dr. Smith was as well pleased as we were, with our success. The house was soon reoccupied. I went there some time after our adventure, and found it the home of a respectable family, who treated me with special consideration, and a satisfactory portion of a large pie, when they heard that I was one of the celebrated party that caught the ghost. Ghosts in troops forsook Princeton. They found their occupation gone. Men and women, boys and girls, darkies of all ages, saw shadows in the evening, mists, indistinct lights, flickering candles, passed by graves, and grave-yards, and had no longer any special dread. And had any ghost in fact, dared to appear anywhere around, I have no doubt that our class would have been summoned to do, what daylight always does, send the wandering and terrible spirit to the regions where such dwell,--far from all human cognizance. May Nassau Hall ever have such success in all her laudable enterprises! May all her classes, be as great victors over all that can cause dread to a student, as we were over the ghost at Hollman's.

XII.

_MRS. DIGBY'S ECONOMY._[1]

"Father," said one of Mr. Digby's children, just let loose from school, and fluttering about as if on the eve of a great flight of play,--"father, look at my copy-book."

The face of the one thus appealed to, which generally bore a care-worn look, relaxed into an attentive and gentle interest. He gave the labored page the appropriate scrutiny. When the right of criticism was thus justly earned, he bestowed due meed of praise. In line after line he read, ECONOMY IS WEALTH.

The children soon left him, and he turned down a path leading to the gate. All the way he repeated in various intonations of voice, the tones changing with various trains of thought, economy is wealth.

He said to himself, "Who was the great inventor of that most absurd of proverbs? Economy is wealth. Nonsense! The man who first spoke that sentence, never had a saving wife. Economy wealth! Pooh! Pooh! I say, economy is poverty.

"Our house is full of economy. The more it becomes a bank full of that article, so ridiculously misrepresented, the more poor I am. We have a great linen-closet, never opened for use, full of economy. We have a garret where economy is packed away. There are things ancient and modern, big and little, shining and rusty, known and unknown, bought as bargains, and patiently waiting under loads of dust to become useful, and to save us several fortunes. There is a huge chest of economy in the entry near the spare room door. It contains plated ware, spoons, urns, tea-pots, toast-racks, branches for candle-sticks, all ready for use some fifty years hence, when we shall give parties to the fashionable people in our village, increased from eight or ten to one hundred.

"And there is the fat boy in the kitchen, who was to save me from the cost of hiring a man to cut my wood, and dig the garden, and who was to wear my old clothes. Now he is so corpulent that he cannot get into my coats or pantaloons. If there be a tide which takes out everything, and brings in nothing, then it is economy. Yes. Economy is wealth."

Now Mrs. Digby was a great domestic statesman. Her husband had been leading a life of married astonishment. There seemed to be no end to the resources of her diplomacy. Her reasons for any departure from her ordinary expenditures, were versatile and profound.

One principle behind which the good lady invariably entrenched herself, was the impregnable one, that she never bought anything unless it was under the promptings of a strict necessity. "I never buy anything not strictly necessary, Mr. Digby," was the oil she poured on the troubled waters of the mind of her husband.

Now the man whose intellect was not able to comprehend the curious principles that regulated his household, declared that he never saw anything so comprehensive as this theory of necessity. It appeared to him to be the only law on the earth or among the stars which had no exceptions. And all these necessities, were a great perplexity under another aspect. They were all matters of life and death. If the coat of the little girl faded in a slight degree, a new one--if Mrs. Digby said so--was so necessary, that it was evident that an earthquake would come, or the sun turn aside from his path, with consequences of unending disaster, unless her will was transformed into actual ribbons, and merino, or silk, or velvet. And what was equally surprising, it sometimes happened, that before one necessity could thus be removed, another arose; and the first was forgotten. The earthquake was somehow prevented. The sun did not alter his course. It was a strange mystery.

* * * * *

It happened after they had been married a short time, that Mrs. Digby expected a visit from some friends.

"My dear," she said, "you will be so pleased with them. I would not think of treating them with any great ceremony, if it was not that they have never seen our house. First impressions are very strong. I never forget the pitcher, towels, and basin in the room where I slept, when I made a visit to the Elders. Nothing could ever eradicate from my mind the belief, that she is not as good a house-keeper as she should be. No, it would not change my mind on that point, if I was to see her in a house, where everything was cut out of newly fallen snow.

"Now, my dear, as these friends are to form their first impressions of my house, I am under the necessity of having everything very nice for them. I shall go to the expense of buying a few articles. And then our meals must be a little more particular than when we are alone. But we will make all up by increased economy. Yes, we will save all the increased expense in various ways. First impressions are so powerful. The first impressions of these friends must be favorable."

This all seemed to be very natural to Mr. Digby. But his surprise was great when he discovered that this theory of first impressions on the part of visitors, went on for years. The great portion of those who came to see them, were persons who were to receive first impressions. The Nobbs, the Stowells, the Campbells, the Lambs, and a host of others came, and all were to receive their first impressions. After ten years the theory was still in existence. As soon as Mr. Digby heard of a new comer, then the theory was the first thing in his mind.

And when any of the friends repeated a visit, Mrs. Digby had a pleasant piece of information to impart to her lord and master. She had heard that Mrs. Snobbs, for instance, had said, that their house was kept in a state of perfection. She had been in ecstacies over the appearance of the furniture, and thought the table such as would tempt one to eat who had lost all appetite. Of course, it would never do to allow her to come, and have the first impressions changed. That would be coming down to a most painful extent. It could never be. Some old furniture must therefore be displaced by some new purchases. And then their table must be a little more richly served. Indeed, it would be rather advantageous to have things a little better than in former times. Former impressions would lead her to expect some advance.

* * * * *

----this time Mr. Digby was again much perplexed. His wife received a present of three hundred dollars from an aunt. The good lady was quite triumphant, and now appeared to think, that anything but economy was not practicable. The old theory of necessity now came in like a torrent. The good husband had read of crops which sprang up in some portions of the earth, in a wonderful manner. He had heard of the plants in some of our warm climes which grew under a few suns in certain seasons, in a way which seems incredible to us who live in this northern land. But never did he imagine that anything could ever equal the sudden growth of necessities in his house, since the good aunt had sent the present. Necessity met you everywhere. It haunted you in every room. You trod upon it when you stepped upon the old carpet, or the old oil-cloth. You could not come near the window but it met you.

We must have new curtains for our parlor-windows.

But, Mr. Digby suggested, daring to run a tilt, madman as he was, against necessity, that irresistible giant, who has a perfect covering of impenetrable mail,--the expense. Think of my present, said the lady, offering terms as a conquering general would offer them to a prostrate foe. I will give of my present a great part of the expense.

So the curtains were bought. They were put up, and Mrs. Digby was as happy as Mr. Digby was dejected and miserable.

Then the good lady discovered that the porch must be taken down, and a piazza erected. Her lord said it was impossible. Here again was he foolish enough to place his impossibility as an opponent to her necessity. She would pay for a portion of the cost out of the money which was sent her by her aunt. But Mr. Digby said that he had several debts to pay, and knew not how to meet them.

Poor man! He here made a most disastrous movement of his forces. The able general opposed to him, was too much gifted with military genius to lose sight of the proffered advantage.

Did he expect that she was to pay his debts out of the present made her by her aunt? No such thing. Her dear aunt manifestly intended that the money should be spent for her special comfort. She could read him the letter. She intended, as that kind epistle taught, that her niece should expend it in some way that would personally gratify herself. She never intended that it should be swallowed up in the ordinary expenditures of the house.

So she ingeniously carried her day, for discomfiting Mr. Digby, on the ground that he had proposed to her that she should pay his debts, which, however, it will be observed he had not done,--for he had only remonstrated against new expenditures before his old debts were expunged,--she wisely made the two questions one. As he had to retire from the field on the question of battle, as insisted on by her, despite of all his pleas to the contrary,--she took for granted that the subject of the new piazza was involved in the one issue. So the piazza was erected.

Some time after this, one of her friends wished to dispose of a new carriage, or one almost as good as new. Mrs. Digby described it in glowing terms. And then she said that she could have it at a great reduction in the price. If the fish knew that the hook was near, as well as Mr. Digby knew that the cord and hook were dangling around to secure him for a prey,--no fish would ever be caught.

It was astonishing what an eloquence Mrs. Digby could throw into such a statement. It was not merely that she was eloquent when she described the carriage. The picture she drew of the comfort in which she and her lord would appear,--nay their increased elegance and respectability, was one which could not have been surpassed. Then there was a happy contrast presented between the proposed new equipage, and their present homely wagon, in which they had of late years jogged along in a contented way, which proved that their ideas of what was desirable were in need of improvement.

The master-power of her eloquence did not, however, here appear in its highest manifestations. No, it was revealed when the simple description of the carriage, conveyed to the mind of the hearer, the idea that if he did not most earnestly desire to purchase it, he must be a man fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils. The reproof was carried to the heart through terrors, which in themselves seemed incapable of any such power. Those who are ignorant of such feminine power, would as soon expect the rays of the sun to bring with them the food needful for their sustenance. And when she referred to the old carriage, Mr. Digby felt as if his conscience was indeed disturbed. There were two statements addressed to him. One referred to the homely nature of the wagon. The other said, if you could allow a woman who has been a faithful wife,--a woman who has shared your fortunes for fifteen years,--who has never spared herself to order her household well,--who is the mother of seven children of whom you are very proud,--to crown all,--who has practised for fifteen years in your house, in the most untiring manner the most exact, and even unreasonable economy,--buying only what she has been forced to do under the pressure of necessity,--if you could allow such a woman to go in that old wagon, when this new and pleasant carriage could be purchased, and that too when she is willing to give part of the money which was sent her by her affectionate aunt, that aforesaid money having been intended for her own personal benefit,--why then you are one of those of whom the world may well say, that it is fortunate that you are not placed in a situation where you could become a pirate.

After all this moving eloquence, one passage was repeated in express words. Mr. Digby was told that if he would agree to the purchase of the carriage and the harness which appropriately belonged to it, she would expend in paying for it the three hundred dollars sent her by her aunt. In that case he would have to advance but one hundred dollars, and by that insignificant outlay, insignificant of course she meant in comparison of that which they would gain, for economy is wealth, and she could not throw away a dollar on any account, he would secure this invaluable vehicle, and prove himself a man who had some regard for his wife.

Mr. Digby suggested that some of this money, sent by the aunt was to have paid for the window-curtains. He intended to add in order, some other purchases, all of which were to have a partial payment from the same treasured notes. But this suggestion only brought upon him a storm of virtuous indignation. Nothing could be more unreasonable than to expect that her money should be devoted to such purposes. All that she could say, was, that the curtains were necessities. And what would they have done if the aunt had not sent the money? If the present had not come, he would never have thought that she would be the one who ought to supply the money for such necessary expenses.

So the carriage was bought, and at last the money of the aunt was expended.

Mr. Digby made a calculation, and found that the three hundred dollars of the aunt, had been expended in part payment for purchases which cost him about one thousand dollars. He uttered the fervent hope that the good aunt would not send any more of her precious gifts.

Note. The manuscript here again becomes illegible. As far as I can gather from a word which can be distinguished here and there, Mr. Digby, after much suffering, and a severe illness from mental excitement, found that his good lady, who was really a woman of affectionate nature, changed all her views. Some one, at the close of the manuscript, appears to be inquiring of him, how it is that he has attained great peace of mind. The reply seems to be to the effect, that all the old theories are exploded from their domestic arrangements, and that in place of all other questions, the one consideration now is, what their income will enable them to purchase. And there also seems to be an assertion, that he no longer feels as if he was in danger of ruin, when any of their relatives sends his wife a present. There further appears to be some apology to the proverb, which he so greatly despised in former times, that economy is wealth.

[Footnote 1: This paper was so much injured by time, that the editor could decipher only some portions. But he has concluded to publish these fragmentary hints, which may be of utility, and open some eyes, as they reveal some similar weaknesses, of a propensity to live beyond one's income, which modern progress has not yet perfectly removed from all minds.]

XIII.

_TO MY WIFE._

The lapidary day by day
Brightened the sparkling gem,
And then that diamond flashed each ray
Fit for a diadem.
So in this trusting heart of mine
Increaseth love for thee;
A love whose rays shall brighter shine
When earth shall close o'er me.

The lapidary knoweth nought
But diamond-dust alone,
By which full glory may be wrought
Upon that precious stone.
So day by day increaseth love
By my true love alone;
The love that trial shall approve
A measure of thy own.

XIV.

_FADING AWAY._

From morn to night, thine eye, my dying-boy
Is on those autumn leaves that ever wave,
A sea of leaves on that great forest oak;
Each wave of that wide sea a wave of fire.

Ah! boy! before those tinted leaves are sear,
And fallen with light crush upon the earth,
Thou wilt be gone. Oh! glorious canopy
Around thy dying bed! All nature seems
To yield a triumph conqueror ne'er received,
When all the world knew that he entered Rome,
To the Redeemer's little one who waits
Just at the gate of life.

Blest is that tree
That lulls thy quiet. 'Tis one beauteous flame
Less glorious only than the burning bush,
When God was present in the wilderness.
Is He less present to thy spirit now?

Soon, soon a change will come, and thou wilt see
The angels round thee. They will glow in light
From the Redeemer's presence. Then how dim
All earth's great transport round us in this scene!
Why hast thou lived, my boy? Thy little life
Has all been sorrow: all but some few smiles
To thy dear mother, and to me, to him
Thy brother here unconscious of his loss,
And to thy faithful nurse who never knew
Her care was trouble, sorrowing but for thee.

But thou hast lived because thou art redeemed:
Because a life was here begun for heaven.
Thou livest to say, love not this passing world.
'Tis not our home, or surely such as thou
Would be exempt from sorrow. All is well.
Yea, blessed is the family where death
Enters to take an infant. Without fear
All look unto the world where it has rest.
No gentler sorrow falls on all than this.
No gentler sorrow nurtures mutual love.

O easy faith to know that it is gone
By the bright pathway to eternal realms
Which He first opened, when he left the cross,
The earth he blessed, and so ascended there,
Where with Him all the blessed at death have rest!

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's Papers from Overlook-House, by Casper Almore

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