The memory of recent events was, for a time, effaced by my visionary horrors. I was conscious of transition from one state of being to another, but my imagination was still filled with images of danger. The bottomless gulf and my gigantic persecutors were still dreaded. I looked up with eager ness. Beside me I discovered three figures, whose character or office were explained by a coffin of pine boards which lay upon the floor. One stood with hammer and nails in his hand, as ready to replace and fasten the lid of the coffin, as soon as its burthen should be received. I attempted to rise from the floor, but my head was dizzy and my sight confused. Perceiving me revive, one of the men assisted me to regain my feet. The mist and confusion presently vanished, so as to allow me to stand unsupported and to move. I once more gazed at my attendants, and recognised the three men, whom I had met in High street, and whose conversation I have mentioned that I overheard. I looked again upon the coffin. A wavering recollection of the incidents that led me hither and of the stunning blow which I had received, occurred to me. I saw into what error appearances had misled these men, and shuddered to reflect, by what hairbreadth means I had escaped being buried alive. Before the men had time to interrogate me, or to comment upon my situation, one entered the apartment, whose habit and mien tended to encourage me. The stranger was characterized by an aspect full of composure and benignity, a face in which the serious lines of age were blended with the ruddiness and smoothness of youth, and a garb that bespoke that religious profession, with whose benevolent doctrines the example of Hadwin had rendered me familiar. On observing me on my feet, he betrayed marks of surprise and satisfaction. He addressed me in a tone of mildness. "Young man," said he, "what is thy condition? Art thou sick? If thou art, thou must consent to receive the best treatment which the times will afford. These men will convey thee to the hospital at Bush Hill." The mention of that contagious and abhorred receptacle, inspired me with some degree of energy; No," said I, "I am not sick, a violent blow reduced me to this situation. I shall presently recover strength enough to leave the spot without assistance." He looked at me, with an incredulous but compassionate air; "I fear thou dost deceive thyself or me. The necessity of going to the hospital is much to be regretted, but on the whole it is best. Perhaps, indeed, thou hast kindred or friends who will take care of thee." "No," said I; "neither kindred nor friends. I am a stranger in the city. I do not even know a single being." "Alas!" returned the stranger, with a sigh, "thy state is sorrowful-but how camest thou hither?" continued he, looking around him, "and whence comest thou?" "I came from the country. I reached the city a few hours ago. I was in search of a friend who lived in this house." "Thy undertaking was strangely hazardous and rash; but who is the friend thou seekest? Was it he who died in that bed, and whose corpse has just been removed?" The men now betrayed some impatience; and inquired of the last comer, whom they called Mr. Estwick, what they were to do. He turned to me, and asked if I were willing to be conducted to the hospital? I assured him that I was free from disease, and stood in no need of assistance; adding, that my feebleness was owing to a stunning blow received from a ruffian on my temple. The marks of this blow were conspicuous, and after some hesitation he dismissed the men; who, lifting the empty coffin on their shoulders, disappeared. He now invited me to descend into the parlor ; "for," said he, "the air of this room is deadly. I feel already as if I should have reason to repent of having entered it." He now inquired into the cause of those appearances which he had witnessed. I explained my situation as clearly and succinctly as I was able. After pondering, in silence, on my story;-"I see how it is," said he; "the person whom thou sawest in the agonies of death was a stranger. He was attended by his servant and a hired nurse. His master's death being certain, the nurse was despatched by the servant to procure a coffin. He probably chose that opportunity to rifle his master's trunk, that stood upon the table. Thy unseasonable entrance interrupted him; and he designed, by the blow which he gave thee, to secure his retreat before the arrival of a hearse. I know the man, and the apparition thou hast so well described, was his. Thou sayest that a friend of thine lived in his house-thou hast come too late to be of service. The whole family have perished. Not one was suffered to escape." THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN, THOMAS GREEN, the son of the Rev. Thomas Fessenden of that place, author of a volume entitled A Theoretical Explanation of the Science of Sanctity, was born at Walpole, New Hampshire, April 22, 1771. He completed his course at Dartmouth in 1796, having supported himself while at college by teaching psalmody in the evenings, and keeping school during the vacations, and afterwards studied law at Rutland, Vt. While thus occupied, he amused his leisure hours by contributing to the Dartmouth Eagle and the Walpole Farmer's Weekly Museum, a number of humorous poems similar in