Memoirs of Stephen Burroughs. [Two lines of verse] : Copy right secured.

Memoirs of Stephen Burroughs. [Two lines of verse] : Copy right secured.

Table of contents

Title page

THE FOLLOWING IS A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR TO A FRIEND, WHO HAD REQUESTED A NARRATIVE OF HIS LIFE.

MEMOIRS OF STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

CHAPTER I.

CHAP. II.

CHAP. III.

CHAP. IV.

CHAP. V.

CHAP. VI.

CHAP. VII.

CHAP. VIII.

CHAP. IX.

CHAP. X.

CHAP. XI.

CHAP. XII.

CHAP. XIII.

CHAP. XIV.

CHAP. XV.

CHAP. XVI.

CHAP. XVII.

CHAP. XVIII.

CHAP. XIX.

CHAP. XX.

CHAP. XXI.

CHAP. XXII:

CHAP. XXIII.

ERRATA.

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§

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MEMOIRS OF STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

WHEN SUCH SAD SCENES THE BOSOM PAIN,

WHAT EYE FROM WEEPING CAN REFRAIN.

COPY RIGHT SECURED.

PRINTED AT HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE, BY BENJAMIN TRUE, MDCCXCVIII:

THE FOLLOWING IS A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR TO A FRIEND, WHO HAD REQUESTED A NARRATIVE OF HIS LIFE.

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WASHINGTON, 25th JULY, 1794.

DEAR SIR,

THE uninterrupted attention of your politeness to my welfare, since my arrival in this Country, is a sufficient inducement, for me to attend to any request which you shall barely intimate.—You mentioned yesterday, whilst I was enjoying the agreeable society of your family, that a relation of my adventures would be highly gratifying, at some convenient time, when opportunity would serve. You say, that what had come to your knowledge previous to any acquaintance with me, but more especially, what has occured since my residence in this place, has filled you with an almost [...] irre [...]stible [...]nxiety, to be made acquainted with the more minute circumstances of a life, which has been filled with so many curious anecdotes, and unbeard of occurrences. I fear the relation will poorly answer your expectations. My life, it is true, has been one continued course of tumult, revolution and vexation; and such as it is, I will give to you in detail, (in this method, rather than verbally, it being more convenient to peruse it at your leisure, than to listen to the dull [...]ale of egotisms, which I must make use of in a verbal relation.) When you become tired with reading, you will be under no necessity of holding the book in your hand, from the feelings of delicacy, but can lay it by[Page]at leisure; this liberty you could [...] take with a dull relater of a more dull narrative. You say my character, to you, is an enigma; that I possess an uncommon share of sensibility, and at the same time, maintain an equality of mind, which is uncommon, particularly in the midst of those occurrences, which are calculated to wound the feelings. I have learned fortitude in the school of adversity. In draining the cup of bitterness to its dr [...]gs, I have been taught to despise the occurrences of misfortune. This one thing I fully believe, that our happiness is in our power, more than is generally thought; or at least, we have the ability of preventing that misery, which is so common to unfortunate situations. No state or condition in life, but from which we may (if we exercise that reason which the God of Nature has given us) draw comfort and happiness. We are too apt to be governed by the opinion of others, and if they think our circumstances unhappy, to consider them so ourselves, and of course, make them so. The state of the mind is the only criterion of happiness or misery. The Cynic, Diogenes, was more happy than the Conquer [...] Alexander, and the Philosopher Socrates more happy than either; they all had, undoubtedly, passions and feelings alike, which, not properly regulated, would have rendered them equally unhappy. Yet, whenever reason stood at helm, the vessel was brought into the haven of peace.

MEMOIRS OF STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

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CHAPTER I.

Full well I know you; deep too deep engrav'd

On memory's tablet your rude [...] live.

IN relating the facts of my life to you, I shall endeavour to give as simple an account of them▪ as I am able, without colouring or dakening any circumstances; although the relation of many matters will give me a degree, and kind of pain, which only they, who feel, can describe. I have often lamented my neglect of keeping minutes of the occurrences of my life, from time to time, when they were fresh in my memory, and alive to my feelings; the disadvantage of which I now feel, when I come to run over in my mind the chain, which has connected the events together; many circumstances are entirely lost, and many more, so obscurely remembered, that I shall not even attempt to give them a place, in this account. Not to trouble you with any more prefatory remarks—I will proceed to the relation.

I AM the only son of a Clergyman, living in Hanover, in the state of Newhampshire; and, were any to expect merit from their parentage, I might justly look for that merit. But I am so far a republican, that I consider a man's merit, to [...]est entirely [Page] with himself, without any regard to family, blood [...] or connection. My Father being a Presbyterian, by principle, I was educated in all the rigor of that order, which [...]lly suited my volatile impatient temper of mind; this being the case, my first entrance on the stage of life, was by no means the most agreeable. My thirst for amusement was insatiable, and as in my situation, the only dependence, for that gratification, was intirely within myself. I sought it in pestering others, especially those, who were my superiors in age, and in making them appear in a ludicrous situation, so as to raise the laugh at their expense, and partake of the general diversion, which such a matter created. My success in those undertakings was so great, that I became the terror of the people where I lived, and all were very unanimous in declaring, that Stephen Burroughs was the worst boy in town; and those, who could get him whipt, were most worthy of esteem: their attempts to bring on my back a flagellation, were often very successful, for my heedless temper seldom studied [...] a retreat, when I was fairly in danger; however, the repeated application of this birchen medicine never cured my pursuit of fun. A neighbor of my Father's, an old man, had a fine yard of watermellons, which had been purloined by some body, for three or four succeeding nights; the old man, being of a hasty petulant disposition, was determined to watch his watermellons, with a club, and severely beat the thief. One night, he took his stand in a convenient place, for watching, unknown to any one. Accident made me acquainted with the old man's situation, and suspecting his intention, I went to a son of his, a young man, of about twenty, and told him I saw a man in the watermellon yard, whom I suspected to be the thief, and advised him to go, cautiously, to the yard, and peradventure he might catch him: accordingly, [Page] the young man went, but no sooner had he got into the yard, than the old man, supposing this to be the thief, rushed from his hiding place, and attacked his son with his club, and severely handled the poor fellow, before he found out his mistake: the son supposing the thief was beating him, bawled out to his Father, who, he expected, was at the house, Murder! Father! Father! Murder! Murder! This scene of [...]ment, I enjoyed to the full, but soon paid for it through the note. The plot being discovered, and the agent, who set this machine in motion, clearly detected: complaint was made, and I tasted of the same food, I had so ingeniously cooked for the old man's son. I should hardly mention the insipid ancedotes of my childish years, were it not for the purpose of shewing how those small occurrences had a decided influence, in giving a tone to the character, which I sustain, at this time, and in directing the operations of my after life. So much [...]o the greatest events depend upon circumstances [...]o minute, that they often pass unobserved, & consequently, wrong causes are attributed to the effects, [...] take place. Being passionately fond of information, [...] embraced all opportunities for reading, which my desultory life would admit, and unfortunately, many Novels sell in my way, of that [...], which had a direct tendency to blow the fire o [...] my temper into a tenfold rage.—The character of Guy, Earl of Warwick, was my favorite. I felt [...] enthusiastic ardour to tread the stage, on which he had so fortunately exhibited. I often viewed myself at the head of armies, rushing with impetuosity into the thickest of embattled foes, and bearing down all, who dared to oppose me. Reading and dwelling so much on those romantic scenes, at that early period of life, when judgment was weak, was attended with very pernicious consequences, in the operations of my after conduct. Nothing gives the [Page] mind of childhood a more unfavorable bi [...], than a representation of those unnatural characters, exhibited in Novels and Romances. It has a [...] tendency to lead the mind from the plain simple path of nature, into the airy regions of fancy▪ and when the mind is once habituated to calculate on the Romantic System, error and irregularity are the common consequences:—Likewise, when a man is long habituated to think erroneously▪ we can hardly expect, that he will be able to root out the first o [...] [...] sentiments of his education. I will cand [...] ly confess, that I, too strongly, feel the truth of this doctrine, even to this day. Permit me, here, [...] gress a moment from the narrative, and offer a remark on education, for your consideration. The motives of the most sincere friendship to you and your family induce me to do it. I have been in the habit of educating youth for seven years, constantly; in the course of my business, I have endeavored to study the operations of the human heart, that I might be able to afford that instruction, which would be salutary, and in this, I find one truth clearly established, viz. a child will endeavor to be, what you make him think, mankind in general are. His first ambition is to be like his Parents, be soon finds, that his neighbors, the inhabitants of the country, nay, the world of mankind, are to be his associates for life, and to whom it is necessary, for him to recommend himself, in order to enjoy the benefit of their society, without alloy,—he therefore endeavors to assimilate himself to the character, which he supposes mankind generally possess. This motive, I believe, has an operation more or less on every man. If these remarks are just, which I think no observing man will deny, how evident is this truth, that a child, in forming his own character, will be essentially directed by that idea, which you instil into his mind respecting mankind? Give [Page] him an idea, that the inhabitants of the world esteem virtue, integrity, mildness, and modesty, and that the contrary are obnoxious to them, he will be most likely to pursue that course unremittedly. Perhaps an objection may arise in your mind, to the truth of this observation, and you will say, it often happens that those, who are the most strict in cultivating principles of integrity, in the minds of their children, are disappointed in their endeavors, to make their children virtuous. In answer to this objection, I will observe, That our actions are as strong a language, and perhaps stronger, than our words, and as the observations of children are extremely keen, they discover at once, whether our words & our actions speak the same language; and when they find them interfering, they immediately conclude, that deception is the object of the parent, and not sincerity, that he utters words, that he does not believe himself, and puts on a false appearance to answer some sinister end; a view of which, insensibly, leads the child into the practice of dissimulation. The ambition in children of becoming like their superiors, rightly directed, is of the utmost importance, in forming them such as they ought to be. To grant a child your approbation, when doing, or desiring to do right, is a reward, which he will ever seek after, when he thinks it within his reach, therefore, to keep that reward uniformly within his power, is a matter of importance; and not, by indulging a petulant disposition, destroy or render doubtful his expectations of obtaining what he merits: here you establish the first principles of Justice in his mind, upon which he will practise, when he becomes an active member of Society.—As the child advances to a riper state, and becomes what is generally termed a youth, he feels the strength of his disposition for assimulating his character to the feelings of mankind increase, & he [Page] will adopt such measures as his judgment then dictates; hence, to inform his judgment, is the only way to make him capable of conducting well; to restrain him, by dictatorial dogmas, from the paths of error, will answer but a temporary purpose; until he learns by the lessons of reason [...] or by the more feeling effects of prudence, he never will be in a capacity to act his part in life with propriety. We must expect to find many errors in the calculations of youthful years, and those errors ought to be pruned by the most careful hand, lest the harshness of the pruning should appear to the subject, the cruel stroke of an enemy, rather than the gentle touch of a friend. To censure the faults of youth beyond what they ought to bear, is generally attended with fatal consequences. It destroys the object of their pursuit, viz. approbation▪ they revolt at the injustice, which they sensibly feel, therefore, inflicting unjust punishment is generally attended with fatal consequences in the system of education. It destroys the principles of equity in the youthful breast, and substitutes in their room, the despotic principles of tyranny. This cause strongly operates in society. Hence, my Lord Hale with great pertinency and humanity says, "better ten guilty escape, than one innocent person suffer." I have often seen instances where the ambition of youth, to do well has been destroyed, by censuring their faults with too much severity, one of which, I will mention. I once taught a school in a town of Massachusetts, by the name of Charleton. Having a school consisting of eighty members, I divided them, according to my usual custom, into two classes. My school, at this time, was entirely regulated according to my mind, and in the most obedient order, greatly to the satisfaction of the parents of the children, who frequented the school. Application was made to me at this time, by a clergyman [Page] in the vicinity, for the admission of his son into the school. With great difficulty I persuaded the Committee, who had the direction of admitting members, to admit him. My desire for his admission sprang from the same cause, which the committee's aversion did. The Youth was fifteen years of age, and had been expelled from all the schools in the country, consequently, whatever Dodge, the name of this Youth, was concerned in, must, in the opinion of people, be adopted from a wrong motive. Convinced, from my own feelings under similar circumstances, that a different line of conduct towards him, from what had been observed, would produce a different effect, I was desirous of trying the experiment: accordingly, when he came to my school, I intimated to him, that he must take the lead of one of the classes, which composed the school; & that I expected, from his exertions and example, his class would make a very reputable appearance. I endeavored to convince him, that this appointment was not from design, but from a real esteem of his merit, by showing him many little distinctions. His conduct, for about twelve or fourteen days, was equal to my most sanguine expectations;—but returning from dinner one day, I found the school in an uproar, at the conduct of Dodge, who, in my absence, had gone into the upper loft of the house, and had most scandalously insulted some young women, who were at the back side of the school house. Complaint was made of this, with all the exaggeration which is apt to attend the transgression of such a character. Dodge, himself, was present at the time, and possest that mortification in his countenance, which made me feel sensibly affected for him. I treated the report as though I could not believe, that Dodge had conducted in such a manner as to render it possible, that the thing should be as represented; that some mistake must have existed, [Page] and [...]fused to pay any further attention to it. It would have been to you, Sir, a matter of curiosity, to have observed the workings of the countenance of Dodge under this trial,—and when he found that my confidence in him was yet unshaken, so contrary to his fears, I was really afraid he would have fainted.—This had the desired effect—Never had I one in my school, who conducted better afterwards, during his whole continuance with me, which was about a year.

I would not wish to be understood that a relaxation of discipline is ever to be admitted; on the contrary, the most uniform course of this administration should be attended to, without the least deviation. Our commands, in the first place, ought to be reasonable, humane, and parental, calculated to promote, not only the good of the subject of our government, but likewise embracing for their object, the benefit of the whole community. When the commands are once given, never ought we to suffer a breach of them, under any circumstances whatever: by such a practice we make good subjects, good legislators, and good executors. By these means we habituate our youth to submit to good & wholesome laws, without being in danger of that restless turbulent disposition, which so freqently distracts the Government of a Commonwealth: we likewise make them good legislators, by giving them constant examples, in our mode of governing them, of justice, humanity, and parental kindness; and when those principles are once established in the human breast, the governing object of such characters will be, to enact and establish such laws, as will distribute and support the genuine and real principles of their education. They, likewise, will make men, who, in their executive capacity, will promote the highest good of Society, by uniformly adhering to an undeviating course of executing [Page] laws to which they are appointed:—But I return from this digression to the narrative.

CHAP. II.

'Tis education forms the common mind;

Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.

BEING possessed with the most romantic ideas of military prowess, I longed for an opportunity of signalizing myself in that department, and consequently, embraced the first opportunity of entering into the military line. At this time a regiment of the continental forces, commanded by Colonel Hazen, were marching through the country where I lived, and I, at the age of fourteen, enlisted into an artillery company, attending the regiment, as a private soldier. This circumstance soon coming to the knowledge of my Father, he applied to the officer under whom I had enlisted, and obtained my discharge. Chagrined and disappointed at this unexpected repulse, I concluded that all my prospects for fame were at an end, knowing of no other opportunity by which I could, probably, introduce myself into the military department.—The regiment were on a march, which took them about six weeks, and then returned through Hanover again, on their way to head-quarters. While they lay encamped in this town, about five miles from my Father's house, I began to consider the probability of joining them again—thinking, that should I neglect this opportunity, all my future prospects in life were at an end. After revolving this subject some time in my mind, I came to a resolution to elope from my Father, about the time the regiment were to march, and go off with them. Report said they were to march on Monday morning, therefore, that was the time fixed in my mind to leave my Father's house. On the Sunday preceding the time of their march, my Father was absent, on a change with a [Page] neighbouring Minister, and so produced a favorable situation for the execution of my plan. On some pretended cause, I tarried from church that day, in order to have an opportunity of making those arrangements, which I then thought necessary, to equip myself for a soldier. Accordingly, I took a bed blanket and tied it full of clothes and provisions, not knowing that I should ever be provided with either by the public. My provision, consisted of bread and cheese, that being the only kind, which was ready cooked, would best answer my purpose. All this baggage, together with an old musket, belonging to my Father, powder horn filled with powder, and thirty balls, I laid by, in a convenient place, until the important moment should arrive. About the dawn of day, on Monday morning, I placed myself under the enormous load, contained in the blanket, after being accoutred with powder horn and musket, I pursued my way with great energy to the camp, where I arrived a little after sunrise. My appearance in camp, in this ludicrous plight, was an object of universal curiosity and amusement. Sweating under an enormous load of bread and cheese, brandishing the old family musket of my Father's, accoutred with a due quantity of powder in a horn, by my side, and a sufficiency of ball in my pocket to kill thirty men, if rightly directed; I made the appearance of more than Quixotic bravery. Surely the Knight of La Mancha, had he seen me in my present plight, would have dismounted from the most redoubtable Rosenante, and would have yielded to me the palm of Chivalry, as the most accomplished Knight on the sod.

These first dawnings of resolution and perseverance, which were manifested in this ridiculous essay, I found were pleasing to the officer, under whom I had formerly enlisted—to whom I again [Page] applied for admission into his company, but previously declared, that I would not again enlist with him, unless he would engage not to discharge me, if my Father should pursue me. The regiment did not march till near the middle of the day, much to my disappointment, and I received the disagreeable intelligence, that my Father had arrived in camp, previous to their march.

The resolution of my officer, who was a man of feeling, was not proof against the solicitations of my Father. He again discharged me, and my father took me home. As the obstacles to my joining the army increased, my resolution to surmount them gained strength, and my anxiety for this purpose, had arisen to such a degree, that I determined to elope, the first minute I was from under my Father's eye, and follow the regiment. All that day and night I was guarded with the utmost attention. About ten o'clock the next morning, I was sent on an errand to the next neighbor's, about the distance of ten rods. When I had gotten that distance, I ran with all my might, and never stoped, until I had run twenty eight miles from home, where I overtook the regiment. There I enlisted with another officer, determined not to be dismissed again, by my former misplaced confidence. I had not been here long before my father, with two other men, came full tilt after me. Being somewhat doubtful whether I should again be discharged, I determined to make my own safety by flight, but the men, who were with my Father, observing my opperations, pursued me, and overtook me after some little difficulty: However, the officer under whom I had inlisted, absolutely refused to discharge me, unless I gave my consent. Accordingly, my Father made application to me, for my approbation in the matter. This was a new scene; to view my Parent before me, a supplicant, beseeching me to return with [Page] him; stating to my view, the situation of a disconsolate Mother, the most affectionate of Parents; the yearnings of his own feelings of compassion towards me, and the unhappy situation to which they should all be reduced, should I still persist in my desperate resolution of leaving them; this was a situation too affecting for me to bear.—A flood of contending passions rushed on my mind. To return from the first attempt for military fame, before I had fairly set out, after forming such strong resolutions to the contrary, appeared to me pusillanimous and foolish. On the other hand, to break through all the ties of nature, compassion, and benevolence, was what my soul sickened at viewing. One moment I was determined on going, at the next I was for returning. No permanent resolution could I form, till the next morning, when the revallee being beaten, all the feelings of military ardor were again rekindled, and I was determined to march. My Father finding my resolution fixed, took a most solemn and affecting leave. This scene I cannot reflect upon without feeling the weakness of a woman.

The night following, when the hurry of contending passions had subsided, and I had full leisure of taking a retrospective view of those very singular transactions, they filled my mind with the severest compunction. To view my parent, returning to a disconsolate family, laden with sorrow, whilst I had been deaf to all the calls of nature and compassion, were circumstances, which filled me with the keenest sensations of distress; and the night following, I was not able to close my eyes to sleep; such were the agitations of my mind.

There I determined to return to my father, notwithstanding all the mortifying circumstances, which would attend such a procedure. Early the next morning, a clergyman, by the name of Olcott, came to me, to persuade me to return to my father, [Page] —this he found no difficult matter to do. I told him frankly I was willing: but when he made application to my officer for a discharge, he was flatly refused. We marched from thence to head-quarters, at West-Point, without meeting with any occurrences, worth relating.

When the Regiment had arrived on the North river, they were constantly alarmed by the enemy, and had a number of skirmishes with them. At such times, I was always kept back with the baggage, and never suffered to go into action, notwithstanding all my intreaty. I fully believe, had I been indulged in my romantic disposition, I should have rushed, foolishly, into that danger, from which I never should have returned. These repulses brought about that mortification and disappointment, which cured me of my military ardor. Filled with resentment and chagrine I suddenly left the army and returned home to my Father. Soon after my return, my Father wrote the following letter to General Washington for my discharge, and sent it by the hand of the Honorable Bezaleel Woodward, Esq. who was then on his way to Congress, from the state of Newhampshire.

Hanover, N. Hampshire, Dec. 24, 1779.

MUCH HONORED SIR,

THESE wait on your Excellency, to inform, that while Col. Hazen's regiment remained at Coos, Lieut. Crowley, an officer of the train, meeting with my son, a young lad, of the age of fourteen years, persuaded him to inlist into his company; with some difficulty I obtained his release from that inlistment: But the young lad having had his mind inflamed, by many fair promises and any encouragements, with unappeasable desires to join the service, afterwards eloped from me, and inlisted under Capt. Lloyd, on the regiment's return [Page] from these parts to head quarters. But finding his expectations disappointed, he left the army soon after its arrival at head quarters, and is now at home with me. As a sovereign God, has not long since, deprived me of four children, and has left me but two to survive their death; and as this son is a lad, so much under the age, that is commonly deemed necessary to constitute a soldier, fit for the service, and I had ever designed him for a public education; your Excellency will please to indulge my request, that he may be regularly discharged from the service. Though I have the cause of America sincerely at heart, and ever have, and trust I ever shall, exert myself to the utmost of my ability in its behalf; yet your excellency will not wonder, at any degree of reluctance in me, against my son's engaging in the service, under my present circumstances. Your Excellency will please to signify your pleasure by the bearer, and due obedience shall be rendered to your commands, with cheerfulness.—With daily prayers, that the God of armies will be your shield and friend, and honor your Excellency as an instrument of complete salvation, and deliverance to the United States of America,

I am

your Excellency's Most obedient humble Servant, EDEN BURROUGHS.

His Excellency GEORGE WASHINGTON, Esq.

P. S. During the time my son was with the army, he never passed muster, nor drew any bounty or clothing."

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CHAP. III.

S [...]es of my youth! pale sorrow flings,

A shade o'er all your beauties now;

And robs the [...]ents of their wings,

That scatter pleasures as they [...].

SOON after this, my Father placed me at school, under the [...] late Joseph Huntington, D. D. whose fame for an instructor was very noted throughout all the New-England States, where I continued one year, and was then removed to Dartmouth College, of which I became a member.

Whilst I was with Doctor Huntington, many of those boyish pranks, which students are apt to practise, in order to give themselves the tone of wits, were performed by me, to the no small diversion of myself, and the other students, and to the great hinderance of my pursuit in literary acquirements. This was the hour of folly. From the effect of this age, flowed a continued stream of crude, undigested whims, which kept the school and myself in a constant uproar. I became an inmate in the family of my Preceptor, which consisted of the Doctor, Mrs. Huntington, two sons, by a former wi [...]e, nearly my own age, and a number of small children, how many I do not recollect. The Doctor himself was a character, whose parallel is not commonly found. A man of very considerable oratorical abilities, which consisted more in smooth figures, and ingenious declamation; than in close metaphysical reasoning. A mind by no means tied down to established modes and forms, but internally despising them, possessing an unbounded ambition, fond of flattery. A temper, when undisturbed, philanthropic, but disappointment and chagrine changed it into the boisterous rage of a northwest whirlwind. Mrs. Huntington, a character truely amiable. Joseph, second son to the Doctor, after his [Page] own name, about one year younger than myself.—This youth was truly the son of his Father. The fire of his ambition was great—his resolution was equal to his ambition; and his excentricity was equal to both; with a strong mind, equal to his father, he despised the shackles of education, broke thro' all the little obstacles of vulgar prejudice, and pursued those paths, to which the fire of genius, and the want of judgement, at that time, directed him. The rest of the family had nothing uncommon in their characters which distinguished them from mankind in general.

Being full of vivacity, Joseph & I were almost perpetually prosecuting some scene of amusement or diversion. Some of those pastimes were graduated upon a scale of innocence, and some, I am sorry to say, embraced for their object, the vexation and detriment of the neighbors. Our chief force was aimed at a neighbor, commonly known by the name of Tiger, on account of his morose misanthropic disposition. One night we repaired to his house and took logs from his wood pile, about two feet in length, and piled them up against the door, until they reached the top, laying them in such a manner as to incline into the house. After arranging matters in this order, we made a noise as if attempting to get into the old man's garden, sufficiently loud for him to hear; immediately upon this, the old man crept softly to the door and opening it suddenly, down came the logs, so rapidly as to knock him to the floor, and cover him over. The noise which this made alarmed the family universally, with an idea that they felt the shock of an earthquake, and that the last judgment had arrived, which set some a screaming and some a praying, and for a long time these ideas so wholly occupied the minds of the family, that the old man could not get any assistance from the load of timber, under which he was buried, [Page] immediately upon his being freed from his confinement, he put on some clothes and repaired to Doctor Huntington's, in order to enter a complaint against Joseph & myself, whom he suspected of being the agents in this disagreeable scene; & the reason of his suspicion was founded in this, viz. but a few days before Joseph and I were caught by him, picking some early apples off a tree in his garden; a complaint of which was made, and we obliged to pay three shillings: But as we were seen to go to bed, that night, and found in bed when he came with this last complaint, and no evidence that we had left our bed, it was concluded that his suspicions wanted proof, and there this matter ended.

Soon after this, we contrived another plan to disturb the old man's quiet. Joseph went to him, and with a woful countenance professed his sorrow for his having given him trouble, and in order to evince his sorrow, told him, he had to inform, of an intention of some of the scholars, to rob his apple trees that night, and advised him to watch, that he might detect them; and if he should, they would have to pay him a considerable sum of money: this ba [...]t the old man eagerly swallowed, and took his stand, accordingly, for watching.

The other part of this contrivance, I was to act myself,—as being the best fitted for it, on account of my superior agility. Accordingly, about ten at night, I crept along close to the garden fence, till I came, as though by accident, near to the old man, at which I turned and ran, and he after me. Being able, abundantly to out-run him, I kept but a very small distance before him, pretending to run with all my might, in order to raise his expectations of being able to overtake me; when coming to the edge of a ditch, which contained about three feet depth of mud and filth, I clapt down on my hands and knees before the old man, and he stumbled [Page] over me, plump into the ditch; but catching hold of the skirt of my coat, tore it off, and carried it into the ditch with him.—This was a clue which served, the next day, to unravel the plot, in part, as it related to me; and when complaint was made to our Preceptor, he acquitted us entirely, as not having done any thing unlawful, nor having attempted it, according to the proof.

This was a scene of great diversion to the Doctor. The woful countenance which Tyger made, about falling into the ditch, together with my strutting about, without a skirt to my coat, altogether, made so ludicrous an appearance, that, notwithstanding all the exertion of the Doctor, he could not suppress the rising inclination to laugh, but would, once in a while, burst forth, in spite of himself. Not long after this, I had intelligence of the death of an only brother, by a letter from my father to the Doctor, a copy of the answer to which is as follows.

Coventry, (Con.) 20th Nov. 1780.

REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR,

IN your great affliction, I am afflicted; and the sight of your letter, with the melancholy tidings, made a very deep impression upon my heart. I have several times tasted of the bitter cup; may we learn to live wholly on GOD; If our houses are not so with him as we naturally wish, and do not grow and flourish agreeably to our fond hopes—yet there is an everlasting Covenant, ordered in all things, and sure; let this be all our salvation, and all our desire.—Dear Sir, I, condole with you and Mrs. Borroughs, in this furnace of affliction, and our prayers for each other, I doubt not, are mutual.—With regard to Stephen, he behaves well, and makes good progress in his learning; seems well contented: we take the same care of him as of our own children, as to every thing he stands in [Page] need of. I am glad to see that he takes serious notice of the death of his dear brother: I have done, and shall do, all in my power, that, with the blessing of God, he may make a good improvement of it, and be a spiritual gainer, by so great a loss. You know how, dear sir, to leave your now only son with GOD, as well as all your other concerns, for time and eternity. While Stephen is with me, be assured that I will be as kind and faithful a parent to him, as I am capable. But alas! what are friends, children, or any of the dying enjoyments of this transitory world! had you not a better portion, you would be very unhappy; but you can say with the Prophet, "although the fig tree shall not blossom—"

May Mrs. Huntington's sincere love, and sympathetic condolence, together with mine, be acceptable to Mr. Borroughs and his lady.

I have the honor to be, my dear Sir,

with great respect, your most obedient, humble servant, JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.

Rev. Mr. BURROUGHS.

AS it is a custom, generally, through the state of Connecticut, to keep Saturday evenings, as the commencement of holy time, and consequently, to consider Sunday, as expiring with the beginning of the succeeding evening, the relation of the following circumstance, will not be so much wondered at.

One Sunday, after sunset, a number of the Doctor's students had assembled in the streets, and were somewhat noisy, about a pastime, by which they were amusing themselves. This noisy merriment appeared to the Doctor, to be mistimed, when exhibited in the street, at so great a proximity with the Sunday; and therefore, he wished us to desist [Page] from pursuing our sport in the street, and attend to it in his door-yard; telling us we might do any thing in the yard, if we would not make a noise in the street: we, accordingly, all came into his yard, and began our amusement again; but soon stoped, by an idea's being suggested of the great liberty, which the Doctor had granted us, of doing any thing in his yard. His office of necessity stood within the limits of the yard; therefore, it was proposed, and immediately agreed, to upset this building.

Dr. Huntington, rising very early the next morning, according to his usual custom, saw the destruction of his little house: on making enquiry of the scholars, they all denied that they knew how the house came to be overset, until he came to me, and said, "Borroughs, do you know how the little house was turned over?" "Yes, sir." "Well, who turned it over?" "We, who were at play, last evening, in the yard." "How came you to turn it over?" "You said, sir, we might do any thing in the yard." The Doctor said no more—went down—procured some hands—and replaced the necessary on its former foundation. Not long after this, the Doctor wrote the following letter to my Father.

Coventry, (Con.) March 8th, 1781.

REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,

YOU and your lady will please to accept our best regards: no doubt the welfare of your only son lies near both your hearts: he is well; has a fine genius, makes swift advances in the classics. There is in him such an exuberance of life and spirits, as requires uncommon vigilance and care in the overfight and direction of his ways, in this early period of life, which however, I trust may in future time make him so much the more active and useful in the service of GOD and his country; I hope he will pass a good examination at the next commencement, [Page] if you choose he should [...] College. At his own earnest request, he board [...] a mile and an halt from my house, with a young man a little older than he; I have thought proper to dispense with the distance of way, in consideration that the family and whole vicinity are attached to religion, virtue, and good order, more than any other neighborhood in this place, and more, almost, than ever I knew any where in the world. Mr. Wright lives next door to him; he and all the neighbors have a great respect for you, and unite in every friendly effort, for the best interest of your son; I often tell him, however, that he may return and board with me whenever he is willing; mean while, I take the same care of all his wants as tho' he was in my own house.

Such are the times with us, sir, that the support of those ministers, who live by the p [...]nny, without farms, is one half curtailed, even among parishes that do the best for them, and if such times continue, I must give my sons their education at home, I hope, however, in the good providence of GOD, they will live to have the benefit of Dartmouth College.

What we can do for your son, in the family is left wholly to your generosity, and indeed, was my income, as in years past, the whole expense I should look upon not worthy of any account. Rest assured, sir, that the best interest of your son is daily consulted, to the utmost of my ability, and I hope and trust that his parents and his country will rejoice in his honor and usefulness in days to come.

I am, dear sir,

with great affection and respect, your most obedient, humble servant, JOSEPH HUNTINGON.

Rev. Mr. BURROUGHS.

SOME time after this, boarding about a mile and [Page] a half from the Doctor's, with another lad nearly of my own age; we took an old horse, that ran in the road, and mounted him▪ as we were going to school without saddle or br [...]dle, and rode him through the street, full [...]. This circumstance, becoming known, the owner of the horse, applied to a Justice of the Peace, and obtained a warrant for us, and being taken, we were brought before him, and fined, together with the cost, fifteen dollars; the owner having summoned twenty witnesses to prove one fact. Soon after this, I returned to my Father, and brought the following letter from the Doctor to him.

Coventry, (Con.) Sept. 5th, 1781.

REVEREND SIR,

ON examination, I trust, you will find your son, well accomplished, to perform the exercises of a freshman at College; with constant study, I think he is able to do it better than freshmen in general did at Yale College in my day—I have done every thing in my power for his education, and his morals, and am exceedingly grieved to acquaint you, that one affair has happened since I last wrote to you, which must be uncomfortable to his parents, as indeed it has been to me.

S [...]phen was so unguarded, about the middle of June last, as to take and use a horse several times, and that even in a cruel manner, without the knowledge of the owner, who lived not in my parish, but in the vicinity, near the borders of it: the owner of the horse happens to be one of the most inhuman, cruel, revengeful, spiteful, monsters that ever disgraced humanity; and as soon as he sound out the matter, he was wholly bent on vengeance and the utmost cruelty; I took and pastured the horse eight weeks, & repaired all damage more than seven sold, I also offered the man two crowns if he would settle [Page] the matter without a law suit, and took every other step I could think of to save expense, and prevent a public noise; but all in vain; the monster knew that the law in such a case is extremely severe, awarding three fold damages and all costs, and nothing could glut his infernal malice till he had drawn your son before authority; and, for threefold damages and costs, obtained judgment against him for about fifteen dollars; for the payment of which two of my neighbors, Mr. Porter and Mr. Hawkins, gave their security, and your son returned to his study as before. The affair gave me unspeakable distress of mind, and even kept me awake several nights. The authority could do nothing in the case, but what they did, the law is plain; the monster that prosecuted summoned a great cloud of evidences on purpose, I suppose, to gratify his malice in augmenting the cost. Our people, sir, have all the highest respect and veneration for you, and are ready to interpose and do all they can to save you trouble, and with one voice cry out upon the wretch that has been so cruel to you and your son.

It is highly necessary, sir, that you should make us a visit as soon as may be after commencement. I am in fear you will think somewhat hard of me, that I did not retain Stephen in my own house; when I see you, I will give you the fullest satisfaction in that matter; had he been willing to have lived with me, the whole time, I should have rejoiced at it, notwithstanding the extreme difficulty of my keeping any boarders in these times: I hope God will dispose and improve him in some important and honorable station in life, as he has certainly an excellent genius; though, he is, as yet, in the vanity of youth.

I mourn, that I cannot wait on you, as I intended, and the other worthy gentlemen of the board.

[Page] May our kindest regards be acceptable to Mr. Burroughs and his lady—may all New Covenant blessings be your portion, and that of your remaining children:—after all our trouble may we meet in everlasting rest.

My kind love, to all my friends and acquaintance, in your parts:

I remain, Rev. and dear Sir,

with the firmest attachments, and most cordial affection, your faithful friend, and most obedient, humble serv't. JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.

REV. MR. BURROUGHS.

INASMUCH, as you are now on the subject of Dr. Huntington, and his correspondence with my father, I will here insert two other letters, written by him some years after, one, when I was in great adversity, and the other, at a time of apparent prosperity.

Coventry. (Con.) 26th Jun. 1783.

REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR,

YOUR late Epistle came safe to hand; and while I was affected with pleasure in your kind remembrance of me, I was impressed with much sympathy and grief, in the case of your dear and only son.—The ways of divine Providence are a great deep; what GOD does, we "know not now, but shall know hereafter."—St. Austin, when a Youth, was very vain, vicious, wild, and ungovernable: his pious mother, Monica, was continually in prayers and tears for him: an eminent Divine, one day, told her, that so many prayers would never be lost. You well know what GOD did for St. Austin, and what a blessing he was to the Church, and to the world.—Let us submit, pray, hope and wait.

[Page] We are in good health; have no news more, perhaps, than what you have been acquainted with: the work of GOD has been considerable among us, and yet continues; the effusion of the divine Spirit, with you, has been more copious; Oh! may it be on all the world, "as rivers in the wilderness, and as floods on the dry ground!"

I beg that my most cordial regards, with Mrs. Huntington's, may be acceptable, to Mr. Burroughs and his lady▪:

Remaining, as ever, dear Sir,

with great respect, your most obedient, humble servant, JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.

REV. MR. BURROUGHS.

Coventry, (Con.) 23rd Oct. 1784.

REV. AND VERY DEAR SIR,

COULD you know the tender feelings of my heart, toward you and your family, it would give me comfort; my friendship is warm as ever, while I lament the seperation made among your people, and mourn that we could not worship together, when I last waited on you, at Hanover. But as my prayers have been answered, with regard to your son, so I believe they will be with respect to your people: you have now, great comfort, in the former, you will, I hope, soon have in the latter; and the whole people shall unite, and rejoice in your light, as in days past.

Mrs. Huntington, unites with me, in love, and respect, to Mr. Burroughs, his lady, and son. GODALMIGHTY, grant you every New-Covenant blessing.

I have the honor to be, dear sir,

with much respect, your most obedient, humble sev't▪ JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.

REV. MR. BURROUGHS.

[Page]

CHAP. IV.

In life's gay morn, what vivid but▪

Adorn the animating views,

By flattering Fancy drawn?

But starms with gloomy aspect rise,

To cloud the azure of the skies;

Now mists obscure the dawn.

AT Commencement, I was presented, examined, and admitted a member of Dartmouth College. Here I had a new situation before me, and another part to act; not possessing all the advantages to act it with eclat. The reports of my many wild eccentricities had come before me, magnified in a tenfold degree; and I found all were waiting with open mouths to see an explosion. Those, who were fond of such scenes of diversion, were disappointed at my neglect in exhibiting some specimens of fun, which I had determined to lay by intirely. Others, who were of a different cast, lowered upon me with a threatening brow, indicative of their intention to check my wildness in its first appearance.

Here, I found my situation very different and disagreeable, on the one hand, I was excited, invited and flattered, to gratify those, who were fond of amusement; on the other, I was watched, with the scrutinizing eye of jealousy, for misconduct, and a readiness to censure in me, what would be thought innocent in others, to humble and check that growing propensity to disorder, as was alledged. My Father was careful to have me take a room with one Jacob Wood, A. M. who, of all others, was best calculated to humble and mortify any, whom he entertained a suspicion against, as differing from him in principle or practice. A man of small stature, and yet smaller mental abilities; regid and enthusiastic in his notions of religion, which consisted in a sower, morose, misanthropic line of conduct towards all, who where not of his party. To be an inmate [Page] with such a character, you will readily conceive, no way comported with a disposition like mine; and consequently, we never enjoyed that union and harmony of feelings in our intercourse, as room mates, which was necessary for the perfect enjoyment of social life. Possessing a mind very unstable, he was often out of humor, at his want of success, in making me submissive and humble, to his caprice; and being desirous of my [...]ing a part of his cha [...]ine, he assailed my ears with a perpetual stream of petulant criminations. He sought opportunities to mortify me before company, by representing me as a person inattentive to matters of religion, and consequently, wanting every virtue. This mode of procedure, I could not tamely dispense wi [...]h; my invention was the only mean of resort for retaliation.

One night, while he was paying his devoirs to a young lady, word was brought him, that in a fit of the epilepsy, I was about expiring, and wished for him to perform the last kind office of a friend, to pray with, and for me. This was a business he always attended with great promptitude, his Dulcinea being equally possest with the laudable ambition of proselyting, agreed to accompany him to the room. But when they came there, they found it empty of every living thing, and not even the appearance of any person's being there that night; for the truth was, I had, the day preceding, obtained leave of absence, and was gone to my Father's. This was readily understood as a p [...]n upon his sacerdotal character, than which, nothing could have wounded him more. His character, in that respect, he wished to have considered as sacred; and to trifle with that, was striking at the very root of all his sanctimonious self-importance. He suspected me to be the author of this mortifying [...], and was unwearied in his endeavors to gain some evidence of [Page] the fact, but all his exertions were ineffectual. Notwithstanding all these singularities and eccentricities, I believe him to be a man of an honest heart, lead to practise those ridiculous plans by a misguided zeal for religion.

About this time, the Indians had made [...] upon some of the frontier settlements, and destroyed them. It was feared they would make a descent upon Hanover, and burn Dartmouth College, with the buildings in its vicinity; and consequently, the minds of the people were full of fear, and easily aroused by an alarm of any kind. One evening, being in company with a number of others, we proposed and agreed, to make a visit to a [...] of watermelons, belonging to a man in the vicinity, who kept them for sale, and help ourselves to some of them. We, accordingly, put our plan in execution; and went as far as the river, half a mile out of town, in order to eat them more securely. After we had finished our repast, every one took his own way, in order to get to his room unperceived. I came directly into town, by the most obvious rout, in company with one Paine: when we had gotten to the green, around which the buildings stand, we discovered some person walking before my door, suspecting, as I suppose, my absence from my room, which being against the laws of College, at that time of night, would give him an opportunity, if he made the desired discovery, to involve me in difficulty.

All these circumstances were very apparent to me, and therefore, I wished to avoid being known to him, as well as to avoid the discovery of the watermelons: We, therefore, turned off another course, than directly to the College, and rolled our gowns close together, and tucked them up on our backs, so as to make the appearance of men worn packs on their backs. This man, Higgins by name, [Page] seeing us, by this time, came on toward us; we quickened our pace—he pursued us with equal speed—we ran—he ran after us, and hallooed with all his might.—I was now sensible, that an alarm would be made among the inhabitants, and of course, some immediate and decisive measures must be taken, to prevent a discovery, or a suspicion of the watermelon business falling on me: I, therefore, turned a short corner, where my pursuer lost sight of me, and ran directly back to the College, and got into my room undiscovered.

Fortunately, my room-mate, was not at his lodgings this night. I heard an inquiry, in the rooms adjoining, respecting the noise: I went into one of them, and found they were about starting after Higgins, to learn the difficulty. We, accordingly, all started together and after running about one hundred rods, came up to him, who was still hallooing for help. On inquiry, he told us that he had discovered two men, carrying packs on their backs, lurking about the town, whom he supposed to be spies from the Indians, and that they had fled on discovering him. The town was alarmed, the militia turned out; the boats up and down the river were stopped; the woods were scoured, but nothing found, nothing discovered; all night, the fruitless search was continued.

About the dawn of day, the people returned, weary and fatigued, into the town, and assembled for mutual consultation. Some thought one thing, and some another. Some thought the whole difficulty began in nothing, and ended in the same. Some thought it a trick of the scholars, to make themselves diversion. At the suggestion of this idea, one Capt. Storrs observed, that he saw Burroughs and Paine pass by his house, about six minutes before he heard the outcry. The name of Burroughs cast a suspicious appearance upon the business [Page] They all turned their eyes on me, as the author [...] this alarm and uproar. I cited those who ran from the College with me, on the first of the outcry, to vouch for my innocence; they readily did it. All were satisfied, on my account, except my good friend, Mr. Wood. He rolled the eye of jealousy over the business—he was dissatisfied.—He took Paine to a private room in the College,—and there, by a reiterated course of flattery, threatening, terrors, and soothings, he obtained the mighty secret, as it related to me. I was immediately informed of the business, by a person, whom I had placed in a room adjoining, to overhear whatever should be the result of this conference.

It was now about sunrise. I, immediately, went to the owner of the watermelons, and told him, that passing his yard last evening, after he was in bed, I had taken twelve of his watermelons, knowing he kept them for sale, and came to let him know it, and pay him for them. After counting his watermelons, and finding twelve taken, according to my account, he took the pay, and gave me his receipt. I now returned to my room, ready to meet the heavy blow, I saw was preparing against me.

By this time, it had taken air, that I was the author of last night's alarm. Every countenance was turned upon me, in an oblique direction. They had all heard, that theft was combined in the business, they had all determined, I must fall under this blow;—therefore, they were waiting for the awful moment, of my being summoned before the authority of College. Ten o'clock, the all tremendous hour arrived! I appeared—a number had gathered—which crowded the room. After the charge was read against me, Mr. Ripley, one of the Tutors, addressed me in a speech of half an hour's length, stating the enormous crime I had been guilty of, the course of iniquity I must have led [Page] through life, to be detected in such an atrocious high handed breach of law, at the age of sixteen; the disgrace I had brought on my family connexions, and the seminary, of which I was a member; that my expulsion, which would undoubtedly succeed, would be but only a prelude to my punishment by the civil law; that ruin and disgrace were the only effects, which would fall on my devoted head.

This rant I heard, with the coolness of a Stoic. After he had talked himself out of breath, I had liberty to answer. I mentioned the hardness of my case, in being [...]cused, condemned, and executed, without any proof, or even being heard in my own defence. That I did not know what evidence they could produce of my being guilty of the crime laid to my charge, but whatever it was, I hoped to be sufficiently able to overturn its validity, and clearly establish my innocence. At least, the humane language of candor, taught us to hold every man innocent, till he was proved guilty. True it was, I had taken watermelons from Mr. Smith, the night preceding, but had early that morning, informed him of the fact, and paid for them. This information, was like a thunder-clap, to some of the spectators. All their hopes, of seeing r [...]in fall heavy on my head, were now quashed in the twinkling of an eye. Mr. Smith, the owner of the watermelons, having been sent for, testified to all the facts, which I had stated; and of course, here the business ended.

My Father consented for my removal from the room where I had lived. I, accordingly, changed my lodgings, to my no small satisfaction. During the succeeding vacation, my Father, attentive to his wonted humanity, took a classmate of mine, by the name of Coffin, home to his house, whose pecuniary circumstances were difficult, and gave him his [Page] board and tuition, gratis. He likewise supplied Coffin with provisions for his subsistence for the next winter, on condition of his paying for them afterwards, at a time he himself had fixed, as being most convenient. The time being elapsed, I asked Coffin for the money, according to his promise, in behalf of my Father, in order to answer some small engagements, which I was under, for the payment of money. He paid but little attention to my request; I repeated it a number of times afterwards, but without effect. At length, Coffin told me plainly, he had no intention of paying the debt; stating the difference between his and my Father's circumstances, that my Father was better able to do without it, than he was to pay it. I remonstrated in warm terms on the unreasonableness of his conduct. This brought about a violent resentment on his side, which he never failed to shew, when he had an opportunity. He united himself under the banner of my friend Wood, in order to increase their strength by union. Mr. Ripley, the Tutor, was likewise disaffected, not only by the chagrine of being found to be a false preacher, when he was on the subject of the watermelons, but likewise on account of a violent antipathy and resentment against my Father, owing to their disagreeing in sentiment, with regard to the management of certain religious matters, and therefore, was determined, according to the good old rule, "to [...] the iniquities of the [...]athers on the children." He uniting his force with those abovementioned, formed a powerful triumvirate against me.

About this time, the President of the College left here, intending a tour to Europe. The Tutors now became the only executive authority of the College. My friend Riply, was the second in standing, and consequently, a great degree of influence fell into his hands. This influence, he was careful to [Page] exercise on every occasion. On a certain day of the week, when my class were called upon to declaim, I did not attend; the reason of my absence, was owing to this circumstance. I had sent my shoes to the shoe maker, and contrary to my expectation, they had not yet returned, and I had not shoes, decent for my appearance abroad, Mr. Riply sent for me to appear, and perform my part of the exercises of the day; the excuse, which existed, I sent him, but the messenger returned with positive order for me to attend. I attended, with such shoes as I had, mounted the stage, and declaimed. I made my obeisance, and retired. He called to me, and publicly reprimanded me for appearing in such habiliment. At a certain time, he made a request to my class, to assist him in a certain piece of business, which he was desirous of performing, one afternoon. I turned out to assist him. We were detained till ten o'clock at night. The next morning, I was absent from recitation—He sent for me—I came,—He again reprimanded me for being deficient in my classic lesson, though he knew the cause was my performing service for him at his request. Finding matters thus disagreeably situated, I determined to quit that ground, which I could not maintain with any probability of success. I, accordingly, left College, and went to my father's.

CHAP. V.

And thus my days in one sad tenor run

And end in sorrow, as they first begun.

TO remain an inactive member of society was far from my desire, various plans were proposed by my Father for my entering into business, or at least, preparing myself for it, but none appeared so eligible as going to sea; therefore, it was determined for me to bend my course that way. My [Page] Father fitted me out with a horse, saddle, bridle, and about twenty dollars in money, and let me loose upon the broad theatre of the world, to act my part according to my abilities. The want of experience and a natural hasty temper, prone to inconsiderate actions, augured no very favourable prospects before me.

I had been a member of the seminary of Dartmouth College sufficiently long, to be filled with that sort of learning, which gave me an exalted idea of my own importance, and which was of no manner of use, in my pursuits through life. This may appear strange, that I should spend three years in gaining that, which was good for nothing. However strange it may seem to you, sir, yet it is a fact. One year, I was studying to prepare myself for admittance into that seminary, where I spent two, in learning nothing, or that which amounted to the same in the end.

Perhaps you may think I entertain an opinion of this College as being, in point of usefulness, much below the other Universities on the continent; but this is not the case. It is a melancholy consideration, that our youth should spend so much time in acquiring that knowledge, which is of no use to themselves or to the community, of which they are members. To acquire an accurate knowledge of the dead languages, seven years is a short time; and after this is effected, to what does it amount? does it give bread to the persons possessing it, or does it serve to enlighten, enrich, or render more happy, any part of the community? I contend, that the person, who has learned to make a shoe, does more good to society, than he who has spent seven years in acquiring a knowledge of the dead languages. If this position is founded in truth, then this consequence will follow, that more than one half of the time spent at the Universities, according to their [Page] present establishment on this continent, is thrown away, and that the position is founded in fact, I will endeavor to prove.

