Whether, at this drowsy time, to knock for
admission, to alarm the peaceful tenants and take from them the rest
which their daily toils and their rural innocence had made so sweet, or
to retire to what shelter a haystack or barn could afford, was the theme
of my deliberations. Meanwhile, I looked up at the house. It was the model of cleanliness and
comfort. It was built of wood; but the materials had undergone the
plane, as well as the axe and the saw. It was painted white, and the
windows not only had sashes, but these sashes were supplied, contrary to
custom, with glass. In most cases the aperture where glass should be is
stuffed with an old hat or a petticoat. The door had not only all its
parts entire, but was embellished with mouldings and a pediment. I
gathered from these tokens that this was the abode not only of rural
competence and innocence, but of some beings raised by education and
fortune above the intellectual mediocrity of clowns. Methought I could claim consanguity with such beings. Not to share their
charity and kindness would be inflicting as well as receiving injury. The trouble of affording shelter, and warmth, and wholesome diet, to a
wretch destitute as I was, would be eagerly sought by them. Still, I was unwilling to disturb them. I bethought myself that their
kitchen might be entered, and all that my necessities required be
obtained without interrupting their slumber. I needed nothing but the
warmth which their kitchen-hearth would afford. Stretched upon the
bricks, I might dry my clothes, and perhaps enjoy some unmolested sleep,
in spite of presages of ill and the horrid remembrances of what I had
performed and endured. I believed that nature would afford a short
respite to my cares. I went to the door of what appeared to be a kitchen. The door was wide
open. This circumstance portended evil. Though it be not customary to
lock or to bolt, it is still less usual to have entrances unclosed. I
entered with suspicious steps, and saw enough to confirm my
apprehensions. Several pieces of wood, half burned, lay in the midst of
the floor. They appeared to have been removed hither from the chimney,
doubtless with a view to set fire to the whole building. The fire had made some progress on the floor, but had been seasonably
extinguished by pailfuls of water thrown upon it. The floor was still
deluged with wet: the pail, not emptied of all its contents, stood Upon
the hearth. The earthen vessels and plates, whose proper place was the
dresser, were scattered in fragments in all parts of the room. I looked
around me for some one to explain this scene, but no one appeared. The last spark of fire was put out, so that, had my curiosity been idle,
my purpose could not be accomplished. To retire from this scene, neither
curiosity nor benevolence would permit. That some mortal injury had been
intended was apparent. What greater mischief had befallen, or whether
greater might not, by my interposition, be averted, could only be
ascertained by penetrating farther into the house. I opened a door on
one side which led to the main body of the building and entered to a
bed-chamber. I stood at the entrance and knocked, but no one answered my
signals. The sky was not totally clouded, so that some light pervaded the room. I
saw that a bed stood in the corner, but whether occupied or not its
curtains hindered me from judging. I stood in suspense a few minutes,
when a motion in the bed showed me that some one was there. I knocked
again, but withdrew to the outside of the door. This roused the sleeper,
who, half groaning, and puffing the air through his nostrils, grumbled
out, in the hoarsest voice that I ever heard, and in a tone of surly
impatience, "Who is there?" I hesitated for an answer; but the voice instantly continued, in the
manner of one half asleep and enraged at being disturbed, "Is't you,
Peg? Damn ye, stay away, now! I tell ye, stay away, or, by God, I will
cut your throat!--I will!" He continued to mutter and swear, but without
coherence or distinctness. These were the accents of drunkenness, and denoted a wild and ruffian
life. They were little in unison with the external appearances of the
mansion, and blasted all the hopes I had formed of meeting under this
roof with gentleness and hospitality. To talk with this being, to
attempt to reason him into humanity and soberness, was useless. I was at
a loss in what manner to address him, or whether it was proper to
maintain any parley. Meanwhile, my silence was supplied by the
suggestions of his own distempered fancy. "Ay," said he; "ye will, will
ye? Well, come on; let's see who's the better at the oak stick. If I
part with ye before I have bared your bones!--I'll teach ye to be always
dipping in my dish, ye devil's dam ye." So saying, he tumbled out of bed. At the first step, he struck his head
against the bedpost, but, setting himself upright, he staggered towards
the spot where I stood. Some new obstacle occurred. He stumbled and fell
at his length upon the floor. To encounter or expostulate with a man in this state was plainly absurd. I turned and issued forth, with an aching heart, into the court before
the house. The miseries which a debauched husband or father inflicted
upon all whom their evil destiny allies to him were pictured by my
fancy, and wrung from me tears of anguish, These images, however,
quickly yielded to reflections on my own state. No expedient now
remained but to seek the barn and find a covering and a bed of straw. I had scarcely set foot within the barnyard when I heard a sound as of
the crying of an infant. It appeared to issue from the barn. I
approached softly and listened at the door. The cries of the babe
continued, but were accompanied by the entreaties of a nurse or a mother
to be quiet. These entreaties were mingled with heart-breaking sobs, and
exclamations of, "Ah, me, my babe! Canst thou not sleep and afford thy
unhappy mother some peace? Thou art cold, and I have not sufficient
warmth to cherish thee! What will become of us? Thy deluded father cares
not if we both perish." A glimpse of the true nature of the scene seemed to be imparted by these
words. I now likewise recollected incidents that afforded additional
light. Somewhere on this bank of the river there formerly resided one by
name Selby. He was an aged person, who united science and taste to the
simple and laborious habits of a husbandman. He had a son who resided
several years in Europe, but on the death of his father returned home,
accompanied by a wife. He had succeeded to the occupation of the farm,
but rumour had whispered many tales to the disadvantage of his morals. His wife was affirmed to be of delicate and polished manners, and much
unlike her companion. It now occurred to me that this was the dwelling of the Selbys, and I
seemed to have gained some insight into the discord and domestic
miseries by which the unhappy lady suffered. This was no time to waste
my sympathy on others. I could benefit her nothing.