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IF any inhabitant of the earth, who may favor our history
by conferring upon it the honor of a perusal, shall have
felt any dissatisfaction at the close of the last chapter, caused
by his never having met with a surprise during his actual
experience of worldly affairs, we must be allowed the privilege
of expressing our belief that the individual has had a
very poor time of it in the course of his pilgrimage, since all
our pleasures, if closely analysed, will be found to consist of
surprises altogether. But for the benefit of such, few as they
may be, who are never satisfied with an effect without a clearly
explained cause, and who would not believe in life itself
if they could help it, since it is wholly unaccountable, we will
explain the cause of Mr. Tremlett's being met with at a time
when the reader could have had no reasonable expectation of
seeing him.

Although Mr. Tremlett was not, as the reader knows, the
father of the subject of this history, yet so strong was his attachment
to the lad, so much had he added to the old gentleman's
pleasures, that perhaps he felt more keenly the loss of
his society than if he had been his natural parent, for he was
not willing to forego his own gratification for the sake of the
boy's eventual good; when, therefore, he returned to his house
alone, after parting with the youngster at the steam-boat, he

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reproached himself with having acted too hastily in sending
him away to a distant school. He missed him at his solitary
supper, and he felt very lonely and dispirited at his breakfast
when he glanced towards the vacant seat which the boy had
occupied so long. Mrs. Swazey guessed at the thoughts
which haunted the old man's mind and she `hoped that master
John would, get a good breakfast, but she was afraid something
had happened to him, for she had dreamed twice the
night before of losing one of her teeth, and she never knew
the sign to fail; something was going to happen to somebody,
she was sure.'

Now Mr. Tremlett's mind was as free from superstitious
taint as most men of his age, but he felt annoyed at his housekeeper's
dream, for he remembered to have heard his mother
relate a similar dream, and attach similar consequences to it,
but a short time before his father's death, when he was a young
boy; the circumstance had probably never occured to him
before, and he felt very sad, but he did not care that his
housekeeper should know how much he missed his adopted
son, and he coldly replied to her remarks that the boy would
be well taken care of where he had sent him.

The day passed wearily, and at night the old merchant
found himself again in the boy's little chamber gazing at his
vacant bed, and fondly examining one of the school books
which he had left behind. “I see that I am getting old and
childish, he said to himself, as a tear trickled down his cheek;
after living all my life for myself alone, here I am unhappy
at the absence of a nameless little rogue who has no possible
claim upon my sympathy. I will overcome this weakness.
I will drive the boy from my thoughts and attend to my business
as usual. If he were a nephew, or the son of an old
friend, or indeed the child of anybody whom I had ever
known, there would be less folly in it, but—I shall soon
forget him, and that I may hear of him no more, I will instruct
my book-keeper to open all letters from Willow-mead and

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make such remittances as may be necessary without speaking
to me on the subject.”

Having made these brave resolutions, Mr. Tremlett wiped
his eyes and coughed two or three times to clear his throat
of a choking sensation; and then he ordered Mrs. Swazey to
have everything removed from the boy's room and the door
locked, after which, that his heart might be hardened against
all tender emotions and the love of his own species, and particularly
of the destitute and juvenile portion of it, he walked
off to a ward meeting where his presence created an immense
sensation, and he met with nothing there to remind him in
the least degree that he was a man, but everything to make
him think that he was affiliated to a race of animals, if any
such exist, whose insticts lead them to devour each other.
He left the meeting at a late hour with his thoughts full of
of political patriotism, determined to go there again the next
evening, so entirely had he succeeded in getting all the kindly
feelings of his nature smothered; but when he retired to his
chamber he could not help opening the door of the little room
which adjoined his own, just to see whether or not his
housekeeper had obeyed his instructions, and his heart felt
cold as he looked in and saw its bare walls and naked little
cot; the door made a hollow reproachful sound as he suddenly
closed it, and the face of its banished tenant seemed to
look upon him with melancholy tenderness. He turned uneasily
upon his bed until morning, and when he went down
to his office he found a letter from Jeremiah lying upon his
desk. His hand trembled as he opened it, but he felt beyond
measure happy when he read its contents. Jeremiah had
given a simple detail of the accidents which had befallen him
and requested a remittance to enable him to get to Willowmead
with his charge. But Mr. Tremlett forgot all his resolutions
of the night before, and pretending to be afraid of trusting
Jeremiah, but secretly determined to bring his adopted
son back to New York, he set off for the place at which the