style to those of Royal Tyler and the other "Walpole Wits." One of these, "The Country Lovers," became very popular. In 1801, he visited London for the purpose of introducing a new hydraulic machine, in which he had, with a number of friends, become interested; but on subjecting the machine to a more thorough test than it had received in America, it was found not to answer the purpose. His plans thus frustrated, in the hope of still turning his journey to account, he embarked in a project set on foot by a fellow countryman, resident in London, of constructing a water-mill on the Thames. He invested his means in the purchase of one-fifth of the concern. The project failed. During the season of anxiety occasioned by this disa-ter, and while a portion of the time confined to his bed by sickness, he made a literary venture, which Mr G Freunden proved as successful as his former attempts nac disastrous. The Terrible Tractoration* was composed as a satire on the medical profession in general; its special subject being the Metallic Tractors of Perkins, an application of galvanism to the treatment of disease, in the efficacy of which Fessenden then and afterwards professed himself to be a believer. It professes to be composed by a starving garreteer in the pay of the faculty, to write down the new invention. A large portion of the volume is occupied by original notes, satirizing the commentators, which equal in humor the text they illustrate. The poem was published anonymously, and was variously attributed to Gifford, Wolcot, the author of "Peter Pindar," and Huddesford, an author to whom we have already had occasion to allude.§ Its success relieved the author's embarrassments, which, according to a story we have heard, had confined him to a jail, where the poem was written. The author followed up this hit by a collection of newspaper contributions, with the title Original Poems. In 1804 Fessenden returned to America, where both of his volumes had been reprinted with success, and published in the same year a violent attack, in verse, on the Jeffersonians, entitled Democracy Unveiled, or Tyranny stripped of the garb of Patriotism. He next started a periodical, The Weekly Inspector, in New York, which was continued about two years. This was a pleasant miscellany, of a literary rather than political character, enlivened by Christopher Caustic's verses, as well as his lively prose, but after a trial of two years proved unsuccessful. The editor closes the fifty-second number with a spirited editorial, from which we extract a few passages:— "The inevitable hour,” which speedily overtakes, in Columbia's "happy land," every publication which aspires to any character for literature, science, or general information, above that of a common daily advertising newspaper, has put a period to the Weekly Inspector. Terrible Tractoration!! A Poetical Petition against Galvanising Trumpery, and the Perkinistic Institution, in four cantos, most respectfully addressed to the Royal College of Physicians, by Christopher Caustic, M.D., LL.D., ASS., Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, Aberdeen, and Honorary Member of no less than nineteen very learned societies. First American, from the second London edition, revised and corrected by the author, with additional notes. New York: Samuel Stansbury. 1804. Perkins, after practising his system in London, came to this country armed with his tractors, and fortified by the credentials of a score of bishops and other dignitaries of the Church of England," and professed to cure yellow fever by his Tractors. He was allowed, in consequence of the sympathy of the Directors of the New York Hospital, to introduce his practice into that institution. He died himself of the yellow fever in 1799, a few months after his arrival, and was buried in the Potter's Field, now the Washington Parade Ground. -Reminiscences of Christopher Colles, by Dr. J. W. Francis, in Knickerbocker Gallery. Preface to the Modern Philosopher, 1806, p. 11. be the man, of all men, for an editor of an American newspaper. Americans look at the quantity and not the quality. Give us so much of something, and we will call you a great man. Write us sixteen pages a week of original matter, no matter how much was stolen, and we will set you on the top of a liberty pole. In 1806 he published The Minute Philosopher, an enlargement of the Terrible Tractoration. A third edition was published towards the close of his life. We next hear of him in 1812, as practising law at Bellows Falls, Vermont. Here he married. In 1815 he removed to Brattleboro', where he edited The Reporter, a political newspaper. He returned to Bellows Falls in the next year, where he edited a newspaper called The Intelligencer, a position he retained until 1822, publishing in the meantime a volume in verse, The Ladies' Monitor. He then removed to Boston, to commence the New England Farmer, a weekly agricultural jour nal, which attained high rank in its department, in his hands. While conducting this journal, he edited two other periodicals of a similar character, The Horticultural Register and The Silk Manual, and also prepared a number of treatises on similar subjects. In these pursuits the remainder of his life was passed. He died of apoplexy at Boston, November 11, 1837. The Massachusetts Society for Promoting Agriculture, and the Horticultural Society, erected a monument over his remains at Mount Auburn.