*

wife (for John was always fond of his tenants marrying for fear of their doing worse), he took as little notice as possible of his reputed father, and dropping or disowning his nickname of Peterson, he assumed that of Marygold, which old Madam Bull understood as a compliment to one of her daughters. He also made his court to the old lady by kneeling down and kissing the golden fringe of her embroidered petticoat, as was the fashion of that day. This ceremony, though a trifle in itself, helped much to recommend him to Mr. Bull, who was a very dutiful son, and took his mother's advice in most parts of his business. In short, Cecilius was too much of a politician to suppose that filial affection ought to stand in the way of a man's interest, and in this he judged as many other men would have done in the same circumstances.

About the time in which these first attempts were making, and the fame of them had raised much jealousy among some, and much expectation among others, there happened a sad quarrel in John Bull's family. His mother, poor woman, had been seized with hysteric fits, which caused her at times to be delirious and full of all sorts of whims. She had taken it into her head that every one of the family must hold knife and fork and spoon exactly alike; that they must all wash their hands and face precisely in the same manner; that they must sit, stand, walk, kneel, bow, spit, blow their noses, and perform every other animal function by the exact rule of uniformity, which she had drawn up with her own hand, and from which they were not allowed to vary one hair's breadth. If any one of the family complained of a lame ankle or stiff knee, or had the crick in his neck, or happened to cut his finger, or was any other way so disabled as not to perform his duty to a tittle, she was so far from making the least allowance, that she would frown, and scold, and rave like a bedlamite; and John was such an obedient son to his mother, that he would lend her his hand to box their ears, or his foot to kick their backsides, for not complying with her huThis way of proceeding raised an uproar in the family; for though most of them complied, either through affection for the old lady, or through fear, or some other motive, yet others looked sour and grumbled; some would openly find fault and attempt to remonstrate, but they were answered with a kick or a thump, or a cat-o'nine-tails, or shut up in a dark garret till they promised a compliance. Such was the logic of the family in those days!

mors.

Among the number of the disaffected, was Peregrine Pickle,t a pretty clever sort of a fellow about his business, but a great lover of sourcrout, and of a humor that would not bear contradiction. However, as he knew it would be fruitless to enter into a downright quarrel, and yet could not live there in peace; he had so much prudence as to quit the house, which he did by getting out of the window in the night. Not liking to be out of employment, he went to the house of Nicholas Frog, his master's old friend and rival, told him the story of his sufferings, and got leave to employ himself in one of his workshops till the storm should be over. After he had been here a while, he thought Nick's family were as much too loose in their manners as Bull's were too strict; and having heard a rumor of the Forest, to which Nick had some kind of claim, he packed up his little all, and hired one of

Nick's servants, who had been there a hunting, to pilot him to that part of the Forest to which Nick laid claim. But Frog had laid an anchor to windward of him; for as Pickle had said nothing to him about a lease, he supposed that when Peregrine had got into the Forest, he would take a lease of his old master, Bull, which would strengthen his title, and weaken his own; he therefore bribed the pilot to show Peregrine to a barren part of the Forest, instead of that fertile place to which he had already sent his surveyors, and of which he was contriving to get possession. Accordingly, the Pilot having conducted Pickle to a sandy point which runs into the lake, it being the dusk of the evening, bade him good night, and walked off. Peregrine, who was fatigued with his march, laid down and went to sleep, but waking in the morning, saw himself alone in a very dreary situation, where he could get nothing to live upon but clams, and a few acorns which the squirrels had left. In this piteous plight, the poor fellow folded his arms, and walking along the sandy beach, fell into such a soliloquy as this: "So much for travelling! Abused by Bull, cheated by Frog, what am I at last come to? Here I am alone, no creature but bears, and wolves, and such vermin around me! Nothing in the shape of a human being that I know of, nearer than Pipeweed's plantation, and with him I cannot agree; he is so devoted to old Dame Bull, that he and I cannot live together any more than I could with the old woman. But why should I despair? That is unmanly; there is at least a possibility of my living here, and if I am disappointed in my worldly prospects, it is but right, for I professed not to have any. My wish was to have my own way without disturbance or contradiction, and surely I can here enjoy my liberty. I have nobody here to curse me, or kick me, or cheat me. If I have only clams to eat, I can cook them my own way, and say as long a grace over them as I please. I can sit, or stand, or kneel, or use any other posture at my devotions, without any cross old woman to growl at me, or any hectoring bully to cuff me for it. So that if I have lost in one way I have gained in another. I had better, therefore, reconcile myself to my situation, and make the best of a bad market. But company is good! Apropos! I will write to some of my fellow-apprentices; I know they were as discontented as myself in old Bull's family, though they did not care to speak their minds as plainly as I did. I'll tell them how much happiness I enjoy here in my solitude. I'll point out to them the charms of liberty, and coax them to follow me into the wilderness; and by and by, when we get all together, we shall make a brave hand of it." Full of this resolution, he sat down on a wind-fallen tree, and pulling out his inkhorn and paper, wrote a letter to John Codline, Humphrey Ploughshare, and Roger Carrier, three of his fellow-apprentices, informing them of the extreme happiness he enjoyed in having liberty to eat his scanty meals in his own way, and to lay his swelled ankles and stiff knee in whatever posture was most easy to him; conjuring them, by their former friendship, to come to join him in carrying on the good work so happily begun, etc. etc. As soon as he had finished the letter (which had deeply engaged his attention), a huntsman happened to come along in quest of game.

