XIX.

Upon these songs no farther I comment; They speak a language dear unto my soul; And I could dwell through all my life content To gaze on Nature, who doth never pall A mind well tuned to listen to the call Of her pure minstrelsy, which yields delight Unmixed, enduring, as the seasons roll In quick succession, hymning forth the Might Of their All-wise Creator, who doth all things right.

‘ Tis “Indian Summer,” and the sun looks down As if afraid to show his blazing face. And now the woods assume a darker brown, While in the weather there is not a trace Of Summer's ardent heat that doth unbrace The nerves of most, and makes one long to feel The cooling breeze as Winter comes apace To scatter forest leaves with savage zeal, Which do the narrow wood-paths by their fall conceal.

And now the copious rains come pouring down, Filling the creeks and swamps and rivers full; Or in the woods or in the growing town, Things wear an aspect truly dark and dull. Through deep, stiff mud the stoutest oxen pull With much ado the very smallest load; While many a blow across his patient skull Urges the meek ox slowly on the road, Tiring the settler out ere he reach his abode.

Anon the angry northwest winds arise, Bringing dark scowling clouds full fraught with snow. This all discharged, perhaps for months there lies One vast white sheet which screens the plants below From biting frosts, while easier to and fro The settlers move in their convenient sleighs. These heed not cold if they have hearts aglow With friendly feelings, but will speed for days Along the snow-paved roads and on some strange highways.

At such a time Goodworth and eldest son Left home and all its inmates in God's care; But ere they had their first day's journey done A circumstance occurred by no means rare. An English emigrant had settled where The woods were heavy and no neighbors near. He had partaken of the morning's fare And armed with axe dreamt not of cause for fear — Thought he'd be back at noon to wife and children dear.

But noontide came and brought no father fond To take his place and share the frugal meal. They little knew that his loved form beyond In that dark wood could no emotion feel. The loving wife could very ill conceal Dread thoughts which rose within her faithful breast. Should he be dead her own and children's weal Were fled forever. So, with mind distressed She went to search the woods and gave herself no rest.

At last she came to where a huge tree lay Athwart the body of the hapless man. By grief distracted there she could not stay, But up the road with frightful speed she ran. Soon she met Goodworths and forthwith began To tell her tale most incoherently. Few words were needful at such a time to fan Love's flame in them or make them prove to be Both Good Samaritans to that poor family.

They took her up and tried to calm her mind Until they came to that soul-harrowing scene. Now all alight; ere long the axe they find, Which had so late the man's companion been. His stiffened corpse was wedged quite fast between The tree and frozen earth, and naught remained But first the widow with sleigh-robes to screen From bitter cold; and this point having gained They soon cut through the tree, so well had they been trained.

It then became their melancholy duty To take the lifeless form from the sad spot. And now the widow in sweet, mournful beauty Directs the new-found friends to her log cot. A tearless eye within that home was not — All felt the dreadful nature of the loss Which had that day occurred, for naught could blot His great worth from their minds. He ne'er was cross To those who clung to him as to the tree the moss.

To leave this family in such piteous state Was out of question, so young GOODWORTH took The horses out — for now‘ twas growing late — To quench their thirst at a clear purling brook, And gave them food within a sheltered nook; Then found some boards and made a coffin rude. Meanwhile the father took God's holy Book And read such portions as teach fortitude To us, that all immoderate grief may be subdued.

‘ Twas well that mother long had known the Lord, For wondrous strength is now to her imparted; And each clear promise in the Holy Word Proved balm unto her soul, though much she smarted. In both the GOODWORTHS she found friends warm hearted, Friends who could give their love and sympathy; And ere they from her humble home departed They showed such proofs of generosity As did with their profession very well agree.

For such a work by sad experience trained, They soon proceeded to lay out the dead; And though fatigued they ne'er of it complained. Nor would they let the widow spread a bed For their joint use, but sat and watched instead. She, much refreshed by prayer and conversation Retired to rest her weaned heart and head. They spent the night in solemn contemplation Or read that precious Book which does unfold Salvation.