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letters was dated with the avowed purpose of seeing him safe
at Willow-mead. When he arrived at the tavern he learned
that the travellers had set out for Willow-mead on foot, some
hours before, and being fearful that some accident might
happen to them, he hired a carriage of the tavern keeper, and
in spite of the earnest entreaties of the feeling landlady, who
predicted a storm, he proceeded after them without stopping
to take any refreshment. But the roads were bad, one of the
horses was lame, and the driver was sleepy; so they did not
travel very fast, until it began to rain, when the driver felt a
sudden anxiety to get to the end of his journey, and he began
to lay his whip upon the backs of his cattle, with such a
hearty good will, and to pour such a strain of odd expressions
into their ears that they galloped on the road at a greater
speed than was pleasant to all parties, when they were suddenly
precipitated into the stream by the breaking down of
the old bridge as has already been related in the last chapter.

As soon as Mr. Tremlett was sufficiently recovered he was
clothed in a suit of friend Hogshart's linsey woolsey, which so
completely metamorphesed him, that John could not help indulging
in a most uproarious burst of laughter for which he
was reproved by the Friend after this manner.

“Thee laughs, my young friend, because thy father is covered
with a good warm suit of comfortable clothing, and well
thee might, if it was properly done, for I dare say he feels
more like laughing himself than he did when he lay half
drowned in his cold and wet garments. But is thee laughing
at thy father? if so thee is transgressing the inspired word,
which thou shouldst not do; and if thee is laughing at the
outward covering of thy father, thee is doing worse, for thee
is making light of God's gifts.” It would be quite impossible
to determine what were the precise feelings which prompted
this speech, whether it were pride or godliness, because the
farmer having been schooled to keep his expressions at the
same temperature let his feelings be what they might, his

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motives rarely obtruded themselves in his speech; but John
felt the full force of this reproof, without attempting to analyse
the reprover's motives, and he looked very grave and shamefaced;
although his father could not help smiling himself, as
he glanced at his small clothes and blue stockings and long
skirted drab coat. But Jeremiah apologised for his young
friend's rudeness, and thanked the quaker with great earnestness
for having turned him out of doors, as but for his apparent
unkindness he could not have been instrumental in
saving the life of his benefactor.

“So thee sees, friends,” replied the Friend, “it is always
safest to stick close to the discipline of society.”

“May God forgive me,” replied Jeremiah, “but I fear I
I entertained some hard feelings towards you although I
strove not to.”

“I doubt not thee did, it is likely,” replied friend Hogshart
“but I experienced some mental promptings within, which
would not allow me to do otherwise; it was doubtless the
workings of the spirit, since thee sees it was to work out a
good end.”

“I should like to feel the operation of some spirits too and
no mistake,” said the driver who stood drying himself by the
fire, with a cloud of steam rising from his wet clothes, “for I
am as dry as a fish and at the same time as wet as old Nabby
Dibletts after she had been ducked in a horse-pond for being
a witch; and as for inward promptings, I tell you how it is
neighbor, I have them no ways slow, and grumblings too,
although I will acknowledge in confidence to you, that they
are not so unusual as they should be to a man of my bringing
up, and I swear to gracious if I don't have something to eat
deuced soon, I shall be forced to break through the discipline
of society and the cup-board door too.”

“Thy thoughts should be placed on something higher, my
friend,” said the quaker, “after escaping from death as thee
has. I think my friends, that this will be a very suitable

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occasion for an exercise of prayer; according to the good Book, we
should be constant in prayer; and we are commanded to give
thanks in all things. So saying friend Hogshart, dropped
upon his knees and without further ceremony prayed with
great solemnity of voice, and in tones long drawn out, which
affected Jeremiah to such a degree that he shed tears; he felt
that he should never forgive himself for having thought ill
of so good a person.

When the Friend had made an end of his prayer he gave
orders for supper, which the travellers were very glad to
hear.