Hudson' River. + Cape Cod. The month of December.

This was a lucky circumstance indeed, for Peregrine had not once thought of a conveyance for his letter; it proved also favorable to him in another view, for the huntsman taking pity on his forlorn situation, spared him some powder and shot, and a few biscuit which he happened to have in his pocket; so, taking charge of the letter, he delivered it as it was di

rected.

This letter arrived in good season, for old Madam had grown much worse since Pickle had left the family; her vapors had increased, and her longings and aversions were much stronger. She had a strange lurch for embroidered petticoats and high waving plumes; her Christmas pies must have double the quantity of spice that was usual; the servants must make three bows where they formerly made but one, and they must never come into her presence without having curled and powdered their hair in the pink of the mode, for she had an aversion to every thing plain, and a strong relish for every thing gaudy. Besides, she had an high-mettled chaplain who was constantly at her elbow, and said prayers night and morning in a brocaded cope with a gilded mitre on his head; and he exacted so many bows and scrapes of every one in the family, that it would have puzzled a French dancingmaster to have kept pace with him. Nor would he perform the service at all, unless a verger stood by him all the while with a yard-wand in his hand; and if any servant or apprentice missed one bow or scrape, or made it at the wrong time, or dared to look off his book, or said Amen in the wrong place, rap went the stick over his head and ears and knuckles. It was in vain to appeal from the chaplain or the old dame to their master, for he was so obedient a son that he suffered them to govern him as they pleased; nay, though broad hints were

As soon as the letter of Peregrine Pickle arrived, the apprentices, to whom it was directed, held a consultation what they should do. They were heartily tired of the conduct of the chaplain; they lamented the old lady's ill health, and wished for a cure; but there was at present no hope of it, and they concluded that it was best to follow Pickle's advice, and retire with him into the Forest. Though they were infected with the spirit of adventure, yet they were a set of wary fellows, and knew they could not with safety venture thither unless they had a lease of the land. Happily, however, for them, Bull had a little while before that put the affairs of the Forest into the hands of a gentleman of the law, with orders to see that the matter was properly managed, so as to yield him some certain profit. To this sage they applied, and for the proper fees, which they clubbed for between them, they obtained a lease, under hand and seal; wherein, for "sundry causes him thereunto moving, the said Bull did grant and convey unto John Codline and his associates, so many acres of his Forest, bounded so and so, and which they were to have, hold, and enjoy for ever and ever, yielding and paying so and so, and so forth." When this grand point was gained by the assistance of the lawyer and his clerks, who knew how to manage business, the adventurers sold all their superfluities to the pawnbrokers, and got together what things they supposed they should want, and leaving behind them a note on the compter,t to tell their master where they were bound, and what were their designs; they set off all together and got safe into a part of the Forest adjoining to Pickle, who, hearing of their arrival, took his oaken staff in his hand, and hobbled along as fast as his lame legs could carry him to see them, and a joyful meeting indeed they had.