When morning came their plans were well matured, And each went off to tell the mournful news. Ere noon appeared assistance they secured, For help at such time who can well refuse? Some brought their tools which they knew how to use, And dug a grave in the selected spot. There round it grew no stately, somber yews, But these and other things it needed not To be fit resting-place for one not soon forgot.

When all was ready GOODWORTH lent support To the bereaved one following the bier. In sweet-toned language he did her exhort To look to Him who “bottles up each tear” His children shed while in deep sorrow here. They reached the grave, where she with firmness stood And felt such comfort as dispelled her fear. Such fruits spring from true Christian Brotherhood To all who rest their hopes on Christ's atoning blood.

Due rites performed, the settlers flock around The widowed mother and warm offers make Of humble service, with respect profound. This wished the boy and that the girl to take, And treat them well for their dear parents’ sake. She heard these offers with much thankfulness, But said to part with them her heart would break — Would miss them, too, in this her sad distress, And they could get along if God their efforts bless.

That night the Pastor ventured to enquire What were her prospects? Did she money need? The answer made he could not but admire: “Her God had ever proved a friend indeed; Cheered by His promises which she could plead, She doubted not He would them still protect, And, make their labors on the farm succeed; Her boy was strong, and had such great respect For what was right that he his work would not neglect.”

Next day the friends prepared again to start On their cold journey soon as it was light. Both urged their hostess freely to impart To them from time to time her prospects bright Or the reverse, as she might deem it right. In fervent prayer they her to God commend, Then bade Farewell and soon were out of sight They reached that day their lengthy journey's end, And gained a hearty welcome from their loving friend.

That friend lived in a village destined soon To show few traces of the times gone past When its fair site was woods where the racoon, The bear, and wolf had munched their stolen repast. In wealth and people‘ twas increasing fast, But not in morals — these were very low; Yet some there lived who roused themselves at last And with great vigor met the monster foe — Ev'n vile Intemperance — to give him his death blow.

This end they hoped for by the simple means Of total abstinence from liquors strong. The frequent use of these gives rise to scenes Which all good men would scorn to be among. Vile oaths, the boisterous mirth, the wanton song, Were constant heard within each horrid den Where these vile drinks were retailed all day long. ‘ Twas sad indeed to view such filthy pen Filled with poor ruined wretches who once had been men.

Throughout the village there were many such, And as a consequence great mischief done. It is surprising and has grieved me much To think our Magistrates have laurels won By doing what all devils view as fun! Why grant a license to each Groggery When it is evident men only run To those low places for iniquity, Till they become as vile as wicked men can be?

Our Pastor's friend was one among the number That first came forward openly to stand On “total Abstinence,” nor did he slumber, But to the work lent willing heart and hand. GOODWORTH knew this, and having at command A little leisure held a meeting there. He spoke with warmth in language bold yet bland, Using such arguments as made men stare Who went for sake of fun, but got some better fare.

With ready tact he showed the means insidious Used oft by those who sold the drunkard drink. To lure him on by stimulants oblivious, Till he lost self-command, and ceased to think. Then showed him tottering on the fearful brink Of the wide-opening grave and drunkard's hell, And truthfully described how link by link Of sacred ties were severed, as the spell Grew daily stronger, and a sot confirmed he fell.

And now he drew as with a master's hand, A vivid picture of sad family woes; The broken-hearted wife oft forced to stand Betwixt her children and their father's blows — He mad with rum, thus trampling Nature's laws; Or gave a life-like sketch where parents vie In drunken riot, every day the cause Of strife and discord, the poor home a sty Where filth and rags surround them, till like beasts they die.

And then he gave with most consummate skill A true description of Sobriety, Where man and wife walk up and down Life's hill In sweet conjugal peace and piety; Their love increasing as more years they see, Their children growing up like olive plants To love and cherish much their memory, And if need be in Age supply their wants, Then meet with that reward which God to such still grants.