* Nathaniel Hawthorne, in an article in the American Monthly Magazine, has furnished a pleasant picture of Fessenden towards the close of his career. In January, 1836, I became, and continued for a few months, an inmate of Mr. Fessenden's family. It was my first acquaintance with him. His image is before my mind's eye at this moment; slowly approaching me with a lamp in his hand, his hair grey, his face solemn and pale, his tall and portly figure bent with heavier infirmity than befitted his years. His dress-though he had improved in this particular since middle life-was marked by a truly scholastic negligence. He greeted me kindly, and with plain, old-fashioned courtesy; though I fancied that he somewhat regretted the interruption of his evening studies. After a few moments' talk, he invited me to accompany him to his study, and give my opinion on some passages of satirical verse, which were to be inserted in a new edition of "Terrible Tractoration." Years before I had lighted on an illustrated copy of this poem, bestrewn with venerable dust, in a corner of a college library; and it seemed strange and whimsical that I should find it still in progress of composition, and be consulted about it by Doctor Caustic himself. While Mr. Fessenden read, I had leisure to glance around at his study, which was very characteristic of the man and his occupations. The table, and great part of the floor, was covered with books and pamphlets on agricultural subjects, newspapers from all quarters, manuscript articles for the New England Farmer, and manuscript stanzas for "Terrible Tractoration." There was such a litter as always gathers round a literary man. It bespoke, at once, Mr. Fesse: den's amiable temper and his abstracted habits, that several members of the family, old and young, were : it * Buckingham's Newspaper Reminiscences, il. 218–220. Preface to the reprint of Terrible Tractoratior.. ting in the room, and engaged in conversation, apparently without giving him the least disturbance. A specimen of Doctor Caustic's inventive genius was seen in the "Patent Steam and Hot-water Stove," which heated the apartment, and kept up a pleasant singing sound, like that of a tea-kettle, thereby making the fireside more cheerful. It appears to me, that, having no children of flesh and blood, Mr. Fessenden had contracted a fatherly fondness for this stove, as being his mental progeny; and it must be owned that the stove well deserved his affection, and repaid it with much warmth. THE COUNTRY LOVERS, ETO A merry tale I will rehearse, Yankee doodle,* keep it up, His father gave him bran new suit, Moreover, sir, I'd have you know, A hundred he could count, 'tis said, And by good Christian parents bred, He'd been to school to Master Drawl, To spell a-bom-in-a-ble, And when he miss'd, he had to crawl, One day his mother said to him, My darling son, come here, Come fix you up, so neat and trim, And go a courting, dear." Yankee doodle, &c. "Why, what the deuce does mother want? I snigs-I daresn't go; I shall get funn'd-and then-plague on't Folks will laugh at me so!" Yankee doodle, &c. Yankee doodle, a ludicrous musical afr, which I believe was first invented by the English, in derision of the Americans, whom they styled "Yankees." wrote ludicrous songs to this tune. This chorus is quoted The Americans frequently from a song, written, I believe, in Boston. "Pho! pho! fix up, a courting go, To see the deacon's Sarah, Then Jonathan, in best array, Yankee doodle, &c. He mutter'd as he rode along, "I wonder mother 'll make me go, I never know'd, nor want to know, "A wife would make good housen* stuff, Yankee doodle, &c. "But then, I shan't know what to say,t Yankee doodle, &c. He reach'd the house, as people say, Yankee doodle, &c. He made of bows, 'twixt two and three, At length came in the deacon's Sal For she knows all about affairs, Can wash, and bake, and brew,§ sir, Sing "Now I lay me," say her prayers, And make a pudding too, sir. Yankee doodle, &c. To Boston market she has been She's courted been, by many a lad, Yankee doodle, &c. Yankee doodle, &c. Now, should a Boston lady read, Of Sally's shoe and stocking, You fine Miss Boston lady, gay, Now Jonathan did scratch his head, Then talk'd with Sally's brother Joe And how a witch, in shape of owl, And how a man, one dismal night, How Widow Wunks was sick next day. And now the people went to bed: And wish'd himself at home, sir. Yankee doodle, &c. At length, says Sal, "they're gone, you see, Say Jonathan, "indeed-they be Sal cast a sheep's eye at the dunce, A glass of whiskey, mixed with molasses, is so called in New England, and is a common beverage with the peasantry. There is a tale among the ghost-hunters in New England, that silver bullets will be fatal to witches, when those of lead would not avail. Verses are thus pronounced by the rustics in New England. His next address pray learn by heart, "Miss Sal, I's going to say, as how, Yankee doodle, &c. Then Jonathan, as we are told, Did even think to smack her; Sal cock'd her chin, and look'd so bold, He did not dare attack her! Yankee doodle, &c. "Well done, my man, you've broke the ice, "This courting is a kind of job I always did admire, sir, And