The happiness of ourselves, together with the good of society, is the governing pursuit of every valuable member of the community, therefore, whatever conduces to this end is the only object worthy of attention. The good of Society may be comprised in these three points, viz. 1st. to obtain what is necessary to supply the calls of nature, by the least painful measures. 2d. Rules for the regulation of mankind, in their relative situation, which, in their operation, will tend to harmonize the conduct of the whole, towards individuals▪ 3d. A supply of food for the mental part of creation; for the mental part requires a certain supply, in order to render us sensibly happy, as well as the corporal. Mankind, in their present state of existence, find it necessary to submit to the pain of labor, in order to protect themselves from the cries of hunger and thirst, from the inclemency of the climates and seasons, and from the unjust encroachments upon their industrious acquisitions and natural rights. These are the first objects, which mankind find themselves under the necessity of attending to; hence, we find the most savage and barbarous nations occupied in these pursuits. Nations, that have made no improvements in useful knowledge, are subject to the greatest degree of pain, in supplying the simple calls of nature. The precarious effects of the chase are the most general supplies to the calls of hunger, with them, and as that is a resource of so doubtful a nature, those people often suffer the pain of hunger unsatisfied; therefore, no wonder we find the inventer of the plow immortalized, and deified, because the good, which he had done to mankind, was so essentially felt, and known. They then saw the [Page] uncertainty of a support changed into a certainty; that they now were able to provide for themselves and families, and consequently, the different sexes could enter into that connexion, which contributed greatly to encrease the happiness of Society, without the danger of seeing their tender offspring perish miserably for the want of sustenance. This object occupies the feelings of mankind now, as it has done heretofore. They find the same necessity for a support for themselves and offspring; and consequently, those acquirements, which serve to render men able to procure a support, in an easy and certain way, are now the most essential to the good of Society. That learning the dead languages has no direct or indirect tendency to this acquirement is a truth so obvious, that more need not be said upon this subject; therefore, with regard to the usefulness of this species of knowledge, in the first and most essential pursuit of mankind, we find that it is not founded in fact.

The second most important object, for the good of Society, is those rules for the regulation of mankind in their relative situation, which, in their operation, will tend to harmonize the conduct of mankind towards each other. Legislation is a subject, perhaps, of all others, the most difficult to bring to perfection, so as to have a thorough understanding of its nature and operation. It has been the study of the greatest men in all ages, since Society has been formed, and yet, much is to be learned on this subject.

To understand the operations of the human heart, so as to adopt rules for the regulation of man, in his conduct towards his fellow members of Society, in such a manner as to render those rules easy and acceptable to all, and under which, all will enjoy the blessings of society uninterrupted, is an object of [Page] such magnitude and importance, that every breast, possessing the principles of Philanthropy, must be fired with ardor in the investigation. As far as mankind deviate from such a government, so far they are politically unhappy, and in as great a degree as they approximate to this golden age, not of poetic fiction, but of reality, so far they approach towards real political perfection. What a perversion of the talents and time of our youth, whom we intend for public employments! to keep them tied down to the study of the uninteresting and unessential branches of the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, the greater part of their continuance at the University, to the utter neglect of political knowledge! I am bold to affirm, that not one to twenty of those, who are dubed with the title of A. B. or A. M. understand that constitution or form of Government under which they live. Will not the mind of sensibility cry out with the Orator, on an other occasion? "O, the times! O, the manners!"

The last object of attention, though not less interesting, is a supply of food for the mental part of creation. The mind of man is made capable of greater enjoyment, than what barely relates to the senses. The system of Morality and Philosophy are what I mean to be understood, as food for the mind, or mental part of creation. When the mind of man becomes disengaged from the primary objects of Nature's call, it then mounts to things of greater magnitude, than what barely relate to itself; it views creation, the works of providence, and the end to which all these things point. The doctrine of right and wrong, or in other words, virtue and vice is a subject which supplies food for the mind, or which gives the highest polish to the happiness which it enjoys. When we view the curious order of Nature, and see that all things are governed by fixed and unalterable laws, which, once [Page] discovered, lead to a knowledge of future events and useful improvements; that the parent of Nature, has carefully and curiously provided for all his children, even to the minutest insect, we cannot but be filled with that delight at viewing the fitness of things, which no other subject can create. I will contend, that more satisfaction is enjoyed in viewing the operation of Nature on a single kernel of wheat, after it is committed to the ground, and there is more usefulness in that contemplation, than in the study of the dead languages through life. Can a knowledge of these languages help a person in the investigation of Ethics, Philosophy, or Morality?

I am aware it will be said, that to read the scriptures in the original tongues will enable a person to understand them much better, than to be able to read the translations only; and therefore, it is necessary that all, who intend the study of Divinity as their pursuit, should be acquainted with these languages. Happy would it have been for mankind, had these effects followed: but, the truth is far otherwise. We find the Christian world broken into parties and factions, by those very characters, who have been enabled to read the scriptures in the original; and much greater disagreement has happened in the interpretation, than what has been among those, who can read the translation only; and even in this enlightened age, when so many are savored with this great privilege, we do not find a more general agreement respecting the doctrines of Scripture.

I appeal to your own observations, whether I have not s [...]ated matters of fact, as they exist, without miscolouring or exaggeration, in respect to the study of the dead languages. Then the greater part of the time spent at the Universities, amounts to nothing, or that which is worse. It habituates the mind to a [Page] system of error, and puts it upon the pursuit of wrong objects, and of course, it becomes difficult to break those chains of habit, which education has forged.

Look around on mankind; do we see any of those luminaries, who have been granted to the world, as Heaven's richest boon, from among our collegiate characters? On the contrary, a Washington, a Franklin, a Rittenhouse, have shone resplendent, without the borrowed rays of a College. We are prone to form a wrong estimate of education, perhaps, more than of any other object of our attention. When a Youth has spent four years at a University, and has gone the common round of establishing a character for ability, by stealing watermelons, robbing hen-roosts, geese-houses, &c. and playing tricks upon the inhabitants' cows and horses, and can speak a number of sentences, which others do not understand, his fond mother looks at him with a pleasing significance, and tells her inquisitive neighbors, that her son has got to be a man of science, and in order to establish her doctrine recounts all the manoeuvres he has practised at College, in order to get a hen out of the roost. The father thinks these are marks of greatness of mind, and depth of knowledge, and from these evidences, forms the most pleasing expectations of his son's future greatness. These anecdotes are recounted by the neighbors to their families, through a long course of succeeding winter evenings' amusements. They drink deeply at this fountain of entertainment. When they hear of the foolish pranks of scholars, they are exhilerated at the recital; they dwell upon them with pleasure, and behold the performers with admiration. Whereas, let it be said, that such or such persons have outstripped their fellows in depth of thought, or perspicuity of reasoning and invention, the tale becomes lifeless, and is soon forgotten.

[Page] Our Youth, possessing the ambition of becoming famous, strike out in that road which the unaccountable prejudices of mankind have marked for them. They wish to start into notice, and will most assuredly adopt such measures, as they see have brought others forward into public esteem. I believe, Sir, you will be heartily tired with my digressions, before I get through with my tedious narration; but I ask for that exercise of patience, towards my weakness, which I know your generosity will grant. My feelings are so warmly interested in the ideas, which some of my observations communicate, that I cannont suppress them, without doing great violence to my mind. But, to return to the narrative.

I left my father's house, about the 20th of November, at the age of seventeen, and directed my course for Newbury-Port, a small seaport town in the state of Massachusetts, where they fitted out many small vessels for privateering. After I had travelled the chief of the day, I entered into the woods about sunset. Being unacquainted with the way, I was not aware of riding more than a mile or two, at farthest, before I should come to inhabitants; but to my surprise, I continued my course till it became quite dark, without discovering any traces of human beings except the road I was travelling. It began to snow violently, and the night was extremely dark. I suddenly found myself against a team and waggon, containing a family moving into the country. After inquiring the distance through to inhabitants, and the nature of the road, I found I had got the greatest part of the night's work before me. I, accordingly, quickened my pace, and waded through the snow, which, by this time, had become [...] deep, with all the exertion in my power. My horse, which had not been refreshed since I left home, now became fatigued; alighting, I [Page] drove him before me, till I became weary with travelling myself; and then mounted again. I pursued such measures alternately, till about twelve at night, when I espied a light, at a little distance before me.

A person, who has been in a similar situation, will readily conceive of the nature of my feelings at this time. The sight of this illumination, thro' a small cranny of an old log hut, was attended with those effusions of pleasure, which the miser never feels when hoarding over his treasures. Entering the building from which the light proceeded, I found it a hut, made in that rude state, which did not admit of the polish of art. Logs cut from the forest were laid on the top of each other, to the height of eight feet, when a roof was added, the rafters of the same materials, covered with the barks of trees. This building was about twenty feet square; a large fire being built in the midst, the family lay around it, on the ground. The whole group presented a subject, fit for the pencil of Hogarth. Inquiring how far it was to a public inn, I was informed, that one was kept there. Necessity constrained me to accept of those accommodations, for the want of better.

Some refreshment for my horse being obtained, I was conducted to a bed kept for travellers, as the best piece of furniture in the house. Nature was too much fatigued, to hold a parley with inconveniences. I soon fell into a profound sleep, which continued, I expect, about two hours, when I awoke. By the complaints which my bones uttered, I was jealous my bed was not made of down. I arose, called for my horse, and after travelling five miles farther, over a bad road, I came to a tavern, where accomodations were to [...]e had for man and horse. I enjoyed myself, in this situation, much better, since my other entertainment had [Page] been so disagreeable. I stayed at this house until noon; when I found myself refreshed with food and sleep, I again pursued my journey. The next day, I arrived at a town called Londonderry, where the Father of a classmate of mine lived, on whom I called, and to my great satisfaction, found the son at his Father's. I told them my intention of going to sea, and the reason why I had left College. They tried to persuade me to relinquish my purpose, but when they found me fixed, the old gentleman wrote to some of his acquaintance in Newbury-Port, to befriend me in my pursuit.

Intending to fell my horse, saddle, and bridle, and with the avails to prepare myself for sea, I here found the market for horses so low, that a sale for him would not be easily obtained, without great loss, I, therefore, concluded to send my horse back to my Father. I arrived at Newbury-Port and delivered my letter of introduction to Capt. M'Hurd▪ to whom it was addressed. This man kept a house for boarders and lodgers; I accordingly put up with him. Not finding any privateers going to sea soon, I concluded to go in a packet, which had a letter of marque, to France. Having no doctor engaged, I undertook to act in that capacity; and after obtaining the assistance, advice, and direction of an old practitioner in physic, together with marks set on each parcel of medicine, I thought myself tolerably well qualified to perform the office of a physician on board the ship. We did not sail till the first day of January, 1784. When I lost [...]ight of America, I cannot say, but what my feelings were more disagreeably affected, than I expected. Those attachments, which we form in childhood to places, to persons, and things, are pre [...] ty strong, I believe, in the minds of all; and none can give them up without a struggle.

Soon after we had lost fight of land, I began to [Page] grow intolerably seasick, which continued without intermission for four days. This is a species of sickness, though not dangerous, yet as disagreeable to bear, as the most violent disorder, to which the human constitution is subject. This served, in a great measure, to cool my ardor for spending my days on the salt water. On the fifth day I began to feel more at my ease; the motion of the vessel was not so irksome; my appetite began to recover, which before was quite gone. We made the island of Sable, lying in 45° north latitude, where we went on shore. This island is a dreary barren place, about thirty miles in length. Some wild horses and hogs were placed on this spot, for the support of seamen, who might be cast away. Accidents of this kind being very common here, on account of the shoals extending from its shores at a great distance into the sea. Here was likewise a small hut, a porridge pot, and fire-wood, slint, and tinder-box. Here, the sailors recounted many circumstances of the marvellous, representing this as the abode of spirits, hobgoblins, &c. They affirmed with much positive assurance, that many familes had attempted living here, induced by great rewards from government, but all their attempts were in vain, owing to sights and noises, which had disturbed them. It was said that this island, in time of an easterly storm, would shake with great violence, which I was rather induced to believe, because a natural reason can be assigned for this phenomenon. Leaving this place, we proceeded on our voyage, till the eighth day of our departure, when, about 10 o'clock in the morning, the man at the mast head cried out, a sail! a sail was discovered a head, we hove to, in order to see which way she was going. We soon found her making from us with all her force. We put about and made sail after her, till about sunset. We found her a merchant's brig from [Page] New-York, bound to London, with pearlash, commanded by one Pratt. After we had manned out our prize, we pursued our rout, without-any material occurrence till the twenty third.

About 11 o'clock in the morning, we espied a sail astern, which we soon saw was in pursuit of us; we made all the sail we could, to run from her, and found she carried to it, a sea term, for not taking in sail, through some pretty severe squalls. We lost sight of her about sunset: we made an island on the coast of France, pronounced, in the French language, Graw—bow they spell it, I do not recollect. We came to under this island, and fired for a Pilot, One soon came off to us: about 1 o'clock at night, we got under way again. This Pilot was the first person I ever saw wearing wooden shoes; his dress and apperance were miserable; the use of the knife and fork was unknown to him: He was invited into the cabin, and victuals set before him; he felt himself in such an awkward situation, that, instead of eating, he filled his pockets with hard bread, and went on deck. This is the situation of the peasantry, though not in quite so deplorable a condition, through France, so far as I had opportunity of observing. About 10 o'clock the next morning, we made Bellisle, and soon after, saw a sail standing for us, right a-head. We thought her the same that pursued us the day preceding; she proved to be the same. She was a Lugger, carrying 12 six pounders, and was chasing a brig mounting 6 guns. We soon passed the brig, and speaking with her, found her from Boston, bound to Nantz. We entreated her to put about with us, and look at the Lugger, which, by this time, was hove to, waiting for us. All our entreaties were in vain, she ran in under the fort of Bellisle. We carried 18 guns, but unfortunately, ten of them were wood, so that little advantage could be expected from [Page] them. We haled up our courses, put up our boarding nettings, cleared our decks, lit our matches, and made all ready for action. We had on board 21 men, besides the prisoners. The thirteen stripes of the United States were flying; but, the Lugger, as yet, shewed no colours. We came so near as to hail—she answered in French—and after understanding we came from America, and were bound to Nantz, she offered us a pilot, and when we told them we had a pilot already on board, she affected not to understand, but made towards us with a pretended design of accommodating us with a pilot. Not more than ten men were to be seen on her deck. By this time, she was sufficiently near to discover those on board, by their countenances. Mr. Severe, our first mate, knew the commander of the Lugger to be a man from the Isle of Jersey, having been taken by him the preceding year. The mate vociferated like a s [...]entor, "give them a gun! give them a gun!" We fired, but so strongly prepossessed were the gunners, that the Lugger was a Frenchman, that they pointed over her, and so did her no damage. She ported her helm, and fell astern, as much as half a mile, expecting that we fought with 18 guns. We kept on our course—seeing this▪ she made all the sail possible after us, hung out the English colours, and her deck became instantly filled with men. She first came up on our windward board, but now altered her intention, and came round on our l [...]e-side. We began to fire stern chases at them, and they returned our salute with bow chases. While Mr. Severe was elevating the gun at our bow he received a swivel ball, which carried away his right cheek, went through, and broke his right arm, and two of his ribs. We caught him up, and carried him into the cock-pit, where I dressed his wounds, and at the desire of one Bootman, a passenger, left Mr. Severe in his care, [Page] and returned on deck. Our ship was thinly manned, and the help of every hand was felt. A chest of loaded small arms s [...]ood on the quarter deck, where I took my station. The Lugger, by this time, was grappled to our ship, and attempted sword in hand, to cut away our boarding nettings. Every man was ordered to his boarding pike, and for about 10 minutes, the conflict was truly sharp, but the issue was in our favor. They retreated on board their own vessel, the guns were their next resort. With cannon and small arms they poured in upon us a shower of balls, and we endeavored to pay them in the like kind, to the full amount of our receipt, so that a balance should be left in our favor, and not against us. The captain and myself had fired nearly all the small arms, which were loaded. The commander of the Lugger, kept bellowing from his quarter deck, that if we did not strike, he would give us no quarter. I took a blunderbuss, which remained loaded, and taking aim, very leisurely, at the mouth of his trumpet, let fly. I believe this did his business, at least, I heard no more of this bravado. Twice more did they attempt to cut away our boarding nettings, but, to as little effect as at first. We, by this time, had disabled their fore-top-mast, and carried away their gibboom. They cut from us, and made all the sail possible towards the Penmarks, which were hidden and dangerous rocks, lying under water, where they expected we should not follow them. In this conjecture, they were right. We arrived the same day in the river Loire, and came to an anchor at a town called Penbeef, 30 miles below the city of Nantz. The next day, I went up to the city, and took lodgings at one Madame M. Harty's, a house of general resort for the Americans. To undertake a particular description of the places through which I went, will be less interesting than the accounts of travellers [Page] of more observation; being too young, at that time, to make those remarks, which would serve to throw any light upon your previous knowledge of those places, by the information of other authors.

Soon after my arrival, I had an advantageous offer, of going as Doctor's second mate, in a ship bound for the East Indias. I accepted of the offer, and was preparing to go; but the ship, which lay at Penrine, ten miles below Penbeef, had order suddenly to sail, and so left me behind.

We received our dividend of the prize money, which was 42 guineas each. Being possest with so much money, and some time on hand, I determined to take a short excursion through the country, in order to see what of France, my finances would admit. I, accordingly, set out, with two more Americans, for Angers, from thence to Brest, from there to L' Orient, and then back to Nantz. I was absent on this excursion about three weeks, if I remember right; as nothing more occurred than what happens to travellers generally, I shall not take up your time in giving you the uninteresting detail.

When I returned to our ship, I found some alterations had taken place in my absence, which proved a source of the utmost mortification to me, afterwards. The prize brig had been bought by the Captain, and fitted out for Lisbon, on board of which, went the first mate, as commander, and one Kenne was engaged to succeed him in our ship. The third mate supposed this, by the right of succession, belonged to him, and accordingly, desired me to write to the Captain, who was at Nantz, in his behalf. I did according to his desire, which I was induced to do, by the drunken irregular conduct of Kenne, who had disgusted the whole crew, he having proved a worthless wretch. This act of mine was the cause of a mortal enmity towards me, which he was but too successful in shewing. [Page] When the Captain came on board, I found his feelings were cooled towards, me. However, no open breach a [...] yet took place. We sailed for America some time in April, and being becalmed off the western isles, we went on shore at St. Michael's; when we came on shore, we saw a great concourse of people, about half a mile distant. Our curiosity lead us to see what was the occasion of this assemblage; when we came to the spot we found a negro bound to a cannon, and a man standing by with a stake in his hand, sharpened at one end. The people were Portuguese, and consequently, we could not understand their language, nor learn the occasion of what we saw, only from conjecture. The negro appeared to be in great distress, with fearful apprehensions. The dreadful operation of empaling soon began, which consisted in driving the stake through his body, from one end to the other, till it came out a little above his shoulders. The agonies, which he manifested by writhings and hedious yells, had such an effect on my mind, that I almost fainted. The wind breezing up, we soon returned on board, to my great satisfaction. I could not, for a number of days, get the scene of this horrid action out of mind, and even now, sir, my blood recoils with horror, at the recollection! What strange infatuation! That man, who is placed in this state of dependence, in stead of granting that help, which the voice of nature calls for, should exert his power to make a fellow creature more miserable, than to be left to the savage beasts of prey.

We sailed from hence, I soon began to perceive that Kenne was intriguing against me, by holding conferences often with Jack, the cabin boy. One day, it was said, that wine had been, clandestinely, handed out of the cabin to two men, who appeared to be drunk. I was ordered in a very peremptory [Page] manner to leave the cabin, and remove my chest into the forepack. I moved according to orders, but you can scarce conceive the emotions of my mind on the occasion. No reasons were offered for this order▪

The conduct of the Captain, before, had been of such a nature as to gain my warmest esteem. I felt those emotions of friendship for him, which would have carried me almost any length to serve him.

To receive this treatment from him, and, as I supposed, by the influence of a low dirty scoundrel, added a poignancy to the sting of disappointment; which is more easily conceived, by a mind of sensibility, than language can discribe. For the Captain to suppose it possible, that I could be actuated by so base a motive, as to hand his wine clandestinely to any of the crew, was a sacrilegious profanation of the feelings of my heart.

All intercourse between the Captain and myself was at an end. I often had visits from Kenne, who in the most arrogant insulting manner triumphed over me, and it was well for him, that I was sick with the small pox at this time. About the time I was recovering from this disorder, I found by the noise that a number of the crew was drunk on dock. The Captain came down into the forepeak, and clapped me into irons, being in a great passion, accused me of breaking open a box of wine and giving it to the men, in order to revenge the affront of being turned out of the cabin. I endeavored to expostulate, but in the room of being heard, I received a brutal kick on my head. All this did not wean my affection from the Captain.—I considered him a dupe to the low intrigues, of those wretches, who were unworthy his notice.

We arrived at Newbury-Port, where I left the ship, and put up at a boarding house. Here I remained three days, about entering on board of a [Page] sloop bound to the West-Indies. I had removed all my things out of the ship, and had no further communication with any one belonging to her. I intended a further investigation of the treatment I had received. While I was contemplating these circumstances, I was arrested in the street, and carried before a Justice of the Peace, and there found, to my surprise, the Cabin-boy, Kenne, and an Irishman, who testified, that one Bradley, who had before run away, and could not be found, told them that I gave him wine out of the cabin; that afterwards, I broke open a chest of wine, and handed him the bottles; and likewise broke open a bale of silk, and hid one piece of it; all which was done through a revengeful disposition. Something worth observing took place on their side, viz. Kenne and the Cabin-boy were those, who made the discovery, of the wine box being broken open; of the silk bale being broken, and the place in which the piece of silk was hid; it being where no man would have mistrusted, who did not know beforehand: it was concealed in a cask, once in my use. Kenne was the man, who informed the Captain, that the wine was gone out of the cabin; and as he was half drunk, the greater part of the time, from his first coming on board, till we arrived, I never doubted, in my own mind, what became of the wine. And as for Bradley's telling the story, which they related, I knew it was false, unless it was done by a preconcerted plan. However, I was committed to jail, where I lay some time, how long, I do not remember, and was then turned out, in a manner as unaccountable.

By this time, all my money and clothes were gone I know not where; I never saw them more. The assistance of my friend Ripley was not wanting, to embellish this scene, who was in Newbury-Port, at this time. My situation did not afford me the opportunity [Page] of calling those to a legal account, who had con [...]ined me, contrary to law, and dismissed me in such a clandestine manner. I returned to my father's sunken and discouraged; the world appeared a gloomy chaos; the sun arose to cast a sickly glimmer on the surrounding objects; the flowers of the hold insulted my feelings with their gaiety and splendor; the frolicsome lamb, the playful kitten, and the antic colt, were beheld with those painful emotions, which are beyond description. Shall all nature, said I, smile with joy, shall the brute creation break out into irregular transports, by the overflowings of pleasing sensations, whilst I am shut out from even the dim rays of hope? The comparison between my situation, and that of the rest of intelligent nature, was so much against me, that I could not bear the ideas which this brought into view, without groaning with pain, under the pressure of the load.

Those, who had before pursued me, with their unabating enmity, proclaimed their triumph. I found a censorious world, little desirous of inquiring into circumstances. It was sufficient for them to have such facts, as served to raise a slanderous report; and they felt easy, without giving themselves the trouble of inquiring into the causes, why those facts existed, and the circumstances attending them.

CHAP. VI.

Descend, bland Pity, from thy native sky,

Come with thy moving plaint and melting eye.

AFTER I had remained at my father's house about one year, without attending to any kind of business, I concluded, from what reason I was capable of exercising, that it ill became me, as a [...], to remain thus inattentive and useless. I determined [Page] to enter into business of some kind; and as a school was the only employment which immediately offered, I entered into that calling. At a town called Haverhill, thirty miles from Hanover, I engaged to teach an English school, for four months. No sooner was I seated in the business here, than I found my friend Ripley busy in his endeavors to throw me out of employment. He came to Haverhill, and in that plausible manner, of which he was master, stated the evil consequences of continuing me in that business. The base examples I should set before the children, who attended my school; and although I did very well now, yet, notwithstanding my subtilty to conceal my disposition, I should, ere long, do something, which would make them repent of their credulity, and expose myself to their universal censure. His representation had but too much effect on the people. He was a clergyman, and consequently, must speak the truth. They were afraid—they kept their children chiefly at home, for fear of some terrible explosion, which had been foretold by their spiritual leader. With indignation I quitted them, and the school.

I then took a school in a town called Orford, eighteen miles below Haverhill, and twelve miles from Hanover. Fortunately for me, I had kept this school long enough to get established, before Mr. R—y knew where I was, and of course, his efforts for my overthrow, here, were ineffectual. I continued this school until the expiration of the [...] agreed for, to the universal satisfaction of all concerned. I began this school in November, and ended with the month of February. The [...] time for schooling, in all the towns through the eastern states, is only in the winter, some few [...] ulous towns excepted.

Whilst I taught this school, I [...] [Page] with a woman, who was supposed to be a widow, possessing those amiable qualifications, calculated to attract the attention of every admirer of the fair part of creation. I paid strict attention to gain her affections, and flattered myself I had in a measure succeeded. After the school was ended, I returned to my father's. I had not been long with my father, before I had a visit from Joseph Huntington, who was a member of Dartmouth College. He came in a sleigh, and brought a class mate, who was of that peculiar turn of mind, as to be a butt for the ridicule of all the Wits in College; and it was certain, he would be lead into all the scrapes then in vogue. Huntington proposed to me to take a ride that evening, in his sleigh, telling me at the same time, he had brought A—with him, to steal a bee-hive. For the diversion of drawing A—into a ludicrous situation, I immediately consented to be one of the party. We accordingly all got into the sleigh, and drove away about two miles, when, coming near where bees were kept, we sent A—after them, who was ever prompt to do what he was set about by any one. He soon returned with a hive to the sleigh, when we drove off with great speed to the College, where I found a number assembled, ready to partake of the repast which the honey afforded. All were regaled with this delicious morsel, but myself, having an insuperable antipathy to honey, which wholly incapacitates me from ever making use of it.

I am now, Sir, at a place in my narrative, which has caused me pain in relating, because I view my conduct entirely wrong, and my mode of reasoning upon such subjects, at that age, quite ridiculous. For some unaccountable reason or other, Youth are carried away with false notions of right and wrong. I know, for instance, that Huntington possessed those principles of integrity, that no consideration [Page] would have induced him to deprive another by stealth, of any species of property, except fruit, bees, pigs, and poultry. And why it is considered by Youth generally, that depriving another of those articles is less criminal, than stealing any other kind of property, I cannot tell; but it is a fact, that almost all do esteem this so, and robbing others of those articles is thought to be only the playful wantonness of thoughtless inexperience. I will ask you, Sir, whether our treatment of those things does not give too much reason to convince Youth, that we view them in that light ourselves.

We parted at 11 o'clock that evening, and I returned home. The man, that lost the bees, suspected the scholars as the authors of this depredation, and accordingly, went to the governors to enter his complaint. Search was made, and by the inattention of A—, a discovery was effected. It was found, likewise, in the discovery, that I was of the party,—this was a fine bone for my friend R—y to pick. He did not fail to fulfil the office of a clergyman, by setting his face against iniquity. He was determined I should be made a public example. After Huntington and A—had settled with the owner of the bees, R—y represented to him, the necessity of not making any settlement with me, but prosecute in the law, and there have it terminate. Coffin was ready to back this representation, with all his oratory. They succeeded; I was informed into the circumstances; and as another circumstance had now taken place, which cooperated with this, it is necessary I should go back a little in my narrative, and bring forward this event, to the present time. The lady, of whom mention has been made, and who was supposed to be a widow, I still addressed upon the terms of courtship: matters between us had proceeded to considerable length. I went to visit her one day, after I [Page] had left Orford, and coming to a neighbor's of her's, about six rods distant, I saw a man standing in the door of her house, a stranger, whom I never before saw; and upon inquiring who he was, received information that her husband was alive, and had come home. This intelligence was like heaven's artillery, charged with ten-fold vim. The wheels of nature ran backward! The blood curdled in my veins, and I fell almost senseless into a chair! I was aroused from this stupor, by female shrieks! Howlings of bitter lementation assailed my ears ********* God of nature! what greater scenes of distress are reserved in store!? What sharper arrows yet remain in thy quiver!? ****************************** May I hide myself with a mantle of darkness, and retire from the stage of action, into eternal obscurity.

CHAP. VII.

Fir'd is the muse? And let the muse be fir'd,

Who not inflam'd, when what he speaks, he feels?

WEARY with life, I returned to my father's, made some small arrangements, and left the country. One pistarene was all the ready cash I had on hand, and the suddenness with which I departed, deprived me of a chance to raise more. Travelling on leisurely, I had time for reflection. What, said I, again an outcast among mankind? where am I going? what can I do with myself in this world, where I meet with nothing but disappointment and chagrine. True it is, I am an outcast, but who cares for that? If I will not use means for my own preservation and prosperity, what am I to expect? Is it to be supposed that whining over misfortunes is calculated to make them better? No, by no means. Then arouse, said I, for shame: [Page] use such means as you have in your power. The greater embarrassments, the more honor in overcoming them;—lay aside the idea of being any longer a child, and become a man. If others endeavor to throw obstacles in the way of your prosperity, show them that you can rise above them.

This dialogue with myself was productive of the most happy effects; I began to look about me, to see what was to be done in my present situation, to what business I could turn my attention.

The practice of Law, which would have been most to my mind, I could not undertake, until I had spent some considerable time in the study, which would be attended with expense, far beyond my abilities; therefore, this object must be laid aside. Physic was under the same embarrassments: business of the mercantile line, I could not pursue, for want of a capital; and even a school, at this time of the year, was hardly to be obtained.

Business of some kind, I must enter into, and that immediately, in order to answer the present calls of nature. And what can that be? said I: have not I enumerated all the callings, which are profitable for me to attend to? I might possibly write in an office, or tend in a store, on wages, had I any person to recommend or introduce me into that business: But what can now be done? A stranger—moneyless—and friendless.—There is one thing, said Contrivance, which you may do; and it will answer your purpose. Preach!!—Preach?—What a pretty fellow am I for a preacher!—A pretty character mine, to tickle the ears of a grave audience! Run away from my own home, for being connected in robbing a bee-house, and for my attention to a married woman; having been through scenes of tumult, during my whole career, since I have exhibited on the active stage of life. Besides all this, what an appearance should I make, in my present [Page] dress? which consisted of a light grey coat, with silver plated buttons, green vest, and red velvet breeches. This, said I, is a curious dress for me to offer myself in, as a Preacher; and I am by no means able to obtain a different suit.

These objections, truly, are weighty,—many difficulties must be surmounted, in order to enter into this business, but as this is the only kind, you can attend to, said I to myself, under present circumstances, you can but be destitute of resource, if you make the trial, and do not succeed. At any rate, it is best to see what can be done; therefore, in order to obviate the first difficulty, viz. of disagreeable reports following you, it will be necessary to prevent, as much as possible, your being known, where you offer yourself to preach: and in order to prevent that, you must change your name. This being done, you must go some distance, where you are not personally known; and the probability is, that you can continue in such business, till some opportunity may offer for your entering into other employment. As for your dress, you cannot alter that, at present, and therefore, you must make the best of it you can. I do not think it will be an insurmountable obstacle; if you fail in one attempt, mind not to be discouraged, but repeat the trial, until you succeed,

After I had held this parley with myself, I was determined to follow the foregoing plan, according to the best of my abilities. I exchanged my horse for another, much worse, and received three dollars for the difference: This furnished me with money for my immediate expenses in travelling. I pursued my course, down Connecticut river, about 150 miles, judging, that by this time, I was for enough from home, to remain unknown, I concluded to begin my operations. Hearing of a place called Ludlow, not far distant, where they were [...] [Page] of a clergyman, I bent my course that way, it being Saturday, and intended to preach the next day, if I proved successful. I arrived about noon, and put up at the house of one Fuller, whom I found to be a leading man in their religious society. I introduced myself to him as a clergyman, and he gave me an invitation to spend the sabbath with them, and preach. You will readily conclude, that I did not refuse this invitation. The greatest obstacle was now surmounted, as I conceived, viewing myself as fairly introduced into the ministerial function. I retired to rest at the usual time, and after I had composed my mind, sufficiently for reflection, I began to consider under what situation my affairs now stood, and what was to be done under present circumstances. I had engaged to preach on the morrow. I had almost forgotten to tell you that my name here was Davis.—People had been notified that a sermon would be delivered: This business I never had attempted. It is true, the study of Divinity had come under my attention, together with every other subject of common concern, in a cursory manner. I concluded that sermonizing would not be so difficult, as the other exercises of public worship. Many disagreeable possibilities arose into view. What, said I, would be my feelings, should I make some egregious blunder in travelling this unbeaten road? I must be exposed to the mortifying consideration of being observed by a whole assembly, in this ridiculous essay to preach, and not be able to carry my attempt into execution; and all those things possibly may happen. Those considerations made so dismal an appearance, that I once concluded to get up, take my horse privately out of the stable, and depart, rather than run the risk of the dangers which were before me. But upon more mature reflection, I found the hard hand of necessity compelled me to stay. When I awoke [Page] the next morning, my heart beat with anxious palpitation for the issue of the day. I considered this as the most important scene of my life. That in a great measure, my future happiness or wretchedness depended on my conduct through this day. The time for assembling approached! I saw people began to come together. My feelings were all in arms against me, my heart would leap almost into my mouth.

What a strange thing, said I, is man! why am I thus perturbated with these whimsical feelings? I know my dress is against me, and will cause some speculation, but I cannot help it, and why need I afflict myself with disagreeables, before they arrive? I endeavored to calm my feelings, by those reflections. I fortified my countenance with all my resolution, and set out with my bible and psalm book under my arm; those being the only insignia of a clergyman about me. When I made my appearance, I found a stare of universal surprise, at my gay dress, which suited better the character of a beau, than a clergyman. My eyes, I could not persuade myself, to raise from the ground, till I had ascended the pulpit. I was doubtful whether I had the command of my voice, or even whether I had any voice. I sat a few moments, collecting my resolution for the effort of beginning: I made the attempt—I found my voice at command—my anxiety was hushed in a moment—my perturbation subsided;—and I felt all the s [...]renity of a calm summer's morning. I went through the exercises of the forenoon, without any difficulty. No monarch, when seated on the throne, had more sensible feelings of prosperity, than what I experienced at this time.

During the intermission, I heard the whisper, in swift circulation among the people, concerning my appearance, in such a dress. The question was often [Page] asked with great emphasis, "Who is he?" but no one was able to give those answers, which were satisfactory. A consultation took place among some leading members of the society, relative to hiring me, to continue among them, as a preacher; as I had intimated to Mr. Fuller, that I should [...]e willing to continue among them in that capacity, should such a matter meet with their approbation. I attended on the afternoon's exercises without any singular occurrence. The meeting being dismissed, and the people retired, I was informed by my land-lord, that they did not agree to here me any longer;—accordingly, I found my business here at an end.

I was advised by Mr. Fuller, to make application to Mr. Baldwin, minister of Palmer, about twenty miles distant from Ludlow, for information where were vacancies, and for an introduction into those vacancies. I, accordingly, set out for Palmer, on Monday morning, and arrived at Mr. Baldwin's about 4 o'colck in the afternoon. I introduced myself to him as a clergyman, wanting employment. I saw he noticed my dress, but asked no questions. He examined into my education, knowledge of Divinity, tenets, &c. and finding all agreeing with his ideas of orthodoxy, he concluded to recommend me to a town called Pelham, eighteen miles distant from Palmer. The next morning I set off for Pelham, with a letter to one Deacon Gray. I arrived, and delivered my letter, and was hired, in consequence of the recommendation of Mr. Baldwin, without any hesitation, for four sabbaths, five dollars a sabbath; boarding, horse-keeping, &c. &c.—I now found myself, in some measure, settled in business. The want of an immediate relief, to my temporary inconveniences, was now supplied. I [...] and the family into which I had fallen, to be an agreeable sociable circle, and I was much respected in the family, not only [Page] on account of my sacerdotal character, but likewise on account of the ease with which I mixed with them, in all their little social enjoyments.

CHAP. VIII.

Companion of the wretched come,

Fair Hope! and dwell with me a while;

Thy heav'nly presence gilds the gloom,

While happier scenes in prospect smile.

BEFORE I proceed to the relation of succeeding events, it will be necessary, to give a description of the people inhabiting this town; as much will depend on knowing their character, to rightly understand the relation of incidents, which will follow.

The town of Pelham was settled with people, chiefly from the north of Ireland. They were, of course, strict Presbyterians. They valued themselves much, on being acquainted with the nice distinctions between orthodox and heterodox principles and practice. They, likewise, wished to be thought shrewd in their observations on ministers and preaching. A people generally possessing violent passions, which once disturbed, raged, uncontrolled by the dictates of reason; Unpolished in their manners, possessing a jealous disposition; and either very friendly or very enemical, not knowing a medium between those two extremes. The first settled minister they had among them, was one Abicrombie, from Scotland, a man of handsome abilities but violent passions, resolute and persevering. Not many years after he was settled among them, a difficulty took place between him and the people, which was carried to considerable length, and ended in his dismission. After Mr. Abicrombie left this people, they made application to one Grayham, who, at length, settled among them, to their universal satisfaction; being a very handsome speaker, [Page] and otherwise possest with popular talents, as a preacher. Mr. Grayham was a man of very delicate feelings, of superior refinement, and inheriting a great desire for that peace, which establishes the enjoyments of society.

After preaching a number of years to this people, he found an uneasiness prevailing among them, the chief cause of which was his practising upon a system of manners more refined, than what was prevalent in the place; consequently, they accused him of pride, of attention to the vanities of the world; of leaving the plain path of scripture, and following after the vices of Rome. Mr. Grayham labored to convince them of their mistake; of his wish to live with them upon the most intimate terms of equality; of his ever having it in view, to pursue such measures, as would, in their operation, conduce to their good and prosperity; and in that pursuit, he had expected his examples and precepts would answer a valuable purpose. His expostulations, remonstrances, and entreaties, were all given to the wind. The difficulties encreased, and the clamour grew louder. The mind of Mr. Grayham was too delicately strung to bear those strokes of misfortune; they insensibly wore upon his constitution, till at last he fell a sacrifice to the tumult, and sought his rest in the grave.

The town of Pelham remained destitute of a minister for a considerable time. They tried a number of candidates, but not finding any, with whom they could agree, no one was yet settled. At length, a Mr. Merrill came among them. He was a man possessing the gift of utterance and flow of expression, perhaps equal to any. He was an eccentric genius, and imprudent to the last degree; possessing violent passions,—head-strong and impetuous. The plausible part of his character was so captivating, that the town agreed to settle him. He, accordingly, [Page] was installed. His imprudences soon made their appearance. Complaint was made, but they found one, now, who paid but little attention to their complaining. Both parties began to give way to passion. Their contention increased, and a flame was kindled, which set the whole town in an uproar. Mr. Merrill refused to start from that foundation, to which his legal contract intitled him, therefore, the other party determined to use extraordinary and violent measures. This attack, Mr. Merrill durst not meet; therefore, he suddenly left the town. Matters were in this situation, when I came to Pelham. From the information of Mr. Baldwin, and from the communications of my landlord and family, I soon gained a pretty thorough knowledge of the people, whom I was amongst; and I endeavored to adopt my conduct to their genius, as far as I was capable. I found myself soon able to dress in a habit fitting my calling. I soon found, likewise, that my endeavors to suit the people had not altogether failed. At the expiration of the four sabbaths, they engaged me to preach sixteen more. I began to form an acquaintance in the neighboring towns, and with the neighboring ministers.

This happened to be a time of great mortality among women in child-bed; consequently, I was called to preach many funeral sermons, in this, and the neighboring towns, many of which were destitute of a clergyman of their own. I always attended this business, when I had a call. This circumstance began to raise a wonder in the minds of some, how I could be prepared for preaching so constantly, and on so short notice, being as yet, only nineteen years of age. I had, in reality, ten Sermons with me, written by my father.

At a certain time, being suddenly called to preach a funeral sermon, I had none of my own written, proper for the occasion. I took one of my [Page] father's, and delivered it to a crowded audience. As this sermon was delivered in a private house, it was in the power of any to look into my notes. One, who had wondered at my always being prepared to preach, took this opportunity of looking over my notes, and thought they appeared too old to be lately written. This circumstance was mentioned to a number, who began to grow uneasy, with the apprehension of my preaching sermons, not my own. Mr. Baldwin coming to Pelham, about this time, they mentioned the matter to him, that he might make some inquiry into the business, and inform them. He, accordingly, mentioned the matter to me, in a confidential manner, and desired to see the sermon, alluded to. I was sensible the handwriting of my father was so different from my own, that the first view must clearly convince any observer, that this sermon was not written by myself: I, therefore, thought it the better way, to treat the matter ingeniously, and tell him the simple matter of fact.

I told Mr. Baldwin, that the sermon was a manuscript which I had in my possession, together with some others, written by another person, and that the want of time to prepare a discourse had induced me to take this, rather than refuse to preach.—Mr. Baldwin made some observations with regard to my situation; of the necessity of a great degree of prudence; and of the impropriety of using other sermons, as a general thing. He returned to Palmer, without giving the men any account respecting the matter of their suspicion. Not gaining that intelligence by Mr. Baldwin, which was expected, those, who were uneasy, spread their suspicions among others, until there became uneasiness, pretty generally, through the town. They proposed a number of ways to obtain that satisfaction, with regard to their suspicion, which would either clear [Page] me from the fact of which they were jealous, or else establish them in it. They, at length, agreed to this method, viz. to send one of their number to me, on Sunday morning, previous to my going into the meeting house, and desire me to preach from a passage of scripture, which he should give me. I was informed of all these circumstances, previous to the time of trial. Their reasoning upon this subject, was of this nature, viz. That if I was able, on the shortest notice, to preach on any occasion, I should be able likewise, to preach on Sunday, from such a passage as should be given me, on the morning of the same day; and should I not be able to preach, the evidence would be conclusive against me, that I preached the sermons of others, and not my own.

The Sunday following, I was waited on by Mr. Clark, who desired me to oblige him, by delivering a discourse from the first clause of the 5th verse of the 9th chapter of Joshua; the words were, "old shoes and clouted on their feet." I informed him I would deliver a discourse from that text, and accordingly he left me. I truly felt somewhat blanked, at the nature of the passage I had to discourse upon. However, I was determined to do the best on the subject I was capable. I endeavoured to make some arrangements in my mind on the subject. I had not thought long on it, before the matter opened to my mind, in such a manner, as to give me much satisfaction. As your patience would hardly endure the repetition of a tedious sermon, I will not trouble you with it, yet, sir, indulge me, in giving you some general outlines of this discourse, as it was founded on a very singular passage, and delivered on a very extraordinary occasion.

[Page]

CHAP. IX.

Thus airy pleasure dances in our eyes,

And spreads false images in fair disguise,

To lure our souls; 'till just within our arms

The vision dies, and all the painted charms

Flee quick away, from the pursuing fight

'Till they are lost in shades, and mingle with the night.

IN handling this discourse, the exordium consisted of a description of the Gibeonites; the duplicity which they practised upon the Jews; the nature and general tendency of deceit, &c. After I had gone through with the introduction, I divided my discourse into three general heads, viz. To consider in the first place of shoes, 2dly of old shoes, and 3dly of clouted shoes. In treating of the first general head viz. shoes, I considered them in a metaphorical sense, as shewing our mode of conduct in life. We are all, said I, sojourners in this world, but for a season, travelling to another country, to which we shall, ere long, arrive, we must all beshod, in order to enable us to travel the road before us. We find the good man represented as having his "feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace." All mankind are in a state of motion; none remain inactive on this stage of probation; all are moving forward with rapidity, and hastening to their final end. Not only the natural world, but likewise the mental, is filled with briars and thorns, stones and rubbish, which wound us at every step, when we are not shod to guard us from those injuries, we should otherwise receive from those impediments. Mankind, finding this to be the case, have immediate recourse to such coverings for their feet, as they imagine will protect them from the injuries to which they are exposed, &c. &c.

In treating the second head viz. of old shoes, I endeavoured to shew, that they represented those, [Page] "who had been hewing to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, which can hold no water." We find, said I, from the earliest ages of the world, mankind practising upon that system. They have continued ever since to tread in the steps of their predecessors, and to wear the same old shoes. The old shoes represent old sins, which mankind have made use of from old times, down to the present day. And would to GOD, they had been worn until mankind had been ashamed of them. A spirit of jealousy and discord, perhaps, may be accounted as old as any shoes now worn. How soon after the creation do we find this same destructive principle raging in the little family, which then composed the whole human race. Murder was the consequence; revenge and hatred were perpetuated by it. Now I am possessed with this accursed passion, said Cain, "whoever shall find me, shall slay me." The direful influence of this passion spreads its dismal effects among all mankind, when it once prevails: Solomon, viewing the operation of this principle upon the human heart, says "Jealousy is more cruel than the grave." It deluges countries, destroys societies, and renders man hateful to man. All civil and religious bodies are destroyed, when once this hateful monster is allowed an entrance. Ministers and people, parents and children, husbands and wives, fall a sacrifice to the influence of "jealousy, that green eyed monster, which makes the meat it feeds on." Therefore, wo be to that people, who cherish the seeds of jealousy, or practise after her counsels, &c. &c. &c.

In considering the last general head, viz. of clouted shoes, I observed, that those, who wore those old shoes, and practised upon a system of jealousy, were sensible of its odious and hateful nature, and of consequence, ashamed to be seen by GOD, man, or the devil, nay, they were ashamed to be seen by themselves, [Page] therefore, they had recourse to patching and clouting themselves over with false and feigned pretences, to hide their shame and disgrace. This vice has been considered, by all wise men, as the most destructive to human felicity, and the least excusable, and most unreasonable, of any passion incident to the human heart. It is a passion, which debases the human character to its lowest ebb, as says a noted author; "Where I see a jealous people, I expect, likewise, to see every thing base and sordid among them.

Look around, my hearers, and judge for yourselves, whenever you have left this first born son of hell triumphing in your bosoms, how soon has joy and comfort fled from your hearts? how soon has this doleful monster turned all the sweets of life into wormwood and gall? &c. &c. &c.

I concluded this discourse by an application of the subject, after the following manner. My hearers, where shall I apply this doctrine? is it calculated for a people only at some great distance? can we not bring it home, even to our▪ own doors? search and see. Try yourselves by the sanctuary, and if there your garments are not washed in innocence, you will find, "Mene, Mene. Tekel Upharsin", written on your walls. Will you suffer this hateful monster to rage among you? will you wear these old filthy clouted shoes any longer? will you not rather put on that "charity which endureth all things, which hopeth all things." Will you not rather be "shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace?" &c. &c. &c.

After this sermon was delivered, I found the people, though somewhat disturbed at my esteeming them jealous, satisfied with regard to my ability in sermonizing, and they, afterwards, remained quiet on that head. I found it necessary to purchase me a horse, saddle, and bridle, as well as to cro [...]he myself [Page] anew entirely, with such apparel as became a clergyman; therefore, I was under the necessity to anticipate my wages to answer these purposes, after I had disposed of my old horse, saddle, and bridle, to the best advantage.

No person of my acquaintance kn [...]w where I was at this time, except Joseph Huntington, whom I had left at Dartmouth College: with him I continued, a correspondence by letter, by engaged to make me a visit in September, as he should then be on his way to Coventry, and could take Pelham in his journey. I once saw a person, whom I had formerly been acquainted with at Coventry, by the name of Avery, but he did not appear to recognise me, being under a different name, and in a different dress. The first of my seeing him was in the meeting house. I made i [...] convenient to fall in with him afterwards, to see if he had any recollection of me, and found he had not.

Not long after this, I saw a young man by the name of Powers, with whom I was acquainted at Dartmouth College. I saw he [...] attention to me, whilst I was preaching, and concluded, from a number of circumstances, he knew me. He lived in Greenwich, a town adjoining, and had connexions in Pelham. I, therefore, concluded it to be a matter of consequence, to throw myself in his way, and come to an explanation with him. Accordingly, after meeting, I made it convenient for him to speak to me, which he readily did; and he being informed into the motives of my conduct, promised not to say any thing, which should create an uneasiness among the people.

At another time, coming from a town called Colrain, having been on a visit to the clergyman living in that town, I met one Church, with whom I was acquainted at the College; he now being a clergyman, and seeing me in clerical habit, stared [Page] with surprise at me. I frankly told him my situation, and where I was preaching. At the relation of this, his phi [...] became lengthened, he assumed all the importance attached to his function, and addressed me in a lengthy h [...]ran [...]e, shewing the sacre [...]ness of the character, which I had assumed, and of the great importance of "walking worthy of the vocation wherewith I was called." I pulled off my hat, made him a profound reverence, and rode on.

Soon after I had left this Knight of the Cros [...], I began to reflect upon the nature of my own conduct, and upon mature consideration, blamed myself much for giving him that information which I had, with regard to my own matters. This information, said I, can do him no manner of good, and it may do me much injury. The secret is now gone from me, and I cannot recal it. I cannot receive any possible good from communicating this matter, and many possible evils may befal me in consequence of [...].

I will leave matters in this situation, and go back some way in my narrative, in order to fetch forward a number of matters, necessary to understand many events, which will hereafter be related.

