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SIDNEY  RIGDON
AS  PORTRAYED  IN
WORKS  OF  FICTION



1843: Monsieur Violet   |   1855: Mormonism Unveiled   |   1861: Jessie, The Mormon's Daughter
1874: The Portrait   |   1887: Button's Inn   |   1899: The Mormon Prophet   |   1951: Country Salt

 

Albert G. Riddle
(1816-1902)

The Portrait
(Cleveland: Cord & Andrews, 1874)


  • Title Page
  • Contents

  • Chapter 11
  • Chapter 13

  • Transcriber's Comments



  • Riddle's letter to James T. Cobb   |   1887 Robertson letter

     






    THE  PORTRAIT


    A ROMANCE OF THE CUYAHOGA VALLEY




    BY A. G. RIDDLE
    AUTHOR OF "BART RIDGELEY"












    B O S T O N
    NICHOLAS & HALL
    CLEVELAND: CONN, ANDREWS & CO.
    1874.





     


    [ iii ]





    C O N T E N T S.

    __________



    (under construction)






     

    [ 61 ]






    CHAPTER  XI.


    A NEW PENTECOST -- ITS APOSTLE -- THE NEW EVANGEL, AND PROPHET.


    A refreshing in the religious sensibilities in that far-off time, among a people whose sojourn in the Ohio wilderness had freed them somewhat from the more conventional trammels of habit and thought, had taken place, and was still agitating the common mind.

    Strong, earnest, and somewhat rude men, with the seal of the apostolic day, had stood forth among the people, and reproclaimed the message of Peter at Pentecost: "Repent, and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost."

    Men heard it with amazement. It struck them with the force of new revelation, and they could hardly believe that it was quoted aright. Many doubted, and shook their heads; it was heretical and schismatic, this unclothed word, preached with the fervor of a new doctrine. Many gladly received it, and were baptized; and new associations organized, without other word or formula than the New Testament. Much of the old spirit of sweetness and love and charity prevailed among them, calling themselves, as they did, "disciples,"
     






    62                                       THE  PORTRAIT.                                     

    and with one accord they were much given to assembling themselves together, seeking to practise the rites and follow the usages of the first disciples, so far as the wide difference in the conditions of the ages and peoples permitted. Feeling certain that they had embraced the full gospel in its simplicity and purity, this people could not doubt that they had one and all discussed and hoped that, with a genuine Christian growth, all the promises and privileges of the primitive Christians might be realized, -- the gift of tongues, prophecy, and healing the sick; and many looked, as well they might, to a full and complete restoration of all these gifts and graces, and high communings.

    The acceptors of these restored views included many men of consideration through the country generally; and among them, in Mantua, the younger Atwater, the Snows, Seth Carman, and others, with the Randolphs of Hiram, and many persons of consideration in the various towns. While the movement which produced this awakening revived the zeal and fervor of the other sects, and led to feebler revivals among them, singularly enough, it was thought that they did not look complacently upon the uprising of the disciples, whom they rather contemptuously called "Campbellites," and, in Portage County, "Rigdonites."

    Among all the preachers whose fervor and zeal had re-lighted some of the dim or extinguished torches and tapers of Christian faith in Northern Ohio, Rigdon stood preeminent. Then thirty-two or three years of age, he was in the first maturity of his remarkable powers as a popular preacher. Of stout, compact, and
     






                            A   NEW   PENTACOST,   ETC.                         63

    vigorous frame, endowed with wonderful vitality, with a short neck, large, well-formed head, and good face, Nature had given him a wonderful command of the powers to persuade and move men. He had learning enough to save him from the charge of being illiterate, with a fervid imagination, and copious language; with large veneration, and a love of worship, he was stinted in the moral make-up. Bold, skillful, and adroit, had he been capable of a lofty purpose, he might have become a religious reformer, like Savonarola; as it was, he became the apostle of a new delusion, that so grotesquely caricatured Christianity, that even the reverent regard it as a fit theme for sarcasm and ridicule; and which, without the aid of Rigdon's powers of eloquence, and persuasion, and mastery of the weakness of human nature, would have perished in its miserable infancy. Rigdon had boldly preached that the early gifts to the churches would again be restored to it.

    In the autumn of 1830 rumors had already reached the Mantua settlements of the new revelation that had been made to an obscure young man in Manchester, Ontario County, N. Y.' stories of the angel, the golden plates, the opening of the side hill, of miracles and marvels, were rife among them. Suddenly it was announced that the Prophet, with his brother and the three witnesses, had arrived in Hiram, and were at the Johnsons, near where the college building now stands; that a miracle had been wrought on the person of Mrs. Johnson, whose withered arm had been restored, in the presence of the Rev. Sidney Rigdon and others, and that Rigdon had become a convert.

    It was said that, in a meeting of a few, it had been
     






    64                                       THE  PORTRAIT.                                     

    announced that a wonderful manifestation would be vouchsafed, and that, at the time, the Prophet, who was usually silent, and spoke only upon spiritual compulsion, had broken forth in a prophetic rhapsody, at the end of which he turned to Mrs. Johnson, who, as was well known, had for years suffered with a withered arm, usually carried in a sling, and bade her stand forth; that she arose, and thereupon he commanded her to stretch forth her arm, and she did, and behold others spoke in tongues, and that their words were rendered by others; that Rigdon declared himself convinced, and gave in his adhesion to the Prophet.

    It is difficult to comprehend the intense excitement and commotion produced by the tales of these marvels. Especially were the New Disciple churches shaken by the course of Rigdon; and all the more so, when it was known that he in no way changed or varied from his old faith and preaching, and that the new revelation was but a supplement of the old, -- a realization of the pouring out of the spirit in these last days. It was also said that the text of the new and marvellous book explicitly sustained the special views and dogmas of their churches.

    Those outside of all church organizations, as well as the members of established sects, were under a degree of excitement which cannot be appreciated at this remote time. Indeed, for the most philosophical reasons, the non-professors, the negatives, are often the more easily taken, and are in some sort predisposed to become the victims of new religious dogma.

    Very soon it was announced that the Prophet and his
     






                            A   NEW   PENTACOST,   ETC.                         65

    proselytes and witnesses would hold a meeting at the South School-house, in Mantua, afternoon and evening. The room was large; but, long before the hour appointed, it was packed, while hundreds stood outside, notwithstanding the cold of a late November day.

    The Prophet and his party came over from Hiram, and muffled in cloaks, made their way through the yielding crowd into the building, and occupied an elevated platform, specially prepared. Nothing could exceed the eagerness of the crowd to obtain a sight of the Prophet. What a temptation to turn aside from my little tale to philosophize upon the strange nightside of human nature, that allies it so helplessly to marvels and quackery in medicine, and hopelessly to clouds and mists in religion! The Prophet, stepping upon the platform, uncovered, turned, and, stretching his hand over the hushed crowd, said, "Peace be with you!" and sat down. These words were uttered, not without dignity, in a deep and not unpleasant voice; and, in the wrought and unhealthy condition of mind of the excited multitude, the words and action produced a deep impression.

    The Prophet was then about twenty-five years of age, and nearly six feet in height; rather loosely but powerfully built, with a perceptible stoop in his shoulders. The face was longish, not badly featured, marked with blue eyes, fair blond complexion, and very light yellowish flaxen hair. His head was not ignoble, and carried with some dignity; and on the whole, his person, air, and manner should have been noticeable in a gathering of average men. He was attired in a neat-fitting suit of blue, over which he wore an ample clock
     






    66                                       THE  PORTRAIT.                                     

    of blue broadcloth, which he threw back, exposing his neck and bosom, -- all with a simple and natural manner.

    At his left sat his fair-haired younger and slighter brother Hiram, the one redeeming strand in the dark web then fabricating; his face was almost beautiful, with rapt adoration with which he regarded the Prophet. On his right sat Rigdon, and behind them the three witnesses of the presence of the golden plates, of their delivery, with the silver-framed crystals, the ancient "Urim and Thummim," the spectacles through which alone could the characters be read -- to the shining Messenger Moroni, and his flight with them from earth -- the youthful, handsome, and dainty Cowdery, the rough, homely, and honest looking Harris, and the stolid, meaningless face of Whitmer.

