departed to the free hunting grounds of
dreamland in pursuit of his desired game.
Now Meshech's was merely a representative case. He was by no means the
only workingman who that morning kept his bed warm to an unaccustomed
hour. Except such as had farms of their own to work on, or work for
themselves to do, there was scarcely any one in Stockbridge who went
to work. A large part of the labor by which the industries of the
community had been carried on, had been that of debtors working out
their debts at such allowance for wages as their creditor-employers
chose to make them. If they complained that it was too small, they
had, indeed, their choice to go to jail in preference to taking it,
but no third alternative was before them. Of these coolies, as we
should call them in these days, only a few who were either very timid,
or ignorant of the full effect of yesterday's doings, went to their
usual tasks.
Besides the coolies, there was a small number of laborers who
commanded actual wages in produce or in money. Although there was no
reason in yesterday's proceedings, why these should not go to work as
usual, yet the spirit of revolt that was in the air, and the vague
impression of impending changes that were to indefinitely better the
condition of the poor, had so far affected them also, that the most
took this day as a holiday, with a hazy but pleasing notion that it
was the beginning of unlimited holidays.
All this idle element naturally drifted into the streets, and
collected in particular force on the green and about the tavern. By
afternoon, these groups, reлnforced by those who had been busy at home
during the morning, began to assume the dimensions of a crowd. Widow
Bingham, at the tavern, had deemed it expedient to keep the right side
of the lawless element by a rather free extension of credit at the
bar, and there was a good deal of hilarity, which, together with the
atmosphere of excitement created by the recent stirring events, made
it seem quite like a gala occasion. Women and girls were there in
considerable numbers, the latter wearing their ribbons, and walking
about in groups together, or listening to their sweethearts, as each
explained to a credulous auditor, how yesterday's great events had
hinged entirely on the narrator's individual presence and prowess.
Some of the youths, the preceding night, had cut a tall sapling and
set it in the middle of the green, in front of the tavern. On the top
of this had been fixed the cocked hat of Justice Goodrich, brought as
a trophy from Great Barrington. This was the center of interest, the
focus of the crowd, a visible, palpable proof of the people's victory
over the courts, which was the source of inextinguishable hilarity. It
was evident, indeed, from the conversation of the children, that there
existed in the minds of those of tender years, some confusion as to
the previous ownership of the hat, and the circumstances connected
with its acquisition by the people. Some said that it was Burgoyne's
hat, and others that it was the hat of King George, himself, while the
affair of the day before at Great Barrington, was variously
represented as a victory over the redcoats, the Indians and the
Tories. But, whatever might be the differences of opinion on these
minor points, the children were uproariously agreed that there was
something to be exceedingly joyful about.
Next to the hat, two uncouth-looking machines which stood on the green
near the stocks, were the centers of interest. They were wooden
structures, somewhat resembling saw-horses. Beside each were several
boards, and close inspection would have shown that both the surface of
the horses and one side of these boards, were well smeared with rosin.
These were the horse-fiddles, contrived for the purpose of promoting
wakefulness by night, on the part of the silk stockings. Given plenty
of rosin, and a dozen stout fellows to each fiddle, drawing the boards
to and fro across the backs of the horses, pressing on hard, and the
resulting shrieks were something only to be imagined with the fingers
in the ears. The concert given to Squire Woodbridge the night
previous, had been an extemporized affair, with only one horse-fiddle,
and insufficient support from other instruments. To judge from the
conversation of the men and boys standing around, it was intended
to-night to give the Squire a demonstration which should quite compensate
him for the unsatisfactory nature of the former entertainment, and leave
him in no sort of doubt as to the sentiments of the people toward the
magistracy and silk stockings in general, and himself in particular. A
large collection of tin-pans had been made, and the pumpkin vines of
the vicinity had been dismantled for the construction of pumpkinstalk
trombones, provided with which, some hundreds of small boys were to be
in attendance.
Although the loud guffaws which from time to time were heard from the
group of men and hobbledehoys about the horse-fiddles on the green,
were evidence that the projected entertainment was not without comical
features as they looked at it, the aspect of the affair as viewed by
other eyes was decidedly tragical. Mrs. Woodbridge had long been
sinking with consumption, and the uproar and excitement of the
preceding night had left her in so prostrate a condition that Dr.
Partridge had been called in. During the latter part of her aunt's
sickness Desire Edwards had made a practice of running into her Uncle
Jahleel's many times a day to give a sort of oversight to the
housekeeping, a department in which she was decidedly more proficient
than damsels of this day, of much less aristocratic pretensions, find
it consistent with their dignity to be. The doctor and Desire were at
this moment in the living-room, inspecting through the closed shutters
the preparations on the green for the demonstration of the evening.
"Another such night will kill her, won't it, doctor?"
"I could not answer for the consequences," replied the doctor,
gravely. "I could scarcely hazard giving her laudanum enough to carry
her through such a racket, and without sleep she cannot live another
day."
"What shall we do? What shall we do? Oh, poor Aunty! The brutes! The
brutes! Look at them over there laughing their great horse laughs. I
never liked to see them whipped before, when the constable whipped
them, but oh I shall like to after this. I should like to see them
whipped till the blood ran down," cried the girl, tears of mingled
grief and anger filling her flashing eyes.