When I first came to Pelham, I formed an acquaintance with a family, which must remain nameless, for reasons which you will understand by the after relation. The man was possest of information far above the rest of the inhabitants. His manners and sentiments were▪ equally refined; his wife possest those amiable accomplishments, which made her a paragon of excellence, among the rude inhabitants of this town. This couple lived together on such terms, as to do honor to their refinement. The most tender affections marked all their actions, while their parental care had formed a family of the most lovely children. With this family I formed an acquaintance, which was not [Page] only intimate, but ardently affectionate. I lived with them on such terms of nearness and confidence, as I never expect to do with any other. All their propensities, feelings, and sentiments, were in union with my own; so that not a discordant sound was heard among us. In fine, I do not know the act of friendship too romantic or desperate for me to have performed, for this amiable family, had occasion called; my feelings of friendship were so strong towards them. I communicated all the secrets respecting myself to them, without disguising any circumstance. The man told me that measures were in such a train, that he should soon be in possession of an independent fortune. Prompted by the feelings of friendship, he wished me to enjoy a part of the blessing in store for him; he, therefore, let me into the knowledge of his wealth and greatness. He informed me that one Philips, who was then at work, in New Salem, with the noted Glazier Wheeler, a money-maker, known throughout all New England, had the art of transmuting metals, so as to make copper into good silver, which would stand the test of every essay made upon it. This knowledge Philips had agreed to communicate to my friend, who, for distinction sake, I will call Lysander. Said I, if this can be done, at no considerable expense, it is a matter of the utmost consequence, but his working with Glazier Wheeler is an exceptionable circumstance against him, in my opinion; however, he may have his own reasons for it, and those reasons, were they known to me, might be satisfactory. Lysander appeared to entertain the highest confidence in the business. His wife was more doubtful; who, by the by, was the most penetrating of the two. In order to put the matter out of all doubt, I agreed to attend Lysander on a visit, to this wonderful transmute of metals, and there examine his [Page] experiments, until we had reduced the matter to a certainty. The visit was to be made in the night, to prevent any suspicion arising from the circumstance of being at the money-maker Wheeler's. We accordingly, one night, set out on our destination, it being a rout of about twelve miles, and arrived there about 10 o'clock. We made our business known to Philips, who was willing to give us proofs of his skill.

He, in the first place, weighed one half ounce of copper, and put it into a crucible, and then put the crucible into the fire; after it remained there a short space of time, he put in a paper, containing something wrapped in it, and immediately the matter in the crucible became turbid, and began to foam and boil with great violence, for the term of ten minutes, and then settled down into a clear beautiful metal, which, when poured off, and cooled, was good silver, weighing one half an ounce. It stood the trial by aqua-fortis, and several ways, so that I had no doubt of its being good silver. My only doubt remained as to the contents of the paper, which was put into the crucible. This contained a certain powder, as Philips said, which served to destroy the verdigrise, which the copper absorbed, and the remainder was pure silver. I wished to see the powder—with some seeming reluctance, he shewed it me.—I saw it was in reality a powder.—I wished him to try the experiment again, and to put the powder in open, so as to have it seen after [...] was in the crucible. He pretended it would not do quite so well this way, but, to gra [...]y our curiosity, consented. The experiment, in all [...] circumstances, was repeated, excepting his laying a large flat coal over the mouth of the crucible, immediately after the copper was put in. The effect was the same—one half an ounce of good silver was poured out of the crucible.

[Page] I again desired him to furnish me with the materials, and let [...]e go through the operation myself, without his coming near the fire. He consented. I weighed the copper, put it in, and proceeded according to his method, which I had seen him perform, till the powder produced the boiling foam in the crucible, when he cried out to me to [...]. I did not recollect seeing him stir it, however, I put an iron rod, about the bigness of a large nail-rod, and about eighteen inches long, into the crucible, and stirred the contents. There was nothing but this iron rod, which would answer to stir the metal with. When we empried the crucible, we found half an ounce of good silver. Once more, I begged his indulgence for another experiment; and that he should not be in the room when it was performed. He readily consented. Lysander and myself proceeded together in the experiment, s [...]cundum ar [...]em. When we came to stir the metal, we could find nothing calculated for that purpose, excepting a short piece of a walking-staff; we, therefore, made use of that; but saw afterwards, we had burn off about four inches of that end, we put into the crucible. We poured out the usual quantity of good silver. I was now satisfied beyond all doubt. We returned to Pelham with no small satisfaction. I felt all the confidence in the business, which was possible to feel on any subject. I saw in my own imagination my fortune certainly made. Not a doubt remained in my mind of becoming the [...] man on the continent of America. But how fleeting our joys! how [...] our expectations! Can you suppose the whole of this an [...]? It was truly so. All the plausible experiments, which were performed by Philips and ourselves, were a [...] ries of the most consummate duplicity, which was ever performed. We did not make this discovery, till some time afterwards, but I will go forward [Page] with the account now, for the reason of its being so closely connected with the incidents already related.

When the first copper was put into the crucible, he put half an ounce of silver in likewise, which was wrapped in the paper, with some powder, which consumed the copper and left the silver. The next operation was after this manner: Being prevented from conveying the silver into the crucible, by my request of seeing the powder put in, he therefore, secretly, put his silver on the forge, and laid a large flat coal over it. At the proper time, he took up the silver and coal together, with his tongs, and laying them over the top of the crucible, the silver, unperceived, fell in. The next deception was performed thus: at the time in which I was ordered to stir the metal in the crucible, an iron rod was the only thing to be found for such a purpose: on the lower end of this rod was fixed the silver, blackened like iron, which, being put into the crucible, melted off. The last experiment for supplying us with silver, was performed by making the end of the piece of walking-staff hollow, and placing the silver in the end of it, which being burnt off, left the silver in the crucible. Thus this mighty fabric of wealth was blown away in an instant, like the baseless fabric of a vision. This adroit deceiver obtained property of a number, to the amount of 2000 dollars, and snddenly was missed.

As he will be fouud on the stage, a number of times, in the course of this Narrative, it will be necessary to give some more particular description of this singular man—He was about five feet eight inches high, dark complexion, thick set, down look, plausible in conversation, very ingenious in executing mechanical undertakings, and what is more surprising, he has but one arm. He had the entire [Page] command of his own feelings, so that his countenance or actions never betrayed his inward sensations, persevering in any undertaking, perfidious, subfil, and designing, lost to all feelings of fidelity, either towards the public, as a member of the community, or towards individuals, to whom he had more immediately pledged his faith, a rank coward, yet possessing the happiest abilities of imitating courage, of any man I ever saw. There was no part of the coining art, but what he was master of, and could, with one arm only, execute it to perfection.

Being fully possessed with the idea, that our prosperity was certain, we concerted a plan, to carry on the business to that amount, as to answer a purpose of magnitude. We therefore concluded to charter a vessel, load her with copper, coal, provision, &c. necessary for the business, and retire to the isle of Sable, where we could pursue our plan uninterrupted. A writing was made and signed by all parties, for our regulation in prosecuting said purpose.

CHAP. X.

It was a se [...]son, when the lingering night,

Disputes her empire with the rising light;

A rosy blush here paints the doubtful morn,

There glimering stars, the uncertain s [...]ades adorn.

AT the time fixed on, Joseph Huntington came to see me at Pelham, I introduced him to my acquaintance, and particularly to Lysander. We opened our schemes of aggrandizement to him, without reserve. He was pleased with our prospects, and in the overflowings of our friendship, we agreed to allow him, as the highest favor possible for us to communicate, to set his hand to our agreement, and so become a partner in our business. In the course of Huntington's remaining with me at Pelham, he made several unguarded mistakes, [Page] which reduced me to a very disagreeable situation. He called me by my proper name, a number of times, before the family where I lived. He excused himself by saying, that Burroughs was my nick name at College, and was given in consequence of my looking so much like one of that name. One Sunday morning, as people were going to meeting, I was leaning back in my chair, the pommel resting against the door case. Huntington seeing the situation in which I was resting, put his staff against the chair and pushed it off the case, and down I fell on the floor. This impudent action, done on Sunday, by my known intimate friend, had a very disagreeable appearance, and made people look with astonishment at the circumstance, however, I reproved Huntington, with some warmth, and he, seeing the naure of his folly, bore it with patience. The Monday following, Huntington was to proceed on to Coventry. I rode with him about twelve miles on his way, and then returned; but previous to my return, an affair took place, which gave a new face to the scene of things.

As we were riding by the house of Mr. Forward, minister of Belchertown, he came out of his house, and desired us to call, alledging that Mr. Chapin, a minister from Windsor, was in the house, to whom he offered to introduce us. Mr. Chapin was a man well known to me, and I presumed I should be equally well known to him. I excused the matter, alledging that I was in haste, and therefore, could not do myself the pleasure of accepting his invitation. Mr. Forward was pressing for us to alight, and go in; and while this dialogue continued Mr. Chapin came out of his house, and addressed me by the name of Burroughs; I endeavored to convince him of his mistake, but to no purpose; he insisted in a very peremptory manner, that my name was not Davis, but was bona side Barroughs. I replied that [Page] those insults were not grateful to my feelings, and what I should not bear. "Your humble servant gentlemen." We then rode on, though repetedly desired to stop. When Huntington and I were by ourselves, we were merry upon the circumstance of being driven into so short a corner.

After I had parted from Huntington, I was under the necessity of returning back the same road I came, and consequently, must pass, again, by the house of Mr. Forward. Soon after I had gone by the house, I heard some body calling after me, "Mr. Davis, Mr. Burroughs," but for reasons which you will easily conceive, I did not answer. As I rode on towards Pelham, I endeavored to concert measures of retreat against the storm, which was fast gathering, and would soon burst upon me, if it were not averted. The news would soon come to Pelham, of my real name, character, &c. This would serve to arouse the indignation of that people to its full height. To continue among them any longer, would be out of the question, and to meet the rage of their resentment, after the whole matter of fact should be promulgated, I dared not, neither did I wish it. One Sunday more I was to preach among them, before my time of engagement expired, and for this Sunday, I had already received my pay, but under existing circumstances, it was doubtful in my mind, whether they would insist on my fulfilling my engagement. At all events, I was determined to leave them very suddenly. I, accordingly, came to my land-lord's that evening, put my horse in the barn, and after the family were all retired to rest, I put my things in order, took my horse, and silently left the house. In this situation, I sought Lysander, related the circumstances which I was under, and concluded to lie by with him, till I should see what the event of those things would be.

The next morning, Mr. Davis was not to be [Page] found. My land-lord was almost frantic with surprise and grief. The town was alarmed, and suddenly was all in a flame. About 11 o'clock P. M. a man came from Belchertown, with information respecting the character, who had exhibited among them, as a preacher, this blew the flame into a tenfold rage. No pen can describe the uproar there was in the town of Pelham. They mounted hue and cries after me in every direction, with orders to spare not horse flesh. They perambulated the town, and anxiously asked every one for some circumstance, which would lead to a discovery where I was. All this took place whilst I lay snug in the corner, observing their operations. In holding a consultation upon these disagreeable matters, every one was anxious to clear himself of being the dupe to my artifice, as much as possible. "I never liked him," says one,—"I always thought there was something suspicious about him," says another. "He ever had a very deceitful look," says a third. In fine, it had come to this, that not one now could discern any thing, which ever appeared good or commendable about me, except one good old lady, who said, "Well, I hope they will catch him, and bring him back among us, and we will make him a good man, and keep him for our preacher."

You may, with propriety, ask me, what the people of Pelham expected they could do, should they overtake me in their pursuit? I know the question will naturally arise; but I cannot give you an answer, for I do not know their intentions or expectations. Perhaps they thought, for they were a people very ignorant, that I had broken the laws of the Land, to the same amount, as I had offended them.

About 12 o'clock, the night following, I took my leave of Lysander, promising to return and see him again, as soon as the tumult was hushed, and [Page] concert further measures for our prosecuting our schemes, for gaining wealth by transmutation; being obliged so suddenly to leave the country, that we could not ripen our plans, for the present. It was not without the most sensible pain I left this amiable family. Journeying on, I had time for reflection. At dead of night—all alone—reflection would have its operation.

A very singular scene have I now passed though, said I, and to what does it amount? Have I acted with propriety as a man, or have I deviated from the path of rectitude? I have had an unheard of, difficult, disagreeable, part to act: I do not feel entirely satisfied with myself in this business, and yet, I do not know how I should have done otherwise, and have made the matter better. The laws of the Land I have not broken, in any instance, but my situation has been such, that I have violated that principle of veracity, which we implicitly pledge ourselves to maintain towards each other, as a general thing in Society: and whether my peculiar circumstances would warrant such a line of procedure is the question? I know many things may be said in favor of it, as well as against it. How I came into this disagreeable situation, is another matter: I know that the leading cause, which produced it, was founded in wrong. My giving countenance to an open breach of the laws of the Land, in the [...]ase of the bees, was a matter in which I was justly reprehensible; but that matter is now past; the owner of the bees is remunerated to the utmost extent, which is provided for by law, and therefore, I must take things as they now are, and under these circumstances, do the best I can. I know the world will blame me, but I wish to justify my conduct to myself, let the world think what it may. Indeed, I know they are not capable of judging upon the matter, with any propriety, because they ever [Page] will and ever must remain ignorant of the particular causes, which brought these events into existence. They understand the matter in the gross, that I have preached under a fictitious name and character, and consequently, have roused many ideas in the minds of the people, not founded in fact. Therefore, they concluded from this general view, the whole to be grounded in wrong. The name imposture, is therefore easily fixt to my character. An imposture, we generally conceive, puts on feigned appearances, in order to enrich or aggrandize himself, to the damage of others. That this is not the case with me, in this transaction, I think is clear. That I have aimed at nothing but a bare supply of the necessaries of life, is a fact. That I have never, in one instance, taken advantage of that confidence which the people of Pelham entertained towards me, to injure them and benefit myself, is a truth acknowledged by all. Under these circumstances, whether I ought to bear the name of imposture, according to the common acceptation, is the question?

That I have a good and equitable right to preach, if I choose, and others choose to hear me, is a truth of which I entertain no doubt: but whether any circumstance will justify my putting on a false appearance, in order to introduce myself into that business, is the only doubt remaining on my mind. I think it my duty, at least, to stear as clear of this base guise, for the future, as my safety will admit.

About 1 o'clock at night, leaving the confines of Pelham, I overtook Powers, the person whom I have before mentioned, likewise coming out of Pelham. He knew me—I asked him where he had been—He was embarrassed about giving me an answer. I mistrusted he had been employed in searching after me; I laid it to his charge. After [Page] some hesitation, he owned the fact. I put on a fierce look, and commanded him to stop, in a very peremptory manner; he obeyed. Now, said I, Powers, you see my situation, you art the only person, who knows where I am; therefore, I am determined to take measures for my own safety, and for that reason, promise me, with the solemnity of an oath, that you will give no information respecting me. Powers began to expostulate—I added yet more terror to my looks, and commanded him to swear to secresy, immediately, if he ever wished for the opportunity. He was terrified. He began to imprecate curses on his head, of the most horrid nature, if he should divulge his having seen me, or knowing which way I had gone. We then fell into familiar chat on various topics; rode on together till we arrived at the place, where he left me to go to his father's. I went on without suspicion of danger, but no sooner had I left Powers, than he took his way back again, with all speed, and informed the people of Pelham of his discovery. It was about the dawn of day, when he had returned to Pelham, and gave this important information. The news was like an electric shock. It was communicated through the town with that rapidity, which would have done honor to a cause of importance. The people were assembled, and a select number appointed to pursue me.

All these things were unknown to me, whilst I rode on leisurely and securely, thinking of no danger. I had determined to bend my course for Rutland, (Mass.) where I expected to find an acquaintance of mine, by the name of Frink, who was doing business in the mercantile line, in that town and if fortunately, I could obtain business of some other kind, through his means, I determined to drop preaching, which subjected me to so many false appearances, contrary to my inclination. I [Page] arrived about 8 o'clock A. M. at Rutland, and found Mr. Frink, according to my expectation, at his shop.

CHAP. XI.

No joy, no glory, glitters in thy sight,

But thro' the thin partition of an hour,

I see its Sables wove by Destiny,

And that in sorrow buried; this in shame;

While howling Furies ring the doleful knell.

I RELATED to him the scenes through which I had passed; my motives in performing such parts in those scenes; and my present determination. Mr. Frink had no business of his own, in which he wished to engage me; but said he would make inquiry among his acquaintance, and see what could be done. In the mean time, he wished me to tarry with him, and make myself easy, until he could have opportunity of making the necessary inquiry. After I had taken some refreshment, and put out my horse, I went into his counting-room, to have some further conversation upon the subject of my business: Whilst I was leaning my elbow out at the window, I turned my eyes at the sudden and violent trampling of horses, and saw a large number of people from Pelham after me. Seeing so many, and they riding with such fury, gave me a sudden impulse of fear, and I thought to elude them by flight; therefore, sprang out of my chair, and ran across the shop, in order to go out at the back door; but no sooner had I arrived there, than I was met by one Konkey, who attempted to seize me. This roused my indignation, and with my walking-staff, I gave him a blow across the right arm, which broke it. Having, by this mean, made myself a passage, I ran round the end of the shop, which I supposed would be most out of sight; but, [Page] when I turned the corner, I met, full in the face, two of my Deacons. I then turned and ran about twenty rods, down a small hill, and the Pelhamites all after me, hallowing with all their might, "Stop him! stop him!" To be pursued thus, like a thief, an object of universal speculation, to the inhabitants of Rutland, gave me very disagreeable sensations, which I was determined not to bear. I, therefore, stopt,—took up a stone, and declared that the first, who should approach me, I would kill on the spot.

To hear such language, and see such a state of determined defiance, in one whom they had lately reverenced as a clergyman, struck even the people of Pelham, with astonishment and fear. They were very credulous in stories of the devil, witches, &c. and now thought the devil had appeared in human shape, ready to destroy them. They all stopt—amazement being pictured on their countenances, except one Hind. This man valued himself much on his courage and dexterity, and in order to shew his seperior ability, advanced alone, till he came within my reach; when, with a stroke of my stone, I tumbled him to the ground, apparently a lifeless corpse. This was a sufficient corroboration of their first suspicion, and they were now very certain, that the devil had actually taken the liberty to hold a tight dispute with them. A sharp dialogue took place between those men and myself. Seeing a large number of people beginning to collect and come toward me, I moved on about two rods in front of the Pelhamites, and they after me. I told them in the most decided manner, that instant destruction should be their portion, if they attempted to approach any nearer. They believed, and kept their distance, till coming to a barn, which had only one small door, I went in, determined to defend the door, which I expected to be able to do, on account [Page] of its advantageous situation. After I had entered the barn, I found there a situation, which pleased me much better, viz. the hay-mow, there being only one place, by which it was possible to ascend it, therefore, when I was on the top of this hay-mow, I could keep off any number of men, that should attack me. I, accordingly, seized this strong hold with dispatch, mounted my fortress, and carried with me a sithe-snath, as a weapon of defence, to keep off the assistants. When the Pelhamites saw, through the crannies of the barn, where I had taken my station, they ventured to come in, together with a number of the inhabitants.

I found the people, who came into the barn with the Pelhamites, were anxious to learn the reason of this uproar. Deacon Mc. Mullen, of Pelham, informed them that I was an impostor; had called my name Davis, when in reality it was Burroughs; had come among them under that character, and grossly deceived them; preaching with them through the summer. It was demanded of him whether this Burroughs had, during the time of his preaching among them, preached well, and conducted accordingly? The answer was in the affirmative. "Well," says a by-stander, "why need you make any difficulty? he preached well—you paid him well—all parties were satisfied, and why need you now be uneasy? What signifies what he called his name? A name does no good nor hurt, as to the matter of his doctrine; therefore, it will be well for you to make the best use of his preaching; and of course, you will find yourselves rewarded that way, for the money which you have paid him." But, said the Deacon, "we have paid him for one Sunday which he has not preached." "As to that matter," said the by-stander, "I think he is wrong, if that be the case. If he has engaged to preach, he ought to fulfil his engagements; but as the Sunday is not yet [Page] come, on which he is to preach, I think it a hard interpretation of his conduct, to say he has cheated you out of that sermon, until that time comes, so that you may see whether he will perform his engagements or not." "He certainly has attempted to murder Doctor Hind and Mr. Konkey," said Deacon Mc. Mullen. He therefore ought to be apprehended, and prosecuted according to the severity of the law." "As to rightly understanding that," replied the other, "I believe a number of circumstances will come into view. As first, you came upon him in a riotous, tumultuous manner, indicating by your conduct, that your intentions towards him were evil, and, under this situation, he might well suppose, that to submit tamely to what you were about to do, might be exposing himself to immediate death: And, secondly,—he took those measures to discover the violence of your intentions, which prudence dictated, under such circumstances, by telling you to keep your distance; and at the same time, declaring his determination, in case you did not do it. Therefore, as self-defence is justifiable, and as it will appear that his conduct was dictated by self-defence; I believe it will be somewhat difficult to make it evident to any impartial Jury, that he has transgressed the law, in the instance you mention." "If he has broken the law no other way," said the Deacon, "he has done it in threatening to kill a young man, last night, by the name of Powers, because he'd not promise to keep it a secret, that he had seen him." "If that be the case." said the other, "he certainly is cognizable by the law, when that is proved. But where is this said Powers?" "At Pelham," said the Deacon. "Then," said the other, "it is our of your, or my power, to do any thing in this business. It would be subjecting us all to very hard terms, to be liable to be apprehended, on every report of our breaking [Page] the Peace. If the said Powers, whom you mention, has been threatened with death, and, under that threatening, he absolutely fears that his life is in danger from Burronghs, and to all this, will give testimony under oath, before any Justice of the Peace, it will then be in his power to obtain such security, as to render him safe against the threatenings of Burroughs; but for others to undertake a prosecution of this business, upon a vague report, is not only out of the question, but is ridiculous to the last degree."

Deacon Mc. Mullen, being driven from all his strong holds, began to grow uneasy at the approaching termination of that cause, upon which he had entered with so much sanguine assurance. However, as his last resort, he adverted again to the pay which I had anticipated, for one day's preaching, which I had not yet performed, and said he was very sensible I did not mean to perform, and to my deceiving them under a false name.

As to obviating the first difficulty, this objection arises, said the by-stander, "From whom did Burroughs receive this money, which you mention?" "From Deacon Gray, our committee for supplying the pulpit," said Deacon Mc. Mullen. "Then, said the other, the business stands thus: Burroughs stands indebted to Deacon Gray, for money had and received of him, to the amount of the sum total. On the other hand, Deacon Gray stands indebted to Burroughs, for the services which he has rendered, according to their agreement. Now, if Deac. Gray's advances have been greater than his receipts, undoubtedly Burroughs is indebted to Deac. Gray, for the balance, and ought to pay him according to contract, but as you have no power, to act for Deac. Gray, I do not conceive how you can have any demand either mediately or immediately against Burroughs, [...]n that account; and if Burroughs should [Page] even pay you back the five dollars, which you say, though without any legal evidence, he owes Deacon Gray, yet that would not exonerate Burroughs from the debt, or make him less liable to pay it over again.

And as for his deceiving you by a false name, I will tell you how you may settle that matter, in the best way I can think of. I recollect, some years since, when Mr. Abicrombie was your minister, there was an uneasiness prevailing among his people, on account of his intemperance; they, therefore, chose a committee, of whom, I think you, Deacon Mc. Mullen, was one, to deal with him, for this crime. They accordingly came. The old fox understood how to avoid the trap. He had laid in some excellent W. India rum, treated the committee with great hospitality, and, in the language of the Poet, caused them to "drink deep at the fountain of pleasure," till they were unable to leave him through the night, on account of dipping too deep into the sweets, for which they were about to reprove him. Under this situation, they concluded the next morning, as the better way, to make their report to the church, that Mr. Abicrombie had given them christian satisfaction. They did so—and here this matter ended. Now, continued this bystander, the way that I propose is, for Burroughs to do as Mr. Abicrombie did, and for you to accept it as christian satisfaction, from this minister, as well as that. Wood keeps an excellent tavern hard by; I propose for all to move up there."

This proposal was finally accepted by all. I, therefore, came down, and we all went up towards the tavern. I called for drink, according to the orator's advice, to the satisfaction of all, till Hind, whom I had knocked down with the stone, came among them. He foamed with rage and disappointment. A number of them retired into another [Page] room, to consult on measures to be adopted for their future procedure. I learned that they had entered into a determination to carry me back to Pelham, by force of arms. I was doubtful whether people would interfere, where they were not immediately interested, so as to prevent this being done. I concluded it best, by all means, to put this project out of the power of the Pelhamites. Being in a room on the second story, I locked myself in. When they came after me, they found my door locked, and immediately determined to break it open. They sent some of their number after an axe—Hearing this, I jumped out of the window, on to the horse-shed, and off that on to the ground, close by those, who were after the axe.

Coming so suddenly among them, they had not time to recollect themselves, so as to know what this meant, till I had run the distance of twenty rods, when they started after me; but one of their number much exceeded the rest in swiftness, so that in running sixty rods, he was twenty rods before the others. By this time, I was out of breath, by running, and coming to a high wall, made of small stones, I jumped over it, and sat down behind it, by a tree standing against the wall. I took a stone in my hand, as I went over, intending to knock down the foremost man, when he came up to me, which I supposed would be easy to do, as I should take him by surprise, and execute my plan before he could defend himself; after this should be performed, I could easily out-run the rest, as I should, by this time, be rested, and be forward of them. An alder swamp, about half a mile distant, was my object.

When the foremost man came up to the wall, I heard him panting and puffing for breath, and in stead of being able to lerp over he ran against it, and threw it down in such a manner as to [Page] cover me almost entirely from sight;—the stones [...] ling against the tree, in such a manner as to do me no injury. The man ran through the breach of the wall, and continued his course about fifteen rods beyond me, and stopped until the others came up, who anxiously inquired, what had become of Burroughs? The others replied, that he had run like a deer, across the meadow, and gone into the alder swamp.

They concluding it would be in vain to pursue me, gave up the chase—went back to the tavern—took a little more satisfaction—and returned to Pelham.—After they were gone, I crept out of my hiding-place, and returned to Frink's store. My first object of going into business, through his recommendation, was now lost. After this uproar, I did not wish to find employment in Rutland; neither did I suppose Mr. Frink would feel that freedom in recommending me to others.

CHAP. XII.

Again the youth his wanted life regain'd;

A transient sparkle in his eye obtain'd

A rising glow his tender tho'ts confess'd,

And the soft motions of his melting breast.

But soon dark gloom the feeble smiles o'erspread;

Like morn's gay hues, the fading splendor's fled;

Returning anguish froze his feeling soul;

Deep sighs burst forth—and tears began to roll.

EARLY the next morning, I left Rutland, and travelled on towards Providence, endeavoring again, to learn where I could find a vacancy for preaching. On the road, I heard of a town called Attleborough, nine miles from Providence, where they were destitute of a preacher, and wanted one. I came to this town, and engaged to preach four Sundays. Here, I called myself by my own name, and engaged only for a short time, expecting I could [Page] tarry here, that length of time, without any disagreeable reports following me.

I took lodgings at Mrs. Weld's, widow of the former Minister of Attleborough. The family consisted of the old Lady and her maiden daughter. They were both agreeable, and of course the whole time I spent here was pleasing. I formed, whilst in this place, many new acquaintances, which heightened the enjoyment of the scene; one in a particular manner, which I cannot think of, even at this day, without feeling the flush of pleasing emotions.

I found the people of Attleborough were desirous to have me continue longer, after the term of my first engagement had expired; but I positively refused to do it, alledging that I was engaged to preach at Danbury in Connecticut, which in fact was true, having entered into an engagement of that kind, with a man belonging there, who had heared me preach in Attleborough.

I had determined in my own mind to take Coventry in my way, as I went to Danbury, and see Joseph Huntington, for this particular purpose, viz. Hearing that a gentleman from Amherst was going to Dartmouth College, previous to holding the aniversary Commencement; and that he had a design to make such representations to the Corporation of said College, against Huntington, for acting a part in the Pelham business as should deprive him of the degre of A. B. As H—n had passed his examination for this degree, and was approved previous to his leaving the College, it was in his power to obtain his degree at any other College; Therefore, I had a desire to give him information of the evil, which was hatching against him, that he might avoid it, [...] applying else where, and obtaining that, which his [...] was about to refuse. I, accord [...] [...] [...] to Coventry, and gave him this inform [...] [...] [...], accordingly, made immediate [Page] application to the College in New-Haven, in Connecticut, and obtained his title of A. B.

When these matters came to be known at Dartmouth College, that Huntington had fairly stolen a march upon them, and consequently, warded off the stroke of fulmination, which they had laid by in store for him, there was no small stir about the matter; but no help could be obtained, for then he had his diplomatic commission, which could not be recalled, or wrenched out of his hands. They suspected the Doctor, as being confederate with his son in this business; and hence, an altercation, warm and recriminating, took place; but their suspicion, of the old Doctor's being acquainted or active in this business, was entirely unfounded.

The Doctor had ever designed his son should receive a degree at the College in New-Haven, as well as at Hanover, and as the commencement at New-Haven was previous to that at Hanover, he was very willing his son should take his degree at New-Haven, in the first place; but was, at that time, totally ignorant of any intention of refusing his son the same degree, at Dartmouth College.

The commencement at Dartmouth College having arrived, the Doctor and his son came on. When the reasons of the corporation were offered, for not granting his son a degree, the Doctor thought them highly inadequate to answer such a purpose, and remonstrated with warmth, upon the impropriety of their conduct; but all to no purpose. The Doctor had been enthusiastically pursuing the prosperity of this College; being a member of the corporation himself. These difficulties cooled his affections. He soon after resigned his office of trustee, and dropped all further connexions with the institution.

When I left Coventry, I was determined to make a visit to Lysander, in Pelham, and see whether he [Page] had brought his business of transmuting metals to perfection; and whether he had made the necessary arrangements, for prosecuting our intended purpose of a voyage to the Isle of Sable; and, in fine, to see what aspect the whole business now wore. I accordingly travelled again into the state of Massachusetts, and arrived in Pelham, about 1 o'clock at night, at the house of Lysander.

Those, who have felt the glow of friendship, will readily conceive of my feelings, at meeting again in this agreeable family. The contemplation of this object kept me in the highest flow of spirits, during my solitary ride through the greatest part of this gloomy night. My heart expanded with fraternal kindness towards them. My whole soul was tuned to the soft harmony of friendship; and I had formed in my mind a thousand tender expressions, to communicate the overflowing of my feelings towards them. Never did the lover fly with greater rapture to the arms of his mistress, than what I did to the embraces of this beloved family. A thousand soft expressions I had anticipated from them. My heart beat quick with the palpitations of pleasure, and my whole soul was in extacy, at entering their house. My reception was equal to my most sanguine expectations; and to endeavor to describe this scene, would but shew how absolutely incapable language is, to a real representation of those exquisite joys, which flow from a heart of sensibility.

We mutually recapitulated the entertaining occurrences, which had taken place, in the time of our absence. We laughed at the strange wh [...]s and manoeuvres, of the Pelhamites: at their chagrin, when returning from Rutland: at their consultations and execrations upon me, for an impostor; and upon the people of Rutland, for not rising up to a man, and fighting the battle of the Lord. After we had ended the first friendly salutation, and [Page] that course of information, which flows in upon the mind, immediately after those salutations, I inquired of Lysander, what were his prospects with regard to transmuting metals, and more particularly, of changing copper into silver. At this question, my friend Lysander looked disconcerted, and seemed embarrassed at giving me an answer. His wife smiled significantly. I saw there was something in the business I did not understand. My anxiety and curiosity were excited. I inquired with solicitation into the meaning of what I saw.

Lysander, by this time, saw I was in earnest. He at first entertained an idea, that I was treating him in a satirical manner. That I was fully possest with a knowledge of facts, after which I inquired, and consequently, rallied him on a subject too disagreeable to be called into remembrance in this manner. He was now satisfied of the contrary. His countenance fell. The tear glittered in his eye. He said, "Burroughs, we have been deceived! greatly deceived by Philips, that king of villains. Could you have thought, that all the experiments which he tried before us, when we were at Salem, were nothing but the vilest deception? It truly is the case. We were not alone the dupes of his duplicity. He had lead as many as thirty men into the [...]ame belief, until he had obtained property of us to the amount of two thousand dollars, and then he was suddenly missed. Search was made after him, in every direction, but all to no purpose. He could not be found. Nothing could be heard of him. That elegant mare, that you formerly so much admired, the villain had obtained from me, with one hundred dollars in cash, when he left this country.

His partner, who was knowing to all his hellish manoeuvres to deceive, was equally cheated with the rest of us. Philips having promised him one [Page] half the booty for his assistance, but left him equally destitute with the rest. This man, finding matters in this forlorn situation, revealed all the artful plans which Philips had recourse to, in order to make mankind believe, he possessed the secret of changing one metal into another.

We could not any of us believe, but what Philips had the knowledge he pretended to, so fair were his experiments, until we saw them all unveiled by his partner, who went over them again, shewing us, at the same time, how Philips practised the deception at every experiment."

As I have already given you an account, respecting this series of deception, I shall not repeat Lysander's narrative of it any further in this place. I now found those ideas of wealth, which had before so wholly possest my mind, entirely unfounded. The painted vision fled quickly from sight; the airy bubble broke in an instant, and left me in the abyss of poverty.

My hopes in this resource had been sanguine. I had reflected upon the subject till I was as confident of extensive wealth, as of any occurrance, which had not taken place. I felt all the enjoyment of the advantages resulting from property. I had formed, in my own mind, schemes of conduct thro' life: How I should make the rich respect me, and the poor adore me. What exquisite pleasure, said I shall I enjoy in relieving the heart of distress? In distributing bread to the hungry, clothes to the naked, and consolation to the broken-hearted? I had already, in imagination, distributed such benefits through the land, as not to leave a poor person to inhabit his poverty. I beheld myself at the head of a people, distributing joy and gladness. I saw the brow unclouded with care. Hilarity and vivacity were in the countenances of all; an index of peace and quiet within. Hail, happy people! said I, [Page] where no want is known to thee,—where no anxious care corrodes the breast.

These were, sir, the fond images which I had pictured in my imagination. I was at this time, in a state of real delirium; but it was a delirium of joy; a state of happiness, which I believe none can have a just idea of; for I expect none ever allowed their imagination so far to get the start of their judgment: and therefore, when I awoke from my delirium, to a sense of my real situation, and saw that in the room of distributing wealth, to others, I had but barely the necessaries of life, for myself, and that the supply for those necessaries was on a very precarious footing, I awoke to distress, anguish, mortification, and chagrin. My feelings were shocked beyond description, with this sudden reverse of fortune!

I believe that the disappointment would not have been greater, or more keenly felt, had I in reality [...] in possession of all the enjoyments, which I had so [...] pictured to my view, and from that state, had been reduced, on a sudden, to poverty, as great as what in reality, now existed. My friend Lysander and his wife saw the workings of my mind. They had passed through the same scenes themselves. They endeavored to console my feelings—They discoursed upon the uncertain events of this world like Philosophers. They adverted to the disappointments which all meet with daily: to that fortitude which we ought to exercise under every trial; so as to rise above disappointment, rather than to have disappointment rise above us. That riches and poverty were nothing but imaginary beings, created by our own fancy, by comparing one situation with another, and thereby giving a name to each: to the calls of nature, as being very simple, and easily supplied, if we would rest contented with that supply; and that every thing beyond, [Page] [...]ended to render us uneasy, rather than to contribute to our happiness.

How easy is it for man to give the most salutary advice to his fellow. In reasoning upon a system in theory, many will discover a depth of wisdom beyond our expectations; yet, when they attempt to reduce this advice, founded in theory, into practice, how great the contrast! The feelings of the human heart, the weaknesses of nature, and the errors of judgment, all set themselves in array against us, when we attempt to listen to the dictates of wisdom, in our practice.

Happy would it have been for Lysander, and family, yea, thrice happy would it have been for me, had we attended in our practice to those lessons of reason: but alas! the mania of [...] taken strong possession of our minds, and we listened with eagerness to her calls. This soon reduced me to a state of wretchedness, far beyond the power of language to describe. But, sir, as your messenger is in waiting, I will end this letter, concluding that the God of night will cast his sable mantle over your mind, before you complete this chapter: I am as always, &c.

CHAP. XIII.

I see the circling [...] of noisy men,

Burst Law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right,

Pursuing, and pursued, each other's prey;

As wolves, for rapine; as the fox, for [...];

Till Death, that [...]ighty hunter, earths the [...] all.

IN order to give me some consolation for the disappointment which I had suffered, Lysander told me he had a plan in agitation, which would operate nearly as well, as we expected the other would have done. "Glazier Wheeler," said he "is a man, who can be depended on, for his honesty to those for [Page] whom he undertakes to work, and he can make one silver dollar into three connterfeits, which will pass as well as any. And it will be in our power, to prosecute our intended expedition to the Isle of Sable, upon this scheme, with nearly as great profit, as we expected from transmuting reetals. We shall not be with the old man a great while, before we shall be able to work at that business as well as he; and should we find it necessary, can hire a number of hands, and drive the business, at this place, to a great amount; as we shall be retired from the observations of the world, and can carry on the business without molestation."

My answer to Lysander was to this purport.—You are sensible that counterfeiting the coin of any country, [...] contrary, not only to the laws of that country, [...] likewise to the laws of our own minds, having implicitly engaged to observe and protect those laws, when we once take advantage of their efficacy, to protect us in the enjoyment of our rights and privileges; therefore, should the business succeed, according to our most sanguine wishes, and the coin pass, to the end of time, as standard silver, yet, we should as really violate the simple principles of justice, as though we should be detected in passing coin so base as to serve only a temporary purpose, and die in the hands of an innocent person. The transgression would be as absolute, should it never transpire to the world, or be attended with any personal injury, as though it should be proclaimed to the universe. Therefore, this reason alone, would be sufficient to deter me from wishing such a thing to take place.

Another very powerful reason is, the danger we run, in prosecuting such a matter, and the ruin which would inevitably follow a detection. Glazier Wheeler, it appears, has followed this business for fifty years, constantly—syet he never could bring [Page] his apt to such perfection as to have his money pass undetected. How often has he been confined, pilloried, cropt, and whipt, for this business? How many have been involved in the same difficulty, who embarked in this dangerous voyage with him? How then can we expect to share a better fate? And what would be the consequence of a detection? The property which you now possess, would be swept away; your children would cry in vain for bread; your reputation, which you now hold so dear, would be lost forever; and you would entail misery and infamy on your posterity. You must, then, be separated from your companion, from your children, from your friends; confined in a jail, a receptacle for the off-scourings of nature—treated with contempt—injured without pity—made the scoff and jeer of fools.—This, sir, is a scene for a mind of sensibility.

The wife of Lysander heard this discourse with the utmost attention. Her countenance was a strong index to the feelings of her mind:—Her colour went and came:—She now grew pale with apprehension, and now her cheeks redened with the flush of desire—to prevent her beloved husband from r [...]shing into dangers so desperate. She remonstrated—She expostulated—She entreated—but all to no purpose. Lysander was fixed, and nothing was able to remove his resolution. He turned to his wife, with a look of that ineffable sweetness, which overpowers the mind, and said, "My dear, I wish very much, to see you in possession of a coach, which I shall send you in a few months."

"As to the objections which you offer, Mr. Burroughs," said Lysander, I will endeavor to answer them in such a manner, as to give you full satisfaction, on that subject."

"If mankind had no disposition to infringe upon the rights of each other, there would be no need [Page] of law;—and the whole nature, design, and spirit of law, is to protect each other from injury▪ and where no injury is intended, nor in fact done, the whole essence of law is attended to. I know the Law speaks in general terms, because it cannot descend to particulars; there being such an infinity, as to put it beyond the power of man to comprehend the whole in a system: therefore, general principles must direct us in our interpretation of law. We ought, in our conduct, to act as men possessing reason, sufficient to direct us under the various occurrences of life, so as to vary our conduct according as circumstances shall point out; keeping in view, and practising upon the spirit of law; and when we attend to this, we cannot be said, in reality, to transgress the laws of the land, nor indeed, the laws of our own mind; because we, in fact, do fulfil our compact with society, viz. protect each other from injury.

"From what I have observed, I believe you will readily agree with me, that I am right, in prosecuting my present plan, if I can make it evident, that no danger of injury will arise to any one from it▪ and that by it, many will be made better.

"Money, of itself, is of no consequence, only as we, by mutual agreement, annex to it a nominal value, as the representation of property. Any thing else might answer the same purpose, equally with silver and gold, should mankind only agree to consider it as such, and carry that agreement into [...]ecut on, in their dealings with each other. We find this verified in fact, by those bills of credit, which are in circulation through the world. Those bills, simply, are good for nothing; But the moment mankind agree to put a value on them, as representing property, they become of as great consequence as silver and gold, and no one is injured by receiving a small insignificant piece of paper, for an hundred [Page] bushels of wheat, when mankind stamp that value upon it, by agreeing to receive it for that amount: therefore, we find that the only thing necessary to make a matter valuable, is to induce the world to esteem it so; and let that esteem be raised by any means whatever, yet the value is the same, and no one becomes injured by receiving it, at the valuation. Hence, we find the world putting an enormous value upon certain stones, which intrinsically are of no use; as for instance, the diamond, the carbuncle, &c. These stones cannot be made use of in any pursuit of life. They will not serve for food, for raiment, or for any instrument of any kind whatever; therefore, of what real use can they be?

"Their scarcity, and certain peculiarities, have induced mankind to esteem them; and this esteem stamps a value upon them, so that they pass from one to another, as the representation of property: hence, the holders of them, always have a valuable possession, and probably, always will have, which they at any time can exchange, for property of more immediate consequence to their support, &c.

"Had I the art of making diamonds, do you suppose I should transgress the laws of equity, in putting that art into practice? except I should fill the world with them, so as to destroy their scarcity, and hence, depreciate their value in the hands of others.

"To put this art into practice, so as to enrich myself, and not destroy that due proportion between representative property, and real property, is doing myself a favor, and injuring none.

"Gold and silver are made use of for convenience, to transact our business of barter and exchange, with each other, as the representation of property, it being less cumbersome, and more easy to communicate from one to another, than real property of any kind: hence, when there is a due [Page] proportion of representative property, business can be transacted to the greatest advantage▪ and with the greatest ease. And when the public experience a scarcity or redundancy, they of course suffer an inconveniency: therefore, that person, who contributes his mite, to keep the balance between these two species of property justly poised, is a blessing to himself, and to the community of which he is a member.

"That an undue scarcity of cash now prevails, is a truth too obvious for me to attempt to prove. Your own observation will convince you of it. Hence, whoever contributes, really, to increase the quantity of cash, does not only himself, but likewise the community, an essential benefit. And, that this can be done, in the pursuit which I have undertaken, and without endangering the safety of any one, I will convince you by occular demonstration."

He then presented me with a bag of dollars, which he said were made by Glazier Wheller. I poured them all out; I examined them with care, as I then thought: I compared them with other dollars, which were good—I could discover no difference.

His arguments now stood all plain before me; they were collected in a line,—and what do you think was the consequence? I blush to tell you the truth!—I feel ashamed of my own weakness!—My great want of solid judgment at that time, almost persuades me to hide the relation of this fact. These arguments convinced me, unfounded as they were.

Lysander told me his intentions were to pay strict attention to the business, and did not doubt his finally raising himself and family to a state of the greatest affluence. He had already obtained a sufficiency to answer present purposes; He should [Page] soon obtain much more. The business was at a stand, just at present, for want of drugs, proper for carrying it forward. He intended to go soon to Springfield, where he should obtain whatever he wanted for such a purpose.

Lysander had not yet passed, or attempted to pass, any of his money: As I expected to leave his house the next night, on my rout to Danbury, and to pass through Springfield in my way, he agreed to set out with me, and go his rout in my company. His wife had ever felt dssatisfied about this business; being easily alarmed with the least appearance of danger, towards one in whom her happiness was so essentially embraced; but when I drew the dreadful picture of a detection, she grew almost frantic with fear; and when she saw that no entreaties would prevail over his determination, she embraced the first opportunity of conversing with me alone; and besought me in those moving terms, which would have melted a savage, to use my influence to prevent him from prosecuting his present undertaking.

Her grief spoke more powerfully for her, than all the oratory of a Burke. I could not resist her importunity. The language of her countenance and actions were irresistable. When Lysander came into our company, I began the attack in the most vulnerable part of his fortress. I endeavored to set the distress of his wife in its true light, before him. I recapitulated his own arguments, which he had before used, in order to induce me "to be contented with a bare competency." I repeated to him, emphatically, the words of Young, in his "Night Thoughts," viz.

Why all this toil, for triumphs of an hour?

What tho' we wade in wealth, or soar in fame?

Earth's highest [...] ends in "Here he lies,"

[Page] I told him I knew perfectly well, his sincere affections for his wife, and his ambition of seeing her become possest with an equipage, &c. But believe me, sir, Not all the pomp and splendor of riches will repay her for the pain and anxiety she will endure on your account, for the space of one day, when you have absolutely launched into this dangerous ocean: therefore, sir, inasmuch as her happiness is a leading motive in your pursuits in life, you will make a most egregious blunder in your calculations, even, provided you are ever so successful in your undertakings.

The feelings of Lysander were moved. The struggle in his own breast was apparent in his countenance. He sat in silence a while, then burst into a flood of tears,—and retired into another room. Not many minutes had elapsed, before he returned. His countenance wore a more settled aspect. He mentioned his weakness, with some confusion. He said he was ashamed of being seen in tears, especially on such an occasion, not having resolution sufficient to withstand our united attacks. "But," said he, "the business is fixed—the die is cast—I have pledged my faith—I have given my word to procure those articles at Springfield. Not only myself, but more than a dozen others, are now waiting for me to fulfil my engagements. Shall I, of all others, after having agreed in the most solemn manner, to yield my aid in the prosecution of this business, now in open violation of faith, retreat and leave them in suspense?

I feel the emotions of gratitude, towards you, Mr. Burroughs, for the warmth of your feelings in my concerns; but this truth is manifest to me, that the enthusiasm of your feelings, as well as my wife's, does not give you an opportunity of reasoning cooly and candidly upon this subject. Enough has been said—These articles must be obtained— [Page] and no entreaties shall deter me from paying attention to it."

What could be done? What more could be said? Lysander's wife, I saw, was inconsolable. What would you have done, had you been in my situation? Words had now become entirely out of the question, and only one thing remained to be done;—and that I determined to do.

I told Lysander I would take his money,—go to Springfield,—purchase all the articles,—and return with them immediately.—With some reluctance, he consented; gave me twenty dollars for the business—made out his account of the articles wanted—and directed me to the apothecary's shop, to which I must apply for them. At night, I left them with ten thousand blessings accompanying me.

Riding alone, through the dreary night, reflexion would make me a visit. The scenes through which I had passed, had been so rapid, and filled with the emotions of sensibility, to that degree, as to leave but little room for reflection.

I have now, said I, set out to perform that business, which, two days since, I do not believe the art of man could have persuaded me to. It is a new undertaking; but I believe not attended with danger; for the money is executed so well, as to prevent any man from distinguishing it from standard silver; at least, it looks as well to me, as any money; and I do not see why I cannot distinguish counterfeit from true money, as well as others.

I think my motive for this undertaking is founded on the principles of uprightness. I think the sentiment of friendship is the uppermost object in this undertaking: Possibly a species of vanity might have some influence on my mind; and that I might wish to shew the wife of Lysander how ready I was to undertake such a desperate business, to befriend her; though, in reality, the danger consisted chiefly in her own fancy.

[Page] What would be the consequence, would one among the ten thousand events, which [...], serve to reveal t [...]e the part, which I am now about to act? What would be the opinion of people, concerning me, but of the most disagreeable kind, after having passed the ordeal of Pelham reports, founded on facts, which, to the world at large, would appear very unfavorable? They would undoubtedly form their opinion from ostensible facts, that I was divested of every principle of honesty, uprightness, and integrity. And even, should I declare to the world, that my intentions were not against the good of society, this declaration would fall upon the unbelieving hearts of a multitude, prone to place confidence in an evil report, and difficult in giving credit to that which is favorable.

These circumstances would, moreover, be attended with the following disagreeble events, viz. Reports of my misfortunes, or crimes, would spread; and probably be attended with that exaggeration, of which reports of that kind generally partake, and reach my friends, connexions, and enemies; and of all misfortunes, that which gives triumph to an enemy, is the most keenly felt. My friends would mourn, my enemies would rejoice.

A view of these disagreeable events, which probably might happen, made a very deep impression on my mind. I was almost ready to faint under the trial, and thought to relinquish my undertaking. But, said I, again, should I fail upon this first trial, what a pitiful appearance should I make in my own eyes? I set out on this expedition with an idea that my friendship would carry me any length. I have pledged my friendship for the performance of this business; and shall this be said of Burroughs, that in fair weather he was possest with friendly sentiments, but the moment the prospect [Page] became overcast with clouds, his friendship failed? How shall it be known whether I really possess those sentiments of benevolence, of which I have made such a pompous display, otherwise than by standing the trial in time of adversity? If the feelings of Damon and Pythias were graduated upon that scale of cool deliberation, which has appeared in my reasoning upon this subject, those God-like acts of benevolence, towards each other, would ne'er have been recorded of them, which not only made Dionysius stand in mute astonishment, but left a memento, to the end of time; to what an amazing height virtuous friendship may arise.

Contemplating upon matters, in this point of view, it gave me pain to think that I had even hesitated, about my performing the engagements which I had entered into. I felt a degree of guilt, which I wished to hide from my own view; it produced a mortification which was exceedingly painful; therefore, I determined, in my own mind, never again to allow myself to query upon the propriety of my undertaking, but to pursue it, with unremitting attention, till it was accomplished.