“I tell you how it is neighbor longskirts,” said the driver
whose tongue run very glibly as his clothes were getting dry,
“I never could pray on an empty stomach, and I don't believe
you could either. I'll bet you a horn of Monongahela whiskey,
old fellow, that you have had your supper. Heu quam
difficiles and so forth, I can talk Latin to you by the wholesale,
which I don't believe that you can do, and I'll beat you
at praying after I have laid in a good supply of that fried ham
and apple sauce, or you may beat me and I'll acknowledge
myself no christian Ne sutor crepidam, let the parson go and
pray and you peg away.”

“Friend,” replied the quaker, “I have given thee shelter
and saved thy life, and I would have given thee food and a
bed for the night, but thy profane language has proved thee
unworthy to remain beneath this roof. Thee must go, and
the next time thee is taken into a friend's house, perhaps thee
will know how to behave thyself. Walk out.”

“Not I,” said the driver as he braced himself against the
jamb of the fire place and began to smooth down the fur of
his shabby beaver hat with his coat sleeve, “I couldn't prevail
upon myself to do so, no how. You must call some
other time. I must have some supper first, and something hot
to drink, and after that I shall feel too sleepy to comply with

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your polite request. I hope you have got plenty of Dos
Amigos, because I must have a smoke after supper; and
here's this pretty young lady that I must become acquainted
with too.” And without more ado he put his arm round the
neck of the quaker's daughter and gave her a kiss. The
young lady did not faint as some young ladies would have
done, but she blushed very red, although her face was already
as hot as scarlet with frying the ham for the traveller's supper,
and she returned the compliment by a cuff on his ears from
her plump hands that must have made him hear strange
sounds.

“Well friend, if thee don't see proper to go of thy own
will, I shall put thee out,” said the quaker.

The driver would now willingly have begged pardon for
his rude behaviour, for he saw that friend Hogshart was not
a person to be trifled with; but his repentance came too late,
as repentance generally does. The farmer called his two
eldest sons to his aid, and in spite of the drivers kicks, and
struggles, they lifted him up and deposited him outside the door,
where they left him in the pelting rain to make such disposition
of himself as he pleased. He rapped upon the window
and begged piteously to be admitted, and Mr. Tremtett and
Jeremiah interceded in his behalf, but the quaker could not
be moved from his purpose.

“I know him very well,” said friend Hogshart, “he is the
son of Judge Hupstart, a man who has taken so much interest
in public affairs that he has entirely neglected his own; this
fellow is his eldest son, whom the government took care of
and fed at the soldier shop, down at West Point, until he behaved
so bad that he was turned away; and then the government
gave him an appointment among the marines, because
his father being a bad politician, they wanted to show their
affection for him by taking care of his bad progeny, which is
the general way, thee knows, with our government; and he

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came home to his father's house with a sword by his side and
a red collar to his coat, but he did something amiss, what it
was I know not, although it must have been quite unhuman
for them not to have thought him fit for the marines, which I
am told is the very lowest grade of the war service, and he
was turned away from that place. As government could do
nothing more for him, he came home to his father, who
being a lawyer as well as a politician, for thee knows they
generally go together, thought that he would bring his son
up to his own profession and he was finally admitted to
practice the law, but he did not do well at that; and as thee
knows he could go no lower, why his father had to turn him
off to find his own level, and now he has got to be a stage
driver. But government was not entirely discouraged with
the family, they have put his two brothers into the navy, to
preserve the honor of the American flag, as I think they call
it, and you and I neighbor,” turning to Mr. Tremlett, “have
to pay our share towards supporting them; but for my own
part I would prefer to support the honor of my part of the
American flag myself, or if I had to delegate others to do it
for me, I should prefer to select people who had a little
honor themselves. And the father of this young man I hear
has just received an appointment to go abroad to support the
honor of the American nation at some foreign court, but I am
sure that if his townsmen were to select a man to support the
honor of their town he would be one of the last men they
would fix upon. But government always makes the most
of a bad family.”

Mr. Tremlett remarked that friend Hogshart was rather
severe upon government and politicians, but as he only
named facts he could not of course dispute him, but he hoped
that all the government appointments were not quite so bad.