these two brands, with one dry cob, "Miss Sal, you are the very she, "Then we will live, both I and you, "My father has a nice bull calf, Which shall be your's, my sweet one; "Twill weigh two hundred and a half," Says Sal, "well, that's a neat one." Yankee doodle, &c. "Your father's full of fun, d'ye see, Yankee doodle, &c. "Are you the lad who went to town, Our lover hung his under lip, For he to Boston town had been, Yankee doodle, &c. And now he wish'd he could retreat, It seem'd as if his heart would beat Yankee doodle, &c. * Vulgar pronunciation of the word trowsers. Sal ask'd him "if his heart was whole?" His chin began to quiver; He said, he felt so deuced droll, Now Sal was scar'd out of her wits, To see his trepidation, A pail of water she did throw, Yankee doodle, &c. Then Jonathan straight hied him home, Yankee doodle, keep it up, HOSEA BALLOU. HOSEA, the youngest of the eleven children of the Rev. Maturin Ballou, was born April 30, 1771, at Richmond, New Hampshire. He was brought up by his father, a Baptist clergyman, according to the tenets of that sect, but received few of the advantages of general education, there being no school at his native village, and his time being so fully occupied by the labors of the farm as to give him but few leisure moments for study. These were, however, well improved, and other difficulties arising from the meagreness of the family means were also bravely mastered. He learned to write by forming letters with a cinder on strips of bark by the light of the fire; pen, paper, ink, and candle-light being all too expensive luxuries to be obtained. At the age of nineteen he became connected with his father's congregation, but soon after, adopting the views of the Universalists, was expelled from membership. After some instruction in ordinary English branches at the academy at Chesterfield, New Hampshire, he commenced, about the age of twenty, preaching as an itinerant. The novelty of his views, and his ability as an extempore speaker, attracted great attention, and in 1794 he received an invitation to a permanent congregation at Dana, Massachusetts. In 1796 he married, and five years later accepted a call to Barnard, Vermont. He soon after, in 1804, published Notes on the Parables, and a Treatise on the Atonement, works in which he maintained the doctrines he had adopted of the non-existence of future punishment, limited or eternal, after death, and of the non-existence of the Trinity. After residing for six years at Barnard he removed to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where he remained for the same period and then resided at Salem, Massachusetts. Here he published a series of letters addressed to Abner Kneeland on the authenticity of the Scriptures. On the fifteenth of December, 1817, he was installed a pastor of the Second Universalist Society at Boston, a recently formed association, who had erected a church for his reception. In 1819 he commenced a weekly journal, the Universalist Magazine, of which he remained editor for many years. Several of his hymns appeared in its columns. In 1831 he commenced with his great-nephew, the Rev. Hosea Ballou, 2d, a leading clergyman of the same denomination, a quarterly publication entitled the Universalist Expositor. He edited this periodical for two years, and continued to contribute to the pages of this and the first named journal until his death-an event which occurred after an uninterrupted ministry at Boston of thirty-five years, on the seventh of June, 1852. In addition to the works we have mentioned, Ballou published several collections of his sermons and treatises on the doctrines he professed. A volume of his fugitive verses consists mostly of hymns, many of which are included in the Universalist collection, by Adams and Chapin. Of these the following may be taken as a specimen. BLESSINGS OF CHRIST'S UNIVersal reign. Zion, the desolate, again Shall see her lands with roses bloom; And Carmel's mount, and Sharon's plain, Shall yield their spices and perfume. Celestial streams shall gently flow; The wilderness shall joyful be; Lilies on parchéd ground shall grow; And gladness spring on every tree; The weak be strong, the fearful bold, The deaf shall hear, the dumb shall sing, Old pride shall die, and meekness reign,- An edition of Ballou's collected writings has been published. The Rev. Hosea Ballou, 2d, still edits the Universalist Quarterly Review, to which he has contributed many valuable articles. He is also the author of the Ancient History of Universalism, in which he endeavors to trace that doctrine to the time of the Primitive Church. Moses, nephew of Hosea Ballou, is the author of The Divine Character Vindicated, a reply to Beecher's Conflict of Ages. Another brother is the editor of Ballou's Pictorial, and the author of several popular tales. Another member of the same family, the Rev. Adin Ballou, is the author of several pamphlets on the Peace movement, of which he is a leading advocate. ELIHU H. SMITH. ELIHU HUBBARD SMITH was born at Litchfield, Conn., Sept. 4, 1771. He was educated at Yale College, and completed his course at so early an Now the Universalist Quarterly Review. Hymns for Christian Devotion; especially adapted to the Universalist i enomination. By J. G. Adams and E. II. Chapin. Boston: Abel Tompkins. 1846. |