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Didn't I say something, in one of my late
letters, about an October landscape? I had not yet
seen a November one in the forest. Since the splendid
coloring of those days has been toned down by
some hard frosts, and all lights and shades blended
into heavenly harmony by the hazy atmosphere of
the delicious period here called “Indian summer,”
Florella and I have done little else but wander
about, gazing in rapture, and wishing we could
share our pleasure with somebody as silly as ourselves.
If the Indians named this season, it must
have been from a conviction that such a sky and
such an atmosphere must be granted as an encouraging
sample of the far-away Isles of Heaven,
where they expect to chase the deer forever unmolested.
If you can imagine a view in which the
magnificent coloring of Tintoretto has been softened
to the taste of Titian or Giorgione, and this
seen through a transparent veil of dim silver, you
may form some notion of our November landscape.

It may have been the effect of this Arcadian
scenery, which seems made for painters and poets,
and which ought to purify the thoughts and exalt

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the imagination of every thing endowed with soul,—
it may have been this, more than the simple
reality that gave so touching a character to a funeral
service that I have just witnessed in our
neighborhood. I have seen, as you know, much of
this world's splendid pageantry, never more lavishly
bestowed than in doing honor to the senseless
dust;—I have gazed and listened while royalty
was inurned amid the thundering of cannon, and
the spirit-quelling tones of music, like the voice of
the everlasting grave warning the sons of men of
their inevitable destiny; but no splendid rites ever
possessed the solemnity which seemed to preside
over that hushed assembly of plain men and women
gathered from far and near, at the call of sympathy
alone—sympathy in the fate of a man who
had no claim to their especial regard beyond that
of having needed their assistance while he lived.

He was a man not remarkable in any way;
an easy commonplace insignificant sort of person,
whose lot had been like that of many such
characters—a series of misfortunes unaverted by
any vigorous effort of his own, and gradually
breaking down his spirit, and leaving him at last to
be provided for—first by the kindness of individuals,
and latterly by the public—so that at the
time of his death, he was neither more nor less
than a town pauper. He had been long ill, and
had left a large family utterly destitute, and now
the concourse assembled at his funeral exceeded all

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customary gatherings, and the sympathy was deep
and general. It was not regret, for his condition in
life was fixed beyond hope, and he was supposed
to be quite prepared for a change of worlds. Death
had come not in the hideous skeleton form with
which he is endowed by vulgar superstition, but as
a merciful and soft-voiced angel, sent to bear the
soul from pain, and care, and humiliation, to happiness
and repose.

It was pure human sympathy—not hollow
show—not venal parade—but a touching recognition
of a common nature and interest—a spontaneous
vibration of the public heart-strings at the
thought that a man—a brother—God's image
shrined in clay,—one who had acquired respectability
by misfortune, and awakened affection by
needing kindness—was at last gathered to his
rest. I despair of giving you an idea of what
seemed to me to be the all-pervading expression of
the scene,—but I may confess that even I, though
but little given to shedding unaccountable tears,
found myself betrayed into a softness somewhat in
unison with the many sobs which attested the pity
of the crowd.

The discourse which was delivered over the
body was solemn and earnest, and I found much
that was appropriate and likely to be useful, but to
me the effect, as a whole, was marred by the attempt
to frighten people into piety, by means of
the mere bodily terrors of the last hour; an

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attempt which implies a departure from the simple
truth, since it is not to be pretended that religious
people dread death less than others. It is however
a common instrument of exhortation, and every
exaggeration of fancy, and even the destructive
agency of superstition, is sometimes resorted to, to
heighten its effect; as if “the bondage through
fear of death,” were not heavy enough already;
or as if life—life temporal and life eternal—did
not furnish a thousand inducements to holiness,
where the death-bed can offer one.

This style of preaching is in use elsewhere, but
I think it is more particularly in vogue in these
newly-settled regions; perhaps because it is supposed
that rough people need more urgency, or
that they will be more easily aroused by what is
addressed to the imagination—an opinion from
which I dissent entirely. Earnestness and simplicity,—
the simplicity of immutable truth, are
the great and only requisites in addressing the uneducated;
and every attempt at mere effect is rejected
at once, by people whose distinctive trait is
plain common sense.