    The awful presence of the Prophet had of itself imposed upon even the most skeptical; and when Rigdon arose as the spokesman, it was in a hush of the profoundest expectation and awe. His effort, masterly for its seeming want of art and simplicity of language, was devoted to a summary of the new revelation, its reasonableness and proofs. In his citations and application of Scripture texts, he was ingenious and plausible. When he came to the living witnesses, he called first Oliver Cowdery, whose statement was clear and explicit, and fully confirmed by the others. When they sat down, he challenged any man to produce the same quantity, and as high quality, of evidence to support the authenticity of the received Scripture. He closed with the assertion of the miracle wrought on the person of Mrs. Johnson, in his presence, in confirmation
     






                            A   NEW   PENTACOST,   ETC.                         67

    of which, at his call, that lady stepped upon the platform. Many present recognized her, and knew the crippled condition of her arm. At his bidding. she removed her shawl, and extended and moved, in various ways. it and its fellow, both seeming to be in a perfectly healthy condition. At this exhibition an intense sensation ran through the crows, that several times threatened to break out in irrepressible excitement. But the deep voice of the Prophet was heard rebukingly, "Peace, be still!" at which the eager, pressing crowd bent backward like summer grain before a wind. Then Rigdon, with a loud voice, proclaimed:

    "Go your way, and tell what things ye have seen and heard, how the blind see, the deaf hear, the lepers are cleansed, the lame walk, the dead shall be raised; to the poor the gospel is preached;" and sat down in a profound silence, which remained unbroken for a moment, when it was announced that in an hour Mr. Rigdon would preach at the same place, after which the rite of baptism would be administered to believers who had not been immersed according to the gospel, as always preached by him. Then the Prophet and his party passed out amid the most respectful silence of the audience, many of whom retained their places during the interval before the promised services.

    At the hour, the house was, if possible, more crowded than during the afternoon. When the Prophet and his party resumed their places, Rigdon arose, and reading a simple revival hymn, uttered a fervent prayer, read one of his favorite and well-known texts, and, as was his wont, dashed headlong into his subject. It was the old awful story of the lost and ruined without light or
     






    68                                       THE  PORTRAIT.                                     

    hope, and the old and grand expiation, the offer of rest and bliss on the simplest and easiest condition; the sweeping downward of time, the devious courses of men, the mingling of traditions with the golden strands of truth, the need of a new vindication of the truth and the vindication of the ways of God to men.

    He was never more thoroughly master of himself, never held his subject with a firmer grasp, and never had his audience more completely in his power. His mastery of the passions and sympathies was perfect; and the almost awful stillness with which he was heard, was at times interrupted by low moans and heartbroken sobs. He uttered the old message of Peter, and closed with a fervid and passionate appeal to the lost and ruined, to acknowledge and obey the gospel.

    When he ceased, men still bent eagerly forward to catch the next accents, -- when the deep voice of the Prophet broke over the expectant throng:

    "The Spirit and the Bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst, come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely."

    At once, spontaneously, a large number of men and women from all parts of the room arose, and made a movement forward in response to the demand, when Rigdon, as had been announced, and was his custom, passed out with his party, and collecting the new converts, extemporized flambeaux and torches, conducted them to the margin of the neighborhood creek often resorted to for such a purpose, followed by a procession of several hundreds. As they reached the dark, wintry stream, suddenly a brilliant flame burst up from the
     






                            A   NEW   PENTACOST,   ETC.                         69

    opposite bank, burning with a strong, clear, steady light over the scene. Unexpected as this was, it hardly excited surprise; and had the dead arisen, many would have regarded such a marvel as quite in the order of events.

    Among the many who pressed forward to receive the rite, were John and Sally Green; and so the new evangel was preached, and so was it received.






     

    [ 75 ]






    CHAPTER  XIII.


    A PRINCE OF THE HOUSE OF JUDAH.


    IN that inner room of Green's, for all the afternoon, sat the Prophet and Rigdon, and John Green, who seemed to have been at the confessional; and now pale, abject, and cowering, on his knees, with his hands clasped, and not daring to raise his eyes, with his blanched and tear-stained face ghastly in its wretchedness, he tremblingly awaited sentence, -- whether it was to consign his body to a jail and death, and his soul to perdition, or both to earthly penance and contrition.

    "Arise," said the Prophet; "it doth not yet appear what the spirit shall command. Withsraw." The poor wretch proceeded towards the door.

    One moment, -- does your sister know?"

    "Not all. She 'spicions a 'cap."

    "Go and bring in Oliver, the scribe."

    Green returned with that worthy, who served the Prophet as a secretary, and who now, in the presence of Green from his chief's dictation, reduced a lengthy statement to writing; a magistrate was brought in, and in his presence Green prefixed his mark to it, and acknowledged it to be his free act and deed. The justice subscribed it as witness, when it was sealed up, receiving
     






    76                                       THE  PORTRAIT.                                     

    an impression from a seal ring, worn by the Prophet, who handed it to Cowdry, and all withdrew but Smith and Rigdon.

    "And so the Mammon of unrighteousness is made to redound to the glory of the Most High," said Smith, with mock solemnity, his blue eyes twinkling with immense satisfaction. "Sid, this's a devilish good strike. We'll take this poor cuss and relieve him of his sins, that is, his money, so that he'll have nothing to do but to lay up treasures in heaven, -- eh, Sid? you see, he can't complain, his tongue's tied. He shall be our servant, our ox, our ass, and see his hoards put to giidly, if not godly, uses, and this shall be to him instead of the law of the Lamanites. He shall be doomed to ten year's pennance and hard labor."

    "And his sister, Jo?"

    "She's a knowing one. She must go with us, too. It'll do it to keep our eye on her."

    "And the boy? What of him? It will not do to let him go, -- something might come of it if he does."

    The Prophet, who had dropped, as was his wont, his prophetic mantle when with his confidential ministers, was really kind at heart, and this question posed him.

    "This boy," continued Rigdon, who was not then prepared to depart utterly from all recognition of natural law, "would seem to have some claims, at least, on his father's money."

    "That's so, though we can't admit them very fully." answered Jo; "let's have him in, and John and Sally, and settle it at once, Sid."

    At Rigdon's summons, the parties were soon before them, -- John cowering and fawning, Sally sad-faced,
     






                            A   NEW   PENTACOST,   ETC.                         77

    collected, and with a restful look; and Fred wondering, open-eyed, and diffident, but without a particle of fear. He had fully recovered; his face was bright, and his long, wavy black hair hung negligently about his face, and down his neck, with a carelessness that would have taken the eye of a painter.

    The eye of the Prophet rested kindly upon him. He placed his hand on his shining hair, and shook him by his firm shoulder, regarding his promising figure, and frank, handsome face, and open, fearless brow, with approving admiration.

    "It is a goodly youth," he said at length, "a child of the lords of the Lamanites. He shall become a prince of the house of Judah. Clothe him in fine raiment, and let him be skilled in all the knowledge of his fathers, and come in and go out before the Lord. And he shall wax, and become a mighty man, and a great captain, and in the great day will lead the hosts of the Lord to battle against the Lamanites and Gentiles, and shall prevail. So, let it be."

    "And for you, man of guile," -- turning to John, who cowered before him -- "into whose heart temptation came, that in the end God might be glorified, go forth, to toil diligently with thy hands. Thou shalt care for the herds and swine. Be discreet with thy tongue, penitent and patient in thy heart, constant in prayer, and diligent in works of repentance; if, haply," and rising to his full height and extending his arm, "if, haply, in the fulness of thy years, God shall pardon and give thee rest. So let it be."

    The last sentences were pronounced with a solemnity and awe that impressed even Rigdon, who looked for a
     






    78                                       THE  PORTRAIT.                                     

    moment as if he believed that a real coal from the high altar had touched the Prophet. John shrank murmuring, and coweringly towards the door; Sally reverently dropped her head, and tears streamed from her eyes...


    (under construction)








     

    Riddle's Letter to James T. Cobb



    (under construction)





     




    Albion W. Tourgee
    (1838-1905)

    Button's Inn
    (Boston: Roberts Bros., 1887)

  • 243  Beginning of Mormonism
  • 305  "Apostle Jackson's" story
  • 325  Rigdon in NY c. 1823
  • 338  Jackson and the Mormons
  • 341-44  mentions of Rigdon
  • 356  "Jackson" made an Apostle

  • Transcriber's Comments   area map




  •  




    BUTTON'S  INN




    BY


    ALBION  W.  TOURGEE

    AUTHOR OF  "A FOOL'S ERRAND,"  "HOT PLOWSHARES," ETC.












    BOSTON:
    ROBERTS  BROTHERS.
    1887.