About 11 o'clock, A. M. I arrived at Springfield—made application at the shop where I was directed—told the shop-keeper my demands—and received from him the articles according to the bill. I delivered him his money, and departed. Stepping into the printing-office, across the way, to do some business, I was there, in a few minutes, arrested, by an officer of justice. The business at the apothecary's had made so little impression on my mind, that I could not conceive, what could be the cause of my being arrested, at the time when the officer made me a prisoner. He informed me—and in an instant, the whole view of my desperate situation opened upon me. I was taken before Justice Pincheon, who treated the business with a great degree [Page] of candor. However, a company of attornies' clerks, merchants' clerks, &c. being called together, by this event, were very active in making observations against me, and hunting for evidence, for fear I should not be committed for trial. After all circumstances had been attended to with care, on both sides of the question, and the Justice was about giving his final decision on the business, a part of the beforementioned clerks came into the office, haulling after them a man, like the Trojans, when they had found the Greek Sinon, vociferating, "here is a man, who knows him! here is a man, who knows him!

When the stranger was introduced, and silence prevailed, Justice Pincheon asked what he knew concerning me? The answer was, "that I was the greatest villain in the world, had come to Pelham under a fictitious name,—had there preached, when I was unworthy of the business,—had endeavored to kill a number of men in Pelham,—had cheated them out of their money," &c.

This man, you will readily understand, was a Pelhamite. He rode Post, from Springfield to Pelham, constantly, once a week. He felt all the prejudice incident to that people. He gave his testimony in a very categorical manner. It was now determined that I must take up my abode in jail, and there continue, till the session of the Supreme Court,—when I should take my trial for passing counterfeit money. I was accordingly committed. And now, sir, I believe I have brought your patience to a very severe trial, by the length of my tedious narrative: therefore, I will leave the business here, till to-morrow; for I feel almost sick, myself, with ruminating upon the gloomy scenes, through which I soon passed, after this.

[Page]

CHAP. XIV.

——Love of gain

Striks like a pestilence, from breast to breast;

Riot, pride, perfidy, blew vapour's breath;

And inhumanity is caught from man.

AS the apothecary was the only witness against me, which could be produced at Court, I entertained warm expectations of being acquitted on my trial.

In the state of Massachusetts, many inconveniences had been experienced from the frequent circulation of counterfeit money: therefore, the governor had offered a reward of twenty-five pounds, L. M. to any person, who should detect another, in making or passing counterfeit money,—knowing it to be such. Hence, the complainant became interested in the issue on trial, and of course, ought to be excluded from giving his testimony.

The apothecary, it is evident, would be intitled to the reward, from government, the moment I became convicted of the crime, for which I remained confined, and for which I was shortly to take my trial. Hence, I felt confident, that his testimony could not, according to every principle of justice, and of course, would not, be admitted.

In cases where not more than one dollar is in dispute, this regulation is invariably and sacredly adhered to, viz. that no one shall be admitted a witness in a case, wherein he is, mediately, or immediately, concerned; and certainly, said I, where character, liberty, and property, are all at stake, they will not dare to deviate from this rule of impartiality.

Those, who would plead for the propriety of the apothecary's being admitted a witness in this cause, must either deny this general rule, viz. "That a man interested in a cause, ought to be excluded from [Page] bearing testimony in that cause," or else the being intitled to twenty-five pounds, in case of my conviction, did not make the apothecary interested in the case.

Immediately after my confinement, a number of speculating geniuses resorted to me, expecting I would turn evidence for the state, and involve many more in the situation to which I was reduced: they, therefore, were anxious to improve this time of harvest, and enrich themselves from the bounty of Government. Hence, they offered me their exertions in my behalf, and moreover, half of the reward, which should be received, in case of the conviction of others, from government.

Had these speculators known with what contempt I viewed their conduct, they might have saved themselves some considerable trouble. To speculate in human woe, and barely for the sake of enriching themselves, reduce others to a state of wretchedness and misery, is an object so detestable, as to excite horror, in every feeling breast. Had their real motive been the good of society, their object would have been laudable, but it was a matter of public notoriety, that Glazier Wheeler had wrought openly for months past, in New-Salem; but these heroes took no notice of him, until the moment it was known, that a reward was to be obtained for prosecuting money-makers to conviction, then all their ardor was in action;—and this too, for the benefit of government.

Those, who applied to me, found their expectations frustrated; that I had no design to communicate to them any knowledge, which I possest concerning others: therefore, they turned their course to different objects; and determined, since I would not further their designs, that I should suffer the effects of popular prejudice.

The printer, in Springfield, inserted a paragraph [Page] in his weekly publication, not calculated to fix the most pleasing idea upon the minds of people, thro' the crountry, viz. That I had been to a clergyman, under pretence of coming from a mission among the Indians, and being poorly clothed, had stated to the clergyman, that my clothes had been worn out, during my continuance among them. That the clergyman had invited me to preach, and in order to my appearing in character, offered me a suit of clothes;—that I accepted his offer:—and in order to prepare myself for the exercises of the next day, had retired into his study, begging the favor of his watch, to know how long I might allow myself to study, previous to retiring to rest. That after the clergyman and his family had retired to rest, I had silently left the house;—carrying with me, at the same time, watch, clothes, &c. And leaving this text, written on paper, folded as for a sermon: "you shall seek me early, but shall not find me."

These matters were all calculated to fix an invincible prejudice against me, in the minds of those people, by whom I must ultimately be tried, and consequently deprived me of that favor, which every person ought to have, upon a matter of such infinite consequence to his prosperity in life, I saw these matters, and what would be the probable event.

I expected that application would be made to me, for a discovery of my confederate, or confederates, at the session of the supreme court; and therefore, ought to form some system in my own mind, to regulate my conduct upon such an occasion. I ought either to discover the person of whom I received the money, and for whom I had acted in passing it, or else I ought to exonerate him entirely from crimination, or even suspicion; and in order to weigh these matters in the balance of justice, it will naturally arise into view, what is his situation, contrasted [Page] with my situation and circumstances? The connexions which have existed between us, and our views and expectations, under that connexion?

True it is, that this act was performed solely for his advantage, not having my own emolument in view, either directly or indirectly; therefore, ought he not to suffer the consequence of this business? Moreover, his character stands as fair in this county, as any man's whatever; and of consequence, he would stand a better chance on trial, in the prejudices of people, than I should. He is likewise a man of property, and can of consequence, make arrangements for assistance, by counsel and friends, which I cannot expect; and even should he be convicted, the exertions of government may be more mild towards him, than they would towards me: for Judges are but men, and are subject to like passions and prejudices▪ with other men; and it is not impossible, but that they may feel the operation of prejudice in a trial respecting me, as well as others, which I daily see are governed by it.

These were the arguments in favor of my making a discovery of the person from whom I had received the money. The arguments on the other side were, That Lysander, it is true, has a character, property, &c. to loose, and which he moreover must loose, in a great measure, should he be subjected to trial. He has a family, a description of which, I have already given you, which must share his fortune in the world; therefore his ruin must bring ruin likewise on his family. A wife, possest of every tender feeling, must suffer more than is possible for a man to suffer, who is calculated by nature, to endure the robust toils of pain and hardship; and as she must suffer with her husband, in feelings, at least, it will be involving two in misery, as great as what I can endure, should I reveal this business respecting Lysander.

[Page] It will, likewise, involve those, who are perfectly innocent, in difficulty, as well as the guilty, viz. Lysander's wife and children; therefore, whether will it be better to meet the impending storm, alone, and unsupported, or else to exculpate myself, by throwing the same burthen onto six others, and all of them entirely innocent, excepting one? Moreover, why did I undertake this business, unless it was to hazard the danger myself, which attended this undertaking? I am determined. The arguments are more against me, than they are for me, and I must stand the power of this storm, thick and fast gathering over my head.

Happy was it for me, that I was ignorant at that time, of the dreadful trials and miseries, which I had to encounter, before I was released from a state of confinement;—otherwise, my courage must have sunk; my resolution must have failed.

My blood, at this distant period of time runs cold, at taking a retrospective view of those scenes. Since I have been writing this narrative, necessity has compelled me to have recourse to minutes, which brought those scenes into view, which have been a great tax on my tranquility. I cannot now close my eyes in sleep, without being called to act these things over again in imagination. I start from sleep often, sweating with agony of mind, under the apprehensions which those images present to my view.

My determination being fixt, I laid my account to conduct accordingly. Many people visited me daily, out of curiosity, to see a character entirely new, the public being fully possest with the belief, that I had absolutely stolen a watch and suit of clothes from a clergyman, and had left him the text beforementioned;—and all I could say or do, had no influence to make them believe to the contrary.

[Page] Some said this clergyman was Doctor Huntington of Coventry, and some said it was Mr. Trumbull of North-Haven; but those two gentlemen, denying any such transaction towards them, said the matter was a fact, but who the clergyman was, was unknown.

It appeared that the world were determined not to give up any unfavorable idea, which had once been broached concerning me, let it be ever so unfounded or improbable. Therefore, their ears were open to every breath of slander, which was puffed against me.

My visitants would often look at me, when relating matters of fact, with an arch significance, declarative of their knowing the bottom of the business, notwithstanding all my plausible declarations. I do believe, if I had set out with warmth, to prove to the world, that I was a man, and not a woman, that a great number, from that circumstance, would have been able at once, to look through the deception, which I was endeavoring to lay them under, and known for certainty, that I was, in reality, a woman; so strong was the desire of mankind, at that day, to elude my deceptions, which they tho't I was master of, to the utmost degree.

In this situation, you will readily conceive it could hardly be expected, that I should run clear of a verdict against me, let the proof be ever so inadequate; for the wisest and most considerate of men will be influenced in their reasonings by those popular clamours, more or less; and they cannot avoid it, so liable is human nature to err in the devious path of life.

The speculators in government bounties had now taken Glazier Wheeler, who was likewise committed for trial; this man you will likely have a curiosity to be made more minutely acquainted with, as he will make somewhat of a figure in this [Page] narrative. He was a man tottering under the weight of years, having long since, to all appearance, been a presumptive candidate for the grave. He was a man of small mental abilities; but patient and persevering, in any manual pursuit, to admiration. Credulous in the extreme, which subjected him to the duplicity of many, who had resorted to him for his work: inoffensive and harmless in his manners, simple in his external appearance, and weak in his observations on men and manners. He had spent all his days in pursuit of the knowledge of counterfeiting silver, so as to bear the test of essays. He had always been unfortunate, and always lived poor.

This was the man, concerning whom, the world had said so much, and who was to take his trial at the same time with me. One other, by the name of Jones, was likewise committed, either for counterfeiting, or passing counterfeit money; which, I do not recollect. Likewise one by the name of Cook was in confinement, to take his trial for burglary. These were the men, who waited for the approach of the court, with fearful apprehensions of the event.

Many circumstances had taken place, whilst I lay confined here, which served to give me a pretty sanguine dependance on my own abilities. I had written a scroll of ribaldry, and intitled it "the HayMow Sermon," representing my exploits in Pelham, at Rutland, &c. and delivered this often to those, who came to see me, as a phenomenon. I found many applauded this as a witty thing, until I finally began to think it so myself. The flattery of those, who were willing to alleviate the miseries of my situation, by making me at peace with myself, had such an operation on my mind, that I seriously began to think myself a man of some consequence, and was determined to let this circumstance be fully known at court, when I should have an opportunity [Page] of displaying all my abilities, in such a conspicuous manner, as to create admiration in the minds of all.

This was the state of things when I was called to the bar, and my indictment read, The Judges on the bench, at this time, if I remember right, were, Messrs. Cushen, Sargent, Sumner, and Dana. The attorney-general was Robert Treat Paine, of whom you have heard much mention made: yet, sir, as this is so extraordinary a character in the department of our Jurisprudence, I will give it you more particularly in this narration.*

In the indictment I was charged with passing two pieces of base metal—the counterfeit of Spanish milled dollars—knowing them to be such, &c. To the indictment I plead not guilty. I had no counsel at this time—owing to the following reason, viz.

When I was first committed to confinement, I expected to be in want of more money, than what I had on hand, for my expenses in jail, attorney's fees at trial &c. Therefore, I sold my horse, saddle and bridle, and had a promise of the money in ten days;—but to my no small disappointment, have not received my pay to this day: of consequence, at the time of trial, was entirely destitute of money.

Being wholly unacquainted with the practice of the gentlemen of the bar, at that time, I had embraced the opinion that they never would attend to [Page] the application of any, without an advanced fee. This idea I afterwards found to be entirely groundless. Under this apprehension, I applied for no help, having no money to remunerate a counsellor for his assistance.

This being the case, I stood alone in the business, which communicated an idea to the gentlemen of the bar, that a confidence in my own abilities induced me to look with indifference on their assistance. This, of consequence, did not serve to ingratiate myself into their favor. This was not all. In my address to the jury, I flung out some hard expressions, against them, owing to my mistaken idea of their venal practice; all which served to create myself enemies, without the least apparent advantage arising from it.

I have often thought that a retrospective view of a thousand foolish calculations which people make, in the days of youthful inexperience, and the thoughtless unmeaning impetuosity, with which they pursue these objects of calculations, would serve greatly to lessen the resentment, which the wiser part of mankind often feel towards them.

After I had plead to the indictment, the attorney-general arose and opened the cause to the jury, stating, in the course of his observations, that I had been a most abandoned character, leading a life of iniquity from the beginning; that I had been a counterfeiter not only of the coin of the country, but had likewise counterfeited a name, a character, a calling: all which seemed to communicate this idea to the world, that I had given aloose to the practice of every enormity; that my wickedness had at length found me out; and, that I should now suffer a punishment due to my long course of crimes.

After he had closed, he proceeded to call on his [Page] evidences. When the apathecary came on to the stand, I objected to the court, against his being admitted, being a person interested in the business. After having heard the arguments pro and con, the bench took the matter under consideration, and determined that his evidence might be taken: giving for reason, that it had before been determined; and that the reward which government had offered, would militate against the conviction of crimes of that nature, rather than promote it, if the complainant should be excluded from giving testimony.

As soon as this determination of the court was declared, I pretty much gave up the idea of being acquitted. However, I thought it necessary to make the last defence I was able to: therefore, after the witnesses were examined, I began my address to the jury, and in the course of my observations, took notice of the remarks of the attorney-general; that he had, contrary to every principle of law and justice, asserted facts, in open court, apparently, with a wicked design, to fix a prejudice in their minds, in order to prevent my trial's being impartial, not even attempting to produce evidence to support the base assertions, which he had made.

I continued still further:—I am astonished, said I, to see all justice and virtue fled from the bench. That those characters, whom we are taught to revere, on account of their eminent station, should so far debase their own importance, as to remain in silence, when the most flagrant violations of all rules of order are perpetrated before them in open court: therefore, gentlemen of the jury, I turn to you as the only support, which now may be depended on, for the enjoyment of our just rights and privileges.

And now, sirs, what do you think of this rant? I know what you will say, viz. that it was the ebullition of a mad, hair-brained, fellow. My seelings, it is true, were wounded by the operations of [Page] the attorney-general, and I verily expected to punish all those, whom I thought to blame in the business; but how weak was my reasoning upon such a subject! How mad the part which I acted! I soon found to to my cost, that in the room of punishing others, I was irritating that power, in whose grasp I was embraced.

I continued my remarks to the jury, upon the evidence which had been exhibited against me, with as much argument as the case would admit of. The attorney-general answered my remarks, and the Judges summed up the evidence, and stated the business to the Jury, not in a very partial manner. The jury retired, and in about one hour returned with the verdict of GUILTY!

The sentence was soon pronounced,—which was to this effect, viz. That I should stand one hour in the pillory, and remain three years confined to the house of correction, without the corporal punishment, which generally is inflicted on those, who are sentenced to said house. Glazier Wheeler's sentence was the same—excepting an addition of twenty stripes, and to be cropt. Jones was sentenced for two years to the house of correction, and twenty stripes. Cook, for burglary, was sentenced for two years to the house of correction, an hour in the pillory, and ten stripes.

I was remanded to jail, there to contemplate the gloomy prospect before me, of spending three years in a state of close confinement. I expected this state of imprisonment would be in the common jail of the county, there being no other house of correction provided. Here the horrors of my situation began to open to my view! I saw an eternity in meniature before me, consisting of one continued scene of gloomy horrors. Shut [...] the enjoyment of society, from performing a part among the rest of my fellow mortals, to make some establishment [Page] for myself, in this state of dependance; and from tasting the sweets of liberty, for which we had so lately fought and bled.

How is this, said I to myself, that a country, which has stood the foremost in asserting the cause of liberty, that those, who have tasted, in some measure, the bitter cup of slavery, and have known, from hence, the value of liberty, should so soon after obtaining that blessing themselves, deprive others of it? I know, that it will be said, that for my crimes, I am deprived of liberty, which is according to every dictate of justice; whereas, America was only struggling for her natural rights, when exercising the principles of virtue.

I have no idea of calling in question the justice of the American cause, but only advert to the situation and feelings of the people in this state; to shew that they feelingly knew the value of liberty; and therefore, it appears more strange, that they should wantonly trifle with this valuable treasure. It has been abundantly said by the leading men in this state, that life without liberty is not worth the possessing. This was abundantly urged to the people in time of the war; and it was urged with great truth and propriety; therefore, that the same characters, upon a revision of the criminal code, with a pretence of mollifying those laws, which were sanguinary and cruel, should substitute slavery, for Death, is, to me, conduct truly enigmatical.

As this narrative will not admit of entering into a political disquisition of the subject, I shall content myself with barely stating facts, which have abundantly come to my knowledge, from seeing the operation of this system of servitude upon men. These facts I shall relate from time to time, as they naturally connect with the narrative; and [...]presume▪ sir, you will think with one, that in political reasoning, strongly marked this legislative act.

[Page]

CHAP. XV.

Deluge and conflagration, dreadful powers!

Prime Ministers of vengeance! chain'd in caves!

Distinct, apart the giant furies rear;

Apart; or such their horrid rage for ruin,

In mutual conflict would they rise, and wage

Eternal war, 'till one was quite devoured.

THE evening after my sentence, the prisoners, in the room adjoining, were endeavouring to make their escape. Their attempt was overheared by the jailor, who came into the room, where I was, about 12 o'clock at night, with the high sheriff, who with his drawn sword, threatened to put me to instant death, for making the attempt to break jail. The cold contempt, with which I treated his threats, stung him to the quick; he lowered on me with an eye of malignancy. He cried "ah! ha! But roughs, you are in my power, and I'll make you know it, before I have done with it you." He, by this time, had learned his mistake, by hearing the prisoners, in the other room, crawling out of the hole which they had made.

This circumstance serves to shew the prejudice which the high-sheriff had conceived against me, by his concluding, without the least evidence, that I was making an attempt to break jail; however, this I found was a pretty general opinion among people at this time, that I must be conversant in every species of outrage, which was going forward, and consequently, when any thing of that nature was known to be on foot, they were very confident of my being interested in it.

It was thought that the jail in Springfield was insufficient to hold me securely, and therefore, concluded to remove me to the jail in Northampton, another half-shire town in this county; they accordingly put this determination in execution; removing all the prisoners at the same time. I was confined [Page] with a large chain around my legs, secured in the most critical manner, and then bound fast to the waggon, in which I was transported; it being twenty miles between the two places. In this situation, carried through the country, as a spectacle to the inhabitants, I will not attempt to describe to you my feelings, because I know the attempt will be in vain. There is a language of the heart, which we cannot express, it so far exceeds the descriptive powers of speech: yet, by comparing our own feelings, in different situations, we may give the nearest guess, what our feelings would be, under other circumstances, and hence by this rule only, can you judge of my sensations upon this voyage to Northampton.

It was on Sunday, when we were carried through the country, on our journey to Northampton: and in the room of attending the usual solemnities of the day, people thronged the roads, to see this procession, when we passed, the people would inquire with eagerness, who was the minister, being known more by that appellation, than I was by my own name. When the minister was pointed out to them, some would shout with joy, considering that I was now detected, notwithstanding that amazing fund of subtilty, which I could use when I had occasion. Their ideas of their own judiciary became highly exalted, in their opinion, for said they, "this man has been all over the world, playing pranks in all countries, but could never be bro't to justice, owing to his amazing subtilty, until he came among us, and we have shewed him what is what—he finds by this time, that we are not such fools as he thought for." Some examined my looks with great attention, to see if they could distinguish where that depth of knowledge lay, which had set the world in an uproar. Some few dropped the sympathetic tear over our wretched state, apparently [Page] sensible that we belonged to the same human family with themselves, and were capable of suffering equally with others.

About sunset, we arrived at Northampton, and were consigned to the abodes of misery. The ponderous doors growled on their reluctant hinges! The rattling of bolts, bars, and locks, reverberating through the hollow apartments of this dreary abode, made such an impression on my mind, that with difficulty I supported myself under this situation. The appearance of the Ceberus of these infernal abodes was equal to every poetic description of the Janitor of hell. Hail, ye infernal Powers! said I, who inhabit these regions; assemble your forces, gather your strength, and keep high carnival to-day, in consideration of those victims, which have now fallen a sacrifice at your shrine.

I was confined in a room on the ground floor alone, and shut out from the possibility of seeing any company. This was a situation which left me to the corroding pangs of thought. However, these thoughts were, in the end, calculated to fortify me against impending troubles. I reflected on my imprudence at the time of trial. On the desperate voyage I had undertaken for the sake of befriending others; on the consummate folly in our plans for wealth; and upon three years' siege I must now undertake against the walls of a prison.

But, said I, what does it signify to complain? The die is cast—my fate is fixed—and at the close of three years, what will it matter, whether I have lived in affluence or been confined in a dungeon? Does it now militate against my happiness to think that yesterday or last week I was in a disagreeable situation? The present and future are the only times for enjoyment. The present blessings we have in our power, and consequently, can partake of every joy they grant: the future we possess by [Page] anticipation; and it is thought by many, that the foretaste of pleasure by anticipation is greater than the participation.

At any rate, happiness is the pursuit of all, and it is evident that the nearer we can approach to a state of content, by the same proportion we approach to that happiness, which we are in pursuit after; of consequence, the dictates of wisdom will induce me to throw aside care and trouble, let my present situation be ever so disagreeable.

Not long after I was confined in this jail, there was a man by the name of Rood put into the same room with me. This man had held a commission in the military department of Massachusetts; and was an inhabitant of a neighboring town; had a family consisting of a wife and one daughter, a young woman in the bloom of life, and a pretty handsome figure.

This man, by mistake, having taken some cattle, not his own, and appropriated them to his own use; some people were so impolite as to charge him with theft. This charge was carried before the Supreme Court, and there he was fined about seventy pounds, if I mistake not. As the circumstances of this Rood were somewhat embarrassed, he could not pay the fine which the court had laid upon him. Therefore, the prospect was, that he must lie in jail a long time—until he should be able to pay his fine, and this he had no apparent chance for doing.

This man had a genius somewhat singular. His stature was about six feet. He had an upright bold look; possessing a small share of learning. He was fond of using far-fetched and hard sentences, in order to appear like a man of letters. He was very fond of using high sounding words, and had a most singular talent of palming himself upon the vulgar, for a man of real information. He was cunning, [Page] out not politic, sociable and amusing, but not edifying.

Finding himself in this embarrassed situation, Lieutenant Rood determined to extricate himself by any mean which he should find in his power. As he was not possest with those delicate feelings of uprightness, which would subject him to a hurtful system of honesty, he determined to have recourse to any measure, which would answer his purpose.

We were soon joined by another, who was committed by the name of Warner; but I believe his real name proved to be Hutchins. This man was apprehended for passing counterfeit bank-bills, and committed for trial, at the next court of quarter sessions, to be holden in March following.

This man was wholly destitute of literary knowledge, and also unacquainted with men and manners. He was simple, and destitute of intrigue, but possest an inviolable attachment to secresy, when any thing of that nature was committed to him. He had a great share of enterprise, but was wholly destitute of system.

Under these circumstances, I found many designing characters had made use of him, as a tool to effect their nefarious purposes.

Having this company, that eternal series of ennui, which had hung like a leaden mountain upon me, was now in some measure removed. The privilege of conversation was now restored, and amusement in some measure occupied our attention.

When I have been debarred the privilege of seeing and converting with others, the bare fight of a man has involuntarily and unaccountably raised a sensation of joy in my mind, greater than you can easily conceive, even when I had not a possibility of speaking to him. This, I think, is a strong evidence that we are all descended from one common [Page] origin, and that a certain attraction of cohesion operates upon the human race, and will so continue till we all return to that fountain from whence we originated, and form an union as perfect as is formed between the river and the ocean when their waters become one.

The scanty allowance of provision, which we received at this place, made us feel severely the pains of hunger. Those, who had friends near them, commonly received an additional supply from them, but those, who had only what our keeper allowed us, to supply the calls of nature, often felt the griping hand of hunger, in addition to other inconveniences. All these circumstances made me feel an inconceivable uneasiness at my confinement. I would walk backward and forward across the room, by the whole day together, ruminating upon the posibility of making my escape. How I longed to be at liberty, is beyond my power to tell. Often would I wish that I was possest with the ability of passing from place to place, with the same facility, that we could discern objects at a distance, in this place and that place.—How quick would I then leave these hateful abodes, and wonton in the sunbeams of liberty!—How easily could I then elude the iron grasp of this petty tyrant, who triumphs over the miseries of the wretched few under his control.

Often would I contemplate upon the situation of the beggar, who gained his daily bread by the cold hand of charity, and yet walked at liberty, free as the air in which he breathed, capable of going to any place to which his fancy directs him, without let or hindrance; I compared his situation with mine, and in the comparison, I fell infinitely short of his state of happiness.

I was determined to try some measure for my escape from this place. I peeped into every corner [Page] of the room—I surveyed all the barricadoes with which I was environed—I contemplated every possible measure which occured to my imagination. I at last concluded to begin my operation upon the chimney way, hoping that I could, by taking up the foundation of the chimney, get to the ground, and by that mean, undermine the jail, and make my escape that way. I laid the plan before Warner and Rood, for mutual consultation and approbation. Warner, at once, entered into the scheme, and promised his assistance. Rood refused to lend his assistance, but encouraged us to proceed; suggesting that the thing probably might be accomplished.

I soon saw into the drift of Rood. He determined to take advantage of our success, if we proved fortunate—if otherwise, he thought to exculpate himself by saying he had no part in the business. He had acted the part of a sycophant towards the jailor and the high-sheriff, from the time of his commitment, hoping [...]through their intercession, to gain some alleviation from the court of their sentence, at the next session.

Notwithstanding the assistance of Rood was not to be expected, Warner and I were determined to make the attempt, immediately after the approach of night, as that was the only time in which we could work, without an immediate detection. Therefore, after the time of retirement, we pulled off our coats, and went to work, with a great degree of energy, upon the stones in the chimney. We soon almost filled our room with stones and rubbish. In this situation, we experienced great inconveniences for the want of light, being obliged to have recourse to pine slivers pealled off from a board, which kept one hand constantly employed in feeding the blaze, lest it should be extinguished, which would at once defeat all our purposes.

As I was the strongest of the two, I kept Warner [Page] seeding the light, whilst I labored like Sisy [...]phu [...] in rolling huge stones out of the chimney-way. Happy should I have thought myself at that time, if Hercules like, I could have turned the course of some mighty river under the jail, to have assisted me with its force, to sweep away those huge rocks.

I labored and toiled without intermission, till about midnight, when coming to a rock I could not possibly get out of the hole, I for a moment despaired of success, after straining with all my might, a number of times, to no effect. Rood, seeing the situation in which matters stood, jumped out of bed, and helped to lift the stone from its place, and then returned again into bed.

I again renewed my labor, and had overcome the greatest part of the difficulties before us, when the light became extinct for want of fuel, the board being all consumed. I tried to pursue the business in the dark, but found it in vain, and therefore was obliged to quit our undertaking. How much would I now have given for a farthing candle! but wishes were as vain as our expectations were unfounded. The necessity of our relinquishing the pursuit was absolute, and therefore with a sullen reluctance I yielded to the force of necessity.

I did not entirely lose all hopes of succeeding yet, by this method. As soon as day light should afford an opportunity, I determined to renew my labor, and if by good fortune our Cerberus should not make us a visit till some time in the morning, I was still in hopes of making the breach soon enough, to leave him to his own agreeable reflections, when be came to search our room, which he constantly did every day. Therefore, at the dawn of day, I again renewed my labor, with increased animation. I struggled and toiled with the huge rocks in such a manner as to establish the belief, that in the course of an hour, I should again fl [...]t upon [Page] the wing of liberty. But O! horrid to related the thundering noise of the jailor, in opening his ponderous doors, throwing back the many bolts, and turning the keys of the enormous locks, at once defeated all my expectations of freedom. The mighty castles which I had been building in the air, came tumbling over my head, like a sweeping deluge.

The jailor came into the room, and what was the scene pictured to his view? Rubbish, rocks, stones, and dirt, filled the room! Two men almost naked, covered with sweat and dust!

The door was again immediately shut, and the jailor retired, but his absence was almost momentary. He returned with a band of flinty hearted Myrmidons to assist in the execution of his diabolical system of revenge. We* were taken by those patrons of humanity, tied to the grates, and received ten lashes each, on our naked backs, with a horse-whip. Immediately after this, we were put in the dungeon, where we lay two days, and were then removed into another room.

The day after we were confined in the dungeon, the high-sheriff came to the jail, and threatened to put Rood into the dungeon with us; this threat had the desired effect. Rood declared he had given no aid, assistance, or advice, in the business of breaking the jail, but on the contrary, used all the arguments and entreaties to induce us to desist, which were in his power: and moreover, said he,—"when I saw they would not give up the attempt, I got out of my bed, and went to the window, in order to call the jailor, but when Burroughs saw what I was about, he came up to me with his penknife, and threatened to stab me, if I proceeded; therefore, I was obliged to desist."

This contradiction happened to take place where I overheard it all. I called to Rood, in the midst of it, and informed him that he was a liar, that he [Page] had, in reality, been aiding and assisting in our efforts for breaking the jail; that had he conducted with ingenuity in the business, I should have been willing to have him exculpated from blame, but when he manifested a disposition to heap additional censure upon me, for the sake of making himself stand high in the opinion of others, I supposed it a just tribute to my own vindication, to set matters relating to him, in their true light.

This I expected would be heard by the high-sherriff likewise, as they two were in conversation together; and my main object, in making this declaration at this time, was to prevent Rood from building himself up in the opinion of the sheriff, at my expense.

When Rood found I had detected him in his duplicity, he entreated the sheriff to put him into a room separate from me; dreading, as I suppose, my just vengeance upon him, for his perfidious conduct. He promised on this condition, to give information concerning any attempt of the prisoners to break jail. He was, of consequence, put into another room.

The second day of my confinement, nearly night, I heard a terrible clanking of massy chains, approaching towards my apartment. The door of the dungeon was opened, when lo! horrid to relate! a deformed Vulcan* attended with his grisly Cyclops,† carrying with them a huge iron chain, and all the tools for their infernal purpose!

I was ordered into another apartment, and to work went those engines of cruelty. They, in the first place, made fast a flat ring around my leg, about six inches wide and an inch thick. This was connected with a chain weighing about 36 lb. and ten feet in length. The other end of the chain was fastened to the timber composing our floor, [Page] with a staple driven in with a sledge, which made the whole jail tremble. After I was fixed in this manner, they left me to my own reflections, inwardly exulting at their mighty power, in making a poor wretch secure from enjoying the cold comfort of hoping for better times.

O! ruthless mortals! said I, why so infatuated! am not I a member of the same family with yourselves? am not I capable of suffering the same woes with others? Place yourselves in my situation for a moment, and try to regale your feeling, in such a condition. Even suppose a brother, a child, or any near relative, or friend, in my situation: Would you conduct towards him as you now do towards me, who am a stranger among you? Surely you would not. Does not the language of nature, does not the principles of that benevolent religion of which you make so great profession, teach you to treat the stranger with kindness? How then is it that you pinch me with hunger, mangle me with whips, confine me in a dungeon, &c. as though you envied me the enjoyment of the liberty of walking a room of twenty feet square? You have confined me to a space of half that dimension; and this confinement too, performed in the most cruel manner!

Would any of you, who are walking at your ease, enjoying the sunshine of liberty, if placed in my situation, lie down tamely under the burden, and not exert yourselves for freedom, when you possest a faint ray of hope, that you may obtain it by exertion?

You, who have never felt the burden of confinement, can have out a faint idea of its nature: hence, you esteem it as it feels to you, and treat those who are [...]n [...]er its pressure, according to your feelings.

I lay in this dismal situation about a fortnight, if [Page] I remember right. My leg, by this time, was worn by the iron around it, till the skin was quite off. In this situation, I became entirely impatient. My sufferings I thought insupportable. I cursed the day in which I was born. I cursed my friends, and all the human race, in the bitterness of my anguish! Well was it for Warner, that I was confined with a chain, at that time, lest haply I should have vented my rage on him in the overflowing of my distress. I roared with anguish! I raged like a Bedlamite!—

The obdurate heart of my Cerberus was not moved by my situation, he was terrified, and durst not approach me. Yet that adamantine barrier which fortified the avenues to his soul, from the approaches of compassion, remained entirely unimpaired▪ and prevented the least motion of pity from disturbing his repose.

There are certain situations of suffering which will make a man mad—will take away every exercise of rational conduct—will reduce him to a state of desperation,—so that he will rush into the most desperate danger. This was my situation at this time. I was determined not to endure these trials any longer;—and, in the language of the poet,—to end them "by taking arms against myself, and all my woes at once."

I ruminated upon the means of accomplishing this design. Various were the plans which offered to my view, but none appeared so eligible to answer the state of my mind, as the terrible element of fire. Therefore, I determined to set fire to the jail, and Sampson-like, make a sacrifice at my death, which should atone for the cruelties I had suffered in my life!!!

The flooring of the jail was laid with two thicknesses of timber,—each thickness being about fourteen inches and over these timbers, a floor [Page] of inch boards. The boards which composed the floor I cut away, in such a manner as to be able to take up a piece about two feet long, the cracks between the timbers were about two inches wide, into which I dropped coals of fire, which fell down to the ground, twenty eight inches below the floor, among shavings and other combustible stuff. The air drawing in strongly, at the place where the fire was, it soon began to rage with great violence. I replaced the board in its former situation, placed my straw, which served for my bed, on the board, and lay down, with great composure, viewing my sufferings as fast hastening to an end.

The floor being so tight as not to admit the blaze into the room, it sought a passage elsewhere, and soon burst out, through the underpinning and blazed up to the height of the caves of the jail, about twenty feet! this was a scene possessing more of the horrid sublime than any thing I ever met with during my life.

At the dead hour of night, when all nature was lost in forgetfulness, as Young emphatically expresses it.

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,

In [...]yless majesty, now stretches forth

Her laden sceptre o'er a slumbering world;

Silence, how dead! and darkened, how profound!

Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds:

Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse

Of life [...]ood still, and nature made a pause,

An awful pause! prophetic of her end.

And let her prophecy be soon fulfil'd;

Fate drop the curtain! I can loose no more.

In this situation to see columns of smoak and fire rolling up with a majestic power, enveloping me around, was a scene which surpasses all description! I viewed the operation of the flames with a tranquil horror! I now felt myself exalted above the operations of the petty tyranny of those, who [Page] had exercised the rod of severity over me. Your reign, said I, will be shore, and I shall not fall altogether unrevenged. It may serve as a memento to others, not to drive those to desperation, who have the misfortune to fall under their power.

I soon found that the fire had loosened the staple, which consined my chain to the floor; therefore, I was at liberty to walk from one end of the room to the other, contemplating the progress of this dreadful devouring element.

By this time, the prisoners in the room over head were awakened, alarmed, and began to cry out for help. The jailor was aroused, the inhabitants gathered, and the bolts, bars, and locks, were in motion. They immediately came into my room, and finding me loose, conveyed me into the dungeon.

Whilst I was in the dungeon, I heard the bustle among the people, in putting out the fire. From the expectations of some, I thought the danger increased, and from the operation of others, I thought it diminished. My mind was wavering between hope and fear, till about 4 o'clock in the morning, when I found the noise decreased until it became entirely silent. I now concluded they had subdued the fire, and of course, I should be called to an account as disagreeable, as when I attempted to break jail.

The scene following, of all the scenes of my life, strikes my mind with the most distress in relating. To paint it according to the existence of facts, and the sensations arising from those facts, is an arduous task, too great for me to undertake, till I have refreshed nature with a little relaxation by sleep, and application to other objects, which will turn my mind a while from the disgust, which the contemplation of this subject creates. Therefore, sir [...] accept my sincere wish for your welfare, my desire that you may never taste that cup of adversity, which I have drained to the dregs.

I am, Dear Sir, &c.

[Page]

CHAP. XVI.

——'Tis only change of pain,

A bitter change! severer for severe;

The d [...] to [...] short for my distress! and night

F'en in the zenith of her dark domain,

Is sunshine to the colour of my fate.

ABOUT 9 o'clock in the morning, I heard the usual tumult at entering the outter door of the jail. I saw a crowd were entering and passing along theally-way, previous to their coming to the dungeon door! The door opened! The high-sheriff, jailor, and about twenty more entered! I saw by the appearance of things, that I must prepare for the worst possible event. The sheriff advanced with a cocked pistol, which he presented to my breast, and swore by GOD, that if I offered to resist, he would put me to instant death. He had an idea that I had become desperate, and would sacrifice my own life for the sake of ridding myself from the misery I was under, and obtaining revenge, for the injuries I had suffered.

I called him a poor despicable cowardly wretch, to advance upon a poor, helpless, unarmed man, in the manner he assumed. I told him I placed his utmost malice at defiance, and challenged him to do his worst. I told him I expected every thing base and cruel from him, ever sensible that the ignoble spirit, which possest a coward, led to cruelty and barbarity. That I had been punished ignobly once, for nothing; and therefore, I determined he should have something for his next attempt, which should make his cowardly soul tremble with fearful apprehension.

He ordered his posse to advance and seize me. They advanced and laid hold of me. As soon as they had made me secure, the sheriff took hold of my hand and twisted it round, so as to make [Page] the pain very sensible. I thought he would have wrung my arm off my shoulder. I was led out of jail in this manner, into the yard. I was then tied fast to the grates, and stripped naked.

The reason why I was carried into the yard was, that this mild distributor of justice, might have a better opportunity to give his whip full scope, without impediment. He improved his opportunity, and with a whip commonly known by the [...] [...] of hunting-whip, he laid about me with all his vengeance, for about five minutes. I then was taken down, and Warner put in my place, who received twenty lashes. We were then re-conveyed into the dungeon; when I was loosed from the iron I had about my leg, and in lieu of that, a large ring was put about each leg, with an iron bar running from one to the other. This bar was bolted to the floor. I then had an iron about my waist, and bolted to the floor: after all, I was hand-cuffed and pinioned.

The sheriff then came to take his farewell, and parted with some hearty curses for my incorrigible conduct. The curses he received back again with interest. I was now left to myself, a gloomy spectacle of helpless misery. This was in the month of December, in the year '85, a remarkable cold month, and my confinement in this situation, continued until January, '86, being thirty-two days, in the whole.

Here I was deprived of fire, of clothing, and exercise, till the time was nearly expired; and even the pitiful allowance of straw to lie on: but all this was nothing, compared with what I suffered with hunger.

Those, who know the cruel effects of hunger, are the only people who can understand me, when I relate these facts. But few people have ever felt its effects: therefore, should I relate this story to people in general, not many would know what I meant.

[Page] I had not been in this situation many days, before I began to experience the severe effects of the cold. As I could not stand, walk, nor step; the only recourse I had to keep my feet from freezing was rubbing them against an iron spike, a little from my [...]et, perhaps three inches, which had either never been driven into the floor entirely, or else had started back by some mean, the space of about four inches. This I wore very smooth with a perpetual friction. No person was allowed barely to lo [...]k through the little aperture into the dungeon. This little hole was secured by a door, so as to hide every object from our sight.

About the seventh or eighth day after my confinement, in this pandimoneum, the pains of hunger became excruciating. Gladly would I have eaten my own flesh. I even had a hankering desire to [...] the excrements out of the vault, but that was ou [...] [...] my power. All my thoughts were occupied upon victuals. I could not conceive what I had been about through life, that I had not eat [...] more when I had the opportunity.

I could not possibly conceive of the idea of a man satisfied with eating. That a man could be glutted with food, so as to loath it, was a fact established in my mind, by my own personal experience—yet, at this time, I could not believe it; indeed, I thought I knew to the contrary.

Had I been possest of an empire at this time, I should have parted with it in a moment, for a supply of food for the present necessity. It is said that hunger will break through a stone wall, but I [...] that hunger will carry a man the greatest length of any thing in nature. It destroys the feelings of humanity, and makes a man a savage. [...] his nature a ferocious feeling, which [...] more to the tyger than to a being possessing the milk of human kindness: therefore, take the mi [...] est [Page] couple that ever lived, reduce them by famine to a state of extremity, and you will see the fond husband tearing from his beloved partner the food upon which her existence depends. Nay, more, you will see, in this situation, the tender mother refusing her dying infant the smallest pittance of sustenance to its expiring entreaties!

Must not the mind of sensibility shrink with horror at a sight so dreadful? And this have I experienced in a land of christianity! A land where great professions of humanity and christian benevolence have been made! In charity to the inhabitants, I now believe they did not know the extremity of my sufferings. At that time I did believe it, and that they concurred in the business; but I know my situation did not admit of cool reflection and candid reasoning upon the subject. I begged, I entreated, of the keeper of these infernal abodes, for bread, but my entreaties were given to the winds. I raved, I swore, I tore, cursed and lamented, but all did not move his ob [...]rate feelings. After the fifteenth day the rage of hunger began to subside. Nature, [...] ed with the struggle, gave way, and began her retreat. I grew faint and sick. There was a gloom hung over me, which is entirely inexpressible. Nothing did I ever feel of the kind before or since; and how to describe it to you now, I am entirely at a loss. I know if I undertake, I shall not succeed in giving you an image of the most distant resemblance.

I grew sick of life, I hated the idea of ever mixing again with the world, I wished for death with a [...] impatient ardor. There is a situation, sir, when life is no more s [...]et. There are circumstances, under which life becomes a burden, and is no longer desirable. This was my situation. I began to console myself with the hope that my miseries would soon have an end in the arms of death. The approach [Page] of this grim tyrant now was the most pleasing object of my contemplation. Here I found a balm for all my wounds—"To rest from my labours" in this world, was the height of my wishes. Here was a pleasure in the prospect which assuaged the rage of my pain, and calmed the boisterous emotions of my mind.

I had now become emaciated to a skeleton. My beard had not been cut, during the time of my being in the dungeon, hence it was about two inches long. My hair had not been combed, which stood in every direction. From these circumstances, I had more the appearance of some savage beast of the forest, than any thing appertaining to the human species. I now looked for the speedy end of my toils, I found my strength daily decreasing, and concluded that nature must soon march out of her fortress, and give entire possession to the king of terrors.

Matters being in this situation, one morning about 11 o'clock, I heard the outer door of the jail loosed from it's bolts and bars. The door looking through the little aperture into the dungeon was opened, and the name of Burroughs was vociferated by the jailor. For him to have any business with me at that time of the day, was what had not happened for thirty two days before, and what could be his business now, I could not conceive.—The objects of life were so far out of my view, that I thought at first to pay no attention to this call, but upon more mature reflection, I rose up as far as I was able, and looked through the little hole. I there saw a man whom I did not recognise, a stranger. He called me by my christian name, when he spoke to me. Who it was addressing me thus familiarly I could not tell. I told him he had the advantage of being unknown to me, while I was known to him. He asked me if I did not know [Page] my uncle?! I surveyed him with some attention, and at length saw he was my Mother's oldest Brother.

He appeared to examine my condition with as much attention as his situation would admit of. He entered into some general observations upon the nature of my folly in setting the jail on fire, and attempting to break out. He lamented the distressed situation in which he found me, and handed me two dollars to supply my present necessities. He then retired.

Immediately after this, the jailor's wife came into the [...] told me if I wanted any victuals she would supply me with it. How this declaration sounded in my ears, you will more readily conceive, than I can describe. To have a prospect of a speedy supply of food, again recalled the desire of life. My feelings were in arms, and all the vigor of desire was again rekindled in my bosom. I told her I wished for something to eat immediately, and on her informing there was nothing ready dressed, I besought her to fetch me some bread, that I might be eating, whilst she was making ready something else. She brought me a brown loaf weighing about four pounds.

With what pleasure did I view this precious morsel approaching me. I half devoured it with my eyes, before I got hold of it. How sweet was the taste! how exquisite the pleasure! Warner laid hold of the loaf and tore away about half the contents. Yes, said I, thou fellow sufferer! eat and be satisfied! the day of bitterness is over, we have the promise again of food, sufficient to supply the calls of nature!

The bread was almost instantly gone, but the cries of hunger were not appeased. Soon however the wife of the jailor came with strong tea and toast. I was astonished she brought so little, but she understood [Page] my situation better than I did myself. We eat up the recruit of food in a moment. I entreated for more, but could not obtain it, under near an hour. When I had received my third portion, and we had eaten it, Warner began to experience terrible pains in his bowels, and I thought, for some time, he must have expired under the operation.

The same characters, who had made their appearance, when I was bound in the manner described, now entered the dungeon again, and to work went hammers and files, and in about half an hour, I was freed from the terrible load of iron, under which I had groaned for thirty two days.

When I was liberated from these irons I had almost lost the use of my limbs; my feet would hardly answer my desire for walking, for both of them had been touched with the frost, and the irons on one of my legs had been put on so tight as to cause a swelling, which ended in a sore about six inches long, and which has never yet gotten entirely well.

I was removed out of the dungeon into an upper room, which was much more comfortable than the one I had first occupied. Here I received food as often as once in three hours, through the next day. Yet I could not be satisfied, my appetite was keen as ever, even when I was so full as to prevent me from swallowing more. This continued to be the case for the space of a fortnight longer, when I found my appetite regulated upon the common scale of eating.

At this time, my Uncle wrote the following letter to my Father, giving him some account of my situation in Northampton jail.—

Charlton, January 7th, 1786.

BELOVED BROTHER AND SISTER,

I HAVE been at Northampton twice within [Page] this month past, visited your son Stephen each time. The first time, I found him chained down in the Dungeon, for attempting to burn the jail; and also for attempting at another time, to dig out through the chimney. I expostulated with him, with regard to his former conduct, endeavouring to shew him his folly in trying to break and burn the jail. I obtained a promise that he should be let out of the Dungeon. The second time I was there, which was this week, I found him in the common prison unchained, I found him very needy each time, and particularly the first, his allowance being very short. I let him have two dollars the first time, which I believe he made a good use of; the second time I found him destitute of a shirt, I got him a new one, an let him have thirteen and four-pence in cash.

As I am in a few days going to the General Assembly in Boston, it is not likely I shall see him again until spring, although I have lately been in something of a habit of visiting at Northampton. Being in haste and the bearer in waiting shall only subjoin, that I am

your loving Brother. EBENEZER DAVIS.

Rev. E. BURROUGHS.

After the receipt of this letter, my Father wrote to an acquaintance of his in Northampton, by the name of Strong, to pay some attention to my needs, afford me what my necessities called for, and draw upon him for the amount of expenses incurred.

By some strange fatality, when this letter arrived, Capt. Strong either thought, or wished people to believe he thought it a forgery of mine. He payed no attention to it, and the report was soon circulated, that I had forged a letter in my father's name and sent to Capt. Strong; and even at a very modern period a gentleman of some eminence, from [Page] Northampton, has repeated this false report, in those places, where he knew it must be attended with very disagreeable consequences to me.

And now, sir, permit me to digress a moment from the course of the narrative, and offer a few remarks upon the very singular scenes through which I passed in this jail.

As you, sir, have been long in the practice of the law, you will more readily conceive of the illegality of these transactions.

The fundamental principles upon which our liberties and privileges are founded are the trial by jury, that no unnatural and cruel punishments shall be inflicted, and that a person shall never be punished, but by due course of law. These leading principles, I believe, are never to be deviated from, except in case of rebellion, when the state is in danger: then martial law may operate; and even when▪ martial law has its operation, it is necessary to have matters of fact established by evidence, and the voice of a majority of three, at least, to warrant a punishment. In the punishments inflicted on me none of these preliminaries have been attended to, but I have been subjected to the arbitrary will of a petty tyrant. He punished when his inclination was for cruelty, and inflicted what kind his pleasure directed. It may be urged that I had made myself liable to punishment, by my conduct in jail. This being supposed, which I by no means believe, yet, to punish me without a legal trial, was as absolutely contrary to every dictate of law and justice, as though I had been in fact innocent.—It may further be said, that my sentence confining me to the house of correction, made me liable to the punishment of the master of the house at his discretion. If this be the case, we take away from one class of citizens a right, which we have very justly been tenacious of, and have subjected them to a state of as abject slavery, as the negroes [Page] in the West-Indies. And even if this doctrine is well founded, yet the injustice of their conduct will receive no extenuation, for Warner was punished equal in kind, though not in quantity, with myself, although be was only committed for trial, and of course must be innocent in the eye of the law, until he should be convicted.

As the narrative will not admit of treating this business largely, I have given you only the leading ideas, which possess my mind upon the subject, knowing your ability to state them in your own view, much more clearly and logically, than what I shall do.