*Archbishop Laud.

*The Council of Plymouth in Devonshire.

+ Letter written on board the Arabella, after the embarkation of the Massachusetts settlers.

courted, and marry her and that he should be considered as the lord of the manor, that Pickle should have a lease of that part which he had pitched upon, and that Ploughshare and Carrier should for the present be considered as members of Codline's family. John had taken a great fancy to fishing, and thought he could wholly or chiefly subsist by it; but Humphrey had a mind for a farm; so after a while they parted in friendship. Humphrey, with a pack on his back and a spade in his hand, travelled across the Forest till he found a wide meadow, with a large brook + running through it, which he supposed to be within John's grant, and intended still to consider himself as a distant member of the family. But as it fell out otherwise, he was obliged to get a new lease, to which Mr. Frog made some objections, but they were over-ruled; and soon after another old fellow-servant, Theophilus Wheatear, came and sat down by him. They being so much alike in their views and dispositions, agreed to live together as intimates, though in two families, which they did till Wheatear's death, when Ploughshare became his sole heir, and the estate has ever since been his. This Humphrey was always a very industrious, frugal, saving husband; and his wife,

though a formal, strait-laced sort of a body, yet always minded her spinning and knitting, and took excellent care of her dairy. She always clothed her children in homespun garments, and scarcely ever spent a farthing for outlandish trinkets. The family and all its concerns were under very exact regulations: not one of them was suffered to peep out of doors after the sun was set. It was never allowed to brew on Saturday, lest the beer should break the fourth commandment by working on Sunday; and once, it is said, the stallion was impounded a whole week for holding crim. con. with the mare while the old gentleman was at his devotions. Bating these peculiarities (and every body has some) Humphrey was a very good sort of a man, a kind neighbour, very thriving, and made a respectable figure. Though he lived a retired life, and did not much follow the fashions, yet he raised a good estate and brought up a large family. His children and grandchildren have penetrated the interior parts of the country, and seated themselves on the best soil, which they know how to distinguish at first sight, and to cultivate to the greatest advantage. Whereever you find them, you find good husbandmen.

A SIMPLICITY in diet, whether it be considered with reference to the happiness of individuals or the prosperity of a nation, is of more consequence than we are apt to imagine. In recommending so important an object to the rational part of mankind, I wish it were in my power to do it in such a manner as would be likely to gain their attention. I am sensible that it is one of those subjects in which example has infinitely more power than the most convincing arguments or the highest charms of poetry. Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," though possessing these two advantages in a greater degree than any other work of the kind, has not prevented villages in England from being deserted. The apparent interest of the rich individuals, who form the taste as well as the laws in that country, has been against him; and with that interest it has been vain to contend.

The vicious habits which, in this little piece, I endeavor

to combat, seem to me not so difficult to cure. No class of interest which certain families may feel in vying with each other in sumptuous entertainments. There may, indeed, be some instances of depraved appetites which no arguments will conquer; but these must be rare. There are very few persons but what would always prefer a plain dish for themselves, and would prefer it, likewise, for their guests, if there were no risk of reputation in the case. This difficulty can only be removed by example; and the example should pro

people has any interest in supporting them, unless it be the

ceed from those whose situation enables them to take the lead in forming the manners of a nation. Persons of this description in America, I should hope, are neither above nor below the influence of truth and reason, when conveyed in language suited to the subject.

Whether the manner I have chosen to address my arguments to them be such as to promise any success, is what I cannot decide; but I certainly had hopes of doing soine good, or I should not have taken the pains of putting so many

The Massachusetts charter. + Connecticut River.

1793.

rhymes together. The example of domestic virtues has doubtless a great effect. I only wish to rank SIMPLICITY OF DIET among the Virtues. In that case, I should hope it will

be cherished and more esteemed by others than it is at pres

ent.

CHAMBERRY, SAVOY, January, 1798.

The Hasty Pudding.

CANTO I.

JOEL BARLOW.

