The full Fall of the year had set in. The leaves of the trees,
merging from their bright dappled colors into a dull uniform
brown, had dropped to the earth, and were swept by the winds
in dusty crackling torrents. The crops were harvested; potatoes
garnered in the cellar, apples carried to the cider-mill,
corn stacked for husking. A part of Margaret's work for the
season was gleaning from the bounties of forest and field, and
aided by Rose she gathered several bushels of walnuts and
chesnuts, and many pounds of vegetable down. The family

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had formerly depended upon such wild animals as the woods
afforded to meet their extraneous expenses, but Chilion was no
longer able to pursue his calling, even if the supply itself were
not diminished. What a poorly cultivated farm afforded could
no more than keep them in food and clothing. Pluck had done
little as yet towards the final redemption of his estate. Nor
could it fail of observation that Solomon Smith had rendered
himself quite conspicuous of late in urging the suit of his father
with Mr. Hart. It was evident he regarded Margaret, and
through her, the whole house, with a pointed interest, a mixed
feeling of aversion and esteem. Ever since the unfortunate
issue of the gold-hunt, he seemed to look upon her as his evil
genius, and yet one of that sort, who would abundantly compensate
by its person for its mistakes. At least we know that
at the time in which this chapter opens, the affairs of the family
were not a little involved. There were sundry items at Deacon
Penrose's, a large item of Rum, interest money, expenses
accruing at the Hospital, etc., and but a beggarly account of
offsets. Nimrod might have afforded some relief, but his habits
were reckless as his temper was volatile; he tended bar,
groomed, raced, peddled, smuggled, blacksmithed and what
not, but saved little money. The drafts on Mr. Girardeau
were regularly made and conscientiously devoted to Margaret.
What she earned during her few weeks of school-keeping,
Pluck refused utterly to employ on his own necessities, but insisted
she should lay it out for clothes. Mistress Hart, originally
a good weaver, fell off in her care and her business together,
and drank more, and was more irritable than ever.
Through the intercession of Deacon Ramsdill and Master Elliman,
Esq. Beach consented to receive Margaret as private
tutor, for a few weeks, to his children; a duty upon which she
was expecting to enter immediately after the Husking Bee, the
great annual family Festival. Before attending to that, let us
go back in our narrative for a moment. The early infantile
relations of Margaret cannot have been forgotten. What became
of Mr. Girardeau? Had he no knowledge of Margaret
these many years? It may not be out of place to state the following.
The year previous to that of the present chapter, there
came to the Pond an old man wearing a wig, and dressed in
other respects like a clergyman. When he entered the house,
Brown Moll, who seemed to have an intuitive dread of the
cloth, disappeared, and the stranger was left alone with Margaret.
He asked for a cup of water, gave her a close perusal
with his eye, enquired the road to Parson Welles's, mounted his

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horse, and rode away. This was Mr. Girardeau. His object
in this transient visit is not disclosed.

At the Bee, which fell on a pleasant evening in the early
part of October, were collected sundry people, male and female,
from the several districts bordering on Mons Christi; there
were also present the Master, Abel Wilcox, Sibyl Radney, and
Rose, who if she had become an inmate, as Margaret promised,
of her heart, was almost equally so of her house and bed.
Nimrod was also at home, and for his honor in part this occasion
was supposed to make. The corn was piled in the centre
of the capacious kitchen, around the heap squatted the huskers.
The room was abundantly as well as spectrally lighted from the
immense fire-place briskly glowing with pitch knots and clumps
of bark, which it became Margaret's duty, as occasion required,
to renew; she was also waiter-general to the company, and sat
on a three-legged stool in the chimney-corner. Opposite her
was Chilion, quietly busy, platting a basket, which he now and
then laid down for his fiddle, as better suited to the hour. The
workmen varied their labors with such pleasantry as was natural
to them and the occasion; and great ardor was displayed in
pursuit of the red ear, for which piece of fortune the discoverer
had the privilege of a kiss with any lady he should nominate.
The much coveted color at last made its appearance in the hands
of Solomon Smith; but Ambrose Gubtail said that Solomon
brought it in his pocket, while Smith himself was equally certain
he found it in the heap. Relying upon this assurance he
announced that Margaret should kiss him; a favor which she
very properly delayed until it should be ascertained how he
came by the ear in question; and thus for the present the matter
dropped. The pile was finished, and the shining golden ears
carried into the loft occupied by Margaret, and stowed under
the eaves. Next came a brief relay of food and drink. This
was followed by a dance, in form and spirit befitting the character
of the company and that of their musician. Even Rose
dismissed her gloom, exchanged smiles with Margaret, when
Master Elliman, in full-blown wig and large ruffle cuffs,
sought her for a partner and bowed her to the floor, with the
precise courtliness and bland mannerism of the Old School.
Next succeeded a scene which promised greater entertainment
than anything before. A long table of rough boards extended
through the room, was laden with the fruits of the season, apples,
pears, peaches, plums; pies of all kinds; pewter platters of
dough-nuts and gingerbread; bottles of porter and wine, jugs
of distilled spirits; and prominently, the silver family tankard

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of cider. These were in part the contribution of the Master,
Nimrod, and the neighbors who in this matter were either returning
or anticipating obligations in kind. Pre-eminent above
all in the centre of the table was a grotesque piece, a pyramidal
pile of pumpkins, each one emptied of its core, perforated
with sundry holes, and containing a piece of lighted candle;
and the whole representing a very comical sort of lantern, or a
monstrous beast bestarred with glaring eyes. Pluck sat at the
head of the table having Rose at his side, Master Elliman occupied
the foot; the others were disposed about on blocks of
wood, backs of chairs, the shaving horse, the kit, some on their
feet. Margaret having lighted all the candles in the pumpkins,
and symmetrized the pile, resumed her station by the fire.

