CHAPTER I.

IN relating the facts of my life to you, I shall en­deavour to give as simple an account of them▪ as I am able, without colouring or dakening any cir­cumstances; although the relation of many matters will give me a degree, and kind of pain, which only they, who feel, can describe. I have often lamen­ted my neglect of keeping minutes of the occurren­ces of my life, from time to time, when they were fresh in my memory, and alive to my feelings; the disadvantage of which I now feel, when I come to run over in my mind the chain, which has connect­ed the events together; many circumstances are entirely lost, and many more, so obscurely remem­bered, that I shall not even attempt to give them a place, in this account. Not to trouble you with any more prefatory remarks—I will proceed to the re­lation.

I AM the only son of a Clergyman, living in Han­over, in the state of Newhampshire; and, were any to expect merit from their parentage, I might just­ly look for that merit. But I am so far a republi­can, that I consider a man's merit, to [...]est entirely [Page 9] with himself, without any regard to family, blood [...] or connection. My Father being a Presbyterian, by principle, I was educated in all the rigor of that order, which [...]lly suited my volatile impatient tem­per of mind; this being the case, my first entrance on the stage of life, was by no means the most agree­able. My thirst for amusement was insatiable, and as in my situation, the only dependence, for that gratification, was intirely within myself. I sought it in pestering others, especially those, who were my superiors in age, and in making them ap­pear in a ludicrous situation, so as to raise the laugh at their expense, and partake of the general diver­sion, which such a matter created. My success in those undertakings was so great, that I became the terror of the people where I lived, and all were very unanimous in declaring, that Stephen Bur­roughs was the worst boy in town; and those, who could get him whipt, were most worthy of esteem: their attempts to bring on my back a flagellation, were often very successful, for my heedless temper seldom studied [...] a retreat, when I was fairly in danger; however, the repeated application of this birchen medicine never cured my pursuit of fun. A neighbor of my Father's, an old man, had a fine yard of watermellons, which had been purloined by some body, for three or four succeeding nights; the old man, being of a hasty petulant disposition, was determined to watch his watermellons, with a club, and severely beat the thief. One night, he took his stand in a convenient place, for watching, unknown to any one. Accident made me acquaint­ed with the old man's situation, and suspecting his intention, I went to a son of his, a young man, of a­bout twenty, and told him I saw a man in the wa­termellon yard, whom I suspected to be the thief, and advised him to go, cautiously, to the yard, and peradventure he might catch him: accordingly, [Page 10] the young man went, but no sooner had he got into the yard, than the old man, supposing this to be the thief, rushed from his hiding place, and attacked his son with his club, and severely handled the poor fel­low, before he found out his mistake: the son sup­posing the thief was beating him, bawled out to his Father, who, he expected, was at the house, Murder! Father! Father! Murder! Murder! This scene of [...]ment, I enjoyed to the full, but soon paid for it through the note. The plot being discovered, and the agent, who set this machine in motion, clearly detected: complaint was made, and I tasted of the same food, I had so ingeniously cooked for the old man's son. I should hardly mention the insipid an­cedotes of my childish years, were it not for the purpose of shewing how those small occurrences had a decided influence, in giving a tone to the character, which I sustain, at this time, and in di­recting the operations of my after life. So much [...]o the greatest events depend upon circumstances [...]o minute, that they often pass unobserved, & con­sequently, wrong causes are attributed to the effects, [...] take place. Being passionately fond of in­formation, [...] embraced all opportunities for read­ing, which my desultory life would admit, and un­fortunately, many Novels sell in my way, of that [...], which had a direct tendency to blow the fire o [...] my temper into a tenfold rage.—The character of Guy, Earl of Warwick, was my favorite. I felt [...] enthusiastic ardour to tread the stage, on which he had so fortunately exhibited. I often viewed my­self at the head of armies, rushing with impetuosi­ty into the thickest of embattled foes, and bearing down all, who dared to oppose me. Reading and dwelling so much on those romantic scenes, at that early period of life, when judgment was weak, was attended with very pernicious consequences, in the operations of my after conduct. Nothing gives the [Page 11] mind of childhood a more unfavorable bi [...], than a representation of those unnatural characters, exhib­ited in Novels and Romances. It has a [...] ten­dency to lead the mind from the plain simple path of nature, into the airy regions of fancy▪ and when the mind is once habituated to calculate on the Ro­mantic System, error and irregularity are the com­mon consequences:—Likewise, when a man is long habituated to think erroneously▪ we can hardly ex­pect, that he will be able to root out the first o [...] [...] sentiments of his education. I will cand [...] ­ly confess, that I, too strongly, feel the truth of this doctrine, even to this day. Permit me, here, [...] ­gress a moment from the narrative, and offer a re­mark on education, for your consideration. The mo­tives of the most sincere friendship to you and your family induce me to do it. I have been in the hab­it of educating youth for seven years, constantly; in the course of my business, I have endeavored to study the operations of the human heart, that I might be able to afford that instruction, which would be salutary, and in this, I find one truth clearly established, viz. a child will endeavor to be, what you make him think, mankind in general are. His first ambition is to be like his Parents, be soon finds, that his neighbors, the inhabitants of the country, nay, the world of mankind, are to be his associates for life, and to whom it is necessary, for him to recommend himself, in order to enjoy the benefit of their society, without alloy,—he therefore endeavors to assimilate himself to the character, which he supposes mankind generally possess. This motive, I believe, has an operation more or less on every man. If these remarks are just, which I think no observing man will deny, how evident is this truth, that a child, in forming his own charac­ter, will be essentially directed by that idea, which you instil into his mind respecting mankind? Give [Page 12] him an idea, that the inhabitants of the world es­teem virtue, integrity, mildness, and modesty, and that the contrary are obnoxious to them, he will be most likely to pursue that course unremittedly. Per­haps an objection may arise in your mind, to the truth of this observation, and you will say, it often happens that those, who are the most strict in culti­vating principles of integrity, in the minds of their children, are disappointed in their endeavors, to make their children virtuous. In answer to this objection, I will observe, That our actions are as strong a language, and perhaps stronger, than our words, and as the observations of children are extremely keen, they discover at once, whether our words & our actions speak the same language; and when they find them interfering, they immediately conclude, that deception is the object of the parent, and not sincerity, that he utters words, that he does not believe himself, and puts on a false appearance to answer some sinister end; a view of which, in­sensibly, leads the child into the practice of dissimu­lation. The ambition in children of becoming like their superiors, rightly directed, is of the utmost im­portance, in forming them such as they ought to be. To grant a child your approbation, when do­ing, or desiring to do right, is a reward, which he will ever seek after, when he thinks it within his reach, therefore, to keep that reward uniformly within his power, is a matter of importance; and not, by indulging a petulant disposition, destroy or render doubtful his expectations of obtaining what he merits: here you establish the first principles of Justice in his mind, upon which he will practise, when he becomes an active member of Society.—As the child advances to a riper state, and be­comes what is generally termed a youth, he feels the strength of his disposition for assimulating his character to the feelings of mankind increase, & he [Page 13] will adopt such measures as his judgment then dic­tates; hence, to inform his judgment, is the only way to make him capable of conducting well; to restrain him, by dictatorial dogmas, from the paths of error, will answer but a temporary purpose; until he learns by the lessons of reason [...] or by the more feeling effects of prudence, he never will be in a ca­pacity to act his part in life with propriety. We must expect to find many errors in the calculations of youthful years, and those errors ought to be pru­ned by the most careful hand, lest the harshness of the pruning should appear to the subject, the cruel stroke of an enemy, rather than the gentle touch of a friend. To censure the faults of youth be­yond what they ought to bear, is generally attended with fatal consequences. It destroys the object of their pursuit, viz. approbation▪ they revolt at the injustice, which they sensibly feel, therefore, inflict­ing unjust punishment is generally attended with fa­tal consequences in the system of education. It de­stroys the principles of equity in the youthful breast, and substitutes in their room, the despotic principles of tyranny. This cause strongly ope­rates in society. Hence, my Lord Hale with great pertinency and humanity says, "better ten guilty es­cape, than one innocent person suffer." I have of­ten seen instances where the ambition of youth, to do well has been destroyed, by censuring their faults with too much severity, one of which, I will mention. I once taught a school in a town of Massachusetts, by the name of Charleton. Hav­ing a school consisting of eighty members, I divid­ed them, according to my usual custom, into two classes. My school, at this time, was entirely regu­lated according to my mind, and in the most obedi­ent order, greatly to the satisfaction of the parents of the children, who frequented the school. Ap­plication was made to me at this time, by a clergy­man [Page 14] in the vicinity, for the admission of his son in­to the school. With great difficulty I persuaded the Committee, who had the direction of admitting members, to admit him. My desire for his admis­sion sprang from the same cause, which the commit­tee's aversion did. The Youth was fifteen years of age, and had been expelled from all the schools in the country, consequently, whatever Dodge, the name of this Youth, was concerned in, must, in the opin­ion of people, be adopted from a wrong motive. Convinced, from my own feelings under similar circumstances, that a different line of conduct to­wards him, from what had been observed, would produce a different effect, I was desirous of trying the experiment: accordingly, when he came to my school, I intimated to him, that he must take the lead of one of the classes, which composed the school; & that I expected, from his exertions and example, his class would make a very reputable appearance. I endeavored to convince him, that this appointment was not from design, but from a real esteem of his merit, by showing him many little distinctions. His conduct, for about twelve or fourteen days, was equal to my most sanguine expectations;—but re­turning from dinner one day, I found the school in an uproar, at the conduct of Dodge, who, in my ab­sence, had gone into the upper loft of the house, and had most scandalously insulted some young wo­men, who were at the back side of the school house. Complaint was made of this, with all the exaggera­tion which is apt to attend the transgression of such a character. Dodge, himself, was present at the time, and possest that mortification in his counte­nance, which made me feel sensibly affected for him. I treated the report as though I could not believe, that Dodge had conducted in such a man­ner as to render it possible, that the thing should be as represented; that some mistake must have exist­ed, [Page 15] and [...]fused to pay any further attention to it. It would have been to you, Sir, a matter of cu­riosity, to have observed the workings of the coun­tenance of Dodge under this trial,—and when he found that my confidence in him was yet unshak­en, so contrary to his fears, I was really afraid he would have fainted.—This had the desired effect—Never had I one in my school, who conducted bet­ter afterwards, during his whole continuance with me, which was about a year.