About this time Philips, of whom you have heard mention, was committed to this jail, and lodged in the room where I was first confined; likewise one Hinds was lodged in the room where I now was. This Hinds was committed for adultery with the wife of one Wallace, and the woman herself was kept in the common dwelling-house of the jailor. One Norton, who was charged with the murder of a man by the name of Brown, was committed about this time, and confined in the dungeon. It appeared from all the information I could gather, that the circumstances of this business were of the following nature, viz. Norton, being a house-joiner, was on a new building, laying shingles, when Brown came by, and in a playful manner, threw stubble at Norton a number of times, which impeded him in his work. Norton was a man hasty and petulant in his temper. He told Brown if he did not desist, he would come down and give him a floging. This threat induced Brown to continue his folly with more eagerness, to shew that he did not regard Norton's threat. With this, Norton immediately descended the ladder, came up to Brown, and a scuffle ensued. Some blows passed, at length Norton gave Brown an unlucky stroke, after which he never breathed again.

[Page] Norton seeing that Brown was absolutely dead, made his escape, and left the country. He had been absent about twelve months, when he became known in some part of Connecticut where he resided, and was apprehended and brought to Northampton for trial.

From experiencing the treatment▪ I had received in this place, I had, through mistake, formed an idea, that Norton would have no chance for justice at the time of his trial; I found likewise he entertained the same idea of this matter himself. I sincerely wished him out of their hands, and felt willing to yield him any assistance which was in my power.

Matters were in this situation when, one night about 12 o'clock, I heard a whisper as though it came from out of the room, calling me by name. I sprang up and ran to the window, but found the voice did not come from there. I then ran to the door▪—but there again was disappointed. Where the noise came from, I could not conjecture, which still continued. I at last bethought me of the pump, leading into the vault, under the jail. I ran, and uncovering the pump, could easily distinguish the voice of Norton, who had gotten down into the vault. He entreated me to let him have a knife, for "by that," said he, "I can make my escape." Had it been a diadem, for ought I know, I should have parted with it, to have assisted him at this moment. I took the knife, and tied it to a string, and let it down. I then covered the pump, lay down, and reflected with a great degree of pleasure upon my affording some small assistance to befriend a human being whom I never saw. Truly, said I, this conduct has been guided by the principles of philanthropy.

I soon fell into a sound sleep:—my slumber was refreshing and sweet:—I felt entirely at peace with [Page] myself, under the fullest conviction I had acted according to the plan of the good Samaritan. I did not know that any in the room were awake, at this time; therefore, I thought myself the only person possest with this secret. The next day, Hinds was taken out of the room where I was, and let into the alley with the woman, [...]r a criminal connexion with whom, he was confined. They remained together about an hour, when he was put back into the room where I was. [...], I heard a number of people entering the outer door of the jail, and the clanking of chains, as though some internal purpose [...] in agitation. I listened with attention, and soon heard the dungeon door open: when, to my surprise, they cried out that Norton was gone. I did not expect he would so soon have made his escape; and now felt the exultation of joy, on the account of his success. My joy was soon damped, by hearing another voice, soon after, crying out, "here he is! here he is!" Norton, at this time▪ was so busy at work in the vault, that he never heard any of the uproar, until a youngster, putting his head down into the hole he had made, saw him at work.

They soon got him up and made him fast in irons: after this, they came into my room, took me out, carried me into the room where I was formerly confined, and there made me fast, with my old chain.

Here were Philips and Warner. Soon after the jailor had left us, I began to discover the amazing ability for contrivance which Philips possest. He freed me from my irons in ten minutes. We then all went to work to make the hole larger through our pump into the vault under the jail. This we effected, to my surprise, in the space of about six hours, so that a man, when stripped naked, could let himself down through it into the vault. This [Page] hole was made in such a manner, as entirely to secure it from the observation of those, who per [...] ally searched the jail, Even should they examine the hole itself, they would not discover its [...]ing otherwise than what it was originally, so perfect was Philips master of what he undertook, of such a nature. We wrought with assiduity all the night following, and had made such progress in diging out, that we arrived at the stones of the underpinning of the jail, they being sunk about four feet into the earth.

The prisoners, in the room out of which I was taken, and especially Hinds, were of opinion, they heard a noise, on the night that we were at work in the vault, but the other prisoners suspecting how the case really was, and being somewhat jealous of Hinds, endeavored to persuade him, that it was a matter of mere conjecture, not founded in reality,

The next day, I found Hinds and his paramour were put into the alley together, as formerly. Placing myself in a situation, where I could hear their conversation, I became acquainted with a very singular and curious circumstance, viz. that Hinds had entered into an agreement, to discover whatever plan should be in agitation, for the purpose of breaking the jail, and was to receive, as a compensation, liberty to be alone with his Miss, one hour in the course of every day. That in consequence of this agreement, he had given information of my helping Norton to my knife, and that he was about breaking jail. In consequence of which information, Norton was discovered, and I was again confined in irons.

Hinds told his prostitute, that he had heard the noise of somebody diging, and believed Norton was attempting to break out again. This noise, said he, continued through the whole night. After this [Page] interview, they were both replaced in their former situation.

Soon after this, the jailor, and a number with him, made a visit to the dungeon; carrying lights with them, in order to search every hole and corner. After about an hour's investigation, they gave up the pursuit, as fruitless; concluding that Hinds was mistaken in his conjecture, or else the breach was [...]made in an other room. They, therefore, came into the room where I was confined, and after searching some time, concluded some mistake must have existed, with regard to the conjecture of Hinds. The jailor even looked into our pump, and could discover no manner of breach, which we had made: however, he thought that the hole was so large, as possibly to admit a small boy down it; and therefore, determined he would make it more secure.

You will naturally ask the question, with regard to my irons, whether this was not a suspicious circumstance, as well as the noise? This business was fixed equally secure with the other. After I had been liberated from my irons, by Philips, he made them answer a number of other purposes, in the prosecution of his plans; and likewise prepared them in such a manner, that I could slip them on my leg, in half a minute, so as to wear the appearance of remaining closely chained: this I always did, when I heard the jailor entering, so that by this mean, I remained undiscovered.

After the search was over, I called to one of the prisoners in the room with Hinds,—Grinold by name, who was a person holding such conduct as Hinds had been guilty of, in the utmost abhorrence, and related to him a simple account of facts, respecting Hinds. Grinold immediately began an altercation with Hinds; they soon proceeded to blows—and Hinds, who was as great a coward as [Page] he was a villain, soon cried enough; but this subterfuge did not answer his purpose. Grinold still continued to bear him, alledging that such conduct as Hinds was guilty of, did not entitle him to the common usage, under such circumstances.

In the afternoon, the jailor came into my room, and the blacksmith with him, and after taking up our pump, placed two bars of iron over the hole, and spiked them to the timber. This, I thought, was an effectual security against our ever again getting into the vault. But no sooner was the jailor gone, than Philips shewed me how mistaken I was in my conjectures. Not more than six minutes after their departure, before we had all the irons loosed from their place: and that was effected in this manner, viz. We took the chain that was around my leg, and put it under one of the iron bars, and fetching it round, fastened it together, over the bar, with a key made of one of the links. After this was done, we took an oaken bench, about ten feet long, made of a slab, as much as four inches thick, in the middle, and put the end of this bench into the bite of the chain; placing it in such a manner as to gain a great purchase, we lifted the bar in an instant, drawing out the spikes with ease.

Immediately upon the setting in of night, we again went to work, but had not continued many minutes before the outer door of the jail opened, and in came a number of people, and passing our door▪ went up to the prisoners over head. Here Hinds had an opportunity of giving the hint to the jailor, that he had something to communicate to him. Therefore, after the people had finished their business with the prisoners, the jailor took Hinds out into the alley, and there learned that we had broken again into the vault. Upon this information, the jailor came into the room, and removed [Page] all the prisoners into the dungeon, excepting myself, being in [...] so securely confined, that he remained at ease with regard to me.

After all matters were again settled, I silently let myself out of irons, went down into the vault, and wrought hard all night. By morning, I had dug through the underpinning, gotten out-side the jail, and all that remained now, was to break through the frozen ground, which was about eighteen inches, as I conjectured. I thought my operations through this night, had been so silent, as to prevent a discovery from any one; but I was mistaken. The least noise in the vault, founded strong through the pumps; these being the only apertures, through which the sound could escape; therefore, its whole force was carried in one direction.

In the morning, the jailor took Hinds out of the room, where he had left him the night before, having put him into a separate room from Grinold, for fear of a repetition of that chastisement, which he had so largely tasted the day before; and by him received information, that somebody had been at work in the vault all night. After this information, Hinds was put back into the same room again, being a room-mate with Rood.

About ten o'clock in the morning, the jailor, attended with his blacksmiths, came into the dungeon, and removed the prisoners back again into my room. They searched the dungeon, with a great degree of care, to see whether the prisoners had broken through into the vault, but not finding any breach, they were a [...] a loss to account for the report of Hinds, not conceiving it possible for me to be the person, owing to my irons. However, after a while they came into my room, and searching the irons around my leg, they discovered the deception, seeing at once, with what case I could take my irons off my leg, when I wished. They then [Page] searched the iron bars, which had been spiked to the floor, and found them pulled up. They looked at me with a stare of astonishment, not conceiving how it was possible for such a thing to be effected with what tools we had.

The blacksmith retired—and in about an hour, returned—bringing with him an iron bar of twice the magnitude of the former, and six spikes, about twelve inches in length, and ragged, in such a manner, as to prevent a bare possibility of their ever being drawn. This iron bar he placed across the hole, and with a heavy sledge, drove in the spikes, looking round exultingly on me, saying "Burroughs, if you get down here again, I'll come and take your place." After he had driven in his spikes, and put all things in order, he came and examined my irons, fastened them on again, so as to prevent my getting loose, as he vainly boasted.

I now lost all hopes of liberty, by that method which we had been pursuing, viewing it impossible, ever to get the iron from across the hole, if I should get free from my irons around my leg; but again, I was taught to admire the vast ability of Philips; for before the outer door of the jail was locked, I was freed from my irons, and the bar across the hole was torn away. This was done while the jailor was shutting, bolting, and locking, the doors; so that the noise which we made, might be so blended with his noise, that it should not be distinguished by the prisoners over head, viz. Rood and Hinds, in such a manner as to lead to a discovery. This had the desired effect. Not the least suspicion was entertained of our operations, so quick was Philips, in seeing every advantage, which oportunities offered, for the prosecution of our purpose.

However, I found all the abilities, which appertained to Philips, were set down to my credit, so [Page] stronly were all possest with the opinion, that I was the soul of every enterprise, of such a nature. And from the efforts which he made in this room, many were of the opinion that I had preternatural assistance. For say they, "no irons will hold him, and no fortification will stand against him."

You will be curious, sir, I presume, to learn the method, by which we effected such a surprising seat, in so short a time, as to liberate me from irons, and tear away the huge iron bar, which was spiked so strongly across our pump-hole. This I will give you a description of.

You will recollect that one end of my chain was fastened to the floor, the other end around my leg, the length about ten feet; and the ring about my leg was flat.* Making the chain into a ring by the beforementioned process, we ran the end of our oaken bench into it, and placed the ring, which was around my leg, under the bench, and bent it down [...]ight to my leg; then turned it one quarter round, and bent it back again: this we repeated three or four times, and the ring broke. We, immediately, after this, hoisted the bolt confining the chain, by the same process.

After all, we took up the pump, and fixed our chain around the iron, on the pump-hole, as formerly, and proceeded again according to the same plan. I thought it a piece of madness to think of drawing these spikes, and made observations to that amount: Philips paid no attention to what I remarked, but pursued his plan: and when we all jumpped on to the bench, to pry up the ironbar, the heads of the spikes flew off, in a moment; the bar was torn from its place, and the whole jail trembled.

I now considered my escape as certain, having nothing but the frozen ground to break through, [Page] which I expected to effect, in the course of an hour. Therefore, when night progressed so far in her course, as to carry people generally to their beds, we all stripped, and went down into the vault, with as much silence as possible, that we might keep Rood and Hinds in ignorance of our operations; but this we found impossible. We soon heard them take off the cover from their pump, and listen to the noise in the vault: However, as we soon expected to make our escape, we did not so much dread their hearing us at work, not expecting they could give any information to the jailor, till next morning, when we should be far from his restraining power.

We were vigorous in our operations, till we had broken the frozen ground, so as to discern the snow—I communicated this circumstance to Warner, who was near me, and he, imprudently, in the warmth of his feelings, told one near him, that in ten minutes we should be at liberty. This he spake so loud, as to be heard by Rood and Hinds.

They hearing this, immediately called to the jailor, and informed him that we were breaking out. The alarm flew rapidly; people gathered into the jail-yard, with lanterns, and discovered the hole, which was almost large enough for a man to pass through, whilst others entered the jail, and turned us all into the dungeon.

CHAP. XVII.

Wake the lion's loudest rear,

Clot his shaggy [...] with gore,

With flashing fury bid his eye balls shine;

Meek is his savage sullen soul [...] [...]!

OUR fond expectations of liberty were again blasted. We found ourselves confined in the dungeon, and two spies to watch all our motions. [Page] It appeared that Fortune delighted in raising my hope, in order to tantalize me with disappointment. There was a strange fatality attending all my undertakings! The most flattering circumstances were, in the end, attended with effects of the severest nature. Misery was my portion, notwithstanding every effort to the contrary. I now saw no way but that I must lay my account, to wear away the three long redious years, to which I was sentenced, in jail!

Early the next morning, I was, contrary to my expectations, taken out of the dungeon, and reconveyed into my old room, which was considerably larger than the dungeon, and there saw preparations for punishing me again, with the horse-whip. I had a sharp pointed penknife about me, which had been often sought for in vain, by the jailor. I pulled out this penknife, and opened it, and told the jailor, I would positively put him to death, if he dared to inflict that punishment on me again. I stood, at this time, in one corner of the room, where I could not be attacked only on one side. The jailor ordered those with him to take hold on me, and secure me; but none chose to run the risk: for I had declared, with equal determination, that the first, who offered to approach me, should feel the weight of my arm.

Matters remaining in this situation, the grisly locking tyrant was abashed and confounded, not daring to approach me himself, to execute any of his hellish plans,—he therefore gave up the object.

About this time, the blacksmith and his apprentices came into my room, with all my former load of irons, to confine me as he formerly had done, in the dungeon. Having succeeded so well with regard to the punishment of whipping, I determined to try the same experiment again, and see whether [Page] it would keep me out of irons. I, therefore, refused to have any chains put on me. The blacksmith came towards me in a threatening manner, with his hammer lifted, as though he would strike me; but seeing me stand, as though I was determined to execute my threat, with my penknife, he gave back. They soon left the irons lying on my floor, and all departed from the room. I expected they were gone after a recruit, but in this, my fears were disappointed.

About one o'clock, the same day, I was taken out of this room, and put into the upper loft, with Grinold. Philips and the rest, who were in the room with him, were taken out of the dungeon, and put back into their former place of abode, after the breach was secured. I believe it was effectually secured this time, for I never heard of their breaking it again: but by what process they made it so strong, as to prevent the prisoners from making another breach, I do not know, never being put in that room any more. It was currently reported that the devil had assisted me, in my attempts to break jail. Many foolish people would apply to me for a discovery of matters unknown to themselves; as things lost, stolen, &c.—and when I refused to pay any attention to their application, alledging that it was out of my power, they would look wisely at each other, and observe, "that I was not permitted to do such things, it being against the articles of my league!"—

It being now the last of January, if I rightly recollect, news was brought us, that all the prisoners, who were sentenced to the house of correction, were to be removed to Castle-Island, in the harbor of Boston, there to be confined to hard labor. This news had but little effect on my mind, being as yet entirely ignorant of the place, its situation, the state of prisoners on it, or the treatment which I should [Page] receive there. The idea of being again carried through the country, in the manner I had formerly been, a spectacle to surrounding fools, gave me most sensible pain; but whether I should be in a better situation there, than what I was in at Northampton, was wholly unknown, and I had no evidence, by which I could form my conjecture.

Early one morning, a number of deputy sheriffs came into the jail, and bade us prepare for our journey to the Castle. They chained the prisoners two together, placing the chain about one leg of each, then put them into a sleigh, and drove off.

When I came to breathe a pure air, and to contrast the prospect of surrounding objects, with the gloomy mansions which I had left, you cannot conceive the ardor of my feelings for liberty. Every object, which my eyes beheld, was a loud proclaimer of my miserable state.

Oh! said I, to myself, could I run about like yonder little boy, who, regardless of his privilege, looses its enjoyment,—then should I feel like the lark, that, escaped from its cage, flits into the air, and claps its wings for joy. I wondered people should feel so indifferent about my situation. I equally wondered at their not skipping with joy, because they were at liberty themselves. I thought if they had known the feelings of my heart, they would have arisen to a man, and granted me that liberty, which my heart so ardently panted after. It appeared to me, sometimes, that the sensations of my mind must be apparent to them, and that under this circumstance, they would actually grant me relief. Yet, in the bitterness of my soul, I found these ideas all chimerical.

Certainly, said I, did those very characters, who were instrumental in placing me in this state of confinement, feelingly, know my whole heart, they could not resist the language of nature so far, as not [Page] to wish me at liberty. I know that even the Pelhamites themselves would have cried his punishment is enough—his sufferings are equal to his crimes.—Then, why will ye yet torment me? Why will you gall me any longer, with the chain of slavery?—The answer is, the course of law has brought you to this, and we cannot reverse its mandate. But, said I, what is law, but the voice of the people? and what is the voice of the people, but the language of the heart? Does not every day's experience teach us, that cruel and severe punishments serve to harden, rather than reform the vicious? Ought we not to consider ourselves as members of one and the same family, and to adopt those rules and regulations among ourselves, as a society, which will, in their operation, be congenial with such an idea? Surely, this is the idea, which the language of nature strongly inculcates upon our minds. Should we not shudder with horror, if a Father treated his child, as the laws of society treat each other? When do we hear of an unnatural parent chaining his child, confining him from the enjoyment of liberty, and placing him in such a situation, as to make him an object of contempt and scoff to the rest of his children, without feeling that indignation in our bosoms, which such an unnatural action merits? Between parents and children, the voice of nature is heard in its simple state, without being perverted by the sophistry of those, who are blind to the laws, which bind mankind together, as brethren of the same family. Is there not a spirit of nobleness in man, which [...] the lash of tyranny, in whatever shape it [...], which manifests all the love and partiality of children, towards those laws, which discover the care and protection of a parent towards them? View the conduct of the Parent of nature, towards his children! "He causes his son to rise on the evil and on the [Page] good, and sendeth rain on the just, and on the unjust." He grants his parental kindness to all his children, without distinction, and watches over the wants of the smallest part of the works of his hands. Is his example worthy of imitation▪ or are we wiser than our Maker? I have often read with the highest delight a fable invented by Dr. Franklin, to shew, in a familar manner, the arrogance of man, in his attempts to place his own wisdom, above that of Deity. The Doctor represents Abraham as grossly abusing a stranger, whom he had invited into his tent, because he was an idolater, and did not worship God according to his method. The fable states, that at midnight; God called unto Abraham, and inquired for the stranger, Abraham recapitulated his treatment▪ of him, which was done said he, because he worshipped not thee." God took occasion, from this, to shew Abraham the folly of his reasoning, for said he," have I nourished and cherished this man ninety and nine years, notwithstanding his rebellion against me, and could not thou, who art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night."

As we travelled through the country, I again found the curiosity of people had brought them together in many places, where we stopped▪ there a philosophic mind would have found ample scope, for contemplating the human character. We cannot discern the operation of the human heart in man, until we are in such a situation, as to prevent his wearing a disguise. This situation must be very abject, and then we become of so little consequence in society, that the notice of man is remove from us, and he acts in our presence without disguise; viewing our approbation or disapprobation as immaterial to his prosperity. Under such a situation, the human character becomes really known, and he, who has ability with this knowledge to learn such regulations as will tend, in their [Page] operation, to promote the highest good of society, is called upon, by that duty which man owes to man, to assert the cause of truth, with regard to these important points.

Under this view of matters, I have clearly stated my sentiments to you, upon these subjects. I know you to be a man of so much observation, as to know, that severe laws have the most fatal tendency, not only upon the criminal part of society, but likewise upon every member. Every thing, which tends to destroy the principles of humanity, serves to eradicate from the human breast that benevolence and compassion towards mankind, which is the bond of perfection in society.

When we see the father of a family conducting with mildness towards all his children, treating them all as equal members of his household, and never permitting the ebullitions of wrath and malignity to operate towards any; at the same time, we see them inheriting their fathers meekness, and compassion. Benevolence marks their ways, and harmony brightens all their paths. But on the contrary, where we see the parent becomes the tyrant, punishing the faults of his children, with the unrelenting hand of rigor, executing judgment unmingled with mercy; we see a family possessing the feelings of cruelty, lost to the god-like principle of mercy, at war with themselves, and governed by those ferocious feelings, which disturb the tranquillity of mankind.

The same principles operate upon the great family of mankind. Where we find severe laws operating among a people, or mild laws executed in a cruel manner, we see the influence of this, upon the manners of the people, to be very great. It gradually roots out the feelings of benevolence and compassion, and in their room, implants the sentiments of cruelty and severity.

[Page] The body of mankind can judge of things only in a very partial manner. They are taught, in the first place, to revere the laws; they are taught, in the second place, to believe that the laws are founded in justice: from this consideration, they are lead to treat others, as they see the law treats its subjects; to cherish the same spirit, which they see manifested in the execution of the laws; therefore, if the law, or the mode of executing it, is severe and cruel, they will of consequence imbibe a spirit of severity and cruelty.

Having treated these matters so largely in our conversation, it will be needless for me to say more on the subject. I believe we are both agreed in this sentiment viz. that the laws and the manner of their execution do, ultimately, form the manners and morals of a people; and the best criterion, to form an estimate of the laws and regulations of a people by, is their manners and morals.

On the first day of our journey towards the Castle, we dined at Belchertown. Here I found an assemblage of many characters. Some were led here by an anxious desire of seeing me perform some feats of dexterity, in eluding my guard, concluding that I should not remain with them, longer than to arrive at this tavern. Whether they expected I should evaporate in a flash of fire, or disappear in a cloud of smoak, or whether they thought I should, Faustus like, fix my guards, like pillars of stone, immoveably, to some spot, until I could leisurely walk away, I do not know; but it was apparent that something they expected would be done. The least movement I made, their eyes were upon me, the least word I spoke, their ears were open, and their attention alive. When I moved they made way for me, as though destruction would fall upon them, if they obstructed my passage. It gave me pain to see the apparent fear, that many manifested upon [Page] this occasion. I endeavoured to persuade them that their fears were groundless, but all to no purpose. Some I found took this opportunity of shewing their courage to the world, by letting the bystanders see, they were not afraid to insult me. One man even ran his fist into my face, making his boast that he would venture me, as great a man as I was, but took very good care to keep so far distant from me, that I could not reach him, being chained to Glazier Wheeler, so that I could not move, only when he moved, and the old man having the infirmities of age upon him, could only move with a degree of moderation.

While the scoundrel continued his insults, one of the sheriffs came into the room, I think his name was White, and observing the unprovoked abuse, struck the villain across the head, with the hilt of a hanger, and felled him to the floor. This spoiled the fun of this courageous fellow.

After dinner was over, the Landlady came to the high sheriff, and informed him, that one of her silver spoons was missing, and she said it was impossible for any one to get it out of her cupboard, which had not been unlocked, unless it was Burroughs; therefore, the high-sheriff set about searching me for a silver spoon, stolen out of a room, in which it was known I had never been, but before the search was over, the good lady informed him, that the spoon was found.

We soon moved from this, and arrived that night at Brookfield.- Here I found a little respite from that perpetual attention, to the various whims, false opinions, and strange ideas, which people had formed of my character. But even here, I was accosted by a grave looking old gentleman, smoaking his pipe in the corner. I had observed him sometime, sitting in silence, but now and then glancing his eye upon me, at length taking his pipe leisurely [Page] from his mouth, spitting carefully in the [...], and adjusting his looks, with some precision, he turned and addressed me as follows: "Burroughs, I have had a desire to see you, for some time, I have heard much of you.—I know your uncle Colonel Davis, and had he given ear to my advice, he would have been a great gainer; but he did not, and the time is now passed, for him to profit by his dear bought experience; however, I can give you advice, which you will find to your advantage, should you be endowed with wisdom sufficient to follow it. Your extraordinary conduct has made mankind form very strange conjectures concerning you, and many throw a great degree of blame upon your conduct; but as for myself, I cannot say I think your crimes unpardonable, or indeed very heinous, excepting one, and that was, the flagrant transgression of the principles of gratitude towards the Clergyman, whose clothes and watch you stole."

Here I interrupted the Orator, in the midst of his discourse, by my ardor to set him right in his mistaken opinon of this business; I told him the story of my stealing a watch and suit of clothes from a Clergyman was entirely unsounded, as no such circumstance had happened to any Clergyman in this country; that this was an old anecdote, new vampped and handed to the world, as a modern occurrence, the approbium of which, a good natured populace were willing to fix on me.

He looked me full in the face, with a sarcastic sneer, pulled a news paper out of his pocket, and turned me to a paragraph, relating that I was the person, who had stolen the clothes, watch, &c. After I had read this paragraph, the old gentleman said. "Now Mr. Burroughs, I hope you will not undertake to correct my judgment again. When I form an opinion, it is not on slight evidence, therefore, since you have set up your opinion, in opposition, [Page] to mine, I shall let you pursue It; you may repent when it is too late."

He then turned from me, put his pipe into his mouth, and remained silent the rest of the evening, notwithstanding all my endeavors for a further explanation upon this business.

The next day we proceeded on our journey. In the course of this day, I could have made my escape, if I had been chained to any body but Glazier Wheeler. I went out of the house, where we stopped to dine, accompanied by only one person, and he, being impatient at staying out in the cold, went into the house, and we remained by ourselves, as much as half an hour. I proposed our escape to Wheeler—but the severity of the weather, the infirmities of age, and the uncertainty of success, operated so strongly on his mind, as to deter him from concurring in my proposal. We returned, and I flattered myself, that this apparent instance of my peaceably remaining confined, when I had an opportunity of making, at least, a trial for escaping, would make my keepers more remiss in guarding me; but in this I was disappointed.

I found the guard were all in commotion, when we went into the house, at our being left alone so long; and they took special care [...]ver to fall into the same error again.

In the course of this day, we made a stage at a public house, where I found a number of the Pelhamites. They had been to Boston, and were on their return. They were affected at seeing my condition! They dropped the tear of compassion! They pitied me! They offered me, as a token of their benevolent feelings, as much punch as I would drink. Whether some of their more benevolent feelings, on the present occasion, did not proceed from the efficacy of the punch, which they themselves had drunken, is a question, I shall by no means undertake to answer.

[Page] In the course of this day's journey, we met with Mr. Baldwin, minister of Palmer, of whom mention has already been made. The good old gentleman was truly affected: and, in stead of reflections, which I expected, he lamented my untimely fall; wished I might meet with some alleviating circumstance in my sentence, before the expiration of my confinement.

We arrived at Little Cambridge, and tarried all night. The house where we put up was filled with people. I found the good lady of the house giving her daughters a lecture, on the propriety of keeping out of the room, where the prisoners were. But, as these young females possest the curiosity natural to their sex, they endeavored to pursuade their ma'am, that the danger, which she feared, was more in her fancy, than reality. The prudent mother, however, cut her daughters short in their arguments, by telling them, in the most peremptory manner, that they should not go into the room where Burroughs was; for, said she, "he has a faculty to lead any body astray: why, there's Pelham now, where he preached—he undertook to preach to people, that it was lawful for him, to lie with all the women in town, and he carried his point so far, as to lie with every man's w [...]e; and then ran away and left them; but if he should offer such a thing to me, I'd shew him, he want in Pelham."

After this harangue of the careful mother, her conduct through the remainder of the evening did not manifest so great a fear on her own account, as what she had shown on account of her daughters: but whether she meant to give me an opportunity of making such proposals, as on her part, would lead to a discovery of her impregnable chastity, or whether her attention was the pure effect of humanity, I shall not undertake to tell, not being in a capacity to give information upon that subject, [Page] having made no advances towards her, through the course of a long tedious evening.

A sober-faced clergyman entered into conversation with me, upon the events of my life. I found him entertaining all the acrimony attached to offended dignity. Says he, "what an enormous crime you have been guilty of, by bringing an irreparable disgrace upon the order of Clergy, in assuming that character, with all your vile hypocrisy about you; and as though that was too little, you preposterously exhibited the works of others, and not your own. You have taken the most direct measures to overturn all [...]er in civil and religious societies, by making the character of a clergyman appear in a ludicrous point of view to the world; a character, of all others, which ought to be held most sacred: and which, of all others, has the greatest influence to the good order of society."

My answer to the clergyman was to this effect. "Seeing, sir, that you are professedly the embassadour and representative of him, who has commanded us, "in lowliness of mind to esteem others better than ourselves;" who was despised and rejected of mankind; who was set at naught by the rulers; and declared that his kingdom was not of this world: I say, sir, that seeing your dignity in this character is encroached upon by my conduct, I feel most heartily sorry for touching your highness in this respect."

The clergyman was stung with this reply, and retorted, that, "I might find that the government would teach me how to carry myself to my superiors. After I had been kept to hard labor on the Castle two or three years, my courage would be cooled, and my manners mended, &c."

We arrived at Boston the next day, about 11 o'clock—stopped and dined at the Sign of the Lamb. I found many of my former acquaintance now [Page] shunned me, as though I carried some pestilential disorder about me. One in a particular manner, who was a class-mate of mine in College, coming in sight of the sleigh, in which the prisoners were conveyed, and discerning me in the sleigh, stopped short—ran into a shop contiguous,▪and viewed me through the window, with great attention.

Afte dinner, we were taken to the commissary's store, who provided for the Castle, and all the prisoners, excepting myself, received their clothes; which consisted of a party-coloured suit. I was entirely willing to be excused from receiving this bounty from the state.

After the clothing had been delivered, we were taken to long wharf, put on board a small sail-boat, and left the main land, for the Island, on which the Castle stood. As we put off from the wharf, the people standing on this, and the neighboring wharves, gave three cheers—declarative of their satisfaction, in our leaving them, for a state of confinement. We returned three cheers, immediately after; endeavoring to retort their insult, by letting them understand, that we were also glad to leave them, even for a state of confinement.

We soon arrived on the island, were conveyed into the Castle, our irons taken off, and we left to view the situation, in which we were now confined.

This Island is situated three miles below the town of Boston, its figure being nearly circular, containing eighteen or twenty ac [...]s of land. The main channel of the river runs on the east side of this island, very near the shore, and not wider than would be sufficient for two vessels to sail up a-breast—of course, the east side of the island is much the strongest fortified. A platform extends the greater part of the east side, on which are mounted cannon, twenty-four and thirty-two pounders. This [Page] platform is nearly the height of the island.

Nearly on a level with the water, at full tide, is a place where another tier of cannon were placed, during the time in which the British had possession of it; but destroyed by them, and never since rebuilt. The remaining part of the island is but very indifferently guarded by fortifications.

The buildings, when I came on to this island, were the Governor's house, standing upon the most elevated spot on the island, under which was what was called the bum-proof, in which we were confined; a stone magazine, barracks for the officers and soldiers, and a blacksmith's shop.

On this island I found a company of fifty soldiers, commanded immediately by three officers, viz. In the first place, Lieutenant Perkins, formerly holding the title of Major in the continental army. Secondly, Lieut▪ Treat, and thirdly,-Burbeck, holding an Ensign's commission, if I mistake not, and doing the duty of gunner. The Lieutenant Governor of the state, was Captain of this company.

When I first came on to this island, there were in all, only sixteen prisoners. The principle part of them were kept at work in the blacksmith's shop. The remainder did little or nothing. Our provision was one pound of bread, and three fourths of a pound of meat, per day.

The officers, who were in commission here, were of the following description, viz. First, major Perkins a man of about six feet high, well proportioned, and strong built; possest with care, fidelity, and great attention to his duty, as a military character. He was a man of sentiment and feeling, His courage was unimpeachable, having tried it myself, as thoroughly as was necessary to learn that circumstance: notwithstanding his personal courage, he stood in such fear of his superiors in society, [Page] that he could not always maintain such a state of independency, as to act himself. His military education had taught him obedience to his superiors, and he now maintained that principle, with a degree of mechanical exactness.

Major Perkins had a family living on the island with him. This family consisted of Mrs. Perkins, whose amiable and compassionate conduct has left the most grateful feelings in my heart, and a number of children,how many, I do not recollect.

Lieutenant Treat was a man about five feet ten inches in height, trim built, and slender; more fond of appearing in the fashion, with regard to his dress, the cock of his hat, &c. than he was to raise the garrison to the highest pitch of military fame. There was nothing very positive in his character. He was by no means a bad man, and as for his goodness, it did not appear with such eclat, as to place him in a very conspicuous situation in society.

Ensign Burbeck, may be described by comparing him to a petulant boy, of about fourteen years old, who had never been taught or restrained by parental authority. He was more fond of his dogs, than of any other society; playing with them by the day together.

Immediately after my confinement on this island, I began to look about, to see whether a possibility for escaping remained. I viewed the building in which I was confined. It was made of bricks, the walls of which were five feet thick, laid in cement, which was much harder than the bricks themselves.

I searched every corner for a spot upon which I could work, without detection,—our room being searched every day, to see whether the prisoners had made any attempt to break away. I, at length, hit [Page] upon a place. There was a chimney at one end of our room, grated in a very strong manner, about twelve feet above its funnel, which was sufficiently large for a man to go up. About three feet above the mantel-piece of this fire-place, I concluded to begin my operation. Here I could work, and not have my labors discovered, unless very critical search was made up the chimney. I had not been at work long, before I had made a beginning of a hole sufficiently large to crawl through; I then took a board, and blacking it like the chimney-back, made it of the proper size, and put it into the hole, so that the strictest search could produce no discovery.

The prisoners in the room with me were seven in number. These prisoners were all turned out to work, about sunrise, when the doors of the prison were again shut, aud not opened again until 12 o'clock, when the prisoners came from work, and continued half an hour: they were then taken back again to work, and there remained until sunset. Therefore, I had as much as sixteen hours in the twenty-four, in which I could work upon this brick wall, which work I continued, with the most unremitting attention.

The labor was incredible! I could, in the first place, work only with a large nail—rubbing away the bricks gradually, not daring to make the least noise, lest the sentries, who stood round the prison, should overhear me at work, and thereby become discovered. One night I rubbed the bricks so hard, as to be overheard by the sentry, standing on the other side of the wall. The alarm was immediately given, and the guard and officers rushed into the room, to detect us in our operations. Fortunately, I overheard thesentry tell the sergeant of the guard, that Burroughs was playing the devil in the jail. The sergeant ran to inform the officers, [Page] and I had but just time to put my board in its place, and set down to greasing my shoes, when the officers entered, and with a great degree of sternness, inquired where I had been at work? I told them that I had been rubbing some hard soot off the chimney, and grinding it fine, to mix with the grease, and put on to my shoes. They laughed at my nicety about my shoes, that I should wish for slick shining shoes in this situation.

Major Perkins, knowing my inattentiveness to dress, could not so readily believe that blacking my shoes was the only object in view: he, therefore, made a very strict search for some other matter, which should account for the noise, the centry had heard▪ but, after a fruitless pursuit of such an object, they gave over their search, concluding, that one among the thousand strange whims, which marked my character, had prompted me to set about blacking my shoes, at that time.

After they were gone, I felt as strong a disposition to laugh at them, for the deception under which they were labouring, as they did, whilst present, to laugh at me, for the whim of greasing and blacking my shoes.

This temporary check was of the utmost importance, in my further prosecution of this business. It made me more careful for the future, not to pursue my labors with too much impatient impetuosity, a falling I ever was subject to.

The prisoners in the room were merry, on the occasion of my turning the suspicion of the officers, so entirely from the real object, to another very foreign from it. They thought it a manifestation of ability. In fine, I had gained such an ascendency over the prisoners, that they implicitly gave up to my opinion, in all our little matters: and more particularly, when any contentions arose among them, I generally succeeded in amicably terminating [Page] the difficulty, without their proceeding to blows.

My conduct towards all, I determined, should be marked with the strictest impartiality. I not only satisfied my own mind, in the business, but likewise took the greatest pains to shew them, that I meant to be an impartial friend, towards all parties. When they fell into disputes and bickerings, I would address them to the following purport, viz. "Gentlemen," (even the convicts were fond of good words, and would listen, when I called them gentlemen, much sooner than when I addressed them by a less elevated epithet) "our situation, you are all sensible, is very miserable; do the best we can, it will not be tolerable: but when, in addition to slavery, we render our society hateful and irksome to each other, by falling into broils and wrangles, it then becomes a hell indeed, and answers the strongest wish of our inveterate foes. I know there are many circumstances calculated to harrass and sour your minds; to render you peevish and petulant; to make you at variance with the whole race of mankind: but, to indulge these feelings, only renders your case worse, rather than better; it gratifies your enemies, and serves every purpose, which they could desire: therefore, as wise men, I expect you will act with prudence, with regard to your own comfort, and to the views of those, who wish you ill."

Even the convicts had reason sufficient to hear these arguments with attention, and they generally practised according to this direction: so strong is that principle, in all men, to listen to the voice of friendship.

I determined to be more careful, in prosecuting my labor on the wall, for the future, and check that impatience, which often hurried me on, beyond the dictates of prudence. I now wrought with the [Page] greatest caution, and made slow, but sure advances. After I had been employed in this business about a week, I found I could work to greater advantage, if I had a small iron crow; therefore, I ordered one of the prisoners, who wrought in the shop, to make me one, about a foot long, and sharp at one end. This he found an opportunity to do, undiscovered by the overseer, and brought it to me.

I found that with this crow, I could pry off half a brick at a time, without the least noise: after I had worn a hole with my nail, sufficiently large, to thrust in my crow. The rubbish which I took out of the wall, I put, every night, into a tub, standing in our room for necessary occasions, and this was emptied by one of the prisoners, every morning, into the water.

After I had labored with unceasing assiduity, for two months, I found, one night, after I had pried away a brick, that I could run my arm out of the prison, into the open air. This circumstance made my heart leap with joy. After such a length of labor, to find my toils crowned with such apparent success, gave me a tone of pleasure, of which you can have no idea.

Upon examination, I found the breach through the wall, was just below a covered way, so that it would remain unseen, in the day-time, unless discovered by some accident. I had measured the height of the covered way, by a geometrical operation,-not being permitted to come near it: and this was done with an instrument made by my penknife. That penknife which had done me such excellent service in Northampton jail.

When the prisoners saw my measurement was exact, their idea of my profound knowledge was greatly raised; and they appeared to entertain the most sanguine assurance, that their liberty was certain, when their operations were directed under my auspices.

[Page] After I had found the hole through the wall was entirely secreted by the covered way, I proceed to make it sufficiently large to pass through.

After all this was accomplished, one difficulty still remained. The centry standing on the covered way, would undoubtedly hear us in going out at this hole; and moreover, if we should be so fortunate as to get, unheard, into the covered way, yet we must come out of that, within five feet of the place, where he stood; and therefore, could not prevent a discovery.

Under these circumstances, we found it necessary to lie quiet, until some rainy night should remove the centry from his stand on the covered way, to some place of shelter. This was generally the case, when the weather was foul, or uncomfortable, unless some special cause should detain him to this particular spot. I recollect, that soon after the officers had found me blacking my shoes with soot, the centinels kept their post, invariably, on the covered way, in every kind of weather; but they had, by this time, become more at case in their feelings, and consequently, would, at such time, retire into an alley, leading through the bomb-proof.

CHAP. XVIII.

Where now my phrenzy's pompous furniture?

The cob-web cattage, with its ragged wall

Of mouldering mud, is royalty to me!

The Spider's most attenuated thread

Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie

On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.

WE did not wait many days for the happy moment, before we heard the sentry leave his station on the covered way, and enter the alley, for shelter from the rain.

About 11 o'clock at night, I made the necessary [Page] arrangements, for the expedition. The Island being in a circular form, I ordered seven men to go round it to the south, whilst I went round to the north. The reason, why I did this, was of the following nature, viz. There was a wharf on the western shore of this island, where the boats were kept, and a sentry placed over them.

It was necessary, after we had escaped out of the bomb-proof, to procure a boat, in order to transport ourselves off the island; and as there were none, except what were immediately under the eye of the sentry, the only alternative, which remained, was to make the sentry a prisoner, and carry him off with us.

As this was a business, in which some nicety of conduct was necessary, I chose to trust no one to execute it, but myself; and therefore, ordered the seven prisoners round the island, a different way, from what I went myself, and directed them to advance to within fifteen rods of the centinel, and make a noise, sufficient to attract his attention towards them. This would bring the sentry between me and the other seven prisoners; and when he was turned towards them, I should be at his back.

Having made these arrangements, all the prisoners, silently, crawled out of the hole, following them myself, as soon as I saw they all had passed, without any accident. We all met at the spot appointed. I told the men to be cautious▪ not to be in a hurry—not to be in any purturbation—but to proceed leisurely and considerately, to the spot appointed. I told them to be five minutes in getting to the spot.- I then left them. I hastened round, and arrived as near to the sentry as I thought prudent, about one minute and an half, before I heard the noise from the other men. At the noise, the sentry turned, and hailed. "Who comes there?" No answer was made. Immediately on seeing the attention of the [Page] sentry turned from me, I arose from my position flat on the ground, and advanced as near as twenty feet, and lay down again. Immediately the noise from the seven men was again renewed—and the sentry's attention was fixed to the object of the noise. He again hailed, in a very peremptory manner, cocked his gun, and made ready to fire.

By this time, I had arisen from the ground, and advanced to within about eight feet of the sentry, when I heard the piece cock, and saw him present it! I immediately darted at him, seized him in an instant, and clapped my hand over his mouth, to prevent him from making a noise, which should alarm the other soldiers on guard. When I first laid hold of him, he started—and attempted to get from me, making a noise through his nose, as though very much terrified: crying "eh! eh! eh!" I told him that the least noise from him should produce instant death; that I would rip his guts out, the first moment he proved refractory.

After I had sufficiently terrified him, I took my hand from his mouth, and told him that no harm should befal him, so long as he behaved in a peaceable manner. I took his gun and cartridge-box from him.

The other prisoners now coming up, we all went into the barge, carrying ten oars, and put off.

It was now about half an hour past twelve, at night, it being extremely dark and rainy, and nothing to steer by, except mere conjecture. We were ignorant of the time of tide, whether it was ebbing or flowing; and consequently could not tell which way we drifted: however, we determined to row until we came to some land.

I set myself in the stern sheets, steering the boat, Richards, the sentry, set in the bottom of the boat, between my legs. The gun with the fixed bayonet lay by me, and the cartridge-box hanging by [Page] my side. The other men were at their oars, rowing the boat. We had proceeded about far enough, as we judged, to be in the middle of the channel, between the island and Dorchester, whether we meant to direct our course.

It was now demanded of me, by one of the men, who [...]at forward, rowing the boat, what I meant to do with Richards? As I did not know where we should in fact land, I was undetermined in my own mind, what I should do with him, when I came to land, and gave an answer to that amount. The person asking this question, looking upon his escape as certain, began to put on airs of consequence, and answered me in a sarcastical manner, "well, Captain Burroughs, as you have had the command until you do not know what to do, it is best for some other person to take it, who does know what to do;" and then turning himself to Richards, continued his discourse, "and as for you, Mr. Richards, you'll please to walk overboard, that we may not, after this, hear any of your tales told to your brother swads*. If you walk over without fuls, it is well, if not, you shall be thrown over, tied neck and heels."

When I heard this insolent treatment, and dastardly language, I could hardly conceive what it meant.

Unprovokedly to throw Richards into the water, was a manifestation of a language of the heart, which appeared to me so unnatural, that I could not believe the person using it, to be serious. Yet I could not conceive any propriety in using it in any other light. Richards himself was terrified. He began to supplicate me, in the most moving terms, to save him from the destruction, which was ready to fall upon him.

His entreaties made such an impression upon my [Page] mind, that I should have given him my assistance, if I had been opposed by every man in the boat: however, I did not yet believe, he was in that degree of danger, which he appeared to apprehend; but was soon undeceived by the three forward hands shipping their oars, and coming aft.

I endeavored to expostulate, but to no effect. I saw they were resolutely bent on their diabolical purpose! I saw the disposition of the infernals pictured in their operations. I let go the helm, started up, and swore by the ALMIGHTY, that I'd send the first to hell, who dared lay a hand on Richards. The poor fellow, at this time, lay in the bottom of the boat, trembling with agony, and crying in the most piteous manner. The blood flew quick through my veins. The plaintive cries of Richards vibrated upon my heart, and braced every nerve. At this moment the first villain, who had proposed this infernal plan, laid hold of me by the shoulder, to prevent my interposing between Richards and the others, who were about throwing him overboard.

When I found his hand gripping my shoulder, I immediately reached my arm over his back, caught him by the waist-band of his breeches, and dashed him to the bottom of the boat. The moment of my laying hold of him, I determined to throw him into the sea, and why I did not, I have never since been able to tell. After I had thrown him into the bottom of the boat, I caught the gun, on which was a bayonet fixed; this I brought to a charge, and made a push at the man nearest me, who drew back—took his seat at the oar—when all again was quiet.

We continued rowing, until we struck fast on the ground, but could see no land. We left the boat and waded about, until we discovered the shore. When we came to the land, we could not determine, [Page] on what place we had fallen. We were soon satisfied, however, by the drum on the Castle, beating the long-roll, and immediately after, beating to—arms. We heard the alarm in that direction, which plainly pointed out, that we were somewhere near Dorchester-Point. We saw the Castle in an uproar, and all the signals of alarm, which are usually made on such occasions.

After we had found where we were, the three men, who engaged in throwing Richards overboard, left us, and went away together. I then told Richards, that he might go where he pleased—that he must be sensible I had saved his life,-even at the risk of my own; therefore, the dictates of gratitude would reach him a line of conduct, which would not militate against my escape. This he promised in the most solemn manner. He was warm in his expressions of gratitude towards me. I believed him sincere—He departed.—

In this transaction, I enjoyed a sensation of pleasure very exquisite. To receive the tribute of a grateful heart, flowing from a stream of sincerity, was a circumstance, which, in a measure, counterbalanced many evils, which I had experienced.

We had all lost our shoes in the mud, in getting to dry land; therefore, had to travel bare-footed. It was the space of an hour and a half, after we had landed, before we found the way off this point of land; the night being extremely dark, and we all strangers to the ground.

After we had found the road, I told the four men, who were with me, that the better way would be to separate, and every man shift for himself. This observation struck a damp upon all, who were with me—they entreated me to tarry with them, until the night following, when they could have a better chance of getting clear of the country, without detection:—they seared falling into the hands of [Page] their pursuers, if I left them. They felt a certainty of escape, if I remained with them.

My compassion was moved, and I acted directly contrary from what, I knew, was according to a system of prudence. We agreed to remain all together, until the next night.

The day began to dawn, and we found it necessary to look after some place, to which we could retire, from the observation of the inhabitants, all the men, except myself, being dressed in the uniform of the Castle, and of course, would be noticed by the first observer. Some proposed retiring into a swamp, and secreting ourselves in its dark recesses; some proposed the plan of going into the the first grove of woods, and climbing up to the top of some trees, and securing ourselves that way: To these proposals I made the following reply: "it is likely, that as soon as day light has fairly appeared, the inhabitants of the country will be alarmed; and warm pursuit will be made after us; and every place, where the inhabitants will think it likely that we should hide, will be searched by them, in the most critical manner. No places will be sought more thoroughly than thick swamps, and high bushy trees: therefore, it will be our best way to hide where the people will not look after us, if such a place may be found. For my own part, I had rather take my chance, under present circumstances, in the open field, than in a swamp, or at the top of a tree.

The object of the swamp and woods were immediately relinquished, and they all seemed content to leave the matter to my judgment entirely. We travelled on with rapidity about one mile further, and then came into a little thicket of houses, and a barn standing immediately on the road among them—this barn we all entered, and found two mows of hay.

[Page] I ascended ore mow, and having taken up the hay by flakes, near the side of the barn, to the depth of six feet—three of us went down, and the hay sell back into its former situation, covering us entirely over at the same time. I had ordered the other two to go on to the other mow, and do as they had seen me. They accordingly went, and I supposed all secure.

Not long after this, there came a number of women into the barn, to milk the cows. Soon after, I heard children round the barn, as though they were in pursuit of something with a dog. I soon found that a skunk was their object, under the barn. However, when the women had finished milking their cows, the children were all ordered into the house, this day being Sunday.

To my astonishment and surprise, the two men, who had gone on to the other mow, now came over where I was, and told me, they could not find a place to hide, "and indeed," said they, "we do not like to be so far off, for it appears to us, that we shall be taken, if we are!" How I felt under this situation you will readily conceive, by supposing yourself in my place, and people expected into the barn every minute to fodder their cattle! I jumpped out of my place, told them to lie down in a moment, covered them over with hay, and returned into my place, just as the young men came into the barn, to take care of their cattle.

They came on to the mow where we were lying, and took the hay from it, for their cows; but made no discovery; and yet, notwithstanding all this, one of our men, by the name of Burrel, whom I had covered over with hay, was asleep, before the young men went out of the barn, and snored so loud, as to be heard; but the men did not know what noise it was, nor where it came from.

Immediately after these men had left the barn, I [Page] again jumpped out of my hole, went to Burrel, who had uncovered his head entirely, waked him, and expostulated with him, in the severest terms. "This is the consequence," said I "of attending to your request of remaining with you. Your own heedless disposition, not only exposes yourself to be found, but likewise involves me in the same danger. Is it a matter of such indifference to you whether you are again taken, that you can tamely and calmly fall a sleep, at the moment when you are surrounded with danger?