But Jeremiah was horror-struck at the profane boldness of
the quaker, for he had never dabbled in politics and seldom
read any thing in the newspapers except the advertisements,

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and he looked upon government as a kind of divine abstraction,
or an embodiment of political power and wisdom which
dispensed justice infallibly and potently, and it had never entered
his mind that any mere layman had any right even to
think or to call in question the doings of this mysterious
power; and as for the officers of the army and navy, he looked
upon them with awe, believing them to be the most gallant
and perfect heroes in the world, and that without them the
whole twenty-four states of the union would immediately be
fallen upon and chopped into mince-meat by foreign nations;
and he had never once dreamed that it was possible for a man
to get into the navy without he first manifested all the bravery
and genius of Admiral Blake and Lord Nelson and Hull and
Perry combined, and he was grieved beyond measure to hear
that a sneaking poltroon, without even animal courage, or
mental energy enough to command an oyster boat, could by
political influence alone, be entrusted with the honor of the
American flag, and receive pay and rations for disgracing it.

Supper being placed on the table, the farmer's rosy cheek'd
daughter who had prepared it, sat down at the tea board, her
mother having gone out to put the young children to bed, and
the weary and hungry travellers gathered around it and partook
of the smoking hot and delicious meal in a spirit of exulting
happiness and gratitude. The old merchant, who had
never before met with an adventure having the slightest tinge
of marvelousness, looked upon himself as a perfect hero of romance,
little dreaming, however, that his exploits would ever
be recorded in history, and he chuckled with immense inward
satisfaction at the noise his adventure would make in
South street when it should be known there. As for Jeremiah
and John, they were both too much engaged with their
present delightful feelings to think of anything but their
present condition, but they were both unspeakably happy when
Mr. Tremlett told them he intended to return with them to
New York the very next day, if the weather would permit.

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While they were enjoying themselves at their supper, the
farmer sat with a huge volume open before him, which Jeremiah
discovered was Fox's Book of Martyrs bound up with
Barclay's Apology. The supper was acknowledged on all
hands to be the best that ever was eaten, and when the reader
is informed that it consisted, first of a huge loaf of rye and
indian bread, supported, on one side, by a brown dish of apple
sauce, on the other, by a pewter platter of fried ham and eggs,
and flanked by a roll of new butter and almost an entire old
cheese; second, a hot apple pie, accompanied by a plate of hot
rolls, a loaf of wheaten bread and part of a loin of roasted veal;
third, a loaf of pound cake and a dish of preserved peaches
swimming in fresh cream; and fourth, a cup, or rather a dozen
of them, of very choice old hyson, and a dish of honey comb,
which we forgot to put in its proper place, perhaps he will
not be disposed to doubt the fact.

As the evening was far advanced before the supper table
was cleared away, preparations were immediately made for
going to bed; the farmer had stated truly that he had no
spare beds, for it appeared that he had a couple of extra hands
at work upon his farm; but there was no deficiency of bedding,
as presently appeared, a field bed having been made in
an adjoining room where the travellers retired to rest, after
having each of them emptied a brown mug of old cider at
the pressing request of friend Hogshart and his wife, who both
assured them it would do them good, and to encourage them
to do so, first set the example themselves, in which they were
followed by the three sons, and even the young lady herself
who said she would take a little tiny drop, which she did, for
drops are only tiny in comparison with other drops, as a
bucket full is but a drop in the ocean.

The next morning, the weather being clear and pleasant, a
carriage was hired of friend Hogshart, and the three travellers
set out on their return to the city, with light hearts and very
light pockets, and without the encumbrance of any superfluous

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baggage, Mr. Tremlett's trunk having been carried over the
dam of the river the night before.

Here we shall rest at the first stage of our journey and bring
the first part of our history to a close, but before we part with
our reader we will inform him of a fact of which he would
otherwise remain a long time ignorant.

However unaccountable a man's actions may sometimes
appear, they can generally be traced to a sufficient cause;
murders, suicides, robberies, treasons, are never accidents; but
in nine cases out of ten when a man falls in love, it would
puzzle the most profound philosopher of the new school to
discover a satisfactory reason for his doing so. While men
act from conviction in the most trifling affairs of life, in the
most important of falling in love, he shuts the eyes of his reason
and leaves all to chance, and he gets punished accordingly,
he succeeds better in every thing than in getting married,
generally of course. What opportunities for becoming acquainted
with Huldah Hogshart, the farmer's daughter, Jeremiah
Jernegan may have enjoyed, has never transpired, but
when these two young persons bade each other farewell, it
was plain enough to the most careless observer that a tender
regard had sprung up between them, which was the more
manifest from the great pains which both took to conceal
it. Jeremiah was in love.

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