     

    [ v ]





    P R E F A C E.
    ______

    IN This volume only the name and situation of the original Button's Inn have been retained. The traditions of descent and nomenclature are partly borrowed and partly fanciful. Whether the Basse a loin at which the French explorer was commanded to land his forces was the site of Barcelone, and whether that name was derived therefrom, is not now ascertainable. The real tragedy of Button's Inn was quite unlike the one herein attributed to it, and the ghost which it was said once haunted its ruins is no doubt quite as imaginary a creature as the one I have chosen to delineate.

    The good people to whom the supersedure of the ancient highway brought misfortune were not in any way connected with the establishment of the new religion, so far as I know; but the life of this region in which the story is located, during the later years of the Inn, was precisely that from which Mormonism sprang. Two of its early leaders -- one an Apostle -- went from this country. Tradition imputes to one of them suspicion of a mysterious crime. The self-accusing impluse
     



    vi                                               PREFACE                                              


    attributed to the Apostle is borrowed from the judicial annals of another State, and is a curious incident of the early history of "the New Dispensation."

    Without regard to what Mormonism now is, I have endeavored to depict it as it was then regarded, both by those who came in contact with it and the "Saints themselves. It was a curious product of a strange religious and intellectual development. As a child I have a vivid recollection of the Temple at Kirtland, Ohio, before it was dismantled. The accounts which are accewssible of the manner and appearance of the Prophet Joseph Smith are singularly conflicting. I have followed one given by an eye-witness, from whose narrative the scene in the Temple is chiefly drawn. There is no doubt that there was a certain Oriental warmth of fancy about the founder of the Mormon faith which is entirely lacking in the bleak, frigid, matter-of-fact nature of his successor. The ceremonials, which according to report were at the outset impressive and poetical in character, so far as they are revealed to the eye of the Gentile are now barren and unimpressive to the very verge of the ludicrous; there is reason to believe that the secret rites of the Endowment House are about equally horrible and grotesque. Brigham Young was no doubt a much greater man than Joseph Smith; but the latter was unquestionably a poet, as every founder of a new faith must be, while his successor was utterly devoid of
     



                                                  PREFACE                                               vii


    imaginative power. The whole movement was purely American in character, -- the American orientalized by Christian tradition. Almost all its early membership was drawn from western New York, northern Ohio, and Vermont, from which latter State have come the majority of its leaders. This fact is no doubt the primary cause of the attention of the senator from that State being specially directed to the evils arising from this peculiar religious fantasy. In 1836 Smith declared that there were less than fifty foreigners in the sect, while one who travelled with the main body on its famous Western march, after the fall of Nauvoo, said: "To pass along the line of wagons, listen to the conversation, and hear the hymns and prayers of the emigrants, one would think he had fallen in with a caravan of New England crusaders crossing the desert on their way to conquer the Holy Sepulchre from the Infidels."

    Intimate association with one of the early disciples, and the acquaintance of some very intelligent believers in this curious faith have given me a strong interest in its origin and the philosophy of its evolution from the religious life of that day. This evolution I have sought to indicate, rather than laboriously to trace.

    It was long an agricultural problem -- perhaps it still is with some few tillers of the soil -- whether cheat or chess came from deteriorated wheat or not. One thing was accounted certain, -- chess grew only where wheat had been sown. Whether Mormonism
     



    viii                                               PREFACE                                              


    is the chess of the religious life of that first half of the present century or not, it is certain that faith in Moroni's revelations sprang up in the shadow of a peculiar Christian idealism, which especially abounded in the region where the story is laid, giving to different lives a varying color, according to the nature of each. The elder characters herein portrayed are contrasted types of the life which was largely shaped by this influence; Dewstowe, Ozro, and Dotty, of that resulting life in which material interests have subordinated and in great measure superseded religious speculation. My purpose has been faithfully to depict the life which marked the period in which these epochs met and overlapped, -- when the one was setting and the other rising in our Western world. The episode of the pin-making macjine has been regarded as fanciful, but a well known family in this region long treasured the model herein described as a relic of the inventive genius of one of its most gifted members.
    A. W. T.    
    Mayville, N. Y.,
            June 28, 1887





    A Map of Chautauqua County, New York, as it was in 1825  (two years after Button's Inn was built)


    [ ix ]





    C O N T E N T S
    ______


    001   "A JOLLY PLACE IN TIMES OF OLD."

    018   "A FAIR YOUNG MISTRESS."

    029   A REGULAR BOARDER.

    057   A VACANT CHAMBER.

    091   A KNIGHT OF THE ROAD.

    118   A COMMERCIAL VIEW.

    140   A MODERN EPHESUS.

    165   A "SENSIBLE AND TRUE AVOUCH."

    177   "ASHES TO ASHES."

    200   ON THE VERGE OF DESTINY.

    212   THE BENISON OF PEACE.

    233   AFTER MANY DAYS.

    257   A MISSION OF MERCY.

    265   BLOTTED OUT.

    274   A SUDDEN START.


     



    x                                               CONTENTS                                              


    287   YESTERDAY'S WOE.

    305   FULFILLING LOVE'S COMMANDMENT.

    315   THE SHADOW OF CRIME.

    335   IN THE NEW JERUSALEM.

    345   THE VOICE OF THE PROPHET.

    357   UNEXPECTED RESULTS.

    365   A FUTILE QUEST.

    375   AWAKENED JUSTICE.

    386   PARTITION AND PARTNERSHIP.

    394   SAINTS AND SINNERS.

    402   SOUL SCOT.

    410   A WEAVER'S KNOT.

    415   THE WORLD'S MUTATION.






    [ 001 ]




    BUTTON'S  INN.
    ______


    "A  JOLLY  PLACE  IN  TIMES  OF  OLD."

    BUTTON's INN stood, let me not say stands, since all that name imports has disappeared, and the wayfarer now can scarcely trace the footprints of its departed glory, -- Button's Inn, while it was yet an inn, stood on a little shelf in the line of verdant hills that stretches along the southern shore of one of our great lakes. Three miles away, and five hundred feet below its mudsill, was the harbor to which the road led that ran by its door. Winding along the slope in search of easy grades, the highway nearly doubled the distance before it crept down the last gentle declivity and spread itself out upon the white shell-laden sands of the beach. Back of it rose a soft green hillside, moulded into harmonious curves by the wave-action of ages when "the waters
     



    2                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

    (this page not transcribed)


     



                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        3




    (this page not transcribed)


     



    4                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

    (this page not transcribed)


     



                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        5




    (this page not transcribed)


     



    6                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

    (this page not transcribed)


     



                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        7




    (this page not transcribed)


     



    8                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

    (this page not transcribed)


     



                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        9




    (this page not transcribed)


     



    10                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

    (this page not transcribed)


     



                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        11




    (this page not transcribed)


     



    12                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

    (this page not transcribed)


     



                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        13




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    14                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    covered the face of the earth."...

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                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        15




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    covered the face of the earth."...

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                            "A JOLLY PLACE  IN TIMES OF OLD."                        17




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    "A  FAIR  YOUNG  MISTRESS."


    OZRO! Oz-r-o-o!"

    The voice was clear and full...

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    A  REGULAR  BOARDER.


    EIGHTEEN years before our story opens...

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    A  VACANT  CHAMBER.


    THE...

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    A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  ROAD.


    MR DEWSTOWE was one of the most enterprising and successful of the peripatetic merchants of a generation ago. He was not only a merchant, but a horseman as well...

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    A  COMMERCIAL  VIEW.


    DON'T you want to ride as far as the village,...

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    A  MODERN  EPHESUS.


    IT was a jolly company that gathered at Button's Inn that night...

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    A  "SENSIBLE  AND  TRUE  AVOUCH."


    ONLY Dewstone, the stranger from the South, and the German remained...

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    "ASHES  TO  ASHES."


    IT was a busy period that intervened between the early autumn...

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    ON  THE  VERGE  OF  DESTINY.


    A STORM had set in with the going down of the sun...

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    THE  BENISON  OF  PEACE.


    THE morning of Christmas dawned cold...

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    [ 233 ]





    AFTER  MANY  DAYS.