"If no regard to your own safety will influence you on this occasion, yet, I should suppose you might pay some attention to my welfare, seeing it was by your earnest entreaty I continued with you, being influenced by no other motive than compassion towards you. If nothing else will answer, I will have recourse to the means which are in my power; and if I find you a sleep again, I will positively put you to death; and this I think will be entirely just, if no other measure will answer to ensure my safety."

I was of opinion this threat would answer the purpose, for which it was intended, viz. that fear would operate upon him so strongly, as to prevent his sleeping in such a situation for the future.

We lay quiet all the forenoon, without any accident: during this time, I endeavored to make some arrangements in my own mind, for my future conduct. I concluded, that I should be able to reach the state of Rhode-Island by the next morning, when I should be no longer obliged to travel under cover of the night. When I could, again, mix with society, without viewing them as my open and declared enemies.

We heard the various bells ringing at Dorchester meeting-houses, for the exercises of the day. The forenoon meeting was finished, and the first [Page] bell, for the exercises of the afternoon, was ringing, when a number of men came into the barn, to put a horse into the chaise, standing on the barn-floor. The streets were full of people going to the meeting-house. A number of children came likewise into the barn, with the men, and climbed on to the mow, where we lay secreted, looking for hens' nests. At this moment Burrel began again to snore, which brought the children immediately to the spot where he lay, and, his head being uncovered, they saw it, and cried out, "Daddy, Daddy, here's the skunk! here's the skunk!" It hardly appeared credible to the old gentleman, that a skunk should be on the hay-mow, he therefore manifested some doubt, as to his children's report, but they were determined he should believe them, and affirmed it again with warmth "it certainly is a skunk, Daddy, for it has got ears."

The peculiar manner, in which this was uttered, made the people, on the barn-floor, think something uncommon was there. They accordingly ascended the mow, to the number of eight or nine, in order to satisfy themselves concerning this matter. By this time Burrel awaking, saw he was discovered, and began to pull the hay over his head. Those, who were on the mow, saw it, and were now convinced, that the children, in fact, had seen something, that had ears. They took the pitch-fork and moved the hay, which lay over these two men, and immediately saw that they were convicts, escaped the preceding night, from the Castle.

The barn was instantly filled with people from the street, on the alarm's being given of these men.

Through the whole scene, from the first opening of the barn by the men, who were about putting the horse into the chaise, till this time, my feelings were of the keenest kind. When I had succeeded with all my plans for escape thus far, when I had endured, [Page] with so much patience, a course of such incredible labor, as what I performed in breaking through the bomb-proof; when I had, furthermore, overcome the difficulties of making the sentry a prisoner, of preserving him from death, of finding the land we sought, through the thickest shades of night, and the uncertainty of being drifted out of our course by adverse tides; and then by a retrograde course of incidents, to be deprived of the object, to which all these labors were directed, was a prospect which filled my mind with the keenest anxiety, and kept my fears in a perpetual state of alarm.

Burrel was a man of great stupidity, and I feared his senseless conduct more than any thing else. You will wonder at my continuing with him! I wonder at it myself. My weak side was an inconsiderate compassion. I did continue with him, and too late I saw my error. However, I acted the foolish part in another respect, viz. by not taking him into the hole with me, where I could have kept him perpetually under my eye. He was very disagreeable, and the object of being freed from a momentary inconvenience was so powerful on my mind, at that time, that for this paltry consideration, I lost my liberty for more than two years.

I heard the children around the hay-mow, with the utmost pain. I heard Burrel's snoring, with indignation and horror! I now almost gave myself over for lost! But what were my sensations when the people ascended ths mow and discovered these two convicts, plainly seeing who they were by their dress.

However, all hope of escape was not lost. I thought it yet possible to remain undiscovered, if the two convicts behaved with any prudence, seeing we were so far under the hay. The question was asked, "what had become of the other prisoners, who had made their escape?" Burrel answered [Page] that he should not tell, "but if they were any where in that barn, they are right down there," pointing with his finger to the spot where we in fact were. With this information, they began the search again, pitching the hay from the spot, till they came down to the place, where we had been secreted.

The feeble twig, upon which my last hopes remained, was now broken, and I sunk into a state of despair. All my fond hopes were lost in a moment, and I found myself only fallen into a state of greater wretchedness, in the room of being liberated from my former misery.—"Is this the reward" said I to the inhabitants, for saving one of your number, but a short time since, from the devouring jaws of death, ready to swallow him up? But a little time since, he stood in need of my pity. I granted him that compassion, which nature has taught me to shew. I now stand in need of your pity; will you not grant, what you, in a like situation, would request? Remember that this world is a state of revolution.—You may yet see the time in which you will want the exercise of compassion, ever from me, however improbable the present appearance. You would then lament not having shewn that compassion, which you would stand i [...] need of yourselves.

"You can hardly imagine that my escape can produce any injury to you, [...] [...]all leave you, and shall never return to a place, where I might be in danger of confinement.

"You, who are parents, may have children in my situation. Would not your hearts yearn with compassion towards a child in my condition? Would not you feel the most earnest desire, that some breast, softened by the tender emotions of compassion, would say unto your child go; enjoy the blessing, which nature bestows; wonton in the streams of liberty, and celebrate the day of jubilee? Would not the strong emotions of gratitude fire [Page] your heart, towards such a benevolent part of creation.—Would not such a compassionate action appear to you more lovely than the beauties of the morning; more glorious than the sun in his majesty? this, surely you would say, is a narration of Deity; a spark of the fire of love, manifested by nature's God in the daily dispensations of his providence to man."

All my entreaties were to no effect. The minds of people were so fortified against every observation, which I made, that the ideas of pity or compassion were shut entirely out.—They knew not my feelings, therefore could not judge, with regard to that conduct, which I thought they ought to exercise towards me. They had never been in my situation, hence could not view it in its proper light.

We were all carried to a public house, and kept there, until a guard came from the island and conducted us back again.

Immediately upon our landing upon the island, I was ordered into irons. This was a circumstance proving the ideas existing here, of my being the soul of every enterprise; and indeed, they had pretty good evidence to found their opinion upon, considering that I was the only person remaining in the room, out of which we escaped, through the day, without being turned into the shop to work; and their recollecting the circumstance, likewise, of blacking my shoes with foot, in order to account for the noise which the centry had formerly heard; the reason of the noise being now more clearly understood than formerly.

The next morning we were all summoned with great pomp and ceremony before the three officers, [...]ing as a court martial,* and there heard an enumeration of the crimes laid to our charge, which [Page] amounted to five in number viz. first, breaking the jail, second, carrying the centry from his post; h [...]d, taking the arms and ammunition of the garrison and carrying them away; fourth, taking the boat belonging to the gorrison and carrying it off the island; fifth, and lastly, deserting from our state of confinement.

Of all these crimes we were found guilty, and received sentence of thirty-nine stripes for each, with the cat—o'ninetails, amounting in all to one hundred and ninety five lashes; we however obtained a remission of ninety five, and received one hundred only, the next day at sun sitting.

The three prisoners, who went away by themselves, were likewise this day retaken and brought onto the island, tried and sentenced; therefore at sunsetting, there were eight of us brought to the whipping post, stripped and punished according to the sentence.

The centry, whom we had made prisoner, had returned onto the island, the morning after his captivity, and had given a very just relation of the events which had taken place, while he was our prisoner; of consequence, when the punishment was inflicted on me, it was a name rather than a reality. The others, and more particularly three of them, were punished with great severity, the flesh flying off at every stroke.

CHAP. XIX.

Enchanting pleasure dances in our sight,

And tempts us forward by a treacherous light.

But while thy flattering smiles, our thoughts inflame,

Though prov'st to us a mere fantastic name,

A fair delusion and a pleasing cheat,

A gaudy vision and a soft deceit.

I FOUND that my humanity to Richards had made a partial impression, in my favor, upon [Page] the minds of people in the towns contiguous; but this impression was soon lost in forgetfulness, and no more remembered, when the event was a little removed from view, by the hand of time. You may now hear my name mentioned a thousand times, together with a thousand circumstances respecting my adventures through life, without ever hearing the least mention made of this circumstance, though the fact was a matter of as much notoriety, as any event of my life. You may hear the mouths of people filled with anecdotes relating to me, of the disagreeable kind, through all parts of the country—nay, more,—all the reports which have circulated through the world, for many years past, of that species, which serves to place the character in a vicious point of view, have been placed to my account, and are now related as facts not admitting the least doubt. Hence, the anecdote of the watch and clothes stolen from the Clergyman, &c. &c. form a detail too long for me to insert in this narrartion. It has ever appeared, that an ungenerous principle has influenced mankind to relate the dark circumstances, which have composed my character—and that they have shrunk from the relation of any facts, which have worn the appearance of my being clothed with humanity, as though the most baleful poison was attendant on such a relation. Such a fondness is there in the human heart, to bring into view, such circumstances, in the character of others, as will exalt themselves, in a comparison between their own conduct, and that of others.

About this time, the shops were fitted up, sufficient to receive all the prisoners, with conveniencies for making nails. Therefore, I was put to work in in the shops, and taught to manufacture nails; but the lessons which I received here, [...] but little effect upon my progress in acquiring [...] noble [Page] art. That unaccountable stupidity, which I ever possest, had an unusual influence upon me, at this time. It is true, I could make a nail, equal to any thing you ever saw, of the kind, in beauty and elegance; but the slowness with which I executed this, was a circumstance of great complaint by the overseer,-not being able to finish more than five in a day; which cost more than ten times the value of the nails, in coal and iron: therefore, it was determined, that I should be more expeditious in my work. I obeyed the commands of those, who were over me. I made, the next day, five hundred nails; but they had as many heads and horns, as the beast we read of in Scripture.

This did not answer the purpose intended. I was reprimanded in severe terms, but all did not signify. When I made good nails, I could not overgo five in a day, and when I made more, they were as varied, in form and magnitude, as the ragged rocks upon the mountains.

The plain truth of the business was here: I viewed the transactions of the government towards me, to be enemical and cruel. I felt none of that confidence in her treatment, which a child ought to feel towards the government of a kind parent. I considered that she had declared open war against me; and would take every opportunity to oppress me. Under this view of matters, I meant to make those arrangements, in my conduct, which we see one nation making in their conduct, towards another, with whom they are at open war.

Whether I had just grounds to view matters in this light, I leave to your own judgment; meaning, with regard to that, only to relate simple facts. True it was, I had suffered may unusual, cruel, and illegal punishments, since I had been under the displeasure of the government; but whether the odium ought to be thrown on individuals or the government [Page] I leave for you to judge. I know my situation did not admit of that cool and rational thinking upon these subjects, which real justice required: however, my design is not to justify that line of conduct, which ought not to be justified; neither do I intend to criminate that conduct, which I think justifiable; because some might be pleased to criminate it themselves.

Viewing matters as I then did, I was determined to withstand every effort, which my overseers should make, to render me profitable in my situation; and how far I succeeded, in my undertakings, you will be able to judge, by the after relation.

About this time, the prisoners, whom I left in Northampton, for trial, came on to the Island, according to their sentence, viz. Philips, Warner, Rogers, and a number of others, whose names I have forgotten.

I was determined to defeat the business of making nails, entirely: and, accordingly, entered into a plan for that purpose.

There was a large well, about six rods from the shop, to which we used to repair for water. The well was twenty feet deep, and the water generally near the top. We took our nail-rods, broke them in pieces, put them into the water-pail, carried them to the well, and flung them into the water. This we continued for the space of three weeks, until the well was nearly filled with iron. The return of nails did not half pay for the first cost of the rods, so that the commissary was determined to send no more rods to the island; supposing it a waste of the public property. However, the overseer urged another trial, and the commissary, with reluctance, consented to send down a small quantity of nail-rods, for the last trial. This circumstance, I was informed of, by the boat-men, who went after the rods: I, therefore, exhorted the prisoners, to stand [Page] this last trial, with courage and perseverance. They universally promised to remain inviolate to their trust, and I pleased myself with the speedy accomplishment of my plan.

The universal excuse of the prisoners, for not returning more nails, for the iron which they had received, was their inability. They constantly insisted upon it, that they could not make more nails out of the iron—all agreeing in one excuse, and all returning much the same quantity of nails, in proportion to the iron they received; it was thought that the business would not answer its design: and, therefore, was about being dropped. Yet, the overseer was minded to try one more experiment, to see whether the business would bear a profit, or whether it would not.

The law, regulating the treatment towards convicts, on the Castle, had strictly prohibited the allowance of spiritous liquors, under any consideration: therefore, many, who had been formerly great drunkards, were now wholly debarred their favorite enjoyment: and moreover, being so long habituated to immoderate drinking, and being now wholly deprived of the use of it, they had experienced, in reality, great temporary inconveniences, with regard to their health, as well as to the cravings of appetite unsatisfied. Hence, the prospect of spiritous liquor, to these, would have a very powerful effect. This the overseer was sensible of;-and, accordingly, offered a gill of rum, to every one, who should return so many nails, out of such a weight of iron.

This bait I saw. I expostulated with the men, to beware of the treachery. I used every argument in my power, to convince them of the necessity of this self-denial I endeavored to shew them, that far from kindness, this rum was offered them, as the most fatal poison they could drink. They were all [Page] convinced, and all seemed resolute to put in practice my advice But, when the rum was brought into the shop, and they saw the precious morsel before them, they fainted under the trial! They could not resist the temptation! They weighed the iron, and returned the full tale of nails:—they drank the delicious liquid. They returned into the prison with exultation—they were rich—they felt far exalted above my situation;—being able to gain a gill of rum a day, whereas, I was unable to perform one tenth part of the task required.

"Now," said they, "we shall be able to earn a gill of rum every day!" This appeared so great a state of happiness, when compared with what their case had been, that they were almost contented with their situation. They began to despise my wisdom—to think that my head did not contain so much, as they were before inclined to believe it did. They, exultingly, said,—"This never would have been the case, if we had followed your advice. We must have a little sense, now and then, as well as you, all the time." I had no disposition to contradict these haughty Patricians.—"Perhaps, said I, before tomorrow morning, you may find yourselves sunken to your former Plebeian state of servile wretchedness." I had rather see the operation of such profound penetration, than undertake to contradict one of these Knights of the Pot, with all his greatness, armed capapee. I lay down in sorrow, repeating the following words of Young, as a lullaby to sooth my disappointed feelings:

To man, why step-dame Nature so severe?

Why throw aside thy master-piece half wrought,

While meaner efforts thy last hand employ?

Reason's progressive instinct is complete,

Swift instinct leaps—slow reason feebly climbs,

Brutes soon their zenith reach—their little all

Flows in at once,—in ages they no more

Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy.—

[Page] Were men to live to equal with the su [...],

The Patriarch-pupil would be learning still;

Yet, dying, leaves his lesson half unlearnt.

AFTER the prisoners had performed their task the next day, and returned their nails in full tale,-to their astonishment and sore mortification, they found no rum was to be dealt out to them. They made application for it, but received in return the bitterest reproaches, and heavy curses. They were given to understand that they should now do their tasks,-and that too, without a reward. I found, when they were shut into the prison, at night, that they had fallen greatly from their state of exaltation, which they felt the night preceding, They were, now, not so rich,-so great,-nor so wise.- They could now see the propriety of my expostulations: but alas! they saw it too late.

Seeing the success of this experiment had such a salutary effect, in discovering the real cause why the prisoners had not been more profitable in their labors, the overseer thought to make me change my plan of conduct, as much as the others had changed theirs:—but, in this attempt, he found me possessing what the West India-Planter would call fullenness, or incorrigible obstinacy, in one of his slaves. Those who felt friendly towards me, would call it manly resolution: others, who were enemical, would call it deviltry, wickedness, &c. so that it would have as many different names, as there are different feelings towards one, in those who relate it. You, sir, may call it by what name you find propriety will dictate. The fact was, that by length of time, I did not become any more profitable in my employment.

About this time, there was a change of overseers. The first, whose name was Bailey, was by no means a bad man. He had something of the petulant and whimsical about him, but this was only [Page] the ebullition of a moment, and his governing character was reasonable, humane, and feeling.

In the room of the former, there came, to occupy his place, a man whose name was Rifford,-ignorant, stupid, cruel, barbarous and unfeeling. He was a blacksmith by occupation,-and hence, it was thought he would answer a better purpose to superintend the nailing business, than one who was entirely unacquainted with such work.

He had not been long on the island, before the prisoners began to feel the severity of his arm. When he was offended, he made use of any thing which he could lay his hand upon, to chastise those, who gave him the offence: hence, the prisoners were unmercifully beaten with clubs, tongs, bars of iron, or any other missile weapon, which should come to hand. It was impossible to avoid the disagreeable effects of his anger. He would often be in a rage, when no one could account for it; and at other times, would suffer himself to be treated in such a manner, as no man of sense and dignity would allow:—hence, I found the old adage,-"it is hard to deal with a fool," most sensibly verified in this instance.

My prospcts did not, by any means, reconcile my feelings to my situation. I yet panted for liberty, with an ardor of desire, beyond description. I viewed every situation in which matters were placed about this island. I endeavored to concert some plan to turn them to my advantage. I finally settled upon a resolution of making one bold and daring push, to make myself master of the place. This plan I did not hastily enter upon, without [...] weighing all the circumstances, which might probably attend such an undertaking.

There were at this time, about forty-five prisoners confined in this place, a motley assembly of characters, from various nations in Europe, as well [Page] as America. These were a class of people of the most abandoned principles, hardened in the school of vice and danger; consequently, I believed them to possess the most unshaken courage, and daring fortitude of any class of men inhabiting the globe. How I was deceived in this opinion, you will learn by the relation following.

The bomb-proof, where we were confined, was about eighty feet in length, fronting the south, having only one door, which looked likewise to the south. A yard, with pickets, about six feet high, enclosed the front of our prison. The area of the yard was about one fourth of an acre.—This yard was made in a square form,-and a guard-house composed a part of the yard, standing in the southeast corner. There was a passage through the house, by which the soldiers, on guard, could come in and go out of the yard.

The ground around this yard was considerably higher, than what it was within, on every side except the west, where the gate was placed, through which we used to go to our work in the shop. There was a brass field-piece placed about ten feet from the guard-house, upon the highest ground on the island, loaded with grape-shot, and a supply of ammunition constantly by it, for the purpose of preventing vessels from passing the Castle without liberty.

The Governor's house stood on the bomb-proof, and having a walk upon the top of it, a sentry constantly stood there, to observe vessels, &c.

A sentry constantly walked in the yard, to observe the motions of the prisoners; to keep them from coming out of the prison, until the moment in which orders were given for them to turn out to work: to give the guard notice at such times, who were all under arms, the moment that our doors were unlocked. This guard consisted of a sergeant, corporal, and twelve privates.

[Page] There was a row of barracks, a little distance north of the Governor's house, in which the garrison soldiers lived. The officers' barracks were about forty rods westward of our prison, down the hill, contiguous to the water. The shop, where we were confined to labor, was about forty rods beyond the officers' barracks, in a southern direction.

When we were turned out of our prison, to be taken to the work-shop, three sentries attended us, who perpetually stood round the shop, to hinder any prisoner from leaving it. Here we continued till 12 o'clock, and were then taken back to the prison, where we continued half an hour, then returned to the shop in like-manner, continuing our work till sunset. After we had finished our day-labor, we were put into the prison, and confined according to the usual manner, by placing a couple of iron bars across the outside of our doors, making them fast by letting them into two staples.

Matters were in this situation on the island, when I concerted the plan of making myself master of this place. My idea was to watch some favorable moment, to rise on a sudden, and take the garrison by surprise, when they were most off their guard, and least prepared to defend such an attack.

I endeavored to weigh every circumstance, relating to the time, and manner, how to make this attack upon the garrison. I communicated my views to Philips, of whose courage and valour, I had the highest opinion, I had likewise the firmest confidence in his wisdom, to plan and pre-concert a system, which would embrace every advantage, that the nature of the thing would admit.

Various were our ideas upon the subject. Many schemes for executing our plans occurred; but [...]one of them, when thoroughly investigated, but what had many difficulties, almost insurmountable. [Page] Once, we had determined in our own minds, to embrace the opportunity of coming from work, rush upon and disarm the sentries, who were guarding us,—and, with our hammers, and the arms, which we should take from the sentry, make a general assault upon the rest of the garrison.

This we found attended with the following difficulties, viz. The least unusual movement by us, would be discovered by the sentry on the Governor's house, who would instantly give the alarm to the guard, and to the soldiers in the barracks, where arms were always ready; and they, being more in number considerably than we, and being all armed, would undoubtedly overcome us with ease, seing they would likewise had the advantage of the ground, being at the height of the hill, and we at the bottom.

But, this was not all. The guard were within a few paces of that field-piece, which commanded the island, and when once in possession of that, could subdue or destroy us, in opposition to every effort, which we could make. Moreover, when we came from the shop to the prison, the commanding officer, Major Perkins, had ever his attention upon us, and observed all our movements, with the greatest attention.

This scheme was attended with so many difficulties, which appeared insurmountable, that we laid it aside as impracticable.

We then thought of embracing the opportunity which Sunday offered to rise on the garrison. Every Sunday, the soldiers and prisoners were assembled, in one of the barracks, to attend Divine Service. The soldiers occupied one end of the barrack, and the prisoners the other. The garrison generally assembled without arms; and, of consequence, were not so formidable in that situation, as when they had their guns in their hands loaded, [Page] and bayonets fixed. The guard, however, kept their places, which rendered this project alike impracticable.

The greater number of the prisoners were, at this time, in irons; and, of consequence, when we should attempt to make prisoners of the soldiers, a scuffle would unavoidably ensue; and, as they would out-number us, we should have but a bare possibility of succeeding; even with the soldiers in the barrack, seeing so great a proportion of us were in irons; and should we succeed in this respect, yet the guard would unavoidably be alarmed; and being in possession of the field-piece, they could, with the greatest ease, sweep us away.

These difficulties were thought too great, to make the attempt upon the garrison in that way: they were of course given up as impracticable.

We, finally, agreed upon the morning as the best time to execute such an insurrection.

We were awaked by the overseer about half way between day-break and sunrise. Immediately after the words "turn out, turn out," had been given by the overseer, he retired—and was generally absent about half an hour, when he returned—and finding us all dressed, turned us out, and took us to the shop to work.

The doors of our prison were not fastened in this interim. The guard were under arms, and the sentry walked backward and forward before our door, to prevent any from going out.

My reasoning upon the prospect of success, attending this undertaking, was of the following nature. "It is now warm weather," said I,-it being the last of May, or the beginning of June—"therefore, sleep has the most powerful effect upon man, in the cool of the morning:—this will prevent the officers and soldiers sleeping in the barracks, from being so easily awakened and aroused. The first [Page] and most difficult object is the guard. They are, at such times, under arms, and therefore, under a situation far superiour to ours: but, as we could out number them, and as I entertained an opinion of the prowess of the prisoners, far beyond that of the soldiers, I think, pretty probable, we may succeed in making them prisoners. After that object should be effected, then it will be easy to become [...] the field-piece,-and when that is obtained, we are masters of the island at once.

"When we become masters of the island, we are in a situation, which will place us upon a footing of no mean standing. We, by being masters of the garrison, become likewise possest of the command of the harbor of Boston—of all the vessels going out and coming in;—therefore, can appropriate them to what use, we find the exingences of the [...] will require. We shall likewise be in possession of provision, arms, and ammunition of every kind. Warlike stores will be in our power, of every kind, should we find occasion to use them. I think that the prospect of escape by water, after we have overcome the garrison, will be more eligible than to attempt another flight by land: and as it will be in our power to arm a vessel, and equip her, every way, for defence, and along voyage, it would be almost impossible, even should they pursue after and overtake us, to master us at sea. We shall likewise be able to prevent their following us, from the harbor of Boston, with any great strength, by blowing up the magazine, and spiking the cannon. In this situation, I would leave the enemical shores of America, and rather seek an asylum, among the inhospitable inhabitants of Barbary."

These were the outlines of my plan; and I determined to make one powerful effort to carry it into execution. Either to lose my life in the cause of liberty, or else gain a glorious freedom. And [Page] now, sir, before I go on to the relation of this insurrection, permit me to make some reflections upon my situation, and the operations of my mind under it.

I had ever a warmth of feeling in following any object of pursuit, perhaps, peculiar to myself. From the first moment of my imprisonment, I felt a degree of insupportable impatience at confinement, and an ardent desire of the enjoyment of liberty, entirely beyond description. The various unfortunate attempts, which I had made for the purpose of liberating myself, did not serve to cool my ardor for obtaining this object; but, my desires for liberty increased, in proportion to the time of my remaining confined, and the misfortunes attending it.

Reasoning upon the various occurrences which had been closely concerned in bringing me to this state of wretchedness, and upon the motives by which I had been actuated, under every scene through which I had passed, I concluded that my punishment was greater than I ought to bear. And even at this day, I am under great doubts how I ought to have acted, through all those trying scenes. I know much is due to government. Personal inconvenience is to be born, rather than government should suffer any injury; and for this plain reason, viz. that upon the uninterrupted administration of justice, by government, depends the welfare of the whole community. But, there are circumstances, under which a man may be justifiable, in opposing, at least, the despotic transactions of cruelty in government, towards an individual. Whether this was the case with me, sir, I leave you to judge.

I had suffered, during my state of confinement in Northampton, the most unheard of course of illegal cruelty; and that too, in a very notorious manner,—so that the branches of government must universally [Page] be apprised of it. And this punishment was inflicted likewise by one of the officers of government. Therefore, under such circumstances, whether I had not just reason to suppose, the most cruel, arbitrary, and unjust measures, were prescribed against me by government, your own good sense will determine. This officer never received the frowns of government for his conduct, but remained in high favor to the day of his death:—neither was I ever compensated for the injuries, which I here received.

Moreover, when the scene was reversed, and one of their number became dependent upon my will, for his life, his liberty, and his safety; and under that situation, I had put my own life at stake, to save his; and had shielded and protected him from danger in the time of his distress,—after this, as soon as I had fallen into the hands of government, what was their language? Why, that I should receive an hundred lashes at the post!!

I recollect to have read an account respecting a York, who was a slave in Malta. He was asked by a Maltese merchant "why he wore that aspect of perpetual gloom on his countenance, and now and then appeared to struggle to suppress the starting tear?" The Turk replied "Can it appear strange to you, that I should lose enjoyment, with the loss of that, which is the foundation upon which we build all our joy?" "What would you do, said the Maltese, to gain your liberty?" "Ho, by Allah!" said the Turk, "name the conditions:—Place danger and death before me, in their most horrid forms,—and if I do not pay the price, then say that Hamet is not worthy of liberty."

When I heard this story of the Turk and the Maltese, my feelings entered, immediately, into the meaning of the Turk's observations. I could there discover and read the language of the human heart, [Page] notwithstanding he was a Turk. My heart panted to tell him,—"Yes, thou infidel Turk, get thee hence from the land of christianity, and enjoy the pleasures of liberty, even in thy unbelieving country."

His feelings were what mine had been:—the language of the heart is the same, among Turks and Christians,- Jews and Gentiles, &c. &c. &c.

Shame on that heart that never felt

A fellow-creature's woes;—

Yet tenderly affects to melt

In pity—for a rose.

Sir, accept my most sincere wish for your happiness, combined with your family's, and believe me to be, &c.

CHAP. XX.

———" O, cruelty!

Thy touch, thy dead'ning touch, bat steel'd the breast,

Where, through her rain-bow-shower, soft pity smil'd;

Has clos'd the heart, each God-like virtue blest,

To all the silent pleadings of [...] child.

At thy command he plants the dagger deep,

At thy command exults, tho' nature bid him weep!

IT was on Sunday, when I made my arrangements among the prisoners, for our great effort,—appointing the morning following, for the time of operation.

There were thirty-five prisoners, in whom I placed the utmost confidence, as to their courage, and undaunted resolution. Ten of them I had selected to be with me, in taking the guard; and twenty-five I had left to be headed by Philips, who were to repair immediately to the barracks, and secure the officers and arms; intending, if possible, to accomplish the business without blood-shed.

[Page] After I had made the necessary dispositions, I exhorted the prisoners, "to be firm and courageous; to abstain from all acts of cruelty, which were not absolutely necessary; and, above all things, to pay the strictest attention to the orders given, that all might act in concert; to abstain from spiritous liquors." And this I meant to make more certain, by knocking all the casks on the head.

As taking the guard was much the most difficult part of this business to execute, I had selected our ten of the most desperate fellows, among the prisoners, to follow me. I told them that I did not wish for them to go farther into dangers than I went myself—that I expected them to follow and support me, as far as I went, and no further. To this they all agreed, without the least hesitation; and confirmed their agreement by the most solemn assurance, that they would remain by me till death or liberty.

After all matters were adjusted upon this system, we went to bed with all our clothes on, so that we might arise the next morning, immediately after the door should open, and the overseer should depart.

After I had laid down, the importance of the scene before me kept me from closing my eyes through the whole night.

Ha! not a breath of wind! no gentle breeze,

To fan the darksome gloom! no riffled wave

Disturbs this silent port of life, nor moves

The sleeping calm; a death-like silence reigns.

These storms of wrath, that oft by tyrants breach'd,

Have shook the trembling world, now die away:

In whispers lost—the froth of beighten'd pride

Beats on the rocks, and w [...]nas itself to death:

The pomp of Kings, the sycophan [...] breath

Of soothing flatt'rers, and m [...]nea! crowds,

The voice of slunder, the destructive blasts,

Of envy, self-distracting, softly seem,

Like dying thunders in a distant cloud.

[Page] Gently to vanish from the list king car.

Death, rigid death, impartially declares

That man is nothing but a heap of dust,

Clav [...]ld, insensible. Wipe from thy cheek

O man! the s [...]ft emasculating tear;

For die thou must: Just as by Nature's streams,

In easy mazes roll thin limpid tides,

A tribute to the main. That art thou born

For short-liv'd glory,-pre-ordain'd to die.

The thoughts of obsequies, convulsions, groans;

'Tis these distract thy soul. The kiss of death

Is soft and harmless. Golden rest attends it;

And fr [...]m dissolves the fearful dream of life.

Nature's great law is Death.—As rising flames

seek their congenial place, and mount to heav'n.

Thus haste we to our end. The bloom of youth

Expels our infant years:—Then hoary age

Encroaches on the man, and shuts the scene.

I WAITED, with impatience, for the approach of morn. This, of all nights, through my life, appeared the longest. I often arose and went to the grates, to see if I could discern any signs of day. At last the moment appeared! I heard the overseer enter, and vociferate with great clamour, "Turn out, turn out,"—and immediately departed.

I arose with precipitation, and hasted to gather those, who were destined to act different parts in the business, into bodies by themselves. I observed a few got out of their beds, with some reluctance. Philips, I saw, appeared extremely pale,—I asked him what was the matter? He told me he felt sick. I answered, That the moment did not admit of attention to sickness. He came to the spot, and took charge of his men. I ordered one of my men to secure the sentry, in the yard, the moment I gave the signal for starting. He took a stick about three feet long, and two inches in diameter, and stood ready to execute his part.

When I came to the spot, where I could observe the guard, I saw them under arms, and standing in [Page] the door of the guard-house, with their bayonets fixed. This sight was by no means calculated to ensure our success; but not knowing what exertion would effect, I determined to make the push, at all hazards. I, therefore, clapped my hands, the signal for rushing—and sprang forward towards the guard-house,—expecting the ten, whom I had appointed to that business, were close following me. The soldiers, seeing me coming towards them, presented the points of their bayonets, to prevent my entering the guard-house. I parted the bayonets with my hands, and disarmed two men, in a moment. This I did by a sudden jerk, when I caught hold of these two guns. I immediately turned the bayonets towards the soldiers, when they gave back, and I entered the guard-house. I pronounced immediate death, upon any one, who dared to oppose me. I ordered them, in a very peremptory manner, "To lay down their arms, and retire behind the guard-bed." They obeyed—two roade their escape, and fled out of the guard-house, giving the alarm to the officers and soldiers in the barracks, together with the sentry on the Governor's house.

When I entered the guard-house, I carried with me two guns, intending to give one to the first, who followed me, in order that he might prevent any of the guard from escaping through that door, and to secure the other myself: wishing to prevent any alarm, until the other party of twenty-five had time to get to the barracks; but imagine, sir, my disappointment and astonishment, when I looked and saw myself alone, without one of the prisoners to assist me!!

When I first started, Philips' courage failed—He turned and ran into the room, out of which he came—undressed, and jumpped into bed. The rest, seeing this, were all struck with a panic—ran back, and went to bed: thinking, by this mean, to make the [Page] officers believe, that they had no part nor lot in this business. Therefore, I found the guard my prisoners, and myself a prisoner to the guard.

I saw the soldiers and officers, from the barracks, running towards the guard-house, with their clothes in the utmost disorder—some half dressed, and others naked, a shirt excepted. Seeing the day was lost, I turned, and ran out of the guard-house, making again towards the prison, carrying my guns with me. The sergeant of the guard, who, but a minute before, had been begging his life, [...] [...] most abject state of fear, now began to bustle towards me with his gun, as though he had been in close contest from the beginning, and intended to sacrifice me to his fury,—he ran after me, hallowing, "Burroughs, you devil you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you." I turned indignant towards the coward, and threw my guns at him, with the points of the bayonets forward. One of the bayonets took his hand, and entered the skin about an inch. At this, he bawled out in the bitterest manner, "I'm wounded, I'm kill'd!"

The officers and soldiers rushed into the prison, laid hold of me, and brought me again into the yard. Major Perkins, with his sword, Lieutenants Treat and Burbe [...]k, with their rattans, were all lashing me at once, with the greatest violence. [...] this crisis, the sergeant, whom I had wounded, came up with his gun, and struck me over the head with all his might. The blood flew quick into my face, I moved suddenly towards the pitiful villain,—at which, he ran—making a noise more like a car [...], than a man.

I was then confined by a pair of heavy irons, commonly called shackles, taken to the whipping [...], and there received an hundred stripes, which were laid on in a very serious manner, causing the blood to stream at every stroke, so that my shoes were [...] led by the time I was taken down.

[Page] This, sir, was a heavy stroke, too much even for my iron constitution to support. I fell [...] [...]. A fit of sickness succeeded, which continued abo [...] three months, making the prospect doubtful, [...] my career might terminate. O! happy, thrice happy, should I have been, had I fallen here! and closed the troubled scene of life! "O terque, quaterque beati, queis Trojae sub maenibus altis, contigit oppetere!"

During my sickness, I had to contend with inconveniences of no small magnitude. There was no provision made for the sick; therefore, salt beef and bread were all the necessaries provided for me by government. A medical gentleman, from the town of Boston, influenced by the mere emotions of compassion, visited me, under this scene of distress, and administered to my necessities. The name of this humane ornament of nature, I have forgotten, but think it was Elliot.

My back was extremely sore; and having a pair of heavy irons on my legs, I could lie in no other position, than [...] my back. Major Perkins wished to liberate me from the irons around my legs, during the fit of sickness, but was absolutely for bidden by his superiors, until near two months after my punishment, when he was allowed to take them off.

My situation, and course of perpetual suffering, caused me to repine bitterly at the hand of providence. It appeared, that I was marked out, as an object for the heaviest strokes of misery, to be reiterated upon, until I should be finally swallowed up, by the power of their force. Why, said I, should all this befal me? Do these misfortunes happen as a punishment to vicious conduct? and am I so self-blinded, as not to be sensible of my own unheard of wickedness? For certainly, if the wickedness of my conduct has been equal to my sufferings, I have been of all mankind the most abandoned. But, said [Page] I [...], is this reasoning just? Do the wicked alone [...] while the just are in a state of constant prosperity? Let us advert to facts, for evidence upon this subject.

I behave that matters of fact will prove, that the best of men have suffered, in this state of imperfection, in an equal degree with the worst. We will instance Socrates and Aristides, of the anci [...] and the unmortal Columbus, among those of a mere modern date.

Many instances might I produce even among ourselves, were innecessary; but one moment's reflection, upon this subject, is enough to confute the idea entirely, of a person's misfortunes being any evidence of his moral turpitude. Then why it is, that some are marked out, in the course of events, to endure the heaviest strokes of misfortune in one continued serves, is, to me, an inexplicable mistery in the course of Providence.

Since I started into life, how has my course been checkered! even Death, the last resort of the wretched, has fled from my approaches, as though cautious of his friendly presence, administering comfort, rather then terror. Is it not strange, that death should join with mankind, and even refuse the morsel afforded on his embrace, in order, to fill up my measure of sufferings?

When I set the jail on fire, at Northampton, I thought it our of the power malice itself, to prevent the approach of the moment of my quietus, but was disappointed; I then expected to have found an end to my trouble, in the cold embrace of death, in the dungeon, and here I found the tyrant eluding my pursuit. When I rose on the garrison, it appeared to me certain, that I should meet with death or liberty, but alas! in both was I deceived; then surely, said I, this punishment added to sickness must close the eventful scene; but horrid to relate I was reserved [Page] for woes, which yet untold, made my former sufferings vanish away, as not worthy of notice.

Are these matters painted to you, sir, in colours to high, for the simple statement of facts? No, sir, indeed they are truths,-the force of which I must feel, while I sit poring over the scenes; though they are past and gone, yet have left a mortal sting behind.

Soon after I was able to walk about, I was visited by a gentleman, whose name I never recollect, without feeling that warmth of affection, and glow of gratitude, which fills my soul with rapture. This gentleman's name was Summers. He was my father's sister's son. He commanded a vessel then in the harbor of Boston. He possest an enlarged mind, which looked above the clamour of vulgar prejudice; and where he saw the course of humanity lead, he pursued his way, let it be ever so unpopular. This gentleman made me a visit, even against the custom of the world. He was the first relative, that ever came, or sent to me, on this gloomy place. He saw my necessities—He administered to my relief—He poured the balm of consolation into my wounded mind—He conducted as a man ought to conduct, who is governed by a spirit of true benevolence.—He continued to visit me from time to time, during the whole course of my confinement on this island.

Having been disappointed in my efforts for an escape, and that too, by the cowardly, perfidious conduct of my fellow-prisoners, I pretty much gave up the idea of making any further attempts, for my liberation; but concluded to reconcile my mind, in the best manner possible, to the idea of wearing away the time of my confinement.

I, therefore, told Major Perkins, that I would give up the idea of ever making another attempt for escape, if he would not put me in irons, give me the [Page] liberty of the island, and not subject me to the direction or authority of Rifford, the overseer. Major Perkins believed me sincere. He ever had occasion to believe what I told him, by way of contract, while I was under his care.

He agreed to allow me the privileges which I requested, provided I would discover any attempt of the prisoners to escape. I told Major Perkins, that being under the same condemnation with the other prisoners, I had no intention to purchase any privilege, at their expense. That I should, by no means, give them any aid, in their escape; neither should I be a hindrance to them. After some days trial to obtain my promise, for discovering any attempt of the prisoners, to procure their liberty, without success, he agreed to my proposal; and gave me liberty of going to any part of the island, without a sentry to attend me.

This was a great degree of freedom, compared with what I had enjoyed; and, therefore, most sensibly felt. My situation was as eligible, as the nature of things would admit: and I, even in this state of servile wretchedness, began to look forward, with the pleasing expectation of better days.

Whatever different ways mankind pursue,

O happiness! 'tis thee, we keep in view!

'Tis thee, in ev'ry action we intend,

The noblest motive, and superior end!

Thou dost the scarcely-finish'd soul incline;

I [...] first desire, and constant tho't, is thine!

[...] infant breasts are sway'd by thee clone,

When pride and jealousy are yet unknown.

Than art, of all, our waking tho'ts, the theme;

We court thee too in ev'ry nightly dream.

Whither the roads that to perdition lead;

Or those that guide us to the stars, we tread;

Thine, is the hope, the inestimable prize,

The glorious mark, on which we fix our eyes.

[Page] ABOUT this time, an incident took place, which gave me the most sensible pain. At a certain [...], a number of people from Boston, came on to the island, among whom was Thomas Cushen, son to the Lieutenant Governor. When these people came among the prisoners, they asked money of them, as was the general custom. Cushen took a dollar out of his pocket, and gave it to me; telling me, at the same time, to give each of the prisoners a glass of rum, out of the avails of the dollar; and departed without waiting for an answer.

The prisoner, who had been instrumental in obtaining the money, entertained an idea of his being entitled to a larger share of the dollar, than the others; and therefore, proposed a division with me. My reply was, that the money was given to me, for a particular purpose; and as I accepted the gift, I had implicitly pledged my faith, to execute the trust reposed in me. I told him, that a glass of rum must be given to each prisoner, if the dollar would purchase a sufficient quantity for that purpose; and that I should perform that, as soon as I could obtain permission of Major Perkins.

I, accordingly, made application to the Major, for liberty to give the convicts a glass of rum. He told me, that it was out of his power to grant my request, at that time; but that Governor Cushen would be on the island, in a few days; that he would consult him on the subject, and see if it would answer, to grant such permission.

While I was waiting the issue of this business. Thomas Cushen came on to the island again; and the prisoner, Mount by name, who had asked him for money before, now made application again, for more money. Cushen answered Mount, that he thought it a shame for him to ask for money again, so soon after leaving a dollar with Burroughs for them all. Mount told him, that Burroughs had [Page] kept the money himself, and the other prisoners had received nothing. Cushen then asked for an explanation of the business. I told him how the matter was situated; and rejoined, that I would divide the money, if that was agreeable to his feelings. He left me without an answer. Not long after, Cushen being in company with a number of gentlemen in Boston, amongst whom was a Mr. May a rational philanthropist, he, in a pompous declaration, respecting his own excellent qualities of heart, related, that he had given three dollars to Burroughs, for the prisoners, and, that Burroughs had appropriated them to his own use, refusing to participate with any others, in the benefit of the money.

Mr. May entered with warmth, into the subject, and when he saw me, expostulated upon the impropriety of my conduct; and when I gave him a simple narration of facts, he seemed to hesitate about giving credit to a report, so different from Cushen's.

This circumstance, you may think, was of too small consequence to find a place in this narration; but the reason why I relate it, is the disagreeable effect it had upon my mind; having met with but very few incidents, which have given me keener sensations, than this trivial occurrence.

As the remaining part of my confinement was ended, without any very remarkable occurrence, I will not dwell upon the uninteresting events; but only observe, that the terms of agreement between the Major and myself, were ever kept inviolate by both parties. I will, likewise, give you an extract of some letters, which passed between me and my friends, while I remained here, and then pass from the disagreeable prospect.

The first letter I received from that uncle, who had relieved me in Northampton:—It was to the following amount:

[Page]

Charleton, April 20th, 1788.

BELOVED NEPHEW,

I sincerely wish, and hope, that your long and painful confinement may prove an advantage to you, by giving you time to reflect, seriously, upon your past misconduct. As that was in your tho'tless and youthful days, and as you have now arrived to the age of maturity, I beg of you to consider with yourself, seriously, what an awful and disagreeable situation you will soon be in, after you are liberated, if you should enter into an unlawful course of life. As you have now, by experience, tasted the evil nature of transgression, and are now in a situation to figure to yourself the happy condition of those, who, by a course of honest industry, procure for themselves and their dependents, an honorable and honest living through life. I wish you may exercise that wisdom, which nature has given you, to learn the difference between a regular life, and a course of unlawful pursuits. You must be sensible, that you will not only render yourself happy, by a course of regular conduct, but will greatly increase the happiness of your relations, and all, who wish you well. We all hope and desire, that you will be so kind to yourself and to us, as to coolly and faithfully improve the good sense and reason, which the all-wise Being has so bountifully bestowed upon you; and I think, that under the influence of this reason, you will immediately after your liberation, repair to your parents, or to my house, or to some of your relations, who can help you to business, and to those things you will be destitute of, and without which, you will be very uncomfortable. By doing this, you will avoid many great and trying temptations,

I am in no doubt but by a steady uniform course of well doing, you may re-establish your reputation, and again be a servicable member of society. On the contrary, should you again, at this time of life, [Page] return to bad courses, every one would despair of your ever reforming, and you must be lost forever, which may the all-wise Being enable you to prevent, by a wise and virtuous course of life, for the future, is the sincere desire and prayer of

your most affectionate uncle. EBENEZER DAVIS.

Soon after the receipt of the foregoing letter, I received another from my Mother's youngest brother, to the following import:

Oxford, May 12th, 1788.

DEAR NEPHEW,

A recent opportunity has given me the pleasure of hearing, that your conduct has been good and unexceptionable, since your unfortunate attempt on the garrison. I entertain the most ardent desire that it may continue.

Your long and severe confinement is almost at an end. Soon again you will taste the sweets of liberty, of which you have been deprived so long. I should advise you, by all means, to return to your friends. You are, and will be, destitute of clothes, when your time of servitude has expired, therefore, without clothes; without friends; without money; and coming off the Castle with the prejudices, which mankind entertain against one, who has been confined there, you will find it impossible to gain a subsistence among mankind, in an honest way, without you come to your friends, who can help you to those things, which you will stand in need of.

—I remain

your affectionate uncle. JONATHAN DAVIS.

Hanover, October 16th, 1787.

DEAR CHILD,

IT is not our present object to lay open to your [Page] view the bleeding hearts of your Parents. The attempt would be in vain; for it is wholly beyond the power of language to express. If the reports be true, with respect to the atrocity of your conduct, we cannot but acquiesce in the measures taken by government to punish such acts, which are pregnant with ruin to the civil community. Did we pay attention to nothing but the yearnings of our hearts towards you; did we consult nothing but the dictates of natural affection; to part with an only son in this manner; to consider you as being lost to God, to your parents, and to your generation; is a consideration which would swell the tide of our sorrows, and render them like an overflowing deluge. But we fully believe, that our times and changes are in God's hands; that he has given us this cup of trembling, and that it becomes us to be still under this severe stroke of his rod. What further trials he may mete out for us, in his dealings with you, we know not; but this one thing we know, that in relation to any thing, that may concern you, in future, it becomes us to cast all our care upon God, and to leave you in his hands.

When we recollect, that there is yet a probability, that we may see you again, and behold in your conduct, the fruits of repentance, for your misconduct; we cannot help feasting our hearts, with such a pleasing contemplation. Nothing which this world could afford, would be a greater comfort to us, than your return, under such a situation.

In the mean time, it is our ardent and pressing desire, that your behaviour and conduct may be framed in such a manner, as to be to the good acceptance of those, who are appointed to have the oversight of you, during the remainder of that servitude, to which you are confined.

It has ever opened the avenues of grief, and added fresh anguish to our sorrows, to hear of any attempts [Page] in you, to get free from your confinement, by unwarrantable measures.

It would be acceptable to us, to have a line from you, specifying the state of your mind, and what your purposes are, in relation to your future pursuits. In the mean time, take this as a testimony of love intermingled with the most heartfelt grief and anguish, from

your afflicted and sorrowful Parents. E. and A. BURROUGHS.

Castle-Island, November 27th, 1787.

HONORED AND DEAR PARENTS.

Your favour of the 16th ult. was duly received. Were I to undertake to describe the sensations which it created, I know I should fail in the attempt.

Notwithstanding my being considered as an outcast among mankind; and under that consideration, treated as the worst of villains, and vilest of of slaves, yet it has not dissolved that tie of natural affection, which binds me to those, who gave me breath.

To undertake a vindication of my conduct, is an object entirely out of my view at present; but would suggest, the same natural course attends common fame, when applied to me, as it universally has done, when applied to any other person or object; therefore, wish you to make those allowances, which candor will dictate, under my peculiar situation.

Could you read the language of my heart, you would there see the most sincere desire for your comfort, through life. My situation is such, I am sensible, as to offer no very pleasing view to the minds of Parents towards a child; yet, it is a situation, which at present is out of my power to alter. The time will come, when I shall again be called to [Page] act my part on the stage of life, as a member of the civil community; that time will discover whether the principles of virtue are the governing laws of my mind. I feel my task too arduous and difficult. Life's path is environed with errors, thick on every side. I shall have the passions and prejudices of a hard hearted world to combat, whether I shall be competent to the task, is yet in the womb of futurity. It must be a most pleasing object with me, once more to mix with society, upon honourable terms, and enjoy the blessings of friendship, after being shut out from those enjoyments this length of time.

As to the object of my pursuits, after my time of servitude shall expire, I candidly declare, that I have not fixed upon any. I should receive any advice upon that subject, from you, with pleasure.

As to the state of my mind. I view myself as an inhabitant of a vacant desolate country. There are none, amongst all the world, to whom I feel that glow of friendship, together with an equality of station, which renders society pleasing. Long as I have remained in the converse and society of this motley collection of characters, of which the convicts are composed, yet I have no relish for their society.

Should I receive no assistance from my friends, at the time of my departure, from this place. I must leave the island absolutely naked. Having long since parted with all my own clothes, to satisfy the calls of hunger.

I am

with duty and esteem, your affectionate son. STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

E. and A. BURROUGHS.

About three weeks previous to the expiration of the time of my confinement, my uncle Ebenezer Davis, came to see me on the island, brought me [Page] some clothes, and gave me money, sufficient to provide myself with what things were necessary, to my making a decent appearance, and likewise to support myself on the road to his house. The happy moment arrived! how beautiful was that day! of all the days of my life, this was the most beautiful and serene. The very heaven and elements were in unison with my feelings. I, for the first time, for the term of thirty months, dressed myself in clean decent apparel. I heard the sentence from Major Perkins, "Burronghs you are free" with a sensation of joy that is inexpressible. My heart bounded like the roe on the mountain! I went into the boat, the sea was smooth, and the wind was calm! the heavens were mild and serene; the sun was beautiful beyond description! the boat glided over the smooth surface of the waters, with a facility that was enchanting!