I would not wish to be understood that a relax­ation of discipline is ever to be admitted; on the contrary, the most uniform course of this admin­istration should be attended to, without the least de­viation. Our commands, in the first place, ought to be reasonable, humane, and parental, calculated to promote, not only the good of the subject of our government, but likewise embracing for their object, the benefit of the whole community. When the commands are once given, never ought we to suffer a breach of them, under any circumstances what­ever: by such a practice we make good subjects, good legislators, and good executors. By these means we habituate our youth to submit to good & wholesome laws, without being in danger of that restless turbulent disposition, which so freqently distracts the Government of a Commonwealth: we likewise make them good legislators, by giving them constant examples, in our mode of governing them, of justice, humanity, and parental kindness; and when those principles are once established in the human breast, the governing object of such characters will be, to enact and establish such laws, as will distribute and support the genuine and real principles of their education. They, likewise, will make men, who, in their executive capacity, will promote the highest good of Society, by uniformly adhering to an undeviating course of executing [Page 16] laws to which they are appointed:—But I return from this digression to the narrative.

CHAP. II.

BEING possessed with the most romantic ideas of military prowess, I longed for an opportu­nity of signalizing myself in that department, and consequently, embraced the first opportunity of en­tering into the military line. At this time a regi­ment of the continental forces, commanded by Col­onel Hazen, were marching through the country where I lived, and I, at the age of fourteen, enlisted into an artillery company, attending the regiment, as a private soldier. This circumstance soon com­ing to the knowledge of my Father, he applied to the officer under whom I had enlisted, and obtained my discharge. Chagrined and disappointed at this unexpected repulse, I concluded that all my pros­pects for fame were at an end, knowing of no oth­er opportunity by which I could, probably, intro­duce myself into the military department.—The re­giment were on a march, which took them about six weeks, and then returned through Hanover a­gain, on their way to head-quarters. While they lay encamped in this town, about five miles from my Father's house, I began to consider the probability of joining them again—thinking, that should I neg­lect this opportunity, all my future prospects in life were at an end. After revolving this subject some time in my mind, I came to a resolution to elope from my Father, about the time the regiment were to march, and go off with them. Report said they were to march on Monday morning, therefore, that was the time fixed in my mind to leave my Father's house. On the Sunday preceding the time of their march, my Father was absent, on a change with a [Page 17] neighbouring Minister, and so produced a favorable situation for the execution of my plan. On some pretended cause, I tarried from church that day, in order to have an opportunity of making those ar­rangements, which I then thought necessary, to e­quip myself for a soldier. Accordingly, I took a bed blanket and tied it full of clothes and provisions, not knowing that I should ever be provided with ei­ther by the public. My provision, consisted of bread and cheese, that being the only kind, which was ready cooked, would best answer my pur­pose. All this baggage, together with an old mus­ket, belonging to my Father, powder horn filled with powder, and thirty balls, I laid by, in a conve­nient place, until the important moment should ar­rive. About the dawn of day, on Monday morn­ing, I placed myself under the enormous load, con­tained in the blanket, after being accoutred with powder horn and musket, I pursued my way with great energy to the camp, where I arrived a little af­ter sunrise. My appearance in camp, in this ludic­rous plight, was an object of universal curiosity and amusement. Sweating under an enormous load of bread and cheese, brandishing the old family mus­ket of my Father's, accoutred with a due quantity of powder in a horn, by my side, and a sufficiency of ball in my pocket to kill thirty men, if rightly directed; I made the appearance of more than Quixotic bravery. Surely the Knight of La Man­cha, had he seen me in my present plight, would have dismounted from the most redoubtable Rose­nante, and would have yielded to me the palm of Chivalry, as the most accomplished Knight on the sod.