    MR. JACKSON'S peculiarities, not to say his eccentricities, were so marked that be was rarely referred to by his name, even by the people of the Inn, but remained as he had been styled at first, -- "the stranger." Somehow he seemed foreigrn to their life, and equally foreign to that of the ordinary traveller. He had shown the utmost friendliness, and taken a great interest in all the affairs of the Inn, but had not intermeddled nor manifested any undue familiarity. His religious views had been a matter of considerable speculation in the neighborhood. There could be no question as to the profoundly religious tendency of his nature, nor was there any doubt in the minds of the people as to the sincerity of his professions. He attended the religious gatherings held within reasonable distance of the Inn, seeming to be equally at home in all without regard to sect. His devotional aspect, absorbed attention, and general impressiveness of manner affected all very favorably,
     



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    and made Methodists and Baptists alike anxious to claim him as one of themselves. But when they approached him in regard to his own sectarian views and affiliations, the result was eminently unsatisfactory. He seemed not inclined to doctrinal disquisition, or to argument of any kind. Indeed, there was a brevity and sternness about him that smacked more of command than of importunity. He was one of those men whose peculiar manner impresses even strangers with the impulse of obedience, and the expectation of ready compliance with his wish had apparently been confirmed by the habit of command. Though he took no part in any religious exercises, except by giving strict attention and making occasional responses, all deferred to him in a manner, and all looked upon him as an exemplary and godly man. Efforts to induce him to express a preference for one creed or another were, however, futile. Every one knew that a man of such a positive character could not fail to have fixed and positive religious convictions but what his were, no one could determine. He had been driven by dint of much indirect inquiry for he was by no means a man to whom one would. care to put leading questions in regard to what be
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            235


    manifested no inclination to speak about -- to admit that he was not "exactly" a Methodist, nor "exactly" a Baptist; and he was known to be neither a Congregationalist nor a Presbyterian. As these were the chief sects of this region, whose life sprung almost entirely from New England, it was quite impossible for the gossips of the neighborhood to determine "exactly" what he was.

    The border-land that lies between an established civilization and a new one is always fertile in religious ideas. Not only does a new creed usually bring with it a new political and social life, but such new life most frequently offers occasion, if it does not develop the need, for a new belief. Out of the relations between Egypt and Israel sprang Judaism while the domination of the Roman by weakening popular faith in the Mosaic system, opened the way for a broader and nobler ideal. Out of these came the opportunity of Christianity. So too with Christian sects; new forms and new dogmas have ever abounded on the borders of the new civilizations which they have encountered. Luther and Calvin and Knox were not less the products of disturbed political and social conditions than the proximate causes of religious
     



    236                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    convulsion. Our American border-life was peculiarly fecund in such religious movements. Solitude is the nurse not only of inspiration, but also of self-delusion. The forest and the desert are especially the nurseries of prophets and pretenders. There is something about the silence and seclusion in which man walks the very lord of all he sees, that builds up his self-reliance and exalts the consciousness of individual power to a point rarely if ever attained by those dwelling in the midst of crowded populations. The cloister may offer a temporary and imperfect substitute, but the divine frenzy that comes only from undoubting confidence in one's own convictions is rarely found in the city-bred enthusiast. In him there is always something that smacks of pretence and design. He who looks often in the faces of men is sure to fear the multitude. Public opinion flexes his judgment, and the fear of ridicule makes him a coward. It is only in the man whose surroundings compel habitual self-communing, and yet are not of overwhelming grandeur, that conviction grows strong enough to become an unquestioning faith, not in another's teachings, the doctrines of a particular sect or the tenets of a special creed, but in the results of his own solitary meditation.
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            237


    The presence of the multitude crushes out individuality. It may quicken the pulse, sharpen the wit, and improve the externals, but it breaks down the confidence of man in his own conclusions, motives, aspirations, and beliefs.

    So, too, the wilder forms of Nature are not conducive to the highest individualism. The silence and sameness of the forest; the dull level of the unbounded desert; the fen, with the sea sobbin among its rushes, but the limitless power of its breakers held at a distance from the accustomed haunt, -- these and other forms of less striking solitude have ever been the surroundings in which man has reached the climax of individual power. From Moses to El Mahdi the prophets who have left the impress of their faith on thousands or millions of followers have had this training. Remoteness from the centres of humanity and a not too near exposure to the grander forms of Nature these two thinas seem to be essential to the perfection of individual power. The rugged mountain-range and the boisterous ocean-shore have never been fertile in religious phantasies, or productive of great natural leaders. The moor, the forest, the desert, and the shore of the inland sea may nourish religious contemplation until the saint
     



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    becomes a seer, and the seer. a prophet who deems himself divinely ordained to do the work of the Almighty. The ocean, with its eternal symphony of terror, crushes out speculation, thrills the soul with awe, until it shrinks within itself and clamors for external aid, and inclines the mind not to speculation and dissent, but to faith and superstition. He that dwells by the seashore is almost always a believer. He may be an enthusiast, but he is rarely a doubter, and never a promulgator of strange doctrines or new beliefs.

    Our Western forests nourished prophets and messiahs by the score. New sects and new creeds sprang up under their shadow almost as readily as new towns and new States. Freedom from te restraint of old institutions encouraged also freedom of religious belief. There were "Free" Baptists, "Free" Presbyterians, "Free" Methodists, and even "Free" Quakers; a like series of "Independents" and sects distinguished from other known bodies by special prefixes such as "Christian," "Protestant," or "Primitive," as well as many having entirely new and self-distinguishing names and holding special unrelated tenets. It was at this time that the witty Frenchman spoke of our country as a land
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            239


    of "one hundred religions and but one sauce." It was true for the first half of this century our country was a hot-bed of new beliefs. Infinite space and unechoing solitude, in a climate compelling mental activity, incline a people al- ways to the contemplation of infinite subjects, questions in regard to the divine essence, purpose, and attributes. Until the thirst for wealth became a universal disease, and Mammon set up his golden idol for us to worship, the American people were among the most religiously inclined of any in the world, -- perhaps more than any that the world has known since the overthrow of the Jewish hierarchy. There was little harmony in form or method, but there was universal accord in result. To be religious to believe in something, and believe in it with might, mind, soul, and strength, was accounted the first duty of man. The young might be permitted to be frivolous and even profane, but with arrival at maturity a sober religious cast of mind was expected. The were exceedingly lax in the observance of formal laws of the Church as well as of the State. Of frivolity there was very little. Christmas was curiously regarded. Religious service was Generally held on that day, but it was not popularly observed
     



    240                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    as a day of merry-making. It was rather a supernumerary Sabbath than a holiday, in the ordinary acceptance of the term. In fact, mirth and gladness were divorced from religion, except it was a state of religious exaltation bordering on frenzy, which was accounted the inexpressible and exclusive joy of the believer. The forest did not make them more religious than other people, in the sense of scrupulous observance of forms or ceremonies, or strict adherance to the letter of the law. But united with the political impulse toward individualism, it gave us a phenominal independence of authority, united with a universally religious cast of thougbt, which has produced some strangely discordant results. Much that came from these conditions was good and admirable; some of it was whimsical, and some monstrous.

    This religiousness did not consist in careful and anxious observance of ceremonial or the unquestioning acceptance of any particular form of belief, but rather in a universal tendency to speculation in regard to religious matters. Every one might not have his own distinctive creed, but he was pretty sure to have his own construction of accepted dogmas. It was the outcome of the personal piety of the Puritan,
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            241


    colored by the contempt for authority and all forms of external restraint, which marked the Yankee in his westward course across the continent. Learning was almost as little esteemed as authority neither were thought essential to a knowledge of the divine will or conducive to divine favor. Individual consciousness was exalted to a level with the inspired Word. The "witness of the spirit" made all men equal. The most unlearned disputed with confidence with the wisest on the subtlest points of doctrine. Men believed that they walked with God" in an almost literal sense. Communion with the Divine -- direct and conscious influence and inspiration -- was a usual rather than an exceptional form of belief and experience. The most marvellous of miracles was the most commonplace incident of an ordinary religious experience. Intelligence intensified rather than lessened this curious effect, because intelligence recognized the supernal, and could not deny the miraculous experience of one while admitting that of another.

    In other lands and other times such religious exaltation has expended itself in the zealous observance of special rites, in mortifying penance, in the worship of saints, and abject obedience
     



    242                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    to ecclesiastical authority. None of these marked the great tide of religious sentiment that swept over the land during the first balf-century of our national existence. The overthrow of political authority had generated an absolute contempt of ecclesiastical restraint. Toleration had reached its utmost limit. Religiousness of any sort was respected and respectable: irreligion of the very mildest character was counted little less than a crime. Sects multiplied so that it was almost impossible to say where one ended and another began. Men spoke as familiarly of their relations with God as with each other. Repentance formed an impenetrable cloak for all irregularities of life. Appeal from the authorities of the various churches to the Most High God and the American people was open to all, and was made with little hesitation. Piety meant personal communion with Deity; from that to specific revelation was but a brief step.