“Brethren and Sisters,” began Pluck, who was evidently
somewhat excited by liquor, “this is not the house of God, but
of Gods; and it behoveth us to proceed with due solemnity; St.
Anthony, St. Crispin, and Bacchus are with us, and a host.
We have a text inspired and inspiring from a Bibblecal source;
`Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine
to those that be of heavy hearts.' Pass the goblets, as it is elsewhere
said,

“Most venerable Pater divum hominumque!” exclaimed
the Master, “thou art too presumptuous, thy zeal excelleth
thy piety. The prefatory oblation. Let all service begin
with reverence meet and becoming to our supreme.”

Pluck. “In yonder pumpkin shrine burn the fires of our
Divinity, fed by mutton tallow. Rising all, in meek obeisance
due, pressing the bottom of our soles, worship we his Majesty.
Thy health we drink, thy name we praise, Great King of
Puppetdom! defender by the grace of God of England,
France and America; with the most serene, serene, most
puissant, puissant, high, illustrious, noble, honorable, wise
and prudent Burgomasters, Counsellors, Governors, Committees
and all demigods of thy powerful and mighty realm.
Now, brethren, since the Gods help them that help themselves,
as Poor Richard says, let us verify the promise, by
laying hold. In the words of my Bibblecal son, Maharshalalhashbaz,
`I feel that in my flesh dwelleth no good thing.'
Rose, dear, have an apple, a pearmain, here is no curse; it
shall wed your face to your name; pity it is, as the old Indian
said, Eve had not left the apples to make cider with.

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S'death! how pale you grow. Take some genuine Bacrag.
That's charming. What a nice example you set to our
Molly.

Abel Wilcox. “The toasts, Sir, the toasts! I have eaten
enough and should like to drink.”

The Master. “Fides et veritas, faith and truth! thou art
no wassailer, Abel, or thou wouldst drink without bawling so
about it. Here are Burgundy, Rhenish, in comfortable
supply.”

Abel. “I don't hold to getting drunk, I believe in drinking
just enough. Besides, what there is left Deacon Penrose has
promised to take back, and perhaps it is all we shall get.
We, we, Sir, did you know the old man was going to make a
partner of me, and I am going to marry Matty Gisborne?”

The Master. “Thou art no man, Abel, but only a boy
niggard, and there is no law authorizing copartnership with
such an one. Thou art the shadow of an homunculus, Abel,
an expletive among puppetic entities.”

“You shall have the Toasts; twelve regular ones, the number
of the Twelve Apostles.

“First—Margaret, here; you wrote these, but I made them,
blow me, if I didn't. You shouldn't spoil a man's thoughts in
the copy.”

Margaret whispers her father, who proceeds:—

“First; Ourselves, and all that pertains to us

“Second; The Constituted Authorities of every man's body
and mind.

“Third; Freedom of speech, thought, touch, sight, smell,
taste, earth and air.

“Fourth; Jemima Wilkinson, Consul Napoleon, Dr. Byles
and St. Tammany.

“Fifth; Success to our arms.

“Sixth; The Memory of the brave Johnny Stout.

“Seventh; The Patriots of the Pond, No. 4, Breakneck
and Snakehill.

“Eighth; Perpetual itching without the benefit of scratching
to all our enemies.

“Ninth; All true and upright Masons, who saw the East
when the light rose, and, by name, the Right Worshipful,

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Past Grand Deacon, Bartholomew Elliman, pedagogue; with
a tear for all brother Cowans.

“Tenth; All Pumpkin-headed, mutton-tallow-lighted Gods
and Goddesses, Priests and Lawyers.

“Eleventh; The liquor of Jove.

“Twelfth; The Officers and Soldiers in the Present War.”

Abel Wilcox. “Now that the Regulars are disposed of, I
begin with the volunteers.

“Death to the Excise Laws.”

Joseph Whiston. “The memory of Eli Parsons and Daniel
Shays, with a tear for Bly and Rose.”

Brown Moll. “General Washington, Jonathan Trumbull
and John Hancock.”

Pluck. “King George III.”

Mr. Tapley. “Samuel Adams.”

Tony, the Barber. “The honorable Profession of all gentlemen.”

The Widow Wright. “Death teu quacks and success teu
the gennewine sientifikals.”

The Master. “Mistress Margaret, C. B. Custos Bibbleorum.”

Many voices. “Margaret, Margaret!”

Pluck. “Let this be drank standing.”

The Master. “Nay, good friends, be not too hasty. Feminam
et vinum, Margaret, C. B. and the Bey of Muscat.”

Rose. “Do Margaret drink with us. It is beautiful.
I havn't felt so well this long while. Do join us this time.
You have been dull long enough.”

Pluck. Come, Molly, pretty dear; no black-strap to night;
no switchel, or ginger-pop. Brown Bastard, Aqua Cælestis,
Geneva, Muscadine—have your choice; come crush a glass
with your dear Papa; and all this nice company. You have
skinked quite long enough.”

The Master. “I hold under my thumb and finger the veritable
Lachrymæ Christi, just what you are in search after,
Mistress Margaret.”

Rose. “You will taste a little, Margaret; it is better than
Democritus for driving away the dumps, don't you see how
gay we all are?”

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