"I don't know when you are likely to have the opportunity," said the
doctor, dryly. "At present they have the upper hand in town, and seem
very likely to keep it. We may thank our stars if the idea of whipping
some of us does not occur to them."
"My father fears that they will plunder the store and perhaps murder
us, unless help comes soon."
"There is no help to come," said the doctor. "The militia are all in
the mob."
"But is there nothing we can do? Must we let them murder Aunty before
our eyes?"
"Perhaps," said the doctor, "if your Uncle Jahleel were to go out to
the mob this evening, and entreat them civilly, and beg them to desist
by reason of your aunt's sickness, they would hear to him."
"Doctor! Doctor! you don't know my uncle," cried Desire. "He would
sooner have Aunt Lucy die, and die himself, and have us all killed,
than stoop to ask a favor of the rabble."
"I suppose it would be hard for him," said the doctor, "and yet to
save your aunt's life maybe--"
"Oh I couldn't bear to have him do it," interrupted Desire. "Poor
Uncle! I'd rather go out to the mob myself than have Uncle Jahleel. It
would kill him. He is so proud."
The doctor walked across the room two or three times with knitted brow
and then paused and looked with a certain critical admiration at the
face of the girl to which excitement had lent an unusual brilliance.
"I will tell you," he said, "the only way I see of securing a quiet
night to your aunt. Just go yourself and see this Hamlin who is the
captain of the mob, and make your petition to him. I had words with
him this morning. He is a well seeming fellow enough, and has a bold
way of speech that liked me well i' faith, though no doubt he's a
great rascal and well deserves a hanging."
He paused, for Desire was confronting him, with a look that was a
peremptory interruption. Her eyes were flashing, her cheeks mantled
with indignant color, and the delicate nostrils were distended with
scorn.
"Me, Desire Edwards, sue for favors of this low fellow! You forget
yourself strangely, Dr. Partridge."
after all," and he went out of the house shrugging his shoulders.
Desire was still standing in the same attitude when a faint voice
caught her ear, and stepping to a door she opened it, and asked
gently, "What is it, Aunty?"
"Your uncle hasn't gone out, has he?" asked Mrs. Woodbridge, feebly.
"No, Aunty, he's in his study walking to and fro as he's been all day,
you know."
"He musn't go out. I was afraid he'd gone out. Tell him I beg he will
not go out. The mob will kill him."
"I don't think he will go, Aunty."
"Do you think they will make that terrible noise again tonight."
"I--I don't know. I'm afraid so, Aunt Lucy."
"Oh dear," sighed the invalid, with a moan of exhaustion, "it don't
seem as if I could live through it again, I'm so weak, and so tired.
You can't think, dear, how tired I am."
Desire went in and shook up the pillows, and soothed the sick woman
with some little cares and then came out and shut the door. Her wide
brimmed hat of fine leghorn straw with a blue ostrich plume curled
around the crown, and a light cashmere shawl lay on the table.
Perching the one a trifle sideways on her dark brown curls, which were
gathered simply in a ribbon behind, according to the style of the day,
she threw the shawl about her shoulders, and knocked at the door of
her Uncle Jahleel's study, which also opened into the living-room, and
was the apartment in which he held court, when acting as magistrate.
In response to the knock the Squire opened the door. He looked as if
he had had a fit of sickness, so deeply had the marks of chagrin and
despite impressed itself on his face in the past two days.
"I'm going out for a little while," said Desire, "and you will go to
Aunty, if she calls, won't you?"
Her uncle nodded and resumed his walking to and fro, and Desire,
stepping out of the house by a back way, went by a path across the
fields, toward Elnathan Hamlin's house.
The Hamlin house, like the houses of most of the poorer class of
people, had but two rooms on the ground floor, a small bedroom and a
great kitchen, in which the family lived, worked, cooked, ate and
received company. There were two doors opening into the kitchen from
without, the front door and the back door. On the former of these,
there came a light tap. Now callers upon the Hamlins, in general, just
pulled the latchstring and came in. Nobody tapped except the sheriff,
the constable, the tax-collector and the parson, and the latter's
calls had been rare since the family fortunes, never other than
humble, had been going from bad to worse. So that it was not without
some trepidation, which was shared by the family, that old Elnathan
now rose from his seat by the chimney corner and went and opened the
door. A clear, soft voice, with the effect of distinctness without
preciseness, which betrays the cultured class, was heard by those
within, asking, "Is Captain Hamlin in the house?"
"Do ye mean Perez?" parleyed Elnathan.
"I b'leve he's somewheres raound. He's aout doin up the chores, I
callate. Did ye wanter see him?"
"If you please."
"Wal, come in won't ye, an sid down, an I'll go aout arter him," said
Elnathan, backing in and making way for the guest to enter.
"It's the Edwards gal," he continued, in a feebly introductory manner,
as Desire entered.
Mrs. Hamlin hastily let down her sleeves, and glanced, a little
shamefacedly, at her linsey-woolsey short gown and coarse petticoat,
and then about the room, which was a good deal cluttered up, and small
blame to her, considering the sudden increase of her household cares.
But it was, nevertheless, with native dignity that she greeted her
guest and set her a chair, not allowing herself to be put out by the
rather fastidious way in which Desire held up her skirts.
"Sid down," said Elnathan "an be kinder neighborly. She wants to see
Perez, mother. I dunno what baout, I'm sure. Ef he's a milkin naow I
of him," and the old man shuffled out the back door.
Desire sat