While he was speaking there was some excitement, And at the meeting's close a number came To sign the Pledge, expressing much delightment. Yet some were there who slunk away in shame, Muttering that they were not a whit to blame For the poor drunkard's fate, although they had Used every means to keep alive the flame Which burned their vitals and made them quite mad. That these escape due punishment is far too bad.

I here would try to speak my mind in brief Upon the Temperance movement ere I pass To other scenes, either of joy or grief, In which our Pastor figures — for alas, “Man's best laid schemes are only like to grass Which springs up for a season and then dies.” Just so this question‘ mongst the world's great mass Sometimes seems gaining ground, but the Foe plies His sly ensnaring waits and all reform defies.

Now why is this? Can any tell me why? Some feel quite sure all we now want's a law To stop the godless traffic. These rely Perhaps too much on man to strike the blow Which is to bring the fell Destroyer low. Others are sure that it is useless quite To curb the monster. These ne'er felt the glow Of pure Philanthropy move them aright Or they would rise and aim to crush this demon's might.

Try this scheme, friends: Let all true Christians stand Fast in one body, and use fervent prayer And self-denial, that the Lord's right hand May be stretched out to break each chain and snare Which binds mankind. Then let it be our care To act consistently in all we do. Of resting on an arm of flesh beware! For in this case our plans will all fall through; We shall be put to shame and feel deep anguish too.

May we no opportunity neglect Of spreading wide the Gospel's joyful sound For those who never do indeed expect That God's rich blessing will their steps surround. Thrice happy shall we be if we are found Engaged still thus when Jesus calls us hence. Rise, Christians, then, and let your zeal abound! The Savior calls! In earnest now commence This Godlike work, and let his name be our defence.

I now resume my simple narrative, To tell how GOODWORTHS reached their home again. More striking views of them I yet must give, If I may strike my harp and use my pen. To me who rank not‘ mongst well learned men ‘ Twill prove a task of no small magnitude; Yet after hard bench-labor, now and then It gives relief from much solicitude To sit in my arm chair and form my verses rude.

Once more our friends are gliding o'er the road, While their clear bells most lively music make. The sleighing good, and past each log abode They swiftly fly and soon a side-line take To gain an Indian village near the Lake. Here they intend to spend a little time The poor Red Men from sin and death to wake By speaking to them of those Truths sublime, Which can renew the souls of men sunk low in crime.

The Indian Chiefs received them with much pleasure; They saw in GOODWORTH what did suit them well. Of outward charms he had an ample measure, And his fine voice was like a deep-toned bell. These all combined cast as it were a spell Over those haughty rangers of the wood, And made them ponder what he had to tell. It was a sight to see those natives rude List to God's Gospel-message in a serious mood.

They listened, and the Holy Ghost with power Sent home the word to some of savage heart. These since have seen great cause to bless the hour In which our Pastor visited that part. A few, deep-skilled in blackest “heathen art” Were full of rage and would have done him harm, But lacked the power, which but increased their smart. Meanwhile the others with fresh feelings warm, Pressed hospitable rites and quelled the fierce alarm.

With these he had some very earnest talk Of that obedience which the Lord requires From his Disciples, to ensure a walk Such as may tend to curb our vain desires And nurture that which to all good aspires. He deemed it proper not to press at first The rite Baptismal; and while one admires His views on this, another seems to thirst For full initiation lest he die accursed.

This from an Indian did excite surprise; But soon‘ twas known this man had heard before A hint of it from some one he thought wise — One truly skilled in strong Sectarian lore. To try to set him right Goodworth forbore, At least at that time, as too well he knew Men oft in controversy feel more sore On things of which they have but partial view; That they will argue most for what to them is new.

Upon the morrow ere they took their leave, It was arranged — God willing — to return Within a week or two those to receive Into strict Fellowship who wished to learn God's will, which all in Scripture may discern, That in Church standing they a light might be To their poor friends whose state required concern. This settled, GOODWORTHS then most cheerfully Resumed their journey home to join their family.