As we rode slowly to the distant burial-place, the
long train of humble vehicles, the delicious atmosphere,
and the soft-toned light—the aspect of the
dying woods and the peculiar nature of the occasion—
combined to excite the imagination to the
utmost; and I found my reveries leading me to the
primal time when the veiled Isis was believed to

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welcome the return of her offspring to her mysterious
bosom;—when simple and passionate tragedy
was the outpouring of this same ever-welling
fountain of human sensibilities; and majestic
sculpture gave form and substance to the lofty
creations of the soul—the fruit of vague longings
after immortality. The very simplicity and humbleness
of all the outward circumstances gave a
solemn dignity to the scene; and I never felt such
an overwhelming sense of the equal value of all
souls in the sight of God, as while I watched the
lowering of that rude coffin into the earth.

I returned home in a softened mood, which I
willingly prolong by attempting this sketch of
my feelings, and I claim your indulgence for what
may seem extravagant, on the score of your reiterated
request that I would give you an impartial
transcript of the impressions made on me by the
ordinary course of things in this new world.

The feeling of literal and unmodified equality
which is evinced by such scenes as the one I have
attempted to describe, however beautiful and touching
when applied to the claims of suffering humanity,
takes, it must be confessed, a different shape
when it is brought to bear upon matters of business,
with which it has, it seems to me, no rational
connection. I love the one manifestation, but I
cannot help detesting the other. When my fellow-creatures
through pressure of misfortune require
my aid and sympathy, God forbid that I should

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bring into account the difference which circumstances
may have placed between us, as an apology
for neglect or unkindness; but in transactions
which are conducted on business principles, and in
which every particular is specifically bargained
and paid for, I must acknowledge, that continual
attempts at encroachments and imposition are very
annoying, and go near to provoke one into condemning
the whole system, as subversive of good
faith and good order. If a friend promises me his
assistance on some particular occasion, and afterwards
finds himself constrained to disappoint me,
I can readily accept his apology, since the promise
was only a favor; but if I agree with a workman
for a certain stipulated price to perform a specified
amount of labor at a fixed time, I can ill bear to
see my business neglected, and to be told in extenuation
that home affairs required his attention, or
that another man's business was more pressing than
mine, or that there had been a previous engagement
which was forgotten until now. Yet all this
has not unfrequently occurred during my operations
here; while any delay on my part would
have been resented as an imposition, and probably
have brought the law upon me immediately, though
public opinion would have been decidedly adverse
to my attempting to obtain redress for these incessantly
violated engagements. A very one-sided
equality, certainly! And the same views prevail

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as to domestic service; a strict and punctual
compliance with the letter of the engagement is
exacted on one side, and an unlimited discretion
exercised on the other. A person on whom you
depend for the main business of your household
will quit you in the midst of illness or during the
stay of visitors, and that without a moment's warning;
feeling quite satisfied with saying in reply to
your remonstrances, “Well! I thought I could stay—
but you see, our folks wants me to hum, and so
I've got to go!”

But I am falling into the scolding line, one in
which I do not often indulge, and which, indulged,
certainly unfits one for making the best of things
as they are. We have, just now, two very decent
maids, besides poor Rose, who, with all her feebleness,
is invaluable as a balance-wheel. John and
Sophy are pretty much self-absorbed; and have
imbibed so much of the spirit of the country, that
they seem ever on the watch lest I should remember
that they called me master for five years, at
home. The English of that class do not bear very
meekly the change in their condition when they
become independent farmers in the new world.
Their children will take equality more moderately
and more rationally, for they will enjoy some advantages
of education, which their parents never had.

Florella's love and my own to you and yours.
The new house and its arrangements suit us

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extremely well, and with some society such as we
could select, would leave us little to desire as a
residence. I trust you are thinking seriously of a
flight across the lakes for a summer at least.

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