Sweet memory, wasted by thy gentle gale,

Oft up the tide of time I turn my sail,

To view the sary ha [...]nts of long lost house,

Blest with far greater shades, for fresher bowers,

Having now ended in my narrative a tedious and bitter confinement, which lasted me three years and five weeks. I will here end this letter. I wish to make some reflections upon the nature of the punishment by servitude; and as that will take up too much time for this, I will reserve it for the subject of another letter. In the mean time believe me as usual &c.

CHAP. XXI.

Blest be that hand divine which gently laid

My heart at rest, beneath this humble shed.

The world's a stately bark, on dangerous seas,

With pleasure seen [...] at our [...].

AS I intimated to you, sir, in my last, that the subject of this letter would be a consideration of the nature of punishment by servitude; I now [Page] take up that matter in obedience to my promise.—This is a subject, of which I have felt the operation in some measure; and therefore, may be thought to know its natural effect upon the human heart, as well as most men.

The object of punishment ever ought to be the preservation of the good order of society, by a reformation of those, who are disorderly through a vicious disposition, or a mistaken apprehension of matters.

The honesty of a legislative body will ever point at that, and their laws will ever effect that, where a sufficient fund of information directs their legislative acts.

Whether the system of servitude, upon its present establishment, does answer the purpose of producing a reformation in the disorderly, is the question now under consideration

There was, on the castle, an assemblage of characters, from various parts of the globe: some old in iniquity, and others but timid beginners, in the ways of transgression. Here, the objects of honor and promotion were reversed. In a winter evening's tale, you would not hear the feats of virtue recounted, as a recommendation. These were objects treated with contempt. On the other hand, that person, who could relate the most desperate and daring transgression, of the laws of national justice, was considered as the most honourable character among the prisoners; while those, who were novices in wickedness shrunk from an examination of their deeds, and felt a degree of littleness, because they had nothing worthy of giving themselves a name, among those heroes of the night.

The natural effect of this you will easily conceive. Where our ambition leads, we generally make progress. Those, who would blush at the thought of their illicit conduct, when they first arrived at the [Page] castle, would now sooner blush at the small part which they have acted, in the way of transgression.

They would listen with attention, to the acts of those, whom they considered as their masters in iniquity, this is a lesson, but too easily learnt. Their whole object was discovering and inventing means to carry their diabolical purposes into execution, immediately upon their liberation. Finally, this of all others, was the most perfect school of vice, that I ever saw. For a man to remain uncontaminated by this society, after continuing in it a number of years, he must have more solid philosophy, than I believe mankind generally possess. Under these circumstances, how can this institution serve to reform the morals of men?

Facts prove, that instead of becoming good members of society, the convicts have, generally, taken to a course of the most atrocious transgressions, after their liberation.

Indeed, the situation of the prisoners is such, when they are liberated, that all motives for doing well are taken away. They generally, at that time, find themselves naked, moneyless, and friendless. Their previous confinement on the castle is a sufficient objection to their being employed in business; therefore, supposing them possessed of virtuous principles, what can such virtues do, in this situation. They have the same necessities to supply, that other men have, and where they find, that government has not only confined them to servitude, for a number of years, but has, moreover, taken away the prospect of earning a small pittance of bread, by industry, will the feelings of nature allow them to consider any obligation which government requires, as binding?

I saw the effects of this system of servitude, whilst I was a prisoner on the castle. I published my sentiments upon the subject, for the consideration [Page] of the Legislature. Little attention was paid to my reasonings, in so low a situation. Had these sentiments come from one in a more exalted station, they might, perhaps, have been understood better, and the reasoning, upon such a subject, been more clear and convincing.

I will not detain you with any further observations upon this subject, but proceed in the narrative.

I went immediately to the house of—Devens Esq. with whom I took breakfast, having received a previous invitation for that purpose, before I left the Island.

Immediately after breakfast, the good old man, taking me into a private room, entered into conversation upon my present prospects. I told him, that I had concluded to repair to my uncle's, at Charleton, who had supplied me with necessaries, for my appearing again in the world. It appeared to rejoice him, to hear that I was not left friendless. He said, he had it in contemplation to help me, if no other person appeared for that purpose. He gave me counsel, as a parent would give to a child. He appeared to be interested in my future welfare. He presented me with a dollar, wishing me to accept it, as a token of his esteem, and good wishes. After this, I immediately repaired to Long Wharf, where Capt. Summers lay, with his vessel. I here met that Philanthropist, upon the shores of liberty, who had so often relieved my distress, in a state of slavery. My sensations, at this meeting, were exquisitely pleasing. I tarried with him two days; and during that time, an accident took place, which gave me an opportunity of feeling the extremes of pain and joy, in a very short space. The matter was this:

Capt. Summers, coming into his cabin, at a certain time, where he had left me, missed his watch, which, he supposed, he had left hanging in the cabin. [Page] He inquired of all the hands, whether they had seen or taken his watch, from the place where he left it. Their answers were in the negative. He asked if any body had been on board the vessel that morning, they said no. I saw his countenance was troubled. He felt in a situation too delicate to know what measure to take. My feelings, at this time, were as disagreeable as though I had been covered with burning embers. I knew that the appearance must be, that I had taken the watch. No other person could take it. The watch was gone. What a horrid figure of ingratitude, I must now make, said I, in the mind of that man, above all others, to whom I wish to appear amiable! A single word was not uttered for the course of half an hour. A dismal gloom hung over the countenance of every one present; at length, we were all relieved by the arrival of the mare, who brought the watch on board, having carried it to a watchmaker to have some work done to it, which was necessary.

The sight of the watch instantly dispelled the gloom from every countenance, we all felt the effects, as though a shock of electricity had operated upon us. Capt. Summers burst into a laugh, patting me on the shoulder, saying, "One hundred dollars would not make me so glad as the sight of that watch."

My sensations were too violent for utterance, I could not reply. I felt wounded to death, that, even for one moment, a jealousy should remain in the breast of Captain Summers, of my treachery towards him; yet, what gave me such exquisite pain was, that circumstances were in such a train, that he could not avoid such a jealousy.

I visited a number of my acquaintance during this short residence in Boston; among whom was a Mr. Bingham, who was contemporary with me in College. This man had a warm heart, friendly to [Page] mankind, scrupulously nice in every principle of justice, regulating his conduct by the exactest rules of propriety.

After this I took leave of all my acquaintance in Boston, and measured back that road, which, nearly three years before, I had been carried through bound with chains, o Glazier Wheeler. Before I left Boston, Capt. Summers offered to supply me with a sum of money, for my present necessities; but as I had a sufficiency already for my travelling expenses until I should arrive at my uncle's, in Charleton, I declined accepting his offer, seeing he had been so bountiful towards me already.

It was in the month of September, when I walked through the country. To visit again the varied scenes of nature; to be at liberty, and without the least restraint, ramble through the country, was a luxury of enjoyment which only those can feel, who have been in my situation.

Hail, memory hail! in thy exhaustless mines

From age to age, unnumbered treasures shine!

Thought and her shadowy broad thy calls obey.

And place and time are subjects to thy sway!

I arrived in Charleton, the second day after my leaving Boston. As no immediate business offered, I concluded to turn my attention to manuel labour, until some opportunity should offer, for my attending to other business. I went to work among the common labourers of my uncle. This was somewhat mortifying; but I was determined to endure any inconvenience, rather than give the least idea to any of my friends, that I was not willing to use such means as I possessed, to gain an honest support. I continued in this business, about one month, hoping to obtain a school, in this, or some of the neighbouring towns, as soon as the season should approach, for that business.

[Page] I will here give you an extract of a letter from my uncle to my father, about this time.

Charleton, 25th October, 1788.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER,

Your son, Stephen, is now with me, and has been, the greater part of the time, since his having left the castle. He works very steady with my folks on the farm. He has some prospect of teaching a school within this town, or in Oxford.

He wishes you to write respecting your desire, relating to his further pursuits; whether you would have him try to obtain business in these parts, or return home, in order to enter into business with you. He appears to have ability for farming, and as you have a large farm, should he prove tolerable steady, he would greatly tend to ease you of a great deal of care and trouble, and it would, likewise, be advantageous to him.

He must have some way for a subsistence; and there is none attended with less temptations, than husbandry.

A few days since, I received your letter by Mr. Curtis, previous to which, I had supplied your son with clothing, so as to come to my house, from the castle, and agreeably to your desire, shall continue to supply him, with what is necessary.

I am

your loving brother, EBENEZER DAVIS.

Rev. E. BURROUGHS.

Charleton, 25th October, 1788.

HONORED AND DEAR SIR,

You will see by the date of this letter, that I am at liberty from the trying scenes of tedious confinement, which I have endured for such a length of time. The various occurrences of an unhappy course of misfortune has left no very favourable impression [Page] upon the minds of the public, concerning me. I know I have suffered greatly in your esteem, in consequence of this likewise, which has added no small degree of poignancy to my sufferings. I hope to justify myself to you, at least, by my future conconduct. To a sensorious world, I have no idea of making the attempt, with an expectation of success.

I have been in this place about one month, paying some attention to manual labour. I could wish for every degree of counsel, respecting my pursuits at this critical juncture, that a parent can bestow.

I remain

with sentiments of affection and duty, yours &c. STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

Rev. EDEN BURROUGHS.

Sometime in the month of November, I engaged to teach a school, for one month, in the town of Charleton. The inhabitants being fearful of employing me for any longer term, until they should find, by experience, whether I would conduct a school with regularity and propriety. I began this school with fifteen scholars, at the expiration of the month, I had forty five, I was then engaged for two months, which took all the public money, which had been raised, for the purpose of schoolling. My wages, for these two months, were raised; & I found to my no small comfort, that my conduct had given universal satisfaction. When the two months were expired, my school consisted of eight forty members. A number of young men, from various parts of the country, had resorted to my school, in order to obtain the higher branches of information.

When the time of the last engagement had expired, the people composing this district assembled, and raised money for the continuation of this school, one year longer, this was a thing entirely unknown [Page] before in that town. The season for schoolling, heretofore, in this town, was three months, in the winter, and the same length of time, in the summer. The summer school was taught by a woman, which school consisted of small children.

I now found myself settled in business, and rising fast in the esteem of those, with whom I was connected; yet, under all these circumstances, I was by no means at ease. My mind was perpetually worried with a fear, that some of the ten thousand of the unfortunate occurrences, which had heretofore befallen me, might again destroy my present pleasing prospects.

My former sufferings had left such an impression of horror on my mind, that I could not close my eyes in sleep, but what these terrible scenes would be present to my view, and I compelled to act them over again. For years after this, nay, to the present moment, sir, I often start from sleep, reeking with sweat, under the intense misery of my fancied horror.

I will, here, give you a copy of a number of letters passing between me and my friends, and then pass on to more important scenes.

Hanover, January, 6th, 1789.

DEAR CHILD,

It is truly a matter of rejoicing to us, that the time of your severe trials, by a painful confinement, in a state of bondage, is now expired; and that you have now returned, once more to taste those sweet of liberty, which are always dear, next to life itself. But much greater joy will it afford us, to see the evidence of your hearts being effectually turned from those ways, which had well nigh proved your ruin, in relation to both time and eternity; well knowing that without this, your release from a state of confinement, will finally operate to no other purpose, but [Page] bringing you into a state of far more awful bondage, than you have ever yet experienced; in relation to any advice you desire from your parents, respecting your future objects and pursuits, we know not how to be any more particular, than we have already expressed to you in our former letters. You must be sensible, and every feeling of nature itself, will teach you, that it must needs be highly acceptable to us, to have you return home, and live with us, only provided, you bring with you a child-like temper, and act out a spirit of genuine repentance, for your former conduct, and ways. To invite your return to us on any other terms, we cannot, with any real sincerity of heart. And if it shall be agreeable to your inclination, to return to us, on the conditions here mentioned, your object in life must be pursuing the labours of the field. I have neither capacity nor inclination, to introduce you, under present circumstances, into the business of any other calling in life. And in reference to such an object, you must necessarily consult your own talents and inclination; for any person, of your age and experience, can better judge for himself about the calling in life, for which he is best furnished, than another can judge for him, and your own conduct, in relation to such an object, must be governed by your own judgment. We earnestly pray for your best comfort, in relation to time and eternity; and rest

your affectionate Parents, E. and A. BURROUGHS.

STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

Charleton, February 25th, 1789.

HONORED AND DEAR SIR,

Your's of the 6th of January was received about a week since. My acknowledgements for your favour I have payed by the earliest opportunity.

In the letter I wrote you last fall, you will recollect [Page] an intimation of my wishing for your advice upon my future pursuits in life. Not receiving any answer in that letter, I engaged in the school for a year, and cannot now leave it; my promise being given to keep it, that term of time.

In this undertaking I consulted my uncle Ebenezer Davis, who was full in the opinion, that I ought to enter into the business, which then offered, on account of the uncertainty of having another opportunity of equal advantage.

Your welfare and happiness lie near my heart, and should be exceeding glad to make you a visit, but at present, such an object is out of my power.

I remain

in the bands of filial affection, your dutiful son. STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

Rev. E. BURROUGHS.

Boston, December 22d, 1788.

DEAR SIR,

I received your letter, and gave it proper attention. I am glad you have hitherto, met with so good success. You are sensible "you must creep "again" before you can go." I wish it were in my power, from good grounds, to encourage you with respect to business this way; but I have no disposition to deceive you.—You will meet with better encouragement in the country, than in town. I advise you to go to your father, as soon as you are out of business—he is able to help you, and I pray be may be willing—I rejoice to hear you conduct well, and, by all that is endearing in this, and in the future world, I entreat you to maintain your good resolu [...].

In the utmost haste, I am

your sincere friend and humble Servant, CALEB BINGHAM.

Mr. S. BURROUGHS.

[Page] Matters continued in this train, without any material occurrence. I lived in the house of one Williams, a very considerable man, in that part of the town where I taught the school.—He was a man of a feeling heart, was ready to assist the needy, and administer comfort to the wretched. I was treated in this house, by the good old people, more like a child, than a stranger. All the tenderness and care of a parent toward a child ever marked their conduct towards me. Some time in the summer, D. Bacon received a letter from my Father, the contents of which was to our satisfaction.

I had settled in my mind, to make my father a visit, in the course of this summer; therefore, hired a horse of one Curtis, formerly a clergyman, for this journey, and made my visit, in the month of July, after an absence of nearly four years. To revisit again the scenes of early youth

Childhood's lov'd g [...]ap, behold in every scene,

The tangled wood-walk and the tufted green.

gave a pleasing sensation, tender and soothing. Not long after I had been at my father's, my horse, playing in the pasture, fell and broke his leg. This was a calamity which I felt in a very sensible manner. I had grown so timid, that any object of misfortune was viewed in its most terrible form. I started at every danger, and grew pale with apprehension. I have, since, wondered at my feeling this misfortune so sensible. In order to ease my mind, my father procured me another horse, and not only wrote himself, but added the testimonial of one of his neighbours, to his account.

I returned to Charleton, and the September following, was married to the daughter of my uncle, Ebenezar Davis.

This circumstance opened a new field of contemplation. To view myself in the relation of a husband [Page] and parent; to feel the attachment, which such a relation constituted; you, sir, who stand in those relations, yourself, can more easily judge of my feelings, than I can describe them. When I became the head of a family, perfectly calculated to render the domestic life happy; and saw myself established in such business, as would supply their necessities, I was satisfied—the height of my ambition was gratified—I enjoyed a flow of uninterrupted felicity, for days and for months. The enjoyment of my fireside was now a source of pleasure, which I, before, had never a distant idea, was the portion of mortals. It was indeed too great to be of a lasting duration. I received the warm congratulations of my friends, on my prosperity. Every event took place to please. All things swam gently down the tide of time, and lulled my feelings to repose, in the lap of security.

I have made a transition in my narrative, over about a year of the time, after my marriage, without entering into particulars; having drawn out the narration to such a length, already, as to fatigue my own patience; and I believe, sit, that were it not for your tenderness to my feelings, you would long ere this time have told me, "Burroughs, your story being both lengthy and gloomy, it is time to desist." Gloom is the chief I have to entertain you with, in the after relation; therefore, the most distant hint, that the story is too melancholy to give entertainment, I will discontinue.

I will here give you a few extracts from those letters of congratulation, which I received, in these days.

Hanover, February 21st, 1790.

DEAR CHILD,

I have only the privilege to seize a few hasty moments, to inform you of our safe arrival, on the fifth [Page] day, from the time of our taking leave of you, and our friends at Charleton. It is impossible, for the want of time, to be particular in any matter—would be glad to express our sentiments upon. That we are greatly comforted, with the prospect of your being useful in life, would be superfluous to say. You well know, that nothing can be a source of greater comfort to us, that pertains to the life that now is. We remember the kindness of your customers to you with sensible emotions of gratitude; and desire that our love may be presented to them, as opportunity may offer. Tell Mr. Williams, that his kindness, and that of his family, had made a deep impression upon us. Inform Deacon Bacon, that my cordial salutations to him accompany this letter, as also to Elder Green. I have it in view to write to the Deacon, as soon as opportunity will permit. At present the want of time forces me to a close; and with fervent prayers, that you and your companion, may be taught of God, to walk as heirs of the grace of life, and for the highest comfort of you both, in relation to time and eternity:

We remain

your affectionate Parents, A. and E. BURROUGHS.

STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

Hanover, March 20th, 1790.

DEAR CHILD,

IT is needless to remind you, that whilst we behold a prospect of your being useful in life, in your present calling, we partake of that satisfaction, in the prospect, which proved in its operation, like a most reviving and comforting cordial. As soon as you come to know the heart of a parent, you will understand in a different point of view, from what you can now, how the welfare of a child, is an object [Page] that is dear and precious, to such a degree, that in comparison to this, every other earthly treasure is of insignificant and trifling importance. Amidst your present objects and pursuits, that relate to the concerns and comfort of the present life; I would [...] add to our joy, to see the evidence [...] each of your hearts are reconciled to the [...] of that God, who is the giver of happiness, and the object of have to every soul, who is made wise to salvation. Whilst you are looking into the nature of religion, we wonder not, that you are [...]entimes tempted to t [...]rup [...]e, whether there is any thing in religion, whilst you form an estimate of it, by the lives of the generality of its professions. Whilst you discern that in quits, in its various shapes, abounds amongst them, take heed that it does not prove a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence, to you. If it should, it is a certain evidence, that you have had recourse to a false rule, to form your estimate of religion by. If the things, which you behold and hear, in the conduct and conversation of professors, operate in this manner, to worry and perplex your minds, and you are ready to enquire, "Is there any thing in religion? can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?" I would only reply, in the words of Philip to Nathaniel "Come and see" make the trial, and then judge for yourselves. By making the trial, understand me to mean, that you look into the spirit of that temper, which the word holds up to view, and let your hearts be fully reconciled to such a spirit, and governed by such a temper, and I well know, you will want no other evidence to convince you, that in this wisdom there is such a treasure, that all the things you can desire are not to be compared to it. That you may both enjoy the happiness of the social life, in the mutual exercise of such a temper, towards each other, is a prayer, that is pregnant with the most genuine love, [Page] that our hearts are capable of experiencing towards you.

We remain

your affectionate Parents, E. and A. BURROUGHS.

S. BURROUGHS.

Boston, November 20th, 1789.

DEAR SIR,

I Thank you for another letter, I am happy to hear you are so well married, I am glad you have thrown away ambition; I am glad, likewise, that you retain it in so great a degree; for there are two sorts; you are ambitious of rising into fame, upon the basis of virtue. I charge you, fling not away that ambition. You may not rise, however, in the eyes of the world; but you will rise in yourself. For what more exalted situation can any mortal wish to arrive at, than to be able to adopt the words of the apostle, "I have maintained a conscience void of offence, both towards God and toward man," or to that effect. This, you know, is what you and I must aim at, or we never can be happy; and with this, we shall be happy, however the world may think of us.

People here are not yet disposed to believe you are reformed, in reality; I will believe it, and you must, for once, disappoint the world. I feel greatly interested in your welfare, I seem to anticipate the joy of your parents at your reformation.

It so happens, that I am always in a hurry when I receive your letters, or I should be more particular.

We have lost one of our children since I wrote you. I am afraid the bearer is gone, for I did not receive your letter in season.

My compliments await your lady—I should be [Page] glad to see you both. The next time I go to Connecticut, I shall visit you.

I am, dear sir,

your faithful friend, and humble servant, CALEB BINGHAM.

Mr. S. BURROUGHS.

Stratfield, February 2d, 1790.

SIR,

I HAVE received your's, I thank you for the respect you express, which also gives me great satisfaction, for your acknowledgement to me, that I have been instrumental of giving you relief, in time of distress, which is no more than a duty, which rational beings are bound to do for each other, exclusive of the bonds of relation. I also rejoice to hear that your behaviour is agreeable, and that you have gotten an agreeable companion, & that you are in prosperity. My business was such, that I could not have an opportunity to wait on your father, please to excuse me to him, as I understand he is bound to your town, before he returns. I wish to be remembered to your consort, your mother, and your uncle Davis.

These from

your affectionate cousin. STEPHEN SUMMERS.

Mr. S. BURROUGHS.

Thus you see, sir, that my portion of happiness was complete. All that was possible for man to enjoy, I now experienced, I was raised to the utmost pinnacle of bliss. But I was only raised to be thrown from my exaltation, to the deepest abyss of wretchedness and misery.

It appears to me, that fortune, to shew the extent of her power, had curiously interwoven a train of circumstances, of all others, the most delicate; [Page] and of all others, the most calculated to make me [...]nerble by her shafts

From the castle, from a state of confinement, as a slave; from a state where I had suffered a course of unexampled cruelty; to fall among a people, of all others, the most agreeable, humane, and benevolent; to find among them a readiness to give or to all my virtues, notwithstanding the clamour against me; to make use of my abilities, where they found them useful; and to treat me as a member of the general family of mankind, was a situation, which rendered me most feelingly happy. Here I found a society, which I could enjoy, upon terms of that easy access, which renders it so grateful.

Here was a theatre upon which I had exhibited in such a manner, as to raise the desponding hopes of my friends, to a state of the most sanguine expectation, on, relating to the part, which I should perform, as a member of society. Here I had contracted such a tenderness for a fond wife and our helpless offspring, as to loose the desire for my own prosperity, in my anxiety for them. My own personal benefit was, now, but a secondary consideration, and only viewed of consequence, as it contributed to [...]nder them happy.

Here I had a family; here were friends of near connection; and here was a society, among whom I enjoyed the social pleasures, in their highest per [...]; consequently, I felt the most ardent desire [...] myself agreeable, and endearing to all [...].

[...] the moment, when I had obtained the highest [...] nor my ambition, when I became completely [...], in the enjoyment of all my hearts desire; [...] hurled from this summit of happiness, and [...] under the weight of one general wide extended ruin; to see myself in a moment, stripped of every enjoyment my heart held dear, and reduced [Page] back into that state of confinement, from which I had so lately been liberated, was a situation, in which all the powers of mind, and the strength of nature, operated and combined, to render me completely miserable. Alas! thou unhappy companion of my life, how changed our prospects! but a little time since, when all nature smiled on our endeavours, to promote the welfare of our mutual concern, a rising family: even our hearts were exhilarated, our minds were soothed, and our souls filled with delight, with the playful smiles, and openning mind of a tender infant! but alas! those scenes are fled—fled "with the years beyond the flood"—fled alas! beyond the reach of hope! No more shall my heart be made glad by the fond embrace. No more shall the sun rise to cheer my fond hopes, my rising expectations. But midnight and death shall howl their horrid dirges around my bed! misery and melancholy shall spread their sable veil over every part of my life, and after my exit from this stage of trouble, furies shall shriek a doleful requiem to my departure.

I find, sir, that I am wild and unconnected in my relation. The gloomy scene crowded upon me, before I was ready to give it a place; and I, involuntarily, find my pen continually delineating those melancholy circumstances, I beg pardon for my irregularity, and will recal my wanderings,

I am sir, &c.

CHAP. XXII:

A part how small of the terraqueous globe

Is tenanted by man! the rest awaste,

Rocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands;

Wild haunts of monsters, poisonous stings, and death:

Such is earths melancholy map! But far

More sad! This earth is a true map of man

So bounded are it's haughty lord's delights

To woe's wide empire; where deep troubles toss

[Page] Loud sorrows bowl, enven [...]d passions bite,

Ravenous calamities our vitals seize,

And threatning fate wide opens to devour.

IN prosecuting the design of this letter, I must confess that I am at a loss, how to describe those events, of which I wish to give you a just idea. I know I shall fall infinitely short of my own wishes. The scene was so crowded with incidents, that it will be impossible to relate them, in such a manner, as to keep them clear and distinct, so as to render them entirely intelligible. Under this view, I have thought it the better way, to give you extracts of letters, relating to these events, interspersing them with some explanatory remarks, and filling up any deficiency, by an additional relation.

To understand the after relation, in as clear a manner, as the nature of the thing will admit, it will be necessary to give you the characters of some persons, who were active in my misfortune. And to begin with the chief engine of this business, viz. Israel Waters. This man was a near neighbour to me, during my living in my own family, When Waters first commenced his career in life, he was extremely poor, illiterate, ill favoured, and of a sour morose temper; hence he remained, for a long time, unknowing and unknown. A number of fortunate circumstances happening in the course of his business, he attained a handsome property. When he found himself to be a man of property, he grew unaccountably presuming and haughty. He had, heretofore, remained among mankind, without attention or notice, but, now manifested an ardent ambition to start into consequence in the world.

His first effort was to rise in the military line. He stood for the command of the company of which he was a member, not sparing of his purse on the occasion; but was defeated in his pursuit. He then stood for the lieutenancy, and after a length of time, obtained his object.

[Page] The Captainship becoming vacant, a number of times, he endeavoured, by the dint of electioneering, to obtain that office; his exertions were ineffectual, and he threw up his commission in a pet, and joined a company of horse.

Towards this company, he truly acted a benevolent part, had his motives been a regard to the real prosperity of the company: but his after conduct made it evident, that electioneering was his object, in assisting various members of the company, with those articles, which their finances did not allow them to procure, without inconveniency. Notwithstanding every exertion which he made, the choice of the the company fell upon a deserving man, and of course, he occupied the second place in this company.

Whilst he held the office of lieutenant, in the company of light house, the rebellion broke out, which, you will recollect, was termed Shay's rebelion.—This produced animosity among neighbors, and almost every man became a partizan. The militia were called upon, and Waters, with the rest of his company, went into service, against the insurgents. Here he had an opportunity of hearing much said in favour of government, and likewise against those, who should oppose her measures.

Having been disappointed, in all his efforts, to become a man of that consequence in society, to which his restless ambition had lead him; he expected, that he had now discovered the only sure road to preferment, viz. by making himself so strong a stickler for government, that he would be taken notice of, and promoted.

Under this view of matters, not having ability to distinguish between a real and pretended assistance to the laws of the country, he became the pimp, rather than the friend of government.

My rising so suddenly and rapidly into esteem [Page] had given this man great umbrage. "What" said he "shall this mushroom of a night be rewarded and caressed by mankind, whilst I have been labouring years in the pursuit, and spent great part of my time and interest in this business, and yet be neglected"? The comparison was too mortifying; and of course, he fought to remove that object from sight, which gave him so much pain to view. He was but too successful in his undertaking.

He had made his calculation upon answering two purposes, in rendering me obnoxious to the laws, viz. gratifying his own private spleen, and gaining the commendations of men in office, who, he expected, would be gratified, at my downfal; hence, after my calamity, he made his boasts, that he esteemed the honor he had done himself, in that business, so highly, that he would not part with it for one hundred pounds.

Another character in this business, was one Elice Putney, an old girl, who had not borne the character of a Lucretia; and of consequence, finding herself at a low ebb, calculated to make some bold efforts, to do away a jealousy there was remaining upon the minds of many, that she was by no means exposed to suffer on account of her virtue. No way appeared so eligible to this antiquated heroine, as to raise a report, of her having withstood some violent attacks, upon the castle of her honesty. This being the case, you will hear, in the after relation, how she succeeded in her undertaking.

The following character, who maintains a place most in dignity, in this narrative, is Daniel Bacon. This man is as punctual in telling his great religious exercises, as any man you will generally meet with. Take his own account for your evidence, and you will believe him to be the best man living; but, when you examine him critically, by his works, you will find it necessary, to place much to the account [Page] of human frailties, if you continue to believe in his goodness. He is a man possessing a very tenacious memory, relating to matters which make in his own favour, and the contrary, he has a happy faculty in forgetting.

His wife comes forward, in the next place, and clearly demonstrates, that she is bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. They are both endowed with small mental abilities, timid, and fearful of meeting with danger, on every occasion.

About six months previous to my marriage, two daughters of D. Bacon attended my school. As I taught a school in the evening, separate from the common school, many scholars, who attended in the day, likewise attended in the evening. After I had dismissed the school for the day, I generally made a practice of tarrying at the school-house, until the time for opening that in the evening, in order to make some necessary arrangements.

More or less of the scholars, who lived some distance from the school, likewise tarried. At a certain time, the elder of D. Bacon's daughters remained with me in the school house, during the intermission, between the two schools. A number of circumstances happening to throw a certain enjoyment, full in my view, the temptation was too powerful. I fell before it. The fatal moment was past. It could not be recalled. After I had retired from school, the object had its full operation upon my mind. This was a moment of calmness. This was a moment in which the examination of my conduct gave me the keenest pain

I considered that my situation had been the means of gaining easy access to her virtue. That she had been taught to put the most implicit confidence in my instruction. That the example, in me, would have a fatal influence on her principles of virtue.

These considerations gave me no small degree [Page] of uneasiness, I lamented my untimely folly, but too late, I lamented it. I took the earliest opportunity of repairing the injury, so far as was now in my power.

Not long after this, the same opportunity offering again, at the school house, I entered into conversation with the girl, on the subject. I endeavoured to give her a statement of my own views on the subject. I expostulated with her in the warmest terms, upon the impropriety of ever swerving from the path of virtue. I intimated to her, that from the principles of integrity, as well as tenderness to her own welfare, I should keep this business a secret from every person living. It is true, I gave her no charge to keep this unhappy business buried in her own breast. I presumed, that the laws of delicacy and self preservation would have been sufficient for such a purpose, but in this I was deceived.

She divulged the secret among some of her companions. By little and little, it gained ground, until it came to the knowledge of Israel Waters. He embraced the opportunity to make such arrangements with the parents of these girls, as to carry his diabolical plan into execution. He pretended great concern for the welfare of the girl's character, and said he wished to save her free from imputation of blame.

Matters being under this situation, one morning, about the dawn of day, I was awaked, and made prisoner by a sheriff, Waters, and a number of others. I was immediately carried to the house of Waters, and kept closely confined, until the evening succeeding, when there arrived two lawyers, one to act as justice of the piece, and the other to advocate the cause, in behalf of the state.

A circumstance somewhat curious, that these gentlemen should come twenty miles, to make inquiry into a matter, when there were four justices [Page] living within the distance of four miles, who were equally competent to make the inquiry.

I was brought before the justice, and heard the complaint read, which contained allegations against me, amounting to a rape. To this, you may depend, I plead not guilty.

When the girl was examined, she would not stand the test, but declared that I only had made the attempt to ravish her, without success.

To my astonishment, I found two others were called upon to give testimony, viz. Elice Putney, and a younger sister of the first mentioned girl. They all testified to the same import, that I had laid violent hands upon them, in various places, and exerted all my abilities to proceed with them to acts of iniquity; but they had made such noble resistance, as to overcome my greatest exertions, and fairly out matched me in strength.

After they had finished their evidence upon these matters of offence, the justice made out my m [...]ttimus to jail, for trial at the next supreme court, to be holden six months afterwards, for an assault with an intent to ravish. Notwithstanding, the court of quarter sessions had concurrent jurisdiction with the supreme court, in causes of this kind, and sat, if I mistake not, four months sooner.

The girls, D. Bacon, and wife, were bound over to give testimony at the sitting of the court &c.

To undertake a discription of my feelings, under this situation, would be as fruitless, as to attempt to give a blind man an idea of colours. I hate to dwell upon the scene, long enough to give you the general occurrences which took place.

It makes my head run round in a maze, to dwell long enough upon these matters, to bring them again into view, so that I may state them in order. I rejoice that I may turn you to the perusal of some letters, which will lead you into the knowledge of facts, without my writing them over again.

[Page]

MY DEAR,

AFTER the scene of last night, you will not wonder at my feeling all the horrors of my situation. On the way, not a word said. All hushed with that dismal silence, which betokens the feelings even of those, whose occupation is cruelty. About midnight we arrived at the goal, and after some difficulty, the Cerberus of this place of human woe was aroused, and procuring a number of his massy keys, the ponderous doors growled on their hinges, to open to my view and anticipation the regions of horror and despair. The doors again were closed, and all the bolts responded to the iron force of their massy keys; the scene around me is beyond description; through the remainder of the night, my mind was overborne by the weight of what had taken place, in such a rapid succession, for twenty four hours before: nature gave way, and I sunk into forgetfulness. I awoke with the light, but not to stupidity. The mind became vigorous and clear, by a moments relaxation, all the avenues of sensibility were open; the positive and relative horrors of my situation came rolling upon me, like a torrent of destruction, threatening instant desolution. All my flattering prospects in life, in a moment, blasted. A wife, whom I adore, an infant, and only child, lost in a moment, by the merciful hand of justice! O! horrid profanation! to call that by the name of justice, which nature recoils at with disgust. Is this the lot of man? to have his soul filled with complete happiness; to be possest with every object, which could gratify his remotest wish; in order to be thrown from the enjoyment of all, to render his misery absolute! I now your feelings upon these trying events. I know the various manoeuvres, which will be made use of, in order to prepossess your mind against my conduct, and of course in favour of the proceedings of those persons [Page] who have combined together for my destruction. In order to counteract their designs, I could have recourse to arguments, entreaties, and persuasions; but all these I despise. If I possess your confidence, to such a degree, as that you will be able to resist the various efforts made use of against me, I then possess every thing in you, that I wish for, and short of that, there is nothing for which I am ambitious. I wish to see you, even in this dreary place of confinement. I know you must be shocked at the prospect, which you will find presented to your view, should you come to this "place of torment!" but notwithstanding, I cannot say, but what I wish to see you, even here; that is all the remaining comfort, which now even glimmers before my eyes, and how long that spark of consolation may remain, I know not. If I should be deprived of it before tomorrow's dawn, not more strange should I esteem that, than thousands of occurrences, through which I have passed, since I began my melancholy career in life. What a host of flattering friends and humble servants, had I, two days since, but now where are they? Not one, who dares to shew his head. The town of C—n will no more contend in what part of it I shall reside. So well do I know the baseness of the human heart, that for one shilling, I would part with all my chance of friends, in this wide world, (yourself excepted.) And yet, whose prospects of unalterable friends were stronger than mine. Am I altered? am I changed? am not I the same in name, and nature, in feeling, and in sentiment? but my prospects are blasted, and my friends are vanished. Why do I write thus lengthy? because it looses me from my situation for a moment. Write to me. Say [...] to dispel the gloom, for a moment, even if it be matters not founded in fact.

I remain

with tenderness and affection. STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

[Page]

MY DEAR,

I WAS mistaken in not valuing the friendship of those, who made professions in time of prosperity. I find to my surprise, there are some real friends, and even those, who dare profess it to the world, strange! Those who dare assert the cause of innocence, notwithstanding the power of oppressors! Captain I—r was here this day, and offered to become sponsor for the payment of 250l. on condition of my being liberated, till court. Cannot our friends, or relations, I might more justly say, be prevailed upon to give bail for the other 250l? I shall think it very surprising if strangers will shew more kindness, than the nearest relatives. I find that the opinion of the world is much more favourable, than I expected. Many independent minds view this matter as they ought, according to the evidence which has been offered. For a girl to pretend that violence had been offered her, six months before she makes the matter known, even to her nearest intimates, and seek the company of the person, who had offered the violence, perpetually and continually, until just before the discovery is to take place is, to me, a line of conduct hardly credible, and to the candid world appears ludicrous, to the last degree. Yet, notwithstanding the ridiculous foundation upon which this matter rests, my enemies exult in the prospect of bringing ruin upon my head, by supporting the charge of violence against the virtuous, the modest, and amiable L—y E—n; who, from her own story, (did we not in charity disbelieve her), would make herself one of the most barefaced w—r's, who disgrace her sex, and bring a blush upon the check of every modest woman. Yet, I know the [...]rld at large can believe an infamous report, (however incredible in itself,) so much readier than a good one, that my apprehensions have been much alarmed, by the [Page] great exertions, which are now making, left such an invincible prejudice should be raised against me, as greatly to mar the equity of the trial. I know upon that one circumstance, rests the whole expectation of my enemies; should they not succeed in that, they must fall with the rapidity of Lucifer; therefore, no pains will be wanting, on their part, to effect their purpose, in such a way; if I obtain my liberation by full, I think they must be disappointed, in their warm expectations. Strange the man should be so blind to his own happiness, and to the part he ought to act, as to use his exertions for the misery of his fellow. The ills of life by the common course of nature, are many, and hard to be borne; and our situation requires all the sympathy, commiseration, and compassion of each other, to render it tolerable; but, when to the common ills of life, the artificial cruelty of vengeful mortals is added, then is the cup of bitterness completely filled; then shall we find racks and gibbets, pillories, and whipping posts. The inventors of those very engines of cruelty will boast of their superior lenity, declaring themselves with great oftentation, to be the happy few, who have ever known the feelings of compassion towards each other, exulting at the exact of their humanity, so superior to that of the Turks, Russians, and barbarians. Mistaken wretches! and because they can find some more cruel than themselves, they deem this matter a sufficient evidence, of their own great goodness; but should they for a moment make the comparison, between their own conduct, and the real standard of benevolence, viz. the conduct of Deity, how would they be abashed and shrink with astonishment, at their own baseness. Where do we find prisons and tortures prepared by him, for offending mortals? does he take advantage of every lapse, which he sees in us, to wreck his vengeance? should he do this, how few would have [Page] the leisure to pursue his neighbor's distruction? Should matters turn out in such an unfortunate manner, as to render it difficult to obtain liberation, on bail, immediately, I wish you to come to W— [...] soon, if you find it can be affected without difficulty, otherwise, you will do well to defer your journey for the present.

I remain &c.

STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

DEAR SIR,

YOURS of the 20th ult. came safe to hand. I read it with pleasure, because any thing coming from you gives me pleasure, but more particularly, that which speaks your mind, and partakes of the nature of sentiment. You mention a desire to see me, I do not think I can come to W—r until court, the reasons are but too well known to you, already; and these reasons appear to me conclusive; however, I wish to act with prudence and deliberation on the matter, and shall, therefore, await you opinion on the subject. The prospect of bail is entirely out of the question, owing to the influence of——, however terrible such a condition, yet you must bear it, and I wish you may do it with composure, and not think of riding yourself of confinement, by any illegal measures. The fatal consequences, should you succeed, will be but too sensibly felt by me. The country you must leave. I must then remain forsaken, incumbered with a helpless infant, and what is more, uncertain what to hope for, or what not to fear. Almost any situation, to me, would be preferable to that. I tremble at the thought, that it is even possible for such an event to take place. Is your love towards me sincere? and can you bear to leave your country, to leave me, and your babe, without a friend, upon [Page] whom we shall have the confidence [...] and support?

I remain, in haste,

your loving wife, SALLY BURROUGHS.

MY DEAR.

YOURS of the [...]th instant arrived yesterday; my feelings were variously affected by its contents. Your intimation, of what comes from me gives you pleasure, was truly an intimation of the most pleasing kind to me; but, what was the difference of [...] feelings, when you tell me you shall not come [...] W—r until court. Do you imagine I can wear away five gloomy months, without one drop of comfort, mixed in this cup of bitterness? can this conduct be consistent with the duty you owe to me, Can it be consistent with that love, which you profess, to forsake me, in this time of difficulty? This is the time for trial, this is the time for the serious proof of the affections of our friends. I have seen your father twice, since I saw you, I talked with him relating to his intentions, concerning you, and whether he was willing you should come to W—r, on a visit, he did not give me a decided answer, either in the negative, or affirmative.

He appears to be apprehensive, that so soon as my liberation takes place, I shall, with indignation, quit the country, and entirely leave you, or else carry you to regions unknown to him. Did he know the feelings of my heart, on that subject, his ideas would undergo a revolution, and he would reason with more candor.

In relation to my affection towards you, I think that you must be perfectly sensible, that it is stronger than the powers of misfortune. You ask me if I can leave you and flee my country; would you ask the tender mother if she will leave her helpless [Page] infant? or the turtle dove, whether she will leave her mate? It is for you, my Sally, that I live; it is for you that I endure the [...] of life. Should I leave you, what then would became of my Sally, the idol of my soul, the delight of my eyes? my soul shudders at the thought, and recoils with horror at the reflection! may the cold hand of death sooner close these eyes, so accustomed to sorrow, than such events should happen. You can hardly conceive of my feelings, in this situation of wretchedness; they are like the boistrous ocean in [...] of tempest; confusion and distress, anguish and despair, perpetually assail me; I rave with madness, and grow fullen with disappointment. My sleeping moments often flatter me you are present, I awake to disappointment, and curse my dreams, for openning all my wounds afresh, and causing the blood of affliction to flow in streams anew. The clouds of darkness which now hang over us are thick and gloomy, but must not they be soon driven away? will not that God, who knows the secrets of the heart appear for injured innocence? By the united advice of my friends, I have engaged Mr. S—g of A—rather than M—k. Sunday morning, I have just openned my eyes from a pleasing dream, [...] thought I was at liberty with you, and enjoying all the sweets of social life, the rapture of this scene overpowered my sleep, and I awoke; but to what did I awake! to behold myself alone, environed by the gloomy walls of a jail, composed of huge rocks and massy bars of iron, without the hope of even seeing you until court: I say wrong, I have hopes of seeing you soon, and must not be disappointed. You desire me to make myself contented. You may as well desire the drowning man not to seize on every substance within his grasp.

DEAR SIR,

YOUR favour of the 11th I received. It was [Page] with gratitude I received it, You intimate a dissatisfaction at my declining a visit to you. But think not, sir, that it is for the want of affection, that I abstain from coming to see you. The disagreeable necessity I may hereafter be under, of subsisting upon the help of my friends, makes me fearful of taking measures, which will offend them. Notwithstanding, since you so earnestly desire it, I shall try every proper measure to see you.

I have heard that you have made attempts to break jail. I cannot answer for the truth of these reports. I think [...]t the better way to lie quiet until court, however disagreeable the idea may appear, and not run any risk by trying to extricate yourself from confinement, by unlawful measures. Should you succeed, you would labour under very great embarrassments, on account of leaving the country; if you have any regard for an afflicted wife, or an infant child, once the delight of your soul.

It is impossible to conceive the anxiety that perpetually fills my mind, relating to these unhappy events. Sometimes I am, ready to give myself over for lost, thrown out into a troublesome world, to endure, alone and unsupported, the hardships and distresses incident to such a situation. But alas! how can I harbour such a thought? you certainly cannot wish to deceive me. You must be entirely sensible of my affection towards you.

I hear so many reports, and observations, that at times, my fears almost overcome me. May God graciously support the under those trials, which I am now called to pass through.

I remain,

with the warmest affection, your loving, though afflicted and sorrowful wife. SALLY BURROUGHS.

[Page]

December. 28th.

MY DEAR,

IN answer to yours of the [...]1st, I have to communicate, that a degree of satisfaction was received in that letter, which is entirely inexpressible. There is a something in receiving testimonies of attachment and esteem, when we are in adversity, which is exquisitely grateful; on the other hand, to experience injuries and abuse, at such times, is far more insupportable, than when we are in common prosperity.

Respecting those reports of my attempting to break jail, they are as unfounded as many others, which have been in circulation, I have not the most distant idea, under present circumstances, of making any such attempt.

You mention your anxiety, on account of the reports, and observations, which you continually hear made. To furnish you with what evidence the nature of the thing will admit, I shall refer you to that line of conduct, which you have been acquainted with in me, from the knowledge you ever had of my person and principle.

You entertain a fear of my abandoning you, after my liberation. This appears to me strange. When I have once found a friend, I do not easily let him go, even in a state of the greatest prosperity. My soul was formed for friendship, and when I find a friend, who can endure the storm of adversity, I do not think there is, in the nature of things, an equivalent to be received in exchange, for such a friend. When you consider, that in addition to all these considerations. I stand in the relation of a husband to you, and of a parent to our infant; can there remain the most distant jealousy i [...] your mind, that I shall forfeit all claim to every principle of integrity, under these obligations!!

Surely, my dear, if you take all▪ these circumstances [Page] which I have mentioned, into your serious consideration, it will be an effectual bar, against the effect of the suggestions, of those meddling characters, who wish to destroy your peace of mind.

That you may enjoy every blessing, which the kind hand of providence bestows on mortals, is the fervent prayer of

your affectionate husband. STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

January 3d.

DEAR SIR,

ALTHOUGH I am at liberty from actual confinement, yet I partake of the affliction, which environs you on every side. I wish it was in my power to grant you some relief; and could you point out any way, in which such an object can be effected, most gladly will I attend to it. It i [...] now nearly two months, since I saw you, and God only knows, what I have endured since. It is not the want of friendship, which keeps me from seeing you. My thoughts, by night and by day, are with you, and drink deep of the cup of affliction, which is set before us. I dread to ****************************** I am determined to make you a visit, as soon as conveniency will admit, unless you think the reasons against it are too great to be dispensed with. The conflict between *********** has been greatly trying, but it is now decided. I am determined, in future, to regulate my conduct, according to the wishes of my unhappy [...], let the feelings of others he as they may.

I shall wa [...], with anxious expectations, for your answer to this letter, specifying your wish, with respect to my coming to Worcester.

And now, dear sir, accept the advice of one, who, in the warmth of [...] and affection, feels ardent▪ desirous for your welfare and prosperity.

[Page] The time of your affliction cannot endure always. There must be an end to these trials. Therefore, sir, I wish you would compose yourself under your situation, and remain as contented under it, as the nature of the thing will admit. Look forward to happier scenes, that await us hereafter, in spite of all the malice of the Demons of discord. It cannot render your situation any more tolerable, to suffer yourself to be thus overborne, by the wig [...]ht of your misfortunes. Let us bear with [...] the stroke of misfortune. Let us shew to the world, that we can rise above the malicious strokes o [...] all our enemies. While I give this advice, I hardly know how to fallow it myself. My sorrows make me almost frantic with grief; but I am in [...], that by long exertions, I shall be able to render them more tolerable.

I remain,

with constant fidelity, your loving wife. SALLY BURROUGHS.

12th January.

MY DEAR,

YOURS, of the 3d instant, I gratefully acknowledge; in it I traced the marks of the truest affection. How grateful to my heart these tokens of esteem, in a time of adversity. There is a luxurency of enjoyment in sympathetic friendship, when the d [...] ful knell of woe tolls in my cars, which beggars all description. In your letter, you advise me not to feel my misfortunes. Do you know that we were both made to feel. And what nature has done, we shall find hard to undo. Your advice was founded, I know, upon the principles of true benevolence, but think—you mistake, in some measure, the operation of the human heart.

The most certain manner of lessening our agonies is, to give way before their pressure, and confess we feel their force. Fortitude is but a dream; [Page] for where lies the merit of being insensible to the stroke of adversity, or in dissembling our sensibility? If we are insensible, that is entirely owing to a happy constitution, formed by the hand of nature. This blessing is only obtained, as the gift of heaven, in our f [...]mation. No art or assiduity of ours can ever acquire it.

If we dissemble our feelings, we only endeavour, by artifice, to persuade [...]pers, that we enjoy privileges, which, in fact, we do not enjoy; and while we endeavour to appear happy, we feel all the pangs of internal misery; and all the self repoach of endeavouring to deceive.

Nothing is more certain, than that tears and groans grow out of pain; and when misfortunes oppress, it is our duty and interest to take refuge under such coverts, from the storm, as we can obtain. To fly for support to friendship. To fly for support to wailings and lamentation, or to any thing, which will alleviate our distress.

It is said by Philosophers, that our passions are the source of all our miseries; this has been a subject of abundant declamation. I own that they are the source of all our misfortunes; but they are, at the same time, the source of all our pleasures; therefore, the study of our lives ought to be, not to dissemble an absence of passion; but to repel those, which lead to vice, by those which direct to virtue.

Your visit was a most grateful circumstance; there is a pleasure in seeing you, even here, though intermingled with grief, which is a great alleviation to my state of distress. Next to seeing you, is the pleasure of receiving your letters. I wish you to favour me with this latter agreeable circumstance, as often as conveniency will permit.

I remain,

with the warmest sentiments of affection, your loving husband. STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

[Page]

5th February

DEAR SIR

YOURS, of the 12th of last month, was handed me this morning. Since I was at Worcester, I have written to daddy Burroughs. I hereby send you inclosed, a copy of my letter.

You may think, that my anxiety for your welfare, led me to take such measure, in the course of my advice, as would not answer the put, [...]se▪ which I had designed. What I expressed, was the overflowings of my heart. You, undoubtedly, will make such use of it, as your superior judgment will point out. I have the most ardent desire for your prosperity. I suggest such ideas for its accomplishment, as my weak capacity will produce. Perhaps, I view matters too much on the dark side. But, when I take a view of what has happened to you, since you came upon the stage of action; of the invincible prejudice, mankind have rooted in their minds, against you; and of the horrid effects of prejudice; I cannot but tremble at your approaching fate.

We often view with horror, the effects of superstition upon the mind of man, in matters of religion. We have seen the most sensible of men led into such acts of barbarity and cruelty, as have disgraced the human character, by the shocking influence of superstition. I find that superstition is not, alone, confined to matters of religion. Its rage is equally great against a character unpopular, from any other cause. A character however leaded with infamy, retaining the principles of virtue, is the greatest ornament to human nature, of any part of her existence. Many regard virtue, only as it is attended with applause. Those, who are really virtuous, regard it for the internal pleasure, which it confers. Such models, I wish were held up to view, as worthy of imitation.

Believe me to be, [Page]

with sentiments of the sincerest affection, your loving and dutiful wife. SALLY BURROUGHS.

HONORED AND DEAR SIR,

YOU will hardly entertain an idea of my attempting to lay open to your view, the bleeding anguish of my heart; the distressed situation to which your s [...]n is reduced; and the agony of mind, I endure on that account: This is beyond the power of language. It must require a very [...] mind, and an heart of great sensibility, even to figure, the most distant resemblance, of this horrid situation.

To give you some idea of these events. About 3 o'clock in the morning, the room in which we slept, was broken open, by a man by the name of Israel Waters, attended by a sheriff, and a number of others, who seized your son, and with a very imperious tone, bade him get up, immediately, and dress himself. He was then conveyed to the house of this Waters, who was a near neighbour, or rather lived in the neighbourhood, where he was kept, through the next day, closely confined.

It appeared, that this Waters' had, of his own self moving will, intermeddled in a matter, in which he was neither mediately, nor immediately concerned; had applyed to a justice, living at the distance of twenty miles, to make inquest into these matters of charge, although a number of justices lived in the viginity; had brought forward an attorney, to exert himself in the business, to your son's disadvantage; under these circumstances, you will not readily suppose, that Waters acted from a principle of the strictest uprightness, in this prosecution; neither sought for an impartial investigation of the business.

The charges were truly of a heinous nature; but the evidences brought forward, in support of these [Page] charges were of a kind, too ridiculous to mention. There may be something in this business, which is se [...] by the gentlemen of the law; but as for my own part, I cannot see the most distant [...] of evidence, to support the charge. Add [...] to this, your son's conduct, ever since my acquaintance with him, has not borne the most distant appearance of such a principle, either in his treatment of me, o [...] his conduct towards others. Under th [...]se circumstances, you cannot wonder at my feeling very different, upon this subject, from what many would wish, who have raised a clamour against him.

And now, honored and dear sir, let me ask you, what would be your sensations, should your bosom companion be taken from you in such a barbarous and cruel manner, thrown into prison, there to remain confined a long time, without some benevolent friend would appear and give bail? I know the bail is excessive, but I can procure one half of the security, from one of my neighbours; therefore, let me beg of you, sir, to come down, and see your unhappy son.

Were you under similar circumstances with us, would you not wish, would you not expect, that your Parent would afford you relief, under such a situation? I am perfectly sensible, that you will run no risk, in performing this act of kindness.

I do not feel a willingness to receive a denial, to this request, so much depends upon your granting my petition.

Had I the most distant jealousy, that any danger would attend this act of kindness, I should not presume upon this petition; but, as I feel the most unlimited confidence in every engagement being performed on our part, I cannot dismiss the subject without entreating you, by every sentiment of justice, of humanity, and parental affection, of compassion [Page] to the sufferings of your unhappy children, to listen to this request, and grant my petition.

I remain

your dutiful, though afflicted and sorrowful daughter, SALLY BURROUGHS.

Rev. EDEN BURROUGHS.

I was confined, notwithstanding until the sitting of court. When I was brought to the bar, I found three endictments against me, each charging me with an assault, with an intent to commit a rape. To the several charges I plead, not guilty.

At this time, there were on the bench, as judges, Dana, Robert Treat Pain, and Nathan Cushing; James Sullivan, attorney general.

A large concourse of people had assembled on this occasion; and many evidences produced in behalf of the commonwealth, to substantiate the charges, which are brought against me.

After the evidences were gone through, on both sides of the question, and my counsel had made their remarks on the business, the attorney general arose, and addressing himself to the audience, made some very severe remarks upon the town of Charleton, for employing me in the business of teaching a school; and observations, yet more severe, upon the clergyman of the town (Mr. Campbell) for giving his approbation to such a business; and moreover, for even shewing compassion to me, under my present situation.

Mr. Campbell, who was in court, arose, and beged leave of the court to offer one word, by way of reply, to what the attorney general had observed, relating to him; judge Pain commanded him to sit down. Mr. Campbell replied, "that he should, by no means have made the request of addressing the audience, upon this occasion, had not his name been [Page] drawn into question, in this very [...] and extraordinary manner, being th [...] publickly charged with blame, and that too, in the most wanton manner, when it was no way connected with the cause upon trial: under those circumstances, he thought himself warranted to ask, and insist, upon the privilege of answering the ungenerous aspersions, which had been thrown upon his character." Without answering his reasons, judges Dana and Pain ordered him, in the most peremptory manner, to sit down. He accordingly desisted, and sat down.

[...] account for this very singular conduct, I will offer you what evidence I ever received upon the subject. Mr. Campbell, who was a man of feeling, has often expressed his sentiments upon my imprisonment &c. as being too severe; this highly displeased Waters, and-he threatened, that Mr. Campbell should be disabled at court, if he did not change his sentiments. This, I suppose, was the punishment contemplated.

After the attorney general had finished his address to the audience and jury, he sat down; and judge Cushing arose, and summed up the evidence to the jury in a very clear, candid, and impartial manner. After he had sat down, judge Pain arose and addressed the jury in a speech of an hour's length.

This was a subject, in which he appeared engaged, to the last degree. In the course of his observation he took notice of every circumstance, which made against me, either in the feelings of people, or in point of law.

After him, followed judge Dana, in a speech or equal length. After exhausting himself, in pursuading the jury, that I was guilty; after repeating the severe remarks against the town of Charleton and Mr. Campbell, he desisted.

[Page] You will take notice, that at this time, two juries were sitting, upon two endictments. The next morning, one jury returned the 1 verdict, guilty. The other, not guilty.

Immediately upon this, I was again endicted for two other crimes, founded upon the same facts, and supported by the same evidence, as was exhibited upon the former endictments, viz. "open, gross, lewd, and lascivious conduct." To these charges, I plead not guilty, but afterward, by the advice of my counsel, entered a retraxit, and plead guilty.

My counsel alledged, that one jury had already, upon the evidence, brought me in guilty of attempting to ravish—"That it would not be so extraordinary, for them to find me guilty of the crime now laid to my charge, as it was for them to return a verdict against me, on the other endictment; and, if they should return an unfavourable verdict, the court, it was probable, would be more severe in their sentence, than what they would, should [...] throw myself on their mercy, by pleading guilty."

I objected to this, for the following reasons, viz. "I am accused," said I, of open lewdness. According to the account of the witnesses, every thing which took place, was in private; therefore, how it can be said, that open lewdness is proved by this testimony, I cannot conceive. Open lewdness is every thing of that kind, which the law censures and punishes; therefore, it appears to me plain, that only a bare possibility remains for a jury to be so far lead astray, as to think the endictment supported." Notwithstanding these objections, my counsel did not alter their opinion, therefore, I submited, and plead guilty.

Immediately after this, the following petition was presented to the bench.

[Page]

To the Honourable, the Justices of the Supreme Court of the State of Massachusetts;

MAY it please your honours, to accept the petition of an unhappy female, borne down under a weight of almost insupportable grief. May a view of her distressed situation find the tender avenues of sensibility, and plead in her behalf, for mercy and compassion to attend the terrifying sentence of judgment.

My husband, the tender companion of my life, is now about to receive sentence of your honours; and O! for the sake of mercy, the brightest atribute of Deity; for his sake, who has been the kindest, and tenderest of husbands, both in prosperity, and the more gloomy moments of adversity; for the sake of my peace of mind, already torn with the most poignant grief; spare him, as much as may be consistent with the important trust reposed in your honours.

I beg for his restoration to his family, as soon as your honours may think it consistent; and I will watch over him, with all the diligence of anxious solicitude, that he shall be a strict observer of the laws of the land, and a benefit to the community.

May I not be permitted to suggest, that I cannot but view his conduct, with respect to the crimes of which he now stands convicted, in a very different light, from what they appeared to the court; being particularly acquainted with circumstances, which my relation to him prevents me from exhibiting in testimony.

I have found his conduct, ever since our acquaintance, marked with strict fidelity, and must think, from his persevering conduct, for more than two years, that his prevailing desire is to be an unshaken supporter of the laws of the land.

May the unerring fountain of wisdom guide your honours, in the paths of duty, and give you the consolation [Page] of being good and faithful servants. May the gentle influence of mercy be your portion through life, and through an endless eternity.

—Thus, prays

your sorrowful and humble petitioner. SALLY BURROUGHS.

Whether all these things served to molify the feelings of the Bench towards me, you will more readily judge by the sentences themselves, which were to this effect;—"That I should receive one hundred and seventeen stripes on the naked back;—should stand two hours in the pillory;—should si [...] one hour on the gallows, with a rope around my neck;—that I should remain confined in prison, three months;—that I should procure bonds for good behaviour, for seven years;—and pay the charges of prosecution.

I was remanded to prison. I was afterwards led to the place of execution, I suffered two thirds of the punishment, which was comprised in the sentence. A day was appointed for the execution of the remainder. Previous to this time, I left the jail, the country, and my enemies, to their own reflection.

In addition to my account, I will subjoin an extract of a letter, from a gentleman of high respectability, and an old practitioner of law, who was present, through the whole transaction, to a friend of his upon this occasion.

An Extract of a Letter.

WE have, undoubtedly, many inducements to regular, honest, and moral habits. I believe our liability to suspicion, when outrages against morality occur, or the deeds of darkness are developped, without their author, and to the imputation of a thousand irregularities and vices, of which we are entirely innocent, is not the smallest. The world in [Page] general, for the same reason, it calculates, that the fun will rise tomorrow, because it rose to day, imputes to him, who has been once in a fault, the commission of an hundred others.

This truth was very strongly proved to me, a few weeks ago, in the trial of S. B. at the supreme court, at Worcester. Three bills of endictment were presented against him, for three several assaults, upon three young women, with a felonious, though baffled intent, each time, to commit a rape. The charges were solemn. A cloud of witnesses was gathered round him, to bear testimony to the facts. The intended victims to his violence were there also. The prisoner, on arraignment at the bar, plead, not guilty, to the several endictments; and put himself on the country for trial. S. the attorney general managed the prosecution on the part of the commonwealth; and S. S. and L. were advocates for the prisoner.

It was not to be wondered at, if the trial of the man, who preached the sermon on the haymow, to the Pelhamites, of whom, while a prisoner on the castle, many curious and diverting anecdotes had been told, and were still freshly remembered, had collected an uncommon assemblage of both sexes, of women especially; when we add the nature of the offence to the consideration.

The witnesses for the commonwealth were first examined. The three girls, who had suffered the injury for which the prisoner was arraigned, were the most material. They told their stories so pertly, that their declarations seemed to be rather memoreter, than impromptu. I do not recollect all the particulars of their testimony: but could not help reckoning up the strong inducements the poor girls had, to patch up as good a story as they could, to vindicate their own characters; enough of the circumstances of the transactions, through accident; [Page] or their own carelessness, had already leaked out, to render their virtue questionable; the world would make its own comments—The prisoner had been with them in private, and used them indelicately. If they had fallen unwilling victims to his lust, it was not their fault. But then, though their virtue remained as spotless as before, that indescribable something, that creature of our whims, that power to charm the men of this world, was weakened; and though they might still make as good members of the church, they would not prove such luscious brides.

One of the girls testified, that the prisoner (one evening, after he had dismissed his school, and after the other scholars were gone, she being left alone with him, in the schoolhouse) attempted to persuade her to indelicate indulgences; took hold of her; behaved quite unseemly; and made some exertions to induce her to comply; not however, sufficient to require very strong efforts to prevent him, or cries to raise help, necessary: That at another time, afterwards, as she was returning home from school, in the evening, in company with others, the prisoner overtook them, was riding, and, as she had some length of way to walk, persuaded her to get up behind him, offering to carry her home: That having rode some distance with her, he stopped his ho [...]se, and took her from behind, and placed her before him; and behaved quite indecently; but, that upon her resisting, he desisted.

Another of the girls said, the prisoner, one day, finding her in the barn, had attempted the same thing, much in the same manner.

The third said, he had enticed her one evening a few rods from the house, and they coming to a fence in their walk together, he took her up in his arms, and lifted her over, and pulled her down upon the ground, and attempted familiarities similar to [Page] the others; that on her making resistance, he desisted. She did not cry out; and I have forgot whether she, or any of the others gave any reason, why they did not.

This is quite an abridgement of the testimony; but I believe it contains all the material facts and circumstances; and is accurate and particular enough, to furnish data for an opinion upon the nature of the offences.

The jury, who tried the prisoner on the first endictment, gave their verdict, guilty. The verdict of the second jury was, not guilty. The attorney general then entered a nole prosequi to the third endictment; and the prisoner was immediately arraigned to answer to two new bills, charging him with open and gross lewdness, & lasciviousness. To them he plead guilty. And it appeared to me his conduct amounted to no more, in either of the cases; though the court, in stating the evidence, and giving their opinion to the jury, on the two trials, were strongly set against the prisoner. It will at any rate, I believe, be allowed, that if the prisoner merited the charge, he was, in one instance, quite original in the manner of the offence. Who, but he, would ever have thought of attempting to commit a rape, on horse-back? surely, if he had succeeded, the world might well say, he had fairly outquixoted Don Quixote himself. And if B. had really attempted, what the girl said he did, a few evenings before, in the schoolhouse, her consenting to put herself, a second time, in his power, was no very strong proof of her discretion. At least, we must suppose, her jealousy at the schoolhouse had not occasioned her very serious alarms.

The affair at the barn, and that also by the fence, were transacted so in the very neighbourhood of help, if it had been wanted, as to render the charge of his having attempted to commit a rape, in either [Page] of those cases, incredible. We cannot imagine any rational being would attempt to commit such an offence in a place where, if proper resistance was made, and efforts used, he must certainly be discovered and prevented. And if such resistance was not made, he could not be concluded guilty of the crimes charged against him I believe the conduct of the prisoner, in these instances, if impartially scanned (allowing that the girls told the truth) would be judged nothing more, than so many resolute, earnest, and persevering attempts, to seduce them. With the generality of those, who have heard of the conviction, it is possibly a matter of indifference, whether he was really guilty, as charged, or not. To them, the remembrance of many hard things, report has said of him, that he has been a prisoner on the castle, would suggest the probability, that he had been highly culpable in this instance, and produce their approbation of the verdict against him; especially, if to these were added the consideration, that the offence was at the lowest estimation of it, a gross indelicacy, a high outrage upon all the rules and principles of decorum and propriety.

It is difficult, in such a case as this, to extend to a prisoner at the bar, circumstanced as B. was, all the liberality of that excellent maxim, which instructs us to presume the respondent innocent. Yet we are all equally entitled to justice; though, undoubtedly our courts are more liable to do injustice to such a character as B. than to one that has fewer blemishes.

Is there no material difference between the crime of seduction, and that of committing a rape? neither of them is very praiseworthy, besure: and each may be much aggravated by particular circumstanstances. But our legislators make a wide distinction▪ and the difference is very obvious to common [Page] sense. Is it material or not, that we observe a distinction? I imagine the poor culprit, who is appointed to receive chastisement for his crime, would [...] [...]eel indifferent, whether he should be whipped or hanged for stealing.

Thus you see, sir, facts, upon which you have to form an opinion, relating to this very surprising trial. I have endeavoured, so far as my judgment would serve, to treat the characters, concerned in this business, with as much tenderness, as the nature of a faithful narrative will admit. Wantonly to traduce a character, is a species of conduct I wish by all means, carefully to avoid; and where it has not been necessary, in order to give a true narrative of the the facts, which I promised, I have studiously suppressed any such emotion.

Possibly, these matters may not appear to you, as they have done, and still do, to me. I know they cannot strike the mind of any, in that feeling manner. I have made but a faint representation of of them—I cannot communicate those ideas and sentiments, by writing, so fully as what they appear to my view, by contemplation. However, we are apt to estimate the feelings of others by our own, and judge that they will view matters in the same manner, as we do ourselves. In this estimation we often [...]ine ourselves mistaken. Hence, it is thought by many, that, that person, who feels most indifferent towards an object, is in the best situation to form a true estimate, relating to that object.

I differ in sentiment with those who hold this doctrine. I know we are often hurried into error, by the operation of our attachment to certain objects. Our possions, our appetites, and our zeal combine to produce this effect; hence, many conclude that it is necessary to feel perfectly indifferent towards an object, in order to form a true estimation of its quality. We must feel interested in an object, [Page] either directly or indirectly, in order to call sorth ou [...] intention towards it, sufficiently to examine its merits. When we feel indifferent, towards an object, we pay no attention to it, and of course remain ignorant; respecting it; therefore, are incapable of forming a just estimate concerning it.

A person, who has no principle of humanity, or compassion, may heir of the exercise of cruelty: It is a report, which finds no place in his feelings, he is indifferent▪ as to its existence; therefore, we readily see, that he would be an unequal judge, as to the merits of the report.

Having a mind of sensibility, I know these matters will have their due operation, on your feelings, and under this consideration, I shall ever receive your observations with attention, and pay due regard to your ideas, upon any matter, wherein you may think different from me.

That there is such a thing, as right and wrong, I believe, is not called in question, by any; and that we are all, in some measure, capable of judging with propriety, upon this subject, is equally allowed.—That we may, and are, led astray, many times, in forming an estimate, of the principles of distributing justice, is a truth, I shall by no means deny; but then we have all, I believe, a sufficient knowledge, to distinguish upon the general principles of justice, at least, where we allow the operation of reason, without the embarrassments of prejudice.

When we find a private person injured by a public body, many circumstances are combined to lead the candid mind astray, in the investigation of such a subject. Here error is most likely to take place. Popular clamour will be raised against the injured person—this is like the noise of the waters of Niagara—his swallows up the small voice of the individual.

We find the great Alexander, when the leading [Page] man of the world, committing acts of cruelty, injustice, and oppression; a prospect of which, at this day, makes the blood curdle with horror; yet, those very actions were extolled in the most extravagant manner, by his contemporary sycophants; and mankind gave him the most flattering encomiums, where they ought, upon the simple principles of sight, to have execrated his conduct.

This is a specimen of public opposition to private individuals, and the effects that fellow, which I believe will hold good pretty generally, even in our days. Public characters are as liable to the [...]malignant passions, as other men, they are as prone, likewise, to be led astray, by the various causes that [...]erve to lead mankind astray, as others, but when they find themselves in an error, hey falsely suppose, that it derogates from their dignity, to acknowledge their error, and repair the injury, which they have perpetrated, or even to have it suspected, that they have been in an error; how false this system to the dictates of reason; how can the human character appear in a more exalted point of view, than by shewing a readiness to acknowledge and repair the injuries, which our own misconduct has occasioned?

I recollect to have read an anecdote of Julius Caesar, which places his character in the highest point of exaltation, of any part of his conduct. It was of the following nature. One day, when Caesar was in the forum, surrounded with the Patricians, or Nobles of Rome, a certain slave, belonging to him, sought his manumission from his master. Ceasar, being employed about weighty matters of the Commonwealth, payed little attention to the solicitations of his slave. After repeated importunity, to call the attention of his master, to the subject, which lay so near his heart, the slave received a denial to his request, for his freedom. When he saw, that [Page] no further hope remained, he reproached his master in the bitterest terms—and this too, in the most public place in the city of Rome.

What was the conduct of the truly great Julius, at this time? His attention was called to the examination of his own conduct, in order see whether the reproaches of his slave were founded on good grounds; or whether they were, the mere ebullitions of wrath, proceeding from disappointment. O [...] the examination, he found he had really injured the slave. His reply was such, as will support his fame, as long as the name of Julius Caesar is known, "you are right, said he, in reproaching me, for not doing you justice—it is the only alternative you have for redress—I grant you your freedom, because I aught—I further grant you six hundred sestertii, because you had fortitude to accuse me of injustice, when I was guilty"!

Will not this conduct appear admirable to every candid mind, in love with truth? A very erroneous idea prevails, with many, that men in eminent stations never ought to have their conduct called in question, until the last extremity. This I am sensible is a doctrine very pleasing to many, who possess places of eminece, and maintain them, perhaps, by the strength of it. But that man, who can adopt the words of Brutus, in his answer to Cassus, "for I am wrapped so strong in honesty, that your words pass by me like idle winds, which I regards not," will never feel himself exposed to loose his influence upon society, or be injured by the closest examination into his conduct.

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CHAP. XXIII.

Calamities are friends; as glaring day

Of these unnumber'd [...] sight;

Prosperity puts out unnumber'd thoughts

Of import high and light divine, to man

I HAD determined to end my narrative, for the present, with the foregoing letter, but, as my journey to the westward is prolonged another week, I will devote my leisure moments, during this week, to form a farewell address to the best of men, and the dearest of friends.

Perhaps you may feel some what interested in the continuation, and issue, of my narrative. Your intimation of such an idea, has had a powerful operation on my mind, to induce me to gratify your request. You wonder I do not publish. Are not these scenes too disagreeable to be called again into view, and more particularly into public view? I wish I could forget, that they had ever existed; yet, I cannot say, that I am entirely without some consolation for these afflictions. They have learnt me a lesson, which no other school can teach. They have learned me to feel the woes that others suffer. They have learned me to contribute of the small portion, which I possess, to alleviate the distresses of others; and in this, Sir, there is a sensation grateful, beyond all description.

It is not without pain, that I view my prospect of leaving you, and your agreeable family, for a season. Were it not for the prospect of being sooner able to provide for my own family, I think no motive, however lucrative, would induce me to leave my present agreeable situation; but, sit, notwithstanding I am surrounded with this agreeable society, and in it enjoy a great portion of happiness, in the social line, yet, I cannot feel entirely at [...]ase, whilst my family is at a distance.

[Page] We find, that this situation appears desirable from the time of our first coming upon the stage of active use, [...] in a matrimonial state. Both sexes are looking forward to this, as the end of their pursuits; [...] when due attention is payed to the [...]ness, & such connexion formed, as the laws of nature enjoin; I believe, that man arrives to the greatest state of happiness, he is capable of enjoying—It has ever appeared to me, however, surprising that so little attention has been exerted to form such connexions, between the two sexes, as are congenial to nature. I am inclined to believe, that no one need be left destitute of a partner, entirely calculated to render each other as happy, as what things in this world will admit, should a regard be had to tempers, feelings, views, &c. previous to forming the matrimonial connexion.

Various are the objects, which occupy the attention of mankind, in their pursuits after happiness, none, perhaps, more than riches and power. When these are obtained, they give a momentary spring to enjoyment; but, soon the soul reverts back to its former state, and is left without any greater sensations of happiness, than what are enjoyed in a state of poverty and impotence; therefore, but a very small difference remains between the poor and the rich, the humble and the powerful, as to actual enjoyment.

Did we act as philosophers, we should turn our attention from those objects, which a length of experience has taught us are futile, in our pursuit of happiness; and place our thoughts upon such subjects, as are calculated, by nature, to grant us that enjoyment, which we are ever seeking after. All this may be found in friendship; and the greatest friendship is formed in the intimate connexion of matrimony.

We find many times jars feuds taking place [Page] in families. The husband and wife drag on a life, through a course of bitter recriminations. From a view of these matters, many are led to despise and ridicule the married state. Were we to reprobate every condition, in which some do not happily succeed, there is no calling or pursuit in life, but what would f [...]ll under our animadversion. But one striking evidence, in favor of the happiness enjoyed, even in the most disagreeable matrimonial connexions, is, that a separation is dreaded, and never had recourse to, only in cases of the last extremity; as Young pertinently expresses

Like pevish Man and Wife,

United jar, and yet are [...] to part.

I believe, sir, you will think me very wandering in my observations, and preaching a doctrine to one, who stands in little need of instruction, upon this head; seeing your family connexions are such, that you need no arguments to enforce the necessity of enjoying your self, in your situation. I know, sir, your situation, in that connexion, is peculiarly agreeable; therefore, I considered, that you would not only see the truth of my observations, but likewise [...]eel it; and it is a pleasure to preach to those, who feel the truth of our doctrine.

I have determined, here, to give you a relation of some events, which took place in the course of my life, in point of time, some earlier, than where I have arrived; but, which could not be introduced [...] the course of the narrative, without interrupting the order,; therefore, I concluded to omit it, until some convenient time, in which I should not break in upon the relation of that chain of events, which appeared to be more closely connected together.—I give you the relation of these incidents, in order to illustrate one of the reasons, why popular prejudice had arrived to such a pitch, against me.

[Page] I was, one day, travelling in Massachusetts, and late at night, put up at a tavern, where I was a stranger, as I apprehended. Soon after I arrived, being fatigued with the journey of the day, I retired to rest. This was previous to my marriage. About ten at night, I was awaked by some body at the bed side. Upon my opening my eyes, I recognised the person, as an old acquaintance, whom I had not seen for several years. I asked him where he lived—How he came there—and by what means he became possessed with the knowledge of my being in the house? At these questions he stared at me, with a countenance of surprise. He asked me where my wife was? I was equally surprised at this question. "How, said he, do you wish to conceal the matter from me? I am acquainted with the circumstances of your marrying——of your carrying her away, and to endeavor to hide it, from me, argues no very honest design, in you."

You will not a o [...]der at my surprise being increased, by these observations. I told him, his conversation, to me, was wholy unintelligible, that he talked to me of a wi [...]e, &c. that I never was married, and what he meant by his observations about——was an enigma to me, never before hearing the name of such a person, that I was an absolute stranger in the town, and supposed myself equally unknown, in the house, until I was awaked by him.

His declaration brought on an explanation. He told me, that a man, [...] himself Stephen Burroughs, had been [...]n that town, had become acquainted in a respectable family, had, in oposition to all the efforts of the family, married a daughter, and carried her away; alledging, that he was going to Hanover, to live with his father, and that they had received no information from their daughter since.

[Page] I observed to this young man, that I thought it surprising, that he should be deceived by the artifice made use of. That he certainly must have known whether the person was in fact, what he pretended to be. He answered, that being absent on a journey, during this time, he never saw the person; that had he even been at home, the deception might have passed undiscovered: for no one doubted, as to his being the person, whose character he had assumed; and without accident had thrown him in my way, I might never have seen him.

After this conversation, the young man left me, and soon again my eyes were closed in sleep. I had not slept more than an hour and a half, or two hours▪ before I was again aroused from sleep, by the same young man; when I had awoke, I saw in the room an old man and his wife, they approached the bed, the woman broke out into the bitterest lamentations, crying "it is not he,—is ruined, gone off wi [...]h a vagabond, no one knows where." The father's countenance was a picture of distress, though his sorrows did not break forth, with such ungovernable rage. Here was a scene truly affecting. The distress of the parents was exquisite; and what gave the greatest poignancy to their sufferings was, they were left without hope.

Whether they have ever found their daughter I am not able to say, having never seen or heard from them since.

At another time, passing through a part of Connecticut, I called at a tavern, for some refreshment, where I had been previously acquainted; I was asked, with some surprise, how I had made my escape from jail. This question immediately introduced a dispute, between the landlord and myself. He affirming that I had been committed for theft, and I with equal assurance denying it.

This dispute produced so much noise, that I was [Page] apprehended, and carried back to jail, as they supposed; but when we arrived, what was the surprise of may landlord, and the constable, when we found the Stephen Burroughs, who had been committed for horse-sterling, quietly remaining, where he was first confined.

The facts, upon which this laughable mistake took place were of the following nature, viz. A certain person had been apprehended, and committed to jail, under a suspicion of horse stealing. My Landlord, who had formerly known me, heard that a person, by the name of Stephen Burroughs, had been committed to jail. This immediately fixed an idea in his mind, that I was confined under the suspicion of theft.

For some reason, the person, who had been committed, chose to assume my name and character, which circumstance not only deceived my Landlord, but likewise caused the report to be circulated, that I was detected in horse stealing.

Had I conducted the business a little different, when I was accosted by the Landlord, perhaps the matter would never have come to an explanation. He did not seem inclined to apprehend me, at first; but, when I treated his assertion with some harshness, he manifested a disposition to let me know, that I was in his power; and that he would exercise that power, unless I soothed his resentment, by more gentle measures. How he felt when the mistake was discovered, you can more easily conceive, than I can discribe. His sensations were not of the most agreeable kind, you will readily imagine. Indeed, sir, I felt a degree of compassion towards the man, under that situation, notwithstanding, his conduct had not been of the most grateful kind.

A number of instances, similar to these, have occurred since I came upon the stage of action. You [Page] will readily understand, what consequences would naturally proceed from such events. I found the world ever ready to give credit to such reports—When mankind had once formed an unfavorable opinion, it was hard to eradicate such an idea, even by the most pointed evidence.

I recollect at a certain time, when I was among a people, who did not know my real name and character.—Among them, I gained a credit and standing of the pleasing kind, long before my real name became known.—I happened at this time, to become acquainted with a certain physician, who came from a part of the country, continuous to where I had formerly lived. In the course of our acquaintance, he told me, "that he was acquainted with a certain character, by the name of Stephen Burroughs, who, of all others, was the most singular. That he was a person possessed of the greatest abilities, of any man he ever kn [...]w." In order to Illustrate more fully the truth of his observation, he related many anecdotes concerning me, of the humorous kind, which I had never heard of before. "How I had deceived many people in the most surprising manner, and to the general diversion of the country. How I would still continue to deceive them, notwithstanding all their precautions against me. How I would steal from the rich, and give to the poor; and that people were afraid to prosecute me, because I would ever find some shift, to evade the business; and would, more over, always steal again from the person, who had attempted the prosecution; however," continued the Physician, "I could ever discern, in his countenance, the features of design. There ever was the appearance of deceit in his looks; and I should have known him to be a rogue, had I never heard of his character. I believe," continued he "that the countenance of a man, is a strong index of his natural disposition [Page] position; as for instance, if you will permit me to make the comparison, without conceiving that I am attempting to flatter, I never saw a more striking contrast; than between the designing, deceitful countenance of Burroughs; and your open, frank, and candid, countenance. I have generally found men wearing such characters after acquaintance, as the expression of their countenances had indicated, in the first place."

You will readily conceive, sir, that I smiled at the harangue of this physiognomy. He remained at ease, in the enjoyment of his own opinion, for a while, but the bubble soon broke, and he was fairly exposed to public view, without the thinest veil for a covering. M [...] real name and character were soon developped to the public, and all his knowledge in physiognomy was discredited, immediately, & even▪ a great share of that science, of which he was really master, fled at the same time. So fickle is the multitude—so prone to run from one extreme, into the other. This simple circumstance produced the fa [...]l of the poor Physician.

Thus we see, sir, that every person, be his situation in life what it may, more or less exposed to revolution, misfortune, and disappointment. Those very means, which we make use of, to answer our purposes of promotion, and exaltation, are often the direct and only causes of our calamity. We all wish to be happy, and all use such means to obtain happiness, as our judgment points out. From daily experience we learn how incompetent we are, to form right estimates of the various effects, which will follow the measures we pursue; therefore, he, who depends upon the uncertain occurrences of events, for his happiness, builds upon a very slender foundation, and will most assuredly find the chances run against him.

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For these [...] j [...]ys the could can [...] kn [...]w;

In gentler climes their silver currents flow.

Oft at the silent, shadowy close of d [...]y.

When the [...] grove has s [...]ng his parting lay;

When pensive Twilight in his [...].

Slowly [...]cends to meet the evening [...];

Above, below, aerial [...].

From hanging weeds, brown [...], and [...]!

A thousand [...] [...]ills that [...] thought

Stealing [...] on the [...] of night.

So oft the finer movements of the [...].

That shun the shore of pleasure's [...].

In the still shades of calm [...],

And breathe their sweet [...] harmonics.

I have often wished that my memory was sufficient to retain a recollection of all the mistakes, which I have either made myself, or have seen others make, during the course of my life. From such a circumstance, I think I should be able to learn, whether any general cause existed in nature, which produces our miscalculations, or whether they always arise from a general weakness of the mind, which is incurable. From what observations I have been able to make, I rather think the evil may in some measure be remedied, but I believe not entirely cured.

Should we lay a right foundation for happiness, and rear our superstructure upon that foundation, we should all find an indiscribable advantage arising from such a procedure. I have once before hinted, that mankind were generally in pursuit of riches and power, in order to render themselves happy; that this pursuit is not calculated to contribute to our happiness, but on the contrary, to militate against it, will appear evident, when we take a candid view of the subject.

That all mankind are descended from one common origin, and partake of the nature and feelings which are common to each other, is not only allowed by the united voice of all, but is likewise demonstrated [Page] by the united voice of nature, perpetually crying in the bosom of every person.—Being all descended from the same origin, we are all upon the looting of brethren of the same family, entitled to equal privileges, and immunities. Being members of one and the same family, we have a common interest in the prosperity of each individual, which composes this family.—This is the language of nature; however, we may have our minds perverted, by error and corruption—hence, we find a language speaking within us, that we cannot silence; a language that speaks strongly in terms of compassion, towards those in eminent distress. Who can stand still, and see another fall into the fire, without reaching forth the hand of assistance? Who so insensible to the pleasures, which he derives from society, that he will retire from them, with indifference! Are not all equally dependent on each other, for the comforts which are enjoyed in life? Has not our great parent constituted the order of things in wisdom, so that by following his laws, we arrive at the most exalted state of perfection, which things in this life admit?

It is a truth, I believe, apparent to every one, that all cannot possess power and riches—nay, the greater part must ever remain without these acquirements; therefore, he who strives for power and riches, endeavours to take from the general good of the whole, and appropriate to his own use. He endeavours to invert the order of nature, by depriving others of equal privileges, in order to add to his own, and by inverting the order of that wisdom, which has bountifully provided for all her children, misery will ensue, confusion and disorder will run through the body, and many inconveniences will be felt, by every member of the community.

On the contrary, when we feel the affection of [Page] brethren towards each other; when the welfare and prosperity of each member of society become, in a measure, our own, how changed the scene! how happy the prospect! our griefs become lessened by communicating them to others—our joys are increased, by the participation of our friend! the disgraceful passions of hatred, envy, malice, and revenge, are lost for want of support.

When we set out in life, under the auspices of this disposition, and pursue such a course; we are in a situation not exposed to loose our enjoyment, by every puff of misfortune. We are inaccessible to the malignant passions, the great disturbers of human repose. In this line of conduct, we follow the directions of nature, and answer the purpose, for which we were designed Property, even riches, acquired by industry, (not by power) are of use, to contribute to our happiness; by rendering us capable of lessening the necessities of our brethren, and fellow members of society.

O ye blest scenes of permanent delight!

Full above measure! lasting beyond all bound!

A perpetuity of bliss, is bliss.—

Could you, so rich in rapture fear an end,

That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy

And quit in Paradise the realms of light.

Safe are you lodged above these rolling spheres;

The baleful influence of whose giddy dance

Sheds sad vicissitudes ox all beneath.

These ideas, to me, have ever appeared as matters of high importance; and I wish to see some abler pen go deeply into this subject, and try the experiment thoroughly, to see whether mankind can be reasoned into their own good. Should you, sir, devote a few of you leisure moments, to such an object, it might be attended with very salutary effects. It is said, "that mankind are daily growing in useful knowledge." Perhaps this may be true, in a partial [Page] sense, but it appears to me, that the state of society, in the days of the Spartan and Roman governments, was much more congenial to nature, than what we are under at present.—At least, we do not find such striking instances of affection towards the public welfare, among any of the modern Patriots, as what was instanced in the conduct of Lycurgus, Reguius Cincin [...]tus, &c. &c.

I have just hinted at a number of subjects, in the course of this narrative, which may appear to you somewhat mistimed considering the primary object was bearly a narration of facts. Ye, sir, this manuscript will ever be a memorandum of those subjects, at which I have barely hinted; and as your attention is occupied, by your station in society, with political objects, there remains a bare possi [...]y of such a memorandum's being of service, in calling some of those subjects into view; as this country as happily situated, on many accounts, to pursue political inquires, without the [...]mbarrassments attending preconceived opinions and settled systems; I feel the more desirous, that the truth of these observations may be decided by experiment. Should they be productive of good to the community, even in the smallest degree, I shall feel the benefit of an essential reward, for suggesting those things. Should they, on the contrary, be found to be a system of error; I shall place them to the account of the many mistakes I have made through life, and rest satisfied, that I wished to have them productive of good.

Whilst I am absent, you will have sufficient leisure to peruse the manuscript, and detect the errors, which I have been guilty of, and rest assured, that I shall ever receive any suggestions of yours, upon that head, as an additional mark of that sincere friendship, which you have ever manifested,

After you have sufficiently perused the present narrative, if you should wish for a continuation, I will [Page] attempt to gratify you, as soon as my situation shall again become so settled, as to admit of writing.

Entertainment of the highest nature, generally consists of a due variety, and I find people most fond of buying books of entertainment; where novelty, melancholy, humour, joy, and triumph, are interchangeably the leading features—hence C [...]arissa Harlow is condemned for being too gloomy—Young's Knights Thoughts fall under the same censure—the critics say there is a want of a variety. That our compassion is wounded, but never gratified. That our disgust is excited against certain characters. That the rewards of vice are set forth, but nothing on the pleasing side. That virtue is not rewarded. That our compassion is not relieved, and that of course, we feel nothing but painful sensations. All these observations, I know, will apply with propriety to my narrative. I should have been glad to have interspersed something of the pleasing kind, among the relation of misfortunes; but, I could not do it consistently with the character of one, who had a regard to truth in his history.

Should I pursue hereafter the history of the remaining part of my life, you may not be more pleased, than what you are with that already given. It is true, that I passed through many scenes entirely new, and partaking, in some measure, of the humorous kind; but, that uninterrupted course of severe trials, which I have experienced from the beginning, never forsook me, until I arrived in this hospitable town, where I have met with that attention and kindness, which has in a measure been a counterbalance to my former misfortunes.

This observation, I believe, may not be misplacen, that when ever I have suffered a temporary respite from the stroke of calamity, my feelings have been more alive to the enjoyment of my situation. The comparison has ever been striking, both to my [Page] view and feelings; and of consequence, all the force of happiness had its operation upon my mind; without any impediment.

Another observation, I believe, ought to have a place here, viz. that our minds after giving way to the strokes of calamity a while, will regain their vigour and pristine state of tranquillity, under the most trying situation; hence we often find among our slaves (I blush to write the word) a degree of tranquillity and evenness of temper, which is wanting in the more exalted stations of life. Visit the prisons, and you will find many in those situations, who are desperate, wearing in their countenances a content of insensibility produced by despair.

I recollect, when I was in the dungeon at Northampton, and every prospect of relief was out of the question, that I felt a degree of calm or sullen content, under my situation. I really thought, that I rejoiced in it, because, said I, "the end will soon come to all my sufferings." These were my sensations, so long as the prospect of better days was out of the question; but, as soon as the sound of relief had reached my ears, these images fled like the "baseless fabric of a vision, and left not a trace behind.

The mind, when out of her bias, is ever struggling for a state of rest, or tranquillity, and according to the strength she possesses, gains that situation sooner or later. There are but very few minds, but what will gain that situation, ultimately, let the strokes of adversity be ever so heavy. It is true, that some are overpowered; the powers of their minds are broken, and they either become delirious, or else sink to the grave, under the pressure of misfortune. Of all situations in life, that is the most dreadful, which produces death or dilirium, by those wounds, which the mind has suffered.

You intimate, sir, that you wish me to give a particular [Page] description of the people, in the different states, their manners, their local peculiarities, their particular customs, their economy, property, industry, genius, and tempers; likewise, the nature of the soil, in different parts of this country, the price that land bears, the quantity and kind which it produces, the different methods of agriculture, the different facility of obtaining a living, &c.

You require of me a task, which I do not think myself competent to perform, with accuracy; however, in my next attempt, after my return, I will endeavour to gratify your request, in as great a measure, as my opportunity furnished materials for, when I made the tour of the United States.

My situation was such, when I made a journey through the states, that I had an opportunity of observing many things, which other travellers have not; on the other hand, travellers in general, have an opportunity of observing many things, in the course of their travelling, which I had not; therefore, sir, if you can gather any thing from my observations, on those subjects, which you have requested, either profitable or amusing, I shall be heighly gratified with my performance.

Baron Tr [...]nk observes, that he once travelled in his coach through Poland, that he thought he was acquainted with the people, with their manners and genius. But afterwards he was compelled to travel through this country, in a most abject situation, and under the necessity of begging his bread. Then it was he discovered his mistake. He found them to be another, and very different people, from what be had apprehended in his former tour. So true it is, that mankind will wear the veil of deception, generally, in all countries.

My situation, in respect to property, was somewhat similar to the Baron's, in his last tour through Poland, but to the honor of humanity, be it said, [Page] that in many places, I found a very different reception, from what the Baron met with. Yet, in some instances, the unfeeling heart, wore a prominent appearance in the character of the inhabitants of the country.

In different states, I found a great difference in the manners and morals of the people; in their refinement, feelings, and sentiments; and in different parts of the same states, I found this variation equally great. The causes which produce this, I will not undertake to assign: however, shall wish to hint my ideas respecting it, when I enter on that subject. Could the causes of these variations be traced, and clearly understood, they would be of the utmost service to society, and an object worthy the attention of every benevolent mind.

There is something in the system of education, yet undiscovered, which, I believe, would have the most effectual operation upon the world of mankind, in forming their minds in such a manner, as to render them fitted for the enjoyment of society, without the interruption of those irregularities, which overthrow the happiness of the social state. That denomination of people, called Quakers, have brought their mode of education to the greatest state of perfection, of any class, with whom I have been acquainted. We find a state of the utmost order among them, and this too, founded upon the most simple principles. Their manners and conduct savour very strongly of their education.

Having never been educated to the business of farming, it cannot be expected, that my mind was sufficiently enlightened upon that head, to make such inquiries, and observations, as would tend to throw light upon the subject; though perhaps this might afford an inquiry of the greatest utility to society, were it taken up, and pursued, by some one able to perform the task. True it is, that many different [Page] methods are made use of in agriculture; these methods are in a measure local, retained by those, who have been in the custom of using them, and parted from with reluctance for others, not so common, but perhaps more useful.

What circumstances of that kind came to my view and observation, I will mention. Perhaps you may draw some ideas from them, which may be new and useful, but I have no expectation that you will many.

Relating to the subject of Land—the price which it bears in different parts of the states, the quality, situation, convenience, &c. which it possesses, its quality and kind of produce, the nett proceeds which it averages to the possessor, in different places, are all objects, which have claimed a considerable share of my attention, when opportunity has invested me with a chance for observation. I have, moreover, had my attention much occupied by the different degrees of industry and economy, which have marked the characters of different people.

It has been the practice of the greater part of writers, to speak in general terms, respecting the subject, of which they are treating—this mode has undoubtedly its advantages; but perhaps it may not embrace all the advantages, which a more minute description would afford; as for example, should a a writer, in general terms, describe the state of Georgia, as a fruitful country, abounding with the conveniences and luxuries of life, &c. the reader would, undoubtedly, obtain an idea of its being a country, in which property might be acquired with a degree of facility. Yet he could hardly form an accurate estimate of the particular occupation or business, which would afford the most considerable and ready profit. Whether a capital would be absolutely necessary in order to prosecute business, and if necessary, how large that capital must be. He [Page] could not form an estimate of the difference in the profit, which he would realize by relinquishing business in one state, and removing to another; as for instance, from Newhampshire to Georgia; and of consequence, could not determine with propriety upon such an object, should it be presented to his his view. On the contrary, should the cost of an acre of land, in the state of nature, be shewn; the additional cost to render that acre productive, the profits which the land would afford, both in Newhampshire and Georgia; then the reader would be possessed with data, by which he might state his calculations, and form an accurate estimate of the object of acquiring property, both in Georgia and Nehampshire, and learn the advantage, if any, that one would have over the other; and how great that advantage would be.

Thus likewise, by a minute description of the price, which articles of importation bear in the two states; the price of those for exportation; the quantity and quality of those articles; the demand for them; the facility of importing, and exporting; the price of living; the mode of dealing &c. would give a sufficient fund of information, for any one to decide upon the subject of merchandise in either state; so likewise for mechanics, and every other employment which admits of profit.

This is a system of writing, which I do not recollect to ever have seen; and I have somewhat wondered at the circumstance. There are advantages to be derived from such a method, sufficiently great to claim the attention of the literary world; and, I believe such a method would afford more useful instruction to the philosopher, the politician, the farmer, the mechanic, and the merchant, than any other, which has been made use of. This method draws the picture of men and manners to the life, [Page] and gives every man an opportunity of viewing, and making his own reflections upon it.

When we are, in this manner, made acquainted with countries, men, manners, customs, [...] in the more minute departments, we have data to form our own opinions, relating to the various causes, which produce the difference effects upon [...]; and are not dependent on others for an opinion respecting them.

When I travelled through the states, my situation and circumstances did not admit that extensive opportunity for information and observation, upon these subjects, which my propensity lead me to desire. However, what observations I was in a capacity to make, I paid the strictest attention to form, with as much accuracy, as my judgment would allow. I did not settle down upon an opinion, until I had satisfactory evidence of the just principle upon which it was founded. Should I ever again travel through the states, I should devote my attention greatly to such an object; and endeavour, upon the most thorough plan, to investigate all the little secret springs, which set the wheels of society in motion.

Should the population and emigrations into these states, be as great, for one hundred years to come, as they have been for the same time past, what [...] multitude must this continent contain [...] seems to be swiftly hastening forward her events, to fill up the measure of time!

Here is a vast field for the philosophic eye to view; perhaps there may be more [...]ffected for the good of society, during the continuation of the American settlements, improvements, inventions, and experiments, than ever took place at any other, or perhaps, at every period, since time began. The philanthropist will be induced to labour with redoubled exertion, in this field, owing to the animating [Page] prospect of success, which he will have in view, as a reward for his labour.

Did the philosopher have nothing more in view, than his own, particular benefit, this would be a sufficient motive for him to be incessant in his researches, after that knowledge, and improvement, which would tend to the general good; there is a general connection which does, and must exist, in the world; and no man discovers and communicates useful knowledge to mankind, but he himself will reap the advantage.

No discovery, in its crude state, but what admits of improvement. When it is flung open to the world, every person has the opportunity of amending, improving, and altering, as judgment and experiment will [...], until it is brought to perfection; and then every member of society enjoys the privilege, which such improvements produce.

A stronger motive, than all these considerations, has [...] influence upon the mind of the real philosopher. To view himself as able to promote the happeners of his brethren, the common stock of the human race; to see himself contributing to increase their joy, comfort, and prosperity; to behold the various circles of society, wearing countenances [...] of care and remorse; to see the tender [...] among more intimate degrees of [...] indulged in their utmost latitude, without the cloud of care to intervene, or the corroding sting of disappointment! this is a luxury of enjoyment, a feast of pleasure, beyond the utmost conception of the voluptuous epicure! and the more deeply we dip into these enjoyments, the keener is our appetite for their relish. These bring no alloy, no pain, no disease. No evil attends their indulgence, no repentance grows from their use.

And now, sir, permit me to address this wish to you and family—That the perfection of all these [Page] grateful sensations may be enjoyed by you, in their fullest measure. That as your family increases, their opening minds may drink deep of this principle, and enjoy the effects, so long as they continue to occupy a station upon this stage of mutual dependence. That the most striking examples of filial, parental, connubial, and fraternal affection, may pervade the whole body; and when such a series of time has rolled away, as to admit you among the higher orders of beings, in that state, where we are but little acquainted, may the memory of you and family be called into view, with the most grateful emotions, and pleasing sensations.

I remain, Dear Sir,

with sentiments of the warmest esteem— Your much obliged Humble Servant, STEPHEN BURROUGHS.

J. G. Esq.

Notes

*

Mr. Editor.

AS Judge Paine sustains a station of importance, in the judicial department, in Massachusetts, I wish to cast a veil of candor over his foibles, and suppress whatever may tend to injure him in the minds of the public, in this narrative, which was given to a friend: it being essentially necessary to support a due degree of respect towards those, who remain in offices of eminence, in order to enable them to execute their [...] to the benefit of society.

↵

*

Warner and myself.

↵

*

A Blacksmith.

↵

†

A Journeyman Blacksmith.

↵

*

The dug was a [...] inch larger in diameter, than my leg.

↵

*

A [...] word signifying soldiers.

↵

*

The law of the state of Massachusetts making Castle Island a place for the confinement of Convicts, had subjected them to martial law while remaining there.

↵

ERRATA.

Page 48, 11 line, from top, over read up.

223, 3 do. poetry, house read hours.

230, 8 do. from bottom, eight forty read eighty four.

264, 19 do. line, from top, disabled read disobliged.

Information about this book

Title statement

Memoirs of Stephen Burroughs. [Two lines of verse] : Copy right secured.

Burroughs, Stephen, 1765-1840.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2006-06.

ID [DLPS]

N25265

ID [TCP]

N25265

ID [STC]

Evans 33478

ID [NOTIS]

APX3970

ID [IMAGE-SET]

33478

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99020739

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 33478.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N25265)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 33478)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 33478)

Source

— Memoirs of Stephen Burroughs. [Two lines of verse] : Copy right secured., Burroughs, Stephen, 1765-1840..

Extent

[2], vi-vii, [2], 9-296 p. ; 22 cm. (8vo)

by Benjamin True.,. Printed at Hanover, Newhampshire, :: MDCCXCVIII. [1798]. (A second volume was published at Boston in 1804.) ("Errata."--p. 296.)

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