The first few miles in safety soon they passed, And reach the edge of a most dismal swamp Stretched out before them in dimensions vast; A huge receptacle of gloom and damp. There savage wolves and beasts of such a stamp Might lodge secure and plan most daring deeds. Gloomy the prospect, though the solar Lamp Was full two hours from setting, and the steeds Restive become and faster fly as instinct leads.

The men knew well what they had to expect, And sent a prayer into their Father's ear. This done, they did no proper means neglect To meet what danger might be hovering near, And also strove each others’ hearts to cheer. Swifter the horses speed o'er the rough logs That form the road, and now some wolves appear Hungry and fierce and fresh from noisome bogs, To pounce upon our friends who lack their faithful dogs.

The murderous gang now spring but miss their prey, And plunging in deep snow vent forth their rage In horrid yells, then strive to reach the sleigh. Again they fail; again afresh engage With double fury bloody war to wage! Vain their attempts. A Mighty Hand unseen Aids those two men. This does their fears assuage, And nerves their arms, and keeps their minds serene, Or they had failed to tell how good the Lord had been.

The swamp is cleared, yet on the smoother road Their speed they slack not till they reach the house Of a poor drunken settler then abroad On his nocturnal revels, while the spouse Was left to mourn his oft-indulged carouse, And tremble for his safety from the cold. No sense of danger e'er could him arouse From his sad sunken state. Drink had such hold On his gross appetite he seemed to Satan sold.

And yet the wife, the mother of his babes, Ne'er breathed reproach against her low-sunk mate. Such love as her's it is which sometimes saves A wretched husband from a drunkard's fate. ‘ Tis true such love is oft repaid with hate, And driven to distraction wives may say Hard things of men who bring them to a state Of heartfelt woe, and drive their feet astray From Virtue's paths, until they shun the light of day.

But here and there a character shines forth, As in this case, most worthy of all praise. For this sweet wife was one of matchless worth, And her dear name should grace my artless lays, If I by that means could her triumphs raise. She was in truth a noble heroine, Whose brow might well have been bedecked with bays; For deeds like hers through every age should shine To show the strength of Love and prove it is divine.

O, woman! who has skill of mind or pen Those feelings to portray that fill thy breast? All we yet see are glimpses, now and then, Which make us long the more to know the rest. Self-sacrificing woman! thou'rt possessed Of that which does enable thee to bear A load of misery on thy heart impressed By wrongs from him who should thy sorrows share, And make the daily weal his ever constant care.

His home in that far North wild wilderness, Had naught about it which could tell the tale Of what that mother suffered of distress, For hope — fond hope had kept her strong and hale. It was still whispering she would soon prevail Upon her husband to renounce his sin. This cheered her heart although her face grew pale With anxious care how best she could begin And what means to employ that she might victory win.

So GOODWORTH found her on that bitter night With house quite trim and table neatly laid, And hopeful still though in a serious plight, As we have hinted, very much afraid Lest her dear man should freeze. “He is,” she said, “As good a husband as I could desire But lot his fault. He always has displayed Such love for me that I will never tire Of loving him, though none my conduct may admire.”

And saying this she would have gone alone The absent one upon the road to seek. Her ardent love conspicuously shown On that occasion, and I fain would speak Her praise with trumpet tongue, though she so meek Might blush to hear it and feel half offended. Now GOODWORTHS thought that one whom they deemed weak Was best at home, yet they her love commended, And volunteered to go, by trusty dog attended.

‘ Twas not in vain. Behind a Huge pine tree The man, o'ercome, was lying fast asleep; Nor could they rouse him, so far gone was he, Or from the cold or from potations deep. An unseen Eye did faithful vigils keep O'er that poor sinner though he knew it not; And thoughts of this has since oft made him weep Tears of true penitence in that lone spot, Which gave to him a lesson that he ne'er forgot.