These first dawnings of resolution and persever­ance, which were manifested in this ridiculous es­say, I found were pleasing to the officer, under whom I had formerly enlisted—to whom I again [Page 18] applied for admission into his company, but previ­ously declared, that I would not again enlist with him, unless he would engage not to discharge me, if my Father should pursue me. The regiment did not march till near the middle of the day, much to my disappointment, and I received the disagreeable intelligence, that my Father had arrived in camp, previous to their march.

The resolution of my officer, who was a man of feeling, was not proof against the solicitations of my Father. He again discharged me, and my father took me home. As the obstacles to my joining the army increased, my resolution to surmount them gained strength, and my anxiety for this purpose, had arisen to such a degree, that I determined to e­lope, the first minute I was from under my Father's eye, and follow the regiment. All that day and night I was guarded with the utmost attention. A­bout ten o'clock the next morning, I was sent on an errand to the next neighbor's, about the distance of ten rods. When I had gotten that distance, I ran with all my might, and never stoped, until I had run twenty eight miles from home, where I overtook the regiment. There I enlisted with another offi­cer, determined not to be dismissed again, by my former misplaced confidence. I had not been here long before my father, with two other men, came full tilt after me. Being somewhat doubtful wheth­er I should again be discharged, I determined to make my own safety by flight, but the men, who were with my Father, observing my opperations, pursued me, and overtook me after some little dif­ficulty: However, the officer under whom I had in­listed, absolutely refused to discharge me, unless I gave my consent. Accordingly, my Father made application to me, for my approbation in the mat­ter. This was a new scene; to view my Parent be­fore me, a supplicant, beseeching me to return with [Page 19] him; stating to my view, the situation of a discon­solate Mother, the most affectionate of Parents; the yearnings of his own feelings of compassion towards me, and the unhappy situation to which they should all be reduced, should I still persist in my desperate resolution of leaving them; this was a situation too affecting for me to bear.—A flood of contending passions rushed on my mind. To return from the first attempt for military fame, before I had fairly set out, after forming such strong resolutions to the contrary, appeared to me pusillanimous and foolish. On the other hand, to break through all the ties of nature, compassion, and benevolence, was what my soul sickened at viewing. One moment I was de­termined on going, at the next I was for returning. No permanent resolution could I form, till the next morning, when the revallee being beaten, all the fee­lings of military ardor were again rekindled, and I was determined to march. My Father finding my resolution fixed, took a most solemn and affecting leave. This scene I cannot reflect upon without feeling the weakness of a woman.

The night following, when the hurry of contend­ing passions had subsided, and I had full leisure of taking a retrospective view of those very singular transactions, they filled my mind with the severest compunction. To view my parent, returning to a disconsolate family, laden with sorrow, whilst I had been deaf to all the calls of nature and compassion, were circumstances, which filled me with the keen­est sensations of distress; and the night following, I was not able to close my eyes to sleep; such were the agitations of my mind.

There I determined to return to my father, not­withstanding all the mortifying circumstances, which would attend such a procedure. Early the next morning, a clergyman, by the name of Olcott, came to me, to persuade me to return to my father, [Page 20] —this he found no difficult matter to do. I told him frankly I was willing: but when he made ap­plication to my officer for a discharge, he was flatly refused. We marched from thence to head-quar­ters, at West-Point, without meeting with any oc­currences, worth relating.

When the Regiment had arrived on the North river, they were constantly alarmed by the enemy, and had a number of skirmishes with them. At such times, I was always kept back with the bag­gage, and never suffered to go into action, notwith­standing all my intreaty. I fully believe, had I been indulged in my romantic disposition, I should have rushed, foolishly, into that danger, from which I never should have returned. These repulses brought about that mortification and disappoint­ment, which cured me of my military ardor. Fill­ed with resentment and chagrine I suddenly left the army and returned home to my Father. Soon af­ter my return, my Father wrote the following letter to General Washington for my discharge, and sent it by the hand of the Honorable Bezaleel Wood­ward, Esq. who was then on his way to Congress, from the state of Newhampshire.

CHAP. III.

SOON after this, my Father placed me at school, under the [...] late Joseph Hunting­ton, D. D. whose fame for an instructor was very noted throughout all the New-England States, where I continued one year, and was then removed to Dartmouth College, of which I became a mem­ber.

Whilst I was with Doctor Huntington, many of those boyish pranks, which students are apt to prac­tise, in order to give themselves the tone of wits, were performed by me, to the no small diversion of myself, and the other students, and to the great hinderance of my pursuit in literary acquirements. This was the hour of folly. From the effect of this age, flowed a continued stream of crude, undigested whims, which kept the school and myself in a con­stant uproar. I became an inmate in the fami­ly of my Preceptor, which consisted of the Doctor, Mrs. Huntington, two sons, by a former wi [...]e, near­ly my own age, and a number of small children, how many I do not recollect. The Doctor himself was a character, whose parallel is not commonly found. A man of very considerable oratorical abilities, which consisted more in smooth figures, and ingenious declamation; than in close metaphysical reasoning. A mind by no means tied down to es­tablished modes and forms, but internally despising them, possessing an unbounded ambition, fond of flattery. A temper, when undisturbed, philan­thropic, but disappointment and chagrine changed it into the boisterous rage of a northwest whirl­wind. Mrs. Huntington, a character truely amia­ble. Joseph, second son to the Doctor, after his [Page 23] own name, about one year younger than myself.—This youth was truly the son of his Father. The fire of his ambition was great—his resolution was equal to his ambition; and his excentricity was equal to both; with a strong mind, equal to his father, he despised the shackles of education, broke thro' all the little obstacles of vulgar prejudice, and pur­sued those paths, to which the fire of genius, and the want of judgement, at that time, directed him. The rest of the family had nothing uncommon in their characters which distinguished them from man­kind in general.

Being full of vivacity, Joseph & I were almost per­petually prosecuting some scene of amusement or diversion. Some of those pastimes were graduat­ed upon a scale of innocence, and some, I am sorry to say, embraced for their object, the vexation and detriment of the neighbors. Our chief force was aimed at a neighbor, commonly known by the name of Tiger, on account of his morose misanthropic disposition. One night we repaired to his house and took logs from his wood pile, about two feet in length, and piled them up against the door, until they reached the top, laying them in such a manner as to incline into the house. After arranging matters in this order, we made a noise as if attempting to get into the old man's garden, sufficiently loud for him to hear; immediately upon this, the old man crept softly to the door and opening it suddenly, down came the logs, so rapidly as to knock him to the floor, and cover him over. The noise which this made alarmed the family universally, with an idea that they felt the shock of an earthquake, and that the last judgment had arrived, which set some a screaming and some a praying, and for a long time these ideas so wholly occupied the minds of the family, that the old man could not get any assistance from the load of timber, under which he was buri­ed, [Page 24] immediately upon his being freed from his con­finement, he put on some clothes and repaired to Doctor Huntington's, in order to enter a complaint against Joseph & myself, whom he suspected of being the agents in this disagreeable scene; & the reason of his suspicion was founded in this, viz. but a few days before Joseph and I were caught by him, pic­king some early apples off a tree in his garden; a complaint of which was made, and we obliged to pay three shillings: But as we were seen to go to bed, that night, and found in bed when he came with this last complaint, and no evidence that we had left our bed, it was concluded that his suspi­cions wanted proof, and there this matter ended.