    Out of this almost universal sense of immediate contact with the Deity came more than one curious result, tolerance and intolerance, credulousness and unbelief, new sects, new methods, new doctrines, and one absolutely new religion. Prophets by the score arose proclaiming new ways
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            243


    and new tenets, but only one had the boldness to overleap the confines of Christian faith and proclaim an absolutely new dispensation. At first, even this new theosophy did not seek to disturb the established order. It inculcated temperance, industry, and, without proclaiming community of goods, made want impossible and poverty exceedingly rare among its votaries. It based its claims not on a complete and finished revelation, but on a continuing inspiration, a living prophet, and a cumulative law. Strange enough, this sect took its rise and secured its first foot-hold in the most religious and intelligent part of the country, -- western New York and northern Ohio. At the time of which we write it was just assuming definite form. Since then it has dropped some of its vagaries and assumed more definite and distinctive features. Though the name of Jesus Christ was assumed as a part of its titular appellation, it retained little of the accepted Christian idea except that of immediate personal intercommunion with the Deity which American Christianity had carried to such an unprecedented length. Doctrinally speaking, Mormonism is but an exaggeration of the idea of personal communion, control, and direction which pervaded the religious
     



    244                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    atmosphere of that day. It is a religion of intermitting revelation, of present miracles, and continuing prophetic guidance. The breaking down of ancient barriers brings sometimes liberty and sometimes license. The "internal light" of the Friends is but little removed from the claim of prophetic inspiration of the Mormon and the miraculous "witness of the Spirit" on which other Christian sects insist with more or less emphasis. The idea of personal guidance by signs and tokens of the divine will, which was so notable a characteristic of the Puritan faith, yielded some strange fruits when freed from the restraints of established institutions, and removed from the atmosphere it had created for itself in New England. Of these, by far the most notable was the new religion which sprang up in the very midst of the best life of the land, has now become the established belief of more than a quarter of a million souls, and presents today one of the most difficult questions that has ever come before the American people for solution.

    Socially, as well as religiously, this was a period of peculiar interest. It was the unrecognized nidus of forces unparalleled in history. Hand and brain were just awakening to a new
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            245


    life. So swift has been our subsequent development, that it seems as if until that time man had only slumbered on the earth. As yet wealth was little esteemed as an index of social rank. The richest and the poorest stood on the same social level. In fact the rich were very few, and the very poor were fewer still. Luxuries were rare, but of necessities there was so general an abundance as to amount almost to universal superfluity. The reign of machinery had hardly begun. The locomotive was scarcely a recognized factor of transportation paper was yet made by hand; cast-iron stoves and plows were almost unknown nails were still made by the smith. Invention bad hardly opened the door of wonderland. American mechanical genius, yet lay in chrysalid slumber. One clerk in the office of the Secretary of State did all the work of granting patents to our inventors until the year before Ozro's application was made. In the first half century of our government there were issued barely ten thousand patents, -- as many are granted now in half a year. At the time of which we write the Patent Office, just established as a separate bureau, consisted of a Commissioner and three clerks. Even these found the time to hang heavy on their hands.
     



    246                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    That year another clerk was added, and the administration was attacked for extravagance in consequence.

    A simple people standing on the verse of an epoch of unparalleled material prosperity, but as yet concerned more with religious and political speculation than with the competition for wealth, composed the two great tides of life which radiated from two great centres, the one at the East and the other at the South, over all that constitutes our present national domain.

    To such people the religious proclivities of a man like Mr. Jackson were a matter of serious speculation, -- to none more so than to the land-lady of the Inn whose religious intensity found in his stern, almost ascetic, fervor a kindred sentiment. With her it was no question of, approval. To whatever sect he might belong she recognized not only the divine nature of his zeal, but felt that his associations must have had something to do with shaping his religious character. She was predisposed after four months' scrutiny of his blameless life to recognize in this unyielding pietist not only a man of high rank in the sect to which be belonged, but one entitled to consideration because of his life and character.
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            247


    When, therefore, he proclaimed himself in no doubtful tones "the servant of the Most High God," she yielded submissively to his dictation. He was not indeed like other men, and taught not like other religious teachers. The imperiousness of undoubting faith and the sincerity of a zeal which even the fear of martyrdom could not quench showed in his demeanor and thrilled in his hoarse, rasping tones. He was one of those who say even to a stranger, "Go, and he goeth." To her who had noted his demeanor so long; who had seen him retire to his own room three times a day for prayer and meditation who realized the self-restraint which held him back from participation in the worship of others, yet compelled him to give it the sanction of his presence and approval, -- to her he spake with an authority which she did not dream of gainsaying. When he had commanded them to make merry, though her heart was sore and apprehensive of what might be in store for the future, she hardly thought of questioning. Indeed, at that very moment had flashed through her mind, the words of the yet unrecognized Messiah, when in that "beginning of miracles" he said to his mother, Woman, what have I to do with thee? and paying no further heed to her remonstrance,
     



    248                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    commanded the wondering servants to "Fill the waterpots with water." She had taken this as a divine behest that she should comply with the wishes of this masterful stranger who had dwelt so long beneath her roof, and was still a stranger. Where he lived, what was his business or position, none knew. He had witnessed strange and stirring scenes of which he sometimes spoke, but without any allusion to himself, except as an eye-witness. He seemed to know all phases of life, and more than once had startled the good woman with that knowledge which brought conviction to the heart of Nathanael, when the Master said to him,

    "Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee." As soon as she could, therefore, she went to her own room to read over again the familiar story of these miracles.

    Ozro and Dewstowe bad alone to the barn to prepare the horses for the road. Dotty had packed the traveller's luncheon in his saddlebags and returned to finish up the "morning's work." It was no light task, and the mother had left more of it than usual for her to do that morning. She was a brave-hearted strong, limbed girl, however, and went out and in about
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            249


    her work as blithe and cheerful as if it had no hint of hardship in it. The stranger watched her from the. side of the fireplace with evident approval.

    "Dotty," he said at length, in a voice tender despite its hoarseness. It was the first time he had ever addressed her so familiarly, and she looked at him in surprise. She was just lifting the tea-kettle to hang it on the crane which swung over the fireplace, bolding back her skirts with the other hand as she did so to keep them from the flame.

    "Dotty," the stranger repeated with affectionate emphasis, "what would you do if you had a fortune?"

    "I'd pay off the mortgage on this Inn for the first thing," said the girl, with prompt decision.

    "But suppose that was already paid off?"

    "But it ain't and I cannot suppose anything of that sort!"

    "It is, and you shall carry the release to your father presently. Now what would you do?"

    "Who paid it?"

    "I did."

    "And you --?"
     



    250                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    "I wanted to make a Christmas present."

    "And you gave all that?"

    "I could give much more and not feel it seriously."

    "Why, you must be made of gold!" exclaimed Dotty, in great surprise.

    "You see I am not," he rejoined with a laugh that brought on his cough.

    "Well, who are you anyhow?

    "An humble servant of the Lord!"

    "So you said," responded Dotty, mischievously. "We've had lots of them here, but they are not generally so much inclined to give as to receive."

    "To one He givetb thirty, to another sixty, and to another a hundred-fold," said the stranger, solemnly. "The Lord has been very kind to me, and as I have freely received so would I freely give to them He points out to me as faithful trustees of His benefits."

    "You don't think I would be?" said the girl in surprise. "I am not one of the elect. I'm not even a I 'professor' at all, -- Ozro nor I either. It's queer. Ma brought us up very strict, and Ozro's good enough for a whole church; but we ain't 'professors,' and it don't seem like we ever will be."
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            251


    The girl was washing a great iron spider in the pan of water in which the dishes from the table bad been cleansed, as she spoke, holding it by one hand, while she yielded the dish-cloth with the other.

    "Well, what would you do with a fortune if you had it?" persisted the stranger. She rested the edge of the spider on the table, and squeezed the water from the cloth meditatively as she replied:

    "Really, I don't know. Pa and Ma don't need it if the mortgage is paid. Ozro will make enouah out of his inventions, and -- and -- really," she continued turning to him, "I don't see as I should have any use for it."

    "How about Mr. Dewstowe?" asked Mr. Jackson, slyly.

    "Oh," she answered with a frank smile, "he's got enough of his own."

    "So you've no use for money?"

    "No -- that is -- if I knew."

    She hesitated, and looked at her interlocutor half distrustfully.

    "Well, if you knew what?" he said encouragingly

    "I don't know as I ought to say what I was going to."
     



    252                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    "You need not be afraid to speak freely to me." "I am not, sir, but -- it is very strange don't know -- well, it was about my brother Jack, sir. If I only knew he was comfortable, sir."

    "Your brother Jack!" exclaimed the stranger, with a start. "I thought be was dead?"

    "So he may be," said the girl, cautiously. "I only meant if he was alive and was -- well, say comfortably well off -- I should have nothing more to ask for, and would not know what to do with money, if I had it."

    "You don't want a rich husband, then?"

    "Oh she said, resuming her work and wiping out the inside of the spider with the cloth she held in her hand, "I'd like him to be well off of course; but I should expect him to take care of that."

    "For fear he should not, I want to make you a wedding present; but if I do, you must not let it be known until you are engaged to be married. Do you agree to that?"

    "I don't know," said the girl, thoughtfully.

    "I might think he ought to know it even if we were not really engaged, you know."

    "Well, at least you would not tell him without first asking me?"
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            253


    "I don't know sir," she responded, setting the spider in its place by the chimney-jamb. I don't believe I would like to have much under such conditions. I would, of course, remember that you did not want me to say anything about it; but I should not like to promise I would not tell if I thought I ought to."

    "Well," said he, laughing, "you are a stubborn girl, and I guess you come honestly by that attribute. If you will wipe your hands, I will let you have what I intended to give you." She turned to the towel-rack and dried her hands in the method approved by the Pharisees, who washed and wiped "to the elbow." Then she came and stood before him. He took a package of papers from his pocket, selected one, and handed it to her.

    "That is for you," he said.

    She turned it over curiously.

    "May I look at it?" she asked.

    "Certainly; read it."

    Dotty opened it and glanced at its contents. It was a long document, couched in legal phraseology which she only half understood; but she did understand enough to know that she was made richer by that instrument than she had ever thought to be.
     



    254                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    The tears sprang, to her eyes, and falling on her knees she seized the stranger's band and kissed it again and again. A look of calm content came over Mr. Jackson's face as he smoothed the hair about her forehead with the other hand, and said:

    "There, there, don't cry!"

    "But who are you that does such wonderful things?" she asked appealingly.

    He smiled curiously down at her, and said:

    "No matter, dear; I am one whose work is almost done."

    She looked at him in wonder and awe as she rose to her feet.

    "And now," said he "I wish you would take this to your father, -- and this to your mother. Then by the time you get your cloak on, Mr. Dewstowe will be ready for his ride, -- unless, indeed, he and Ozro have fought and killed each other already."

    "Oh, no fear of that," Dotty answered brightly.

    "Well, perhaps not; but don't be too sure. Run away now!"

    She stooped quickly and kissed him, -- then fled while her cheeks flushed a burning red.

    "I could not help it!" she said to herself as
     



                                AFTER  MANY  DAYS.                            255


    she went along the porch. ""And I'm sure he deserved it. Anybody would kiss a man as good as he is,"

    Dotty gave her father a bulky document, "with Mr. Jackson's compliments," and took a small sealed note to her mother, who was sitting by the window with the great family Bible open on her knee. Dotty put the paper she had herself received in her pocket, drew on her wraps, and when Dewstowe and the traveller drove to the porch with the latter's horse fastened to the sleigh she was ready to start. Ozro seemed more serious than usual as he helped her to her seat, tucked the robes about her, and then turning quickly away entered the house. The landlord came out upon the porch as they drove off, looking dazed and flurried. The landlad baving opened the letter her daughter had brought, read these words

    "Luke xv. 24."

    Turning to the book upon her knee she found the place indicated, and read:

    "For this my son was dead, and is alive again he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry."

    The snow sparkled in the chill sunshine. The bells jingled merrily. Dotty's red hood
     



    256                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    disappeared. The landlady caught a glimpse of Ozro's set face as he crossed the porch, and then her husband's stalwart form came into the field of vision walking hastily and swinging his arms nervously. In one hand he held a large closely-written sheet bearing a seal of red wafer.










    [ 257 ]





    A  MISSION  OF  MERCY.


    THE horses dragged slowly up the hill...

    (pages 257-264 not transcribed)






    [ 265 ]





    BLOTTED  OUT.


    MY son was dead...

    (pages 265-273 not transcribed)






    [ 274 ]





    A  SUDDEN  START.


    IT was with no feeling...

    (pages 274-286 not transcribed)






    [ 287 ]





    YESTERDAY'S  WOE.


    I HAD been down to the harbor...

    (pages 287-304 not transcribed)






    [ 305 ]





    FULFILLING  LOVE'S  COMMANDMENT.


    I DO not know how I reached home. I thought very little of the dead man behind me, or of the act that caused his death, but much of the beautiful woman to whom I was going; not with the idea of possession, -- that hardly entered my mind, -- but with the thought that I had avenged her wrongs and relieved her of her husband's tyranny and suspicion. She might be no nearer to me, but she would not belong to him, nor her happiness be dependent on his caprice. This was the thought that filled my mind as I plodded doggedly homeward. I have wondered since what made me return at all; but I was anxious that she should know how faithfully I had obeyed her wishes, -- that no fault of mine had prevented the success of my errand. Above all, I suppose I wished to see her once more. I had not thought of flight, but somehow felt that my opportunities for seeing her would not be many, and was determined to make one more at all hazards.

    "When I arrived in sight of the Inn, it was dark except her window and the light of the
     



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    smouldering fire in the public-room. How should I reach her, how speak with her, how tell her that she was free, -- for despite what I had seen it did not occur to me that she would consider it as other than a relief. It may seem strange to you, but the fact that I had taken life did not oppress me at all. I neither pitied nor feared the bruised and battered mass that lay at the bottom of the ravine; I was simply glad that the man was dead. I went at once to my room, the one my mother now occupies. I found a bottle of rum and took a drink, which I sorely needed. I threw myself on my bed, and wondered how I should get speech with your mother. I dared not go through the public-room, for I knew that there were half a dozen men sleeping by the fire. I shrank from waking my mother, for I would then have to tell her all that had occurred. Suddenly the idea of the trap-door in the old overhang came into my mind. I knew that when the house was rebuilt it bad been left in place, though it had long been unused. It was hung on wooden bar-hinges set into the chimney at one end, and into the house-logs at the other. It worked up and down indifferently, but the ends had been concealed by a narrow slat which served as a base-board
     



                        FULFILLING  LOVE'S  COMMANDMENT                    307


    in the room above, being nailed to the logs to conceal the uneven ends of the flooring; below, it was supported by a couple of braces nailed to the wall. It ran the whole length of the closet. To remove these braces was an easy matter. If nothing should be standing upon the trap-door in the room above, I could easily lower it without attracting attention.

    "I did not hesitate. Climbing on the closet shelves, I loosened the braces and cautiously lowered the door. When it swung down I raised my head and looked into the room. The candle was burning on the stand by the bedside. Your mother was lying beside you with the quilt loosely thrown over her. Fearing that my sudden appearance might startle her, I rapped gently on the floor and called her name in a low voice. She waked with a start and sat up in bed, her hair falling about her shoulders, seeming dazed and confused. She had been asleep, probably dreaming.

    "What is it? Is it you, dear?" she asked in a low eager tone. I could see her face by the light of the candle on the stand beside her. Such a look of sweet expectancy I never saw on any human countenance before. Then first I realized my deplorable condition; I had kllled,
     



    308                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    not her husband alone, but her love. I had not regarded myself as a murderer, until I thought how she would recoil from me when she knew the truth. Her attention was fixed on the door that opened on the stairway. I thought of dropping down from my perch and fleeing as Cain did from the sight of man; but the Lord willed it otherwise. I do not know why I remained. When her attention was at last attracted to me she came forward, throwing something around her shoulders as she did so, and gazed in amazement at the long narrow trap-door. It must have seemed to her like a grave. She asked if I had seen her husband. I could only bow my head without looking up. I remember thinking that I could never look into her eyes again."

    He paused. The perspiration was streaming down his face. He wiped it with his handkerchief, gazing steadily into the fire as he did so. His voice was strained and tremulous, and he spoke with that hurried nasal cadence which characterized the popular religious frenzy of that day. After a moment he proceeded.

    "She bade me come up and relate what her husband had said, -- all that had occurred. I swung myself into the room. She stepped back
     



                        FULFILLING  LOVE'S  COMMANDMENT                    309


    and waited, standing beside a chair, one hand clasping the shawl about her throat. I stood before her overwhelmed, confounded. Despite the terrible facts, I could not but be conscious of her loveliness. It was as if an angel were before me, whom I worshipped even while I waited for the words of doom. She questioned, and I told her all, -- truly, as it had happened. Her trunk was open a little way from the chair by which she stood, with many of the things it usually contained piled at the ends. It occurred to me that she had determined to leave as much of her belongings as she could, and follow her husband if I failed."

    "That is why she gave me laudanum," interrupted Ozro, with a tone of relief, "She would have had to leave me, and did not want the pain of a conscious parting."

    "Very likely," said the other, absently. "I stood looking down at the trunk," he resumed, "when I heard a gasp -- a moan. She had said nothing and I had not once looked up. When I did so she was deathly pale, -- her left hand pressed above her heart, her face wearing a look of intense physical pain coupled with a strange undefinable fear.

    "Go! go!" she said gaspingly, motioning me
     



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    away. Pity, aversion, and fear were mingled in her tone. She tottered, and I sprang forward to save her from falling. God! what a look of horror came into her eyes as she started back, putting up both her hands to repel me, unconscious that the shawl had fallen from her shoulders. She trembled, gasped again, and clutched the chair. I sprang toward the door, forgetful of everything but her peril.

    "'Stop, stop,' she fairly shrieked, as my hand touched the latch. 'Have you not done enough?'

    "'But you are ill,' I pleaded, 'let me call my mother.'

    "'And proclaim your presence here?'

    "I had not thought of this peril to her good name. She moaned and sank into the chair. What could I do, -- the husband's murderer in the wife's chamber? Her eyes closed, and she breathed short and quick.

    "'Let me do -- something!' I exclaimed.

    "She looked up weakly.

    "'Go! go!' she said, "quick!'

    "'But you?' I asked.

    "'Never mind me! It is nothing -- much! I have had it before -- once! Go -- fly! They will suspect me -- and you --'
     



                        FULFILLING  LOVE'S  COMMANDMENT                    311


    "She shuddered, and put her hands over her eyes as if to shut out some terrible picture. It gave me a thrill of rapture even in my agony to know that she thought of me at all. I had made no defence, no excuse.

    "'I did the best I could, Mrs. Evans.' I said.

    "God help me, I fear it was a lie! I thought I spoke the truth but I might have kept my hold, and let him kill me with the knife. I ought to have done so; it was my place to die. Then he would have been alive, and some time she would have found him and been happy. But it was God's will that it should be otherwise. He knoweth all things!"

    The man stopped, and again wiped his face with the large silk handkerchief which he took out of the hat that lay beside him on the floor. He still held the pipe in his left hand, though he had long ago ceased smoking. He had not once looked at Ozro since telling him of his father's fate. The young man was pale and trembling but be said pityingly,

    "Had you not better wait a while, sir?"

    "No, no! it must be told now! For this thing came I here under God's mysterious guidance!" exclaimed the other, hurriedly,

    "I was mean enough, you see," he continued,
     



    312                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    "to think of myself even then; to plead -- O God! and she was dying!"

    He looked at Ozro, -- his countenance so terribly distorted with horror and shame that the young man drew back in affright.

    "I don't blame you," said the other, mistaking the movement for aversion. -- "I don't blame you, But she did not repel me. She was an angel -- your mother. She stretched out her hand. I touched it, and fell on my knees -- not near her -- away off: I could hardly reach her finger-tips.

    "'I believe you,' she gasped, -- 'I believe every word!'

    "Then she snatched her hand away and pressed it to her heart again.

    "'Go! Go,' she repeated, 'fly -- at once!'

    "'Fly -- where?' I rose to my feet. I suppose my tone showed my despair.

    "'Anywhere! Do not come back -- ever. Nobody else will believe -- Here -- take these!'

    "She handed me her jewel-case, which lay on a pile of books by the chair. I had risen and started to go. I looked at it, and shook my head.

    "'Oh, I forgot! Here -- I have money. My purse -- quick!'
     



                        FULFILLING  LOVE'S  COMMANDMENT                    313


    "She pointed to her trunk. I seized it, dragged it toward her and picked up the pocket-book -- a little red one I had often seen in her hand. She. took it, touched the spring, and it flew open. A terrible spasm of pain seized her.

    "'Jack!' she gasped, 'Jack! never let it be known -- that you were -- here -- never! For my sake!'

    "She half started up -- trembled, gasped, fell back, and would have fallen from the chair had I not caught her. There were two or three convulsive gasps -- that was all. I placed her head against the back of the chair, rubbed her hands, called her name -- felt for her pulse. There was none. She was dead! I did not doubt it. Perhaps even then if I had given the alarm she might have been saved. I did not think it possible, or I am sure I would have done it. My only thought was to save her from shame, and I remembered only her anxiety that I should fly for her sake. It was cowardly, I know; but -- well, there is no excuse. I was overwhelmed with horror. Snatching some of the money, I clambered back down the trap-door, replaced the braces as well as I could, seized my fur-coat (a present from my mother, made of skins my father had taken when he was a young man),
     



    314                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    and putting on your father's hat almost unconsciously, started on my flight. God! how cruel to leave her sitting there dead, that cold, cold night! Through all its terrible hours I thought of that! In all the years since I have not been able to forget it!"

    He rose, and staggered weakly across the room. Ozro again asked him if he had not better delay the rest of his story.

    "No, no!" he exclaimed, "let me finish now. Let me have it over -- be done with it forever!"

    He sat down and resumed.






    [ 315 ]





    THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.


    HALF-DAZED, I went into the storm to 'go away,' as she had bidden me. That was my sole thought. I did not care for myself, and had no sense of fear. I felt that I must go in order that I might not reveal my love, and so cast a shadow on her good name. It was that which she had feared, which her husband's suspicion had made her dread worse than death. I felt no remorse except for the evil I had wrought to her. I would have given my life to have restored her existence; nay, I would gladly have given my life to have restored him, if thereby life and happiness miaht come again to her.

    "I turned after reaching the road and looked up through the blinding storm at the dimly lighted windows. She seemed looking down at me as I had seen her before, the abundant hair falling over the fair shoulder down beside the white arm almost to the floor. I knew that I had killed her -- felt that I was her murderer.
     



    316                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    I had not meant to do her ill: never in word or thought had I done her intentional harm. She had not given me a tender thought: I felt that it was a sacrilege to think of love in connection with her. But she knew and had forgiven -- perhaps she had despised -- my weakness; she also had excused my passion and recognized my sincerity; and she had charged me to go away, and save her honor from taint in the world's thought.

    I was going. I did not know where or how, -- just away, out of sight, out of knowledge, out of the world may be. But for my tell-tale body that would have been the easiest solution of the difficulty, and being the easiest would have been adopted. Were you ever tired, -- thoroughly beaten out, I mean, -- heart, brain, and body? That was my condition, and it is not surprising if my mind was not very clear. I had tramped through the storm to and from where I had fought for m life with a strong man; I had seen my love burned to ashes, and the woman I idolized die by my act. No wonder my thought was confused, and my conscience dead.

    "Somehow, I did not think much of the man who was lying at the bottom of the 'Gulf.' I did not look upon his death as murder, nor had
     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               317


    I any sense of blood-guiltiness as to him. I had done him no wrong unless the silly boastfulness of a hope which was honest and natural enough under the circumstances ma be thought a wrong. I hated him before I saw him, -- before I ever knew he was alive, -- because of his harshness and injustice to her. I was sure he had been unjust, because she could not be in the wrong. I had been willing to go in search of him simply because she desired his presence, -- just as I would have gone for a dog, or any brute she loved. Through it all I was conscious of a sense of gratification that he was dead: he could make her no more trouble. There was a feeling too, that he had met his desert. So I stumbled on through the cold and the snow, leaving the dear dead behind me and hating the dead before me, but with no thought of fleeing from either because of a sense of guilt.

    'I was glad too that he was dead because she loved him. Though I had not meant to do him harm, I hated him not less because she loved him than for the wrong he had done to her. For me, I had only to remember the look of horror that overspread her face when she realized that he had died by my hand, the self-loathing her eyes expressed as she thought that
     



    318                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           




    (this page not yet transcribed)




     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               319




    (this page not yet transcribed)




     



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    rid of it. Fast or slow, backward or forward, one side or the other, go where I would it was all the same, -- there he was, looking -- right at me and through me all the time. I knew at once that he had come back to stay with me wherever I might go, and that this was to be my punishment. For the first time it came to my mind that my false and foolish boasting had made all the trouble, and destroyed two lives. Then I saw myself a murderer, -- not an intended, revengeful murderer, but a reckless, careless, selfish one. I bad boasted of my love and its hopes, and this jealous, fanatic nature had been inflamed by my wrong-doing to commit the cruel act I had condemned. He had loved, but he could not trust; he could not believe in her innocence and purity, how then should he believe my angry denial? He had loved, - ay, he still loved. I saw it now. He did not seek me out of revenge. His look did not reproach me for the wrong I had done to him, but for the evil I had wrought to her. It was sorrow rather than anger that impelled his spirit to its vengeful task.

    "I went on, guided by this presence, until I reached the place where the old Portage crossed the Shore Road. The stage was just coming, across the flat from the village -- it used to run
     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               321


    to the harbor then. It suddenly occurred to me that I had heard the stranger tell the landlord to put his portmanteau on the stage when it came along if he should not return, as he might walk on until it overtook him. It had evidently been his intention to come out here, take a look at the place where the woman he loved was staying and then return and take the stage westward. I had on his hat and my own fur-coat. Why should I not take his place? I thought I could see satisfaction in the white ghostly face that shone upon the snow before me as I formed this resolution. I turned and walked on westward. After an hour or so the stage overtook me. As the light of the lamps fell on me, the driver called out: Hello, is that Mr. Evans ?'

    "'Yes,' I answered. 'Have you got my portmanteau?"

    "'Safe enough; but I began to fear I was going to miss you.'

    "'Oh, I'm all right. I knew you would have a hard time, and thought I would walk on ahead a little way. Are you full?'

    "'No -- only two; pile in.'

    "He stopped beside me. I opened the door and climbed in. Fortunately it was a driver I had never seen. On the fifth day afterward
     



    322                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    'Jackson Evans' got out of the stage in Cincinnati, and two days later was floating down the Ohio on a flat-boat. There was an address on the portmanteau I had assumed the ownership of, but I did not know whether it was the right one or not. So I broke it open: learned from papers in it the address of your father's bankers; took it to a bank, and paid them to transmit it to New York. This took the last money I had, and I hired out as a boatman. It was late in the season, but the river was still open, and there was one captain who was going to risk getting through. He wanted hands, and I went with him. On that day Jackson Evans disappeared, and Abner Jackson took his place. Two years afterward this chance of name was legalized by special statute. Mississippi was a new State then, and it was thought good policy to make things of that sort easy to new-comers. Poindexter, the governor, took a fancy to me, having an interest in the boat I was running then, -- and when I hinted that the name was an assumed one, he volunteered to have it legalized, and did so.

    "Up to this time the dead man had been with me all the while. I saw him now and then after I went on the boat, but not regularly. Before
     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               323


    we got to Orleans I was taken with fever, and when I recovered I knew he was always with me; but I did not actually see him except at long intervals. When I came to look in a glass after my recovery, I found that a lock of my hair had turned as white as snow. I knew then it was the mark of Cain. After that I wore my hat at all times. I don't mind the mark now, but the habit has become fixed, so that I feel uncomfortable in the presence of others unless covered.

    "Strange enough, the Lord prospered me. Perhaps it was because I attended to what was placed in my hands, and had no inclination to dissolute society. I liked always to be engaged, but did not care to be alone, -- in fact, I did not feel myself alone at any time. As I had lost all hope, so I had lost all fear. I did not care whether I lived or died. I was not a religious man, and had no inclination toward repentance nor any fear of punishment. I felt like one serving out a penalty he knows to be just, inevitable, and eternal. I knew that this life of suffering could only be exchanged for another just as bad: I did not think it could be any worse. So I went on doing faithfully what came in my way.

    "The mark of Cain helped me. The fact that I never removed my hat in the presence of any
     



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    one attracted attention ; and I suppose the habitual seriousness which was the result of the consciousness of ghostly company gave me a gravity and earnestness somewhat unusual among the boatmen on the river. At all events, I soon found myself in command of a boat, -- then of a better one,, until the name of Abner Jackson is about as well known up and down the river as that of any man that ever had charge of a load of passengers or signed a bill of lading

    "The life suited me. I had no interests outside of it, and nothing to hope for beyond it. So I ran my boat, took care of my passengers, and made money for my owners. Nobody trifled with me, and everybody felt safe in my care. When I first took command, there was a good deal of curiosity expressed because I wore my hat all the time. On one of my first trips the passengers protested against my wearing it at the table, and one remarked that to do so was an insult to the ladies. I asked the ladies to excuse us, and invited him to accompany me on deck. He apologized -- after we had exchanged shots. His wound was serious, but before we reached New Orleans he was out of danger. Soon afterward a gambler came on board at Natchez-under-the-Hill, and deliberately pulled off my
     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               325


    hat in presence of the passengers and crew. I shot him where be stood, put on my hat and went about my business. Some other experiences with the desperadoes who infested the river gave me a reputation for coolness and determination that was of great advantage. After a time I became myself a part owner of the boat I commanded. I also bought a plantation and negroes, and engaged in trade. Whatever I did prospered. I took no special pride in this, though of course it was a sort of satisfaction. I did not know what I should do with my acquisitions, or who would profit by them.

    "No one ever recognized me in all the time I followed the river, though I saw more than one familiar face. Among these was my mother's cousin, Sidney Rigdon. He had stayed some weeks at the Inn during the fall before I went away. † Afterward he had become one of the leading men among a new religious sect, at that time much talked about because of the peculiar name that was applied to them. They were called Mormons, though I learned from him that their real name was 'The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.' I managed to see a good deal of him without letting him suspect who I was. He seemed very much in earnest, led an

    __________
    † Transcriber's note: Presumably this would have been the fall of 1823. It is not known if Albion W. Tourgee meant this fictional presence of Rigdon in western New York to coincide roughly with the purported Sept. 1823 experience of Joseph Smith, Jr. and the "golden plates."
     



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    exemplary life, and judging from him I formed a very good opinion of the strange people with whom he had cast in his lot. From him I learned how matters were going on here at the Inn. I could not understand all that he told me: since I came here it has been made plain. A year or so after this I sent some money to my mother, -- a hundred dollars; and after that, some every year. If she ever received it, I do not suppose she knew from whom it came."

    "I think she suspected," said Ozro, thoughtfully.

    "After that I used to see more of the spirit. Sometimes it would be with me almost all the while for a trip or two; then it would not appear for months. Sometimes it would not be visible, but I would know it was with me all the same. I did not understand what it wanted nor why it came so often, and so kept right on with my business. Of course I used to think of matters up here at the Inn a good deal, and sometimes would quite make up my mind to come and see how things were getting on. Then the spirit would go away and leave me.

    "I didn't want to come; but I soon knew I'd have to. Nobody can guess how wearing it is to have somebody else around with you all
     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               327


    the while, and feel that he sees and knows all that you see and know and feel and think. That's the way it was with me. Ever since the night I met the murdered man's spirit down by the 'Gulf,' I had not ever been fairly alone. Sometimes I 'most forgot him, but if I did he was sure to jog my elbow in some way or other, just to let me know he was there, I suppose. I knew there was no use in trying to get away from him, and so never made the attempt; but I was very glad when he left me to myself now and then. It was strange how he would come sometimes when I was least expecting him. I have had that face come between me and one I was speaking to, between my eye and the page of a book I was reading between me and a bill of lading I was putting my hand to. I never knew when or where or in what mood it would appear. Sometimes it looked angry and troubled, sometimes sad ; and then again calm and pitiful, as if regretting the task it had to perform. If I became angry or contemplated injustice, it was sure to look reproachful or distressed. If I chanced to take pleasure in the society of a woman, it became flushed and angry, and would pursue me everywhere.

    I cannot say that I was afraid of it. I grew
     



    328                                            BUTTON'S  INN                                           


    to know its moods and expect its presence; but it was very annoying in its more excited forms, and would follow me about persistently until I changed my conduct or intention. I tried once or twice to drown it in drink, but my suffering's were only made greater thereby. My unconscious moments were filled with horrible visions, and in my waking hours the spirit pursued me unceasingly. This companion, invisible to others, served to make me silent and reserved without becoming at all moody or sulky. After a time I found I could converse with it, -- not indeed getting specific replies to questions I might ask, but seeming to know just what it would say if speech were in its power.

    "Don't you think this may have been a delusion?" asked Ozro, cautiously.

    "Do I seem a man likely to be self-deceived?" asked Jackson, severely.

    In truth he did not. Ozro wondered what his associates on the river would have thought if they had known what visions the captain of the popular steamer had.

    "No," continued Jackson, "I do not pretend to know just what this ghostly appearance was. Whether it was the 'spiritual body' of which the Apostle speaks, or only a spiritual influence that
     



                                  THE  SHADOW  OF  CRIME.                               329


    shaped itself to my consciousness in that form, I do not know. But the thing I do know is, it was of God."

    He raised his eyes reverently as he uttered these words.

    "No doubt, no doubt!" said Ozro, seriously.