This spot was very near to where he lived, And the kind friends Drink's hapless victim bore To his own home, both feeling truly grieved That his sad state would make his wife's heart sore. And now the faithful dog trots on before, Most clearly glad because his master's found. Anon he whines and scratches at the door, Which makes his mistress’ heart within her bound As she peers through the dark and tries to catch some sound.

Each moment seemed an hour as thus she stood In doubt, expecting some great evil near; And when they came the sight nigh froze her blood. She fainting fell, through mingled grief and fear. Meanwhile the children in the chamber hear A noise below, and leave their snug, warm bed, Then in deep sorrow view their parents dear, And big, warm tears each youngling freely shed, For their idea was that both were lying dead.

Our friends knew better and strove eagerly To still their cries and consciousness restore Unto the sufferers. Soon with joy they see The mother fast recovering; her they bore Into her bed-room that they might give more Attention to the drunken father's case. He in deep stupor did most loudly snore And looked quite frightful with frost-bitten face, Which kept him long in mind of that — his great disgrace.

Next they rub hard with snow the frozen parts, Until the flesh displays a ruddy glow. This task accomplished they with lighter hearts Deeper concernment for the mistress show. She, quite awake, most anxious was to know Their full opinion of her partner's state. The favorable answer made her bow Her heart to God for this his mercy great, In having kept her man from such an awful fate.

From bed she rose and pressed on them to eat, But GOODWORTH asked if he might go to prayer. She gave consent, and‘ fore the Mercy Seat They poured forth thanks for all their Father's care, And prayed that all within the house might share God's rich forgiving love, and ever be Devoted to his service: so prepare By constant practice of true piety To join the heavenly ranks a happy family.

And now they eat with keenest appetite Of the good things so temptingly displayed — Prime venison with bread both sweet and light; And charming butter as e'er housewife made Were with tea, cream, and rich preserves arrayed In plentiful supply upon the table. These, backed by welcome, all their toil repaid, And they found backwoods cheer indeed no fable; Yet to partake thereof their hostess was not able.

Their noble team they came so near forgetting, Had been provided for with care by one Who gave his parents no just cause for fretting — A rather small but very hopeful son. Around the blazing hearth-fire they begun To draw their chairs to dwell in converse pure Another hour on what the Lord had done; How he had kept them all from death secure And caused their love and faith through trials to endure.

The guests both slept in peace and early rose, And found their host already stirring round, And suffering much from being badly froze, And strangely nervous at the slightest sound. The elder GOODWORTH spoke to him and found That Conscience was at work within his breast. She made him hear with reverence profound Truths suited to the case of one distressed By sense of heinous guilt, which drives away all rest.

He also brought most forcibly to view The need there was of “total abstinence” For such as he; and step by step he drew The man along till an o'erwhelming sense Of his great crime made him wish to commence At once a life of strict Sobriety. He signed a pledge and straightway banished thence The fiery fluid, his great enemy,— And did thenceforward keep his pledge most sacredly.

The breakfast o'er, our two friends bade adieu To parents, children, in their kindly way. ‘ Twas now their wish to push the journey through Before the close of that short Winter day. The Sun was up and made a grand display Upon the trees and shrubs on every hand; These all were clad in silvery array, As if transformed by some Magician's wand, But‘ twas the work of Him who counts the grains of sand.

For through the night a change had taken place — Such as we frequent view without surprise. Rain falls and freezes — this is oft the case —, And trees look pretty to our outward eyes, But is this all that such a view supplies? Can we not trace a Mighty Artist's skill, Which competition from mankind defies? Then let us learn to reverence Him still, Who forms these beauteous scenes according to His will.

Dear GOODWORTH gazed upon the glittering scene Until his soul was filled with ecstacy. Here he perceived that God indeed had been To clothe dull Winter in great majesty. To him it was so full of poetry That he was led to frame another lay, Which seems to me to breathe such melody I must ev'n give it without more delay, And rest in hope‘ twill live far, far beyond my day.