YE Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that, o'er their heights unfurl'd,
Bear death to kings and freedom to the world,
I sing not you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.
Despise it not, ye bards to terror steel'd,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal-
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
Its substance mingled, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.
Oh! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime,
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rhyme,
No more thy awkward, unpoetic name
Should shun the muse or prejudice thy fame;

London is lost in smoke and steep'd in tea;
No Yankee there can lisp the name of thee;
The uncouth word, a libel on the town,
Would call a proclamation from the crown.
For climes oblique, that fear the sun's full rays,
Chill'd in their fogs, exclude the generous maize :
A grain whose rich, luxuriant growth requires
Short, gentle showers, and bright, ethereal fires.

But here, though distant from our native shore,
With mutual glee, we meet and laugh once more.
The same! I know thee by that yellow face,
That strong complexion of true Indian race,
Which time can never change, nor soil impair,
Nor Alpine snows, nor Turkey's morbid air;
For endless years, through every mild domain,
Where grows the maize, there thou art sure to
reign.

Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower,
In boiling water stir the yellow flour:
The yellow flour, bestrew'd and stirr'd with haste,
Swells in the flood and thickens to a paste,
Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim,
Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim;
The knobs at last the busy ladle breaks,
And the whole mass its true consistence takes.
Could but her sacred name, unknown so long,
Rise, like her labors, to the son of song,
To her, to them I'd consecrate my lays,
And blow her pudding with the breath of praise.
If 'twas Oella, whom I sang before,

I here ascribe her one great virtue more.
Not through the rich Peruvian realms alone
The fame of Sol's sweet daughter should be known,
But o'er the world's wide clime should live secure,
Far as his rays extend, as long as they endure.

But man, more fickle, the bold license claims,
In different realms to give thee different names.
Thee the soft nations round the warm Levant
Polanta call; the French, of course, Polante.
E'en in thy native regions, how I blush
To hear the Pennsylvanians call thee Mush!
On Hudson's banks, while men of Belgic spawn
Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn.
All spurious appellations, void of truth;
I've better known thee from my earliest youth;
Thy name is Hasty Pudding! thus our sires
Were wont to greet thee fuming, from their fires;
And while they argued in thy just defence
With logic clear, they thus explained the sense :
"In haste the boiling caldron, o'er the blaze,
Receives and cooks the ready powder'd maize;
In haste 'tis served, and then in equal haste
With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast.
No carving to be done, no knife to grate
The tender ear and wound the stony plate;
But the smooth spoon, just fitted to the lip,
And taught with art the yielding mass to dip,
By frequent journeys to the bowl well stored,
Performs the hasty honors of the board."
Such is thy name, significant and clear,
A name, a sound to every Yankee dear,
But most to me, whose heart and palate chaste
Preserve my pure, hereditary taste.

Dear Hasty Pudding, what unpromised joy, Expands my heart, to meet thee in Savoy! Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to

roam,

Each clime my country, and each house my home,
My soul is soothed, my cares have found an end:
I greet my long-lost, unforgotten friend.
For thee through Paris, that corrupted town,
How long in vain I wander'd up and down,
Where shameless Bacchus, with his drenching hoard,
Cold from his cave usurps the morning board.

There are who strive to stamp with disrepute
The luscious food, because it feeds the brute;
In tropes of high-strain'd wit, while gaudy prigs
Compare thy nursling man to pamper'd pigs;
With sovereign scorn I treat the vulgar jest
Nor fear to share thy bounties with the beast.
What though the generous cow gives me to quaff
The milk nutritious; am I then a calf?
Or can the genuis of the noisy swine,
Though nursed on pudding, thence lay claim to mine?
Runs more melodious than the notes they raise.
Sure the sweet song I fashion to thy praise,

My song, resounding in its grateful glee,
No merit claims; I praise myself in thee.
My father loved thee through his length of days!
For thee his fields were shaded o'er with maize;
From thee what health, what vigor he possess'd,
Ten sturdy freemen from his loins attest;
Thy constellation ruled my natal morn,
And all my bones were made of Indian corn.
Delicious grain! whatever form it take,
To roast or boil, to smother or to bake,
In every dish 'tis welcome still to me,
But most, my Hasty Pudding, most in thee.

Let the green succotash with thee contend;
Let beans and corn their sweetest juices blend;