Soon after this, we contrived another plan to dis­turb the old man's quiet. Joseph went to him, and with a woful countenance professed his sorrow for his having given him trouble, and in order to evince his sorrow, told him, he had to inform, of an in­tention of some of the scholars, to rob his apple trees that night, and advised him to watch, that he might detect them; and if he should, they would have to pay him a considerable sum of money: this ba [...]t the old man eagerly swallowed, and took his stand, accordingly, for watching.

The other part of this contrivance, I was to act myself,—as being the best fitted for it, on account of my superior agility. Accordingly, about ten at night, I crept along close to the garden fence, till I came, as though by accident, near to the old man, at which I turned and ran, and he after me. Be­ing able, abundantly to out-run him, I kept but a very small distance before him, pretending to run with all my might, in order to raise his expecta­tions of being able to overtake me; when coming to the edge of a ditch, which contained about three feet depth of mud and filth, I clapt down on my hands and knees before the old man, and he stum­bled [Page 25] over me, plump into the ditch; but catching hold of the skirt of my coat, tore it off, and carried it into the ditch with him.—This was a clue which served, the next day, to unravel the plot, in part, as it related to me; and when complaint was made to our Preceptor, he acquitted us entirely, as not having done any thing unlawful, nor having at­tempted it, according to the proof.

This was a scene of great diversion to the Doctor. The woful countenance which Tyger made, about falling into the ditch, together with my strutting a­bout, without a skirt to my coat, altogether, made so ludicrous an appearance, that, notwithstanding all the exertion of the Doctor, he could not suppress the rising inclination to laugh, but would, once in a while, burst forth, in spite of himself. Not long af­ter this, I had intelligence of the death of an only brother, by a letter from my father to the Doctor, a copy of the answer to which is as follows.

AS it is a custom, generally, through the state of Connecticut, to keep Saturday evenings, as the com­mencement of holy time, and consequently, to con­sider Sunday, as expiring with the beginning of the succeeding evening, the relation of the following circumstance, will not be so much wondered at.

One Sunday, after sunset, a number of the Doc­tor's students had assembled in the streets, and were somewhat noisy, about a pastime, by which they were amusing themselves. This noisy merriment appeared to the Doctor, to be mistimed, when ex­hibited in the street, at so great a proximity with the Sunday; and therefore, he wished us to desist [Page 27] from pursuing our sport in the street, and attend to it in his door-yard; telling us we might do any thing in the yard, if we would not make a noise in the street: we, accordingly, all came into his yard, and began our amusement again; but soon stoped, by an idea's being suggested of the great liberty, which the Doctor had granted us, of doing any thing in his yard. His office of necessity stood within the limits of the yard; therefore, it was proposed, and immediately agreed, to upset this building.

Dr. Huntington, rising very early the next morn­ing, according to his usual custom, saw the destruc­tion of his little house: on making enquiry of the scholars, they all denied that they knew how the house came to be overset, until he came to me, and said, "Borroughs, do you know how the little house was turned over?" "Yes, sir." "Well, who turn­ed it over?" "We, who were at play, last evening, in the yard." "How came you to turn it over?" "You said, sir, we might do any thing in the yard." The Doctor said no more—went down—procured some hands—and replaced the necessary on its for­mer foundation. Not long after this, the Doctor wrote the following letter to my Father.

SOME time after this, boarding about a mile and [Page 29] a half from the Doctor's, with another lad nearly of my own age; we took an old horse, that ran in the road, and mounted him▪ as we were going to school without saddle or br [...]dle, and rode him through the street, full [...]. This circumstance, becoming known, the owner of the horse, applied to a Justice of the Peace, and obtained a warrant for us, and be­ing taken, we were brought before him, and fined, together with the cost, fifteen dollars; the owner having summoned twenty witnesses to prove one fact. Soon after this, I returned to my Father, and brought the following letter from the Doctor to him.

INASMUCH, as you are now on the subject of Dr. Huntington, and his correspondence with my fa­ther, I will here insert two other letters, written by him some years after, one, when I was in great ad­versity, and the other, at a time of apparent pros­perity.

CHAP. IV.

AT Commencement, I was presented, examined, and admitted a member of Dartmouth Col­lege. Here I had a new situation before me, and another part to act; not possessing all the advanta­ges to act it with eclat. The reports of my many wild eccentricities had come before me, magnified in a tenfold degree; and I found all were waiting with open mouths to see an explosion. Those, who were fond of such scenes of diversion, were disap­pointed at my neglect in exhibiting some specimens of fun, which I had determined to lay by intirely. Others, who were of a different cast, lowered upon me with a threatening brow, indicative of their inten­tion to check my wildness in its first appearance.

Here, I found my situation very different and dis­agreeable, on the one hand, I was excited, invited and flattered, to gratify those, who were fond of a­musement; on the other, I was watched, with the scrutinizing eye of jealousy, for misconduct, and a readiness to censure in me, what would be thought innocent in others, to humble and check that grow­ing propensity to disorder, as was alledged. My Father was careful to have me take a room with one Jacob Wood, A. M. who, of all others, was best cal­culated to humble and mortify any, whom he enter­tained a suspicion against, as differing from him in principle or practice. A man of small stature, and yet smaller mental abilities; regid and enthusiastic in his notions of religion, which consisted in a sow­er, morose, misanthropic line of conduct towards all, who where not of his party. To be an inmate [Page 34] with such a character, you will readily conceive, no way comported with a disposition like mine; and consequently, we never enjoyed that union and har­mony of feelings in our intercourse, as room mates, which was necessary for the perfect enjoy­ment of social life. Possessing a mind very unsta­ble, he was often out of humor, at his want of suc­cess, in making me submissive and humble, to his caprice; and being desirous of my [...]ing a part of his cha [...]ine, he assailed my ears with a perpetual stream of petulant criminations. He sought op­portunities to mortify me before company, by rep­resenting me as a person inattentive to matters of religion, and consequently, wanting every virtue. This mode of procedure, I could not tamely dis­pense wi [...]h; my invention was the only mean of resort for retaliation.

One night, while he was paying his devoirs to a young lady, word was brought him, that in a fit of the epilepsy, I was about expiring, and wished for him to perform the last kind office of a friend, to pray with, and for me. This was a business he al­ways attended with great promptitude, his Dulcinea being equally possest with the laudable ambition of proselyting, agreed to accompany him to the room. But when they came there, they found it empty of every living thing, and not even the appearance of any person's being there that night; for the truth was, I had, the day preceding, obtained leave of ab­sence, and was gone to my Father's. This was readily understood as a p [...]n upon his sacerdotal character, than which, nothing could have wound­ed him more. His character, in that respect, he wished to have considered as sacred; and to trifle with that, was striking at the very root of all his sanctimonious self-importance. He suspected me to be the author of this mortifying [...], and was un­wearied in his endeavors to gain some evidence of [Page 35] the fact, but all his exertions were ineffectual. Not­withstanding all these singularities and eccentrici­ties, I believe him to be a man of an honest heart, lead to practise those ridiculous plans by a mis­guided zeal for religion.

About this time, the Indians had made [...] upon some of the frontier settlements, and destroy­ed them. It was feared they would make a descent upon Hanover, and burn Dartmouth College, with the buildings in its vicinity; and consequently, the minds of the people were full of fear, and easily a­roused by an alarm of any kind. One evening, be­ing in company with a number of others, we pro­posed and agreed, to make a visit to a [...] of water­melons, belonging to a man in the vicinity, who kept them for sale, and help ourselves to some of them. We, accordingly, put our plan in execu­tion; and went as far as the river, half a mile out of town, in order to eat them more securely. After we had finished our repast, every one took his own way, in order to get to his room unperceived. I came directly into town, by the most obvious rout, in company with one Paine: when we had gotten to the green, around which the buildings stand, we discovered some person walking before my door, suspecting, as I suppose, my absence from my room, which being against the laws of College, at that time of night, would give him an opportunity, if he made the desired discovery, to involve me in difficulty.

All these circumstances were very apparent to me, and therefore, I wished to avoid being known to him, as well as to avoid the discovery of the watermelons: We, therefore, turned off another course, than directly to the College, and rolled our gowns close together, and tucked them up on our backs, so as to make the appearance of men worn packs on their backs. This man, Higgins by name, [Page 36] seeing us, by this time, came on toward us; we quickened our pace—he pursued us with equal speed—we ran—he ran after us, and hallooed with all his might.—I was now sensible, that an alarm would be made among the inhabitants, and of course, some immediate and decisive measures must be taken, to prevent a discovery, or a suspicion of the watermelon business falling on me: I, therefore, turned a short corner, where my pursuer lost sight of me, and ran directly back to the College, and got into my room undiscovered.

Fortunately, my room-mate, was not at his lodg­ings this night. I heard an inquiry, in the rooms adjoining, respecting the noise: I went into one of them, and found they were about starting after Higgins, to learn the difficulty. We, accord­ingly, all started together and after running about one hundred rods, came up to him, who was still hallooing for help. On inquiry, he told us that he had discovered two men, carrying packs on their backs, lurking about the town, whom he sup­posed to be spies from the Indians, and that they had fled on discovering him. The town was alarm­ed, the militia turned out; the boats up and down the river were stopped; the woods were scoured, but nothing found, nothing discovered; all night, the fruitless search was continued.

About the dawn of day, the people returned, weary and fatigued, into the town, and assembled for mutual consultation. Some thought one thing, and some another. Some thought the whole diffi­culty began in nothing, and ended in the same. Some thought it a trick of the scholars, to make themselves diversion. At the suggestion of this i­dea, one Capt. Storrs observed, that he saw Burroughs and Paine pass by his house, about six minutes be­fore he heard the outcry. The name of Burroughs cast a suspicious appearance upon the business [Page 37] They all turned their eyes on me, as the author [...] this alarm and uproar. I cited those who ran from the College with me, on the first of the outcry, to vouch for my innocence; they readily did it. All were satisfied, on my account, except my good friend, Mr. Wood. He rolled the eye of jealousy over the business—he was dissatisfied.—He took Paine to a private room in the College,—and there, by a reiterated course of flattery, threatening, terrors, and soothings, he obtained the mighty se­cret, as it related to me. I was immediately in­formed of the business, by a person, whom I had placed in a room adjoining, to overhear whatever should be the result of this conference.

It was now about sunrise. I, immediately, went to the owner of the watermelons, and told him, that passing his yard last evening, after he was in bed, I had taken twelve of his watermelons, knowing he kept them for sale, and came to let him know it, and pay him for them. After counting his water­melons, and finding twelve taken, according to my account, he took the pay, and gave me his receipt. I now returned to my room, ready to meet the heavy blow, I saw was preparing against me.

By this time, it had taken air, that I was the au­thor of last night's alarm. Every countenance was turned upon me, in an oblique direction. They had all heard, that theft was combined in the business, they had all determined, I must fall under this blow;—therefore, they were waiting for the awful moment, of my being summoned before the authori­ty of College. Ten o'clock, the all tremendous hour arrived! I appeared—a number had gather­ed—which crowded the room. After the charge was read against me, Mr. Ripley, one of the Tu­tors, addressed me in a speech of half an hour's length, stating the enormous crime I had been guilty of, the course of iniquity I must have led [Page 38] through life, to be detected in such an atrocious high handed breach of law, at the age of sixteen; the disgrace I had brought on my family connex­ions, and the seminary, of which I was a member; that my expulsion, which would undoubtedly suc­ceed, would be but only a prelude to my punish­ment by the civil law; that ruin and disgrace were the only effects, which would fall on my devoted head.

This rant I heard, with the coolness of a Stoic. After he had talked himself out of breath, I had lib­erty to answer. I mentioned the hardness of my case, in being [...]cused, condemned, and executed, without any proof, or even being heard in my own defence. That I did not know what evidence they could produce of my being guilty of the crime laid to my charge, but whatever it was, I hoped to be sufficiently able to overturn its validity, and clearly establish my innocence. At least, the humane lan­guage of candor, taught us to hold every man in­nocent, till he was proved guilty. True it was, I had taken watermelons from Mr. Smith, the night preceding, but had early that morning, informed him of the fact, and paid for them. This informa­tion, was like a thunder-clap, to some of the spec­tators. All their hopes, of seeing r [...]in fall heavy on my head, were now quashed in the twinkling of an eye. Mr. Smith, the owner of the watermelons, having been sent for, testified to all the facts, which I had stated; and of course, here the business end­ed.

My Father consented for my removal from the room where I had lived. I, accordingly, changed my lodgings, to my no small satisfaction. During the succeeding vacation, my Father, attentive to his wonted humanity, took a classmate of mine, by the name of Coffin, home to his house, whose pecunia­ry circumstances were difficult, and gave him his [Page 39] board and tuition, gratis. He likewise supplied Coffin with provisions for his subsistence for the next winter, on condition of his paying for them afterwards, at a time he himself had fixed, as being most convenient. The time being elapsed, I asked Coffin for the money, according to his promise, in behalf of my Father, in order to answer some small engagements, which I was under, for the payment of money. He paid but little attention to my re­quest; I repeated it a number of times afterwards, but without effect. At length, Coffin told me plainly, he had no intention of paying the debt; stating the difference between his and my Father's circumstances, that my Father was better able to do without it, than he was to pay it. I remonstrat­ed in warm terms on the unreasonableness of his conduct. This brought about a violent resentment on his side, which he never failed to shew, when he had an opportunity. He united himself under the banner of my friend Wood, in order to increase their strength by union. Mr. Ripley, the Tutor, was like­wise disaffected, not only by the chagrine of being found to be a false preacher, when he was on the subject of the watermelons, but likewise on ac­count of a violent antipathy and resentment against my Father, owing to their disagreeing in sentiment, with regard to the management of certain religious matters, and therefore, was determined, according to the good old rule, "to [...] the iniquities of the [...]a­thers on the children." He uniting his force with those abovementioned, formed a powerful triumvir­ate against me.

About this time, the President of the College left here, intending a tour to Europe. The Tutors now became the only executive authority of the College. My friend Riply, was the second in standing, and consequently, a great degree of influence fell into his hands. This influence, he was careful to [Page 40] exercise on every occasion. On a certain day of the week, when my class were called upon to de­claim, I did not attend; the reason of my absence, was owing to this circumstance. I had sent my shoes to the shoe maker, and contrary to my ex­pectation, they had not yet returned, and I had not shoes, decent for my appearance abroad, Mr. Rip­ly sent for me to appear, and perform my part of the exercises of the day; the excuse, which exist­ed, I sent him, but the messenger returned with pos­itive order for me to attend. I attended, with such shoes as I had, mounted the stage, and de­claimed. I made my obeisance, and retired. He called to me, and publicly reprimanded me for ap­pearing in such habiliment. At a certain time, he made a request to my class, to assist him in a certain piece of business, which he was desirous of per­forming, one afternoon. I turned out to assist him. We were detained till ten o'clock at night. The next morning, I was absent from recitation—He sent for me—I came,—He again reprimanded me for being deficient in my classic lesson, though he knew the cause was my performing service for him at his request. Finding matters thus disagreeably situated, I determined to quit that ground, which I could not maintain with any probability of success. I, accordingly, left College, and went to my fa­ther's.

CHAP. V.

TO remain an inactive member of society was far from my desire, various plans were pro­posed by my Father for my entering into business, or at least, preparing myself for it, but none appear­ed so eligible as going to sea; therefore, it was de­termined for me to bend my course that way. My [Page 41] Father fitted me out with a horse, saddle, bridle, and about twenty dollars in money, and let me loose up­on the broad theatre of the world, to act my part ac­cording to my abilities. The want of experience and a natural hasty temper, prone to inconsiderate actions, augured no very favourable prospects before me.

I had been a member of the seminary of Dart­mouth College sufficiently long, to be filled with that sort of learning, which gave me an exalted idea of my own importance, and which was of no man­ner of use, in my pursuits through life. This may appear strange, that I should spend three years in gaining that, which was good for nothing. How­ever strange it may seem to you, sir, yet it is a fact. One year, I was studying to prepare myself for ad­mittance into that seminary, where I spent two, in learning nothing, or that which amounted to the same in the end.

Perhaps you may think I entertain an opinion of this College as being, in point of usefulness, much below the other Universities on the continent; but this is not the case. It is a melancholy considera­tion, that our youth should spend so much time in acquiring that knowledge, which is of no use to themselves or to the community, of which they are members. To acquire an accurate knowledge of the dead languages, seven years is a short time; and af­ter this is effected, to what does it amount? does it give bread to the persons possessing it, or does it serve to enlighten, enrich, or render more happy, any part of the community? I contend, that the per­son, who has learned to make a shoe, does more good to society, than he who has spent seven years in acquiring a knowledge of the dead languages. If this position is founded in truth, then this conse­quence will follow, that more than one half of the time spent at the Universities, according to their [Page 42] present establishment on this continent, is thrown away, and that the position is founded in fact, I will endeavor to prove.

The happiness of ourselves, together with the good of society, is the governing pursuit of every valuable member of the community, therefore, what­ever conduces to this end is the only object worthy of attention. The good of Society may be compris­ed in these three points, viz. 1st. to obtain what is necessary to supply the calls of nature, by the least painful measures. 2d. Rules for the regulation of mankind, in their relative situation, which, in their operation, will tend to harmonize the conduct of the whole, towards individuals▪ 3d. A supply of food for the mental part of creation; for the mental part requires a certain supply, in order to render us sensibly happy, as well as the corporal. Mankind, in their present state of existence, find it necessary to submit to the pain of labor, in order to protect themselves from the cries of hunger and thirst, from the in­clemency of the climates and seasons, and from the unjust encroachments upon their industrious ac­quisitions and natural rights. These are the first objects, which mankind find themselves under the necessity of attending to; hence, we find the most savage and barbarous nations occupied in these pursuits. Nations, that have made no improve­ments in useful knowledge, are subject to the great­est degree of pain, in supplying the simple calls of nature. The precarious effects of the chase are the most general supplies to the calls of hunger, with them, and as that is a resource of so doubtful a nature, those people often suffer the pain of hun­ger unsatisfied; therefore, no wonder we find the inventer of the plow immortalized, and deified, be­cause the good, which he had done to mankind, was so essentially felt, and known. They then saw the [Page 43] uncertainty of a support changed into a certainty; that they now were able to provide for themselves and families, and consequently, the different sexes could enter into that connexion, which contrib­uted greatly to encrease the happiness of Soci­ety, without the danger of seeing their ten­der offspring perish miserably for the want of sustenance. This object occupies the feelings of mankind now, as it has done heretofore. They find the same necessity for a support for themselves and offspring; and consequently, those acquire­ments, which serve to render men able to procure a support, in an easy and certain way, are now the most essential to the good of Society. That learn­ing the dead languages has no direct or indirect tendency to this acquirement is a truth so obvious, that more need not be said upon this subject; therefore, with regard to the usefulness of this spe­cies of knowledge, in the first and most essential pursuit of mankind, we find that it is not founded in fact.

The second most important object, for the good of Society, is those rules for the regulation of man­kind in their relative situation, which, in their operation, will tend to harmonize the conduct of mankind towards each other. Legislation is a subject, perhaps, of all others, the most dif­ficult to bring to perfection, so as to have a thor­ough understanding of its nature and operation. It has been the study of the greatest men in all ages, since Society has been formed, and yet, much is to be learned on this subject.

To understand the operations of the human heart, so as to adopt rules for the regulation of man, in his conduct towards his fellow members of Society, in such a manner as to render those rules easy and ac­ceptable to all, and under which, all will enjoy the blessings of society uninterrupted, is an object of [Page 44] such magnitude and importance, that every breast, possessing the principles of Philanthropy, must be fired with ardor in the investigation. As far as mankind deviate from such a government, so far they are politically unhappy, and in as great a de­gree as they approximate to this golden age, not of poetic fiction, but of reality, so far they approach to­wards real political perfection. What a perversion of the talents and time of our youth, whom we in­tend for public employments! to keep them tied down to the study of the uninteresting and unessen­tial branches of the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew lan­guages, the greater part of their continuance at the University, to the utter neglect of political know­ledge! I am bold to affirm, that not one to twenty of those, who are dubed with the title of A. B. or A. M. understand that constitution or form of Government under which they live. Will not the mind of sensibility cry out with the Orator, on an other occasion? "O, the times! O, the manners!"

The last object of attention, though not less in­teresting, is a supply of food for the mental part of creation. The mind of man is made capable of greater enjoyment, than what barely relates to the senses. The system of Morality and Philosophy are what I mean to be understood, as food for the mind, or mental part of creation. When the mind of man becomes disengaged from the primary ob­jects of Nature's call, it then mounts to things of greater magnitude, than what barely relate to it­self; it views creation, the works of providence, and the end to which all these things point. The doctrine of right and wrong, or in other words, virtue and vice is a subject which supplies food for the mind, or which gives the highest polish to the happiness which it enjoys. When we view the cu­rious order of Nature, and see that all things are governed by fixed and unalterable laws, which, once [Page 45] discovered, lead to a knowledge of future events and useful improvements; that the parent of Nature, has carefully and curiously provided for all his chil­dren, even to the minutest insect, we cannot but be filled with that delight at viewing the fitness of things, which no other subject can create. I will contend, that more satisfaction is enjoyed in view­ing the operation of Nature on a single kernel of wheat, after it is committed to the ground, and there is more usefulness in that contemplation, than in the study of the dead languages through life. Can a knowledge of these languages help a person in the investigation of Ethics, Philosophy, or Morality?

I am aware it will be said, that to read the scrip­tures in the original tongues will enable a person to understand them much better, than to be able to read the translations only; and therefore, it is nec­essary that all, who intend the study of Divinity as their pursuit, should be acquainted with these lan­guages. Happy would it have been for mankind, had these effects followed: but, the truth is far otherwise. We find the Christian world broken into parties and factions, by those very characters, who have been enabled to read the scriptures in the original; and much greater disagreement has hap­pened in the interpretation, than what has been a­mong those, who can read the translation only; and even in this enlightened age, when so many are sa­vored with this great privilege, we do not find a more general agreement respecting the doctrines of Scripture.

I appeal to your own observations, whether I have not s [...]ated matters of fact, as they exist, without mis­colouring or exaggeration, in respect to the study of the dead languages. Then the greater part of the time spent at the Universities, amounts to nothing, or that which is worse. It habituates the mind to a [Page 46] system of error, and puts it upon the pursuit of wrong objects, and of course, it becomes difficult to break those chains of habit, which education has forged.

Look around on mankind; do we see any of those luminaries, who have been granted to the world, as Heaven's richest boon, from among our collegiate characters? On the contrary, a Wash­ington, a Franklin, a Rittenhouse, have shone res­plendent, without the borrowed rays of a College. We are prone to form a wrong estimate of educa­tion, perhaps, more than of any other object of our attention. When a Youth has spent four years at a University, and has gone the common round of es­tablishing a character for ability, by stealing water­melons, robbing hen-roosts, geese-houses, &c. and playing tricks upon the inhabitants' cows and hors­es, and can speak a number of sentences, which oth­ers do not understand, his fond mother looks at him with a pleasing significance, and tells her inquisitive neighbors, that her son has got to be a man of sci­ence, and in order to establish her doctrine recounts all the manoeuvres he has practised at College, in order to get a hen out of the roost. The father thinks these are marks of greatness of mind, and depth of knowledge, and from these evidences, forms the most pleasing expectations of his son's fu­ture greatness. These anecdotes are recounted by the neighbors to their families, through a long course of succeeding winter evenings' amusements. They drink deeply at this fountain of entertain­ment. When they hear of the foolish pranks of scholars, they are exhilerated at the recital; they dwell upon them with pleasure, and behold the per­formers with admiration. Whereas, let it be said, that such or such persons have outstripped their fel­lows in depth of thought, or perspicuity of reason­ing and invention, the tale becomes lifeless, and is soon forgotten.

[Page 47] Our Youth, possessing the ambition of becoming famous, strike out in that road which the unaccounta­ble prejudices of mankind have marked for them. They wish to start into notice, and will most assured­ly adopt such measures, as they see have brought others forward into public esteem. I believe, Sir, you will be heartily tired with my digressions, be­fore I get through with my tedious narration; but I ask for that exercise of patience, towards my weak­ness, which I know your generosity will grant. My feelings are so warmly interested in the ideas, which some of my observations communicate, that I cannont suppress them, without doing great vio­lence to my mind. But, to return to the narra­tive.

I left my father's house, about the 20th of No­vember, at the age of seventeen, and directed my course for Newbury-Port, a small seaport town in the state of Massachusetts, where they fitted out ma­ny small vessels for privateering. After I had trav­elled the chief of the day, I entered into the woods about sunset. Being unacquainted with the way, I was not aware of riding more than a mile or two, at farthest, before I should come to inhabitants; but to my surprise, I continued my course till it be­came quite dark, without discovering any traces of human beings except the road I was travelling. It began to snow violently, and the night was extreme­ly dark. I suddenly found myself against a team and waggon, containing a family moving into the country. After inquiring the distance through to inhabitants, and the nature of the road, I found I had got the greatest part of the night's work before me. I, accordingly, quickened my pace, and wad­ed through the snow, which, by this time, had be­come [...] deep, with all the exertion in my pow­er. My horse, which had not been refreshed since I left home, now became fatigued; alighting, I [Page 48] drove him before me, till I became weary with trav­elling myself; and then mounted again. I pur­sued such measures alternately, till about twelve at night, when I espied a light, at a little distance be­fore me.

A person, who has been in a similar situation, will readily conceive of the nature of my feelings at this time. The sight of this illumination, thro' a small cranny of an old log hut, was attended with those effusions of pleasure, which the miser never feels when hoarding over his treasures. Entering the building from which the light proceeded, I found it a hut, made in that rude state, which did not admit of the polish of art. Logs cut from the forest were laid on the top of each other, to the height of eight feet, when a roof was added, the rafters of the same materials, covered with the barks of trees. This building was about twenty feet square; a large fire being built in the midst, the family lay around it, on the ground. The whole group presented a subject, fit for the pencil of Ho­garth. Inquiring how far it was to a public inn, I was informed, that one was kept there. Necessi­ty constrained me to accept of those accommoda­tions, for the want of better.

Some refreshment for my horse being obtained, I was conducted to a bed kept for travellers, as the best piece of furniture in the house. Nature was too much fatigued, to hold a parley with inconve­niences. I soon fell into a profound sleep, which continued, I expect, about two hours, when I a­woke. By the complaints which my bones utter­ed, I was jealous my bed was not made of down. I arose, called for my horse, and after travelling five miles farther, over a bad road, I came to a tav­ern, where accomodations were to [...]e had for man and horse. I enjoyed myself, in this situation, much better, since my other entertainment had [Page 49] been so disagreeable. I stayed at this house until noon; when I found myself refreshed with food and sleep, I again pursued my journey. The next day, I arrived at a town called Londonderry, where the Father of a classmate of mine lived, on whom I called, and to my great satisfaction, found the son at his Father's. I told them my intention of going to sea, and the reason why I had left College. They tried to persuade me to relinquish my purpose, but when they found me fixed, the old gentleman wrote to some of his acquaintance in Newbury-Port, to befriend me in my pursuit.

Intending to fell my horse, saddle, and bridle, and with the avails to prepare myself for sea, I here found the market for horses so low, that a sale for him would not be easily obtained, without great loss, I, therefore, concluded to send my horse back to my Father. I arrived at Newbury-Port and de­livered my letter of introduction to Capt. M'Hurd▪ to whom it was addressed. This man kept a house for boarders and lodgers; I accordingly put up with him. Not finding any privateers going to sea soon, I concluded to go in a packet, which had a letter of marque, to France. Having no doctor engaged, I undertook to act in that capacity; and after obtaining the assistance, advice, and direction of an old practitioner in physic, together with marks set on each parcel of medicine, I thought myself tolerably well qualified to perform the of­fice of a physician on board the ship. We did not sail till the first day of January, 1784. When I lost [...]ight of America, I cannot say, but what my feelings were more disagreeably affected, than I ex­pected. Those attachments, which we form in childhood to places, to persons, and things, are pre [...] ­ty strong, I believe, in the minds of all; and none can give them up without a struggle.

Soon after we had lost fight of land, I began to [Page 50] grow intolerably seasick, which continued without intermission for four days. This is a species of sick­ness, though not dangerous, yet as disagreeable to bear, as the most violent disorder, to which the hu­man constitution is subject. This served, in a great measure, to cool my ardor for spending my days on the salt water. On the fifth day I began to feel more at my ease; the motion of the vessel was not so irksome; my appetite began to recover, which before was quite gone. We made the island of Sable, lying in 45° north latitude, where we went on shore. This island is a dreary barren place, a­bout thirty miles in length. Some wild horses and hogs were placed on this spot, for the support of seamen, who might be cast away. Accidents of this kind being very common here, on account of the shoals extending from its shores at a great dis­tance into the sea. Here was likewise a small hut, a porridge pot, and fire-wood, slint, and tinder-box. Here, the sailors recounted many circumstances of the marvellous, representing this as the abode of spirits, hobgoblins, &c. They affirmed with much positive assurance, that many familes had attempted living here, induced by great rewards from govern­ment, but all their attempts were in vain, owing to sights and noises, which had disturbed them. It was said that this island, in time of an easterly storm, would shake with great violence, which I was rather induced to believe, because a natural reason can be assigned for this phenomenon. Leav­ing this place, we proceeded on our voyage, till the eighth day of our departure, when, about 10 o'clock in the morning, the man at the mast head cried out, a sail! a sail was discovered a head, we hove to, in order to see which way she was going. We soon found her making from us with all her force. We put about and made sail after her, till about sunset. We found her a merchant's brig from [Page 51] New-York, bound to London, with pearlash, com­manded by one Pratt. After we had manned out our prize, we pursued our rout, without-any materi­al occurrence till the twenty third.

About 11 o'clock in the morning, we espied a sail astern, which we soon saw was in pursuit of us; we made all the sail we could, to run from her, and found she carried to it, a sea term, for not taking in sail, through some pretty severe squalls. We lost sight of her about sunset: we made an island on the coast of France, pronounced, in the French lan­guage, Graw—bow they spell it, I do not recollect. We came to under this island, and fired for a Pilot, One soon came off to us: about 1 o'clock at night, we got under way again. This Pilot was the first person I ever saw wearing wooden shoes; his dress and apperance were miserable; the use of the knife and fork was unknown to him: He was invited into the cabin, and victuals set before him; he felt himself in such an awkward situation, that, instead of eating, he filled his pockets with hard bread, and went on deck. This is the situation of the peasantry, though not in quite so deplorable a condition, through France, so far as I had oppor­tunity of observing. About 10 o'clock the next morning, we made Bellisle, and soon after, saw a sail standing for us, right a-head. We thought her the same that pursued us the day preceding; she proved to be the same. She was a Lugger, carry­ing 12 six pounders, and was chasing a brig mount­ing 6 guns. We soon passed the brig, and speak­ing with her, found her from Boston, bound to Nantz. We entreated her to put about with us, and look at the Lugger, which, by this time, was hove to, waiting for us. All our entreaties were in vain, she ran in under the fort of Bellisle. We car­ried 18 guns, but unfortunately, ten of them were wood, so that little advantage could be expected from [Page 52] them. We haled up our courses, put up our boarding nettings, cleared our decks, lit our matches, and made all ready for action. We had on board 21 men, besides the prisoners. The thir­teen stripes of the United States were flying; but, the Lugger, as yet, shewed no colours. We came so near as to hail—she answered in French—and after understanding we came from America, and were bound to Nantz, she offered us a pilot, and when we told them we had a pilot already on board, she af­fected not to understand, but made towards us with a pretended design of accommodating us with a pi­lot. Not more than ten men were to be seen on her deck. By this time, she was sufficiently near to discover those on board, by their countenances. Mr. Severe, our first mate, knew the commander of the Lugger to be a man from the Isle of Jersey, having been taken by him the preceding year. The mate vociferated like a s [...]entor, "give them a gun! give them a gun!" We fired, but so strongly pre­possessed were the gunners, that the Lugger was a Frenchman, that they pointed over her, and so did her no damage. She ported her helm, and fell a­stern, as much as half a mile, expecting that we fought with 18 guns. We kept on our course—seeing this▪ she made all the sail possible after us, hung out the English colours, and her deck became instantly filled with men. She first came up on our windward board, but now altered her intention, and came round on our l [...]e-side. We began to fire stern chases at them, and they returned our salute with bow chases. While Mr. Severe was elevat­ing the gun at our bow he received a swivel ball, which carried away his right cheek, went through, and broke his right arm, and two of his ribs. We caught him up, and carried him into the cock-pit, where I dressed his wounds, and at the desire of one Bootman, a passenger, left Mr. Severe in his care, [Page 53] and returned on deck. Our ship was thinly man­ned, and the help of every hand was felt. A chest of loaded small arms s [...]ood on the quarter deck, where I took my station. The Lugger, by this time, was grappled to our ship, and attempted sword in hand, to cut away our boarding nettings. Eve­ry man was ordered to his boarding pike, and for about 10 minutes, the conflict was truly sharp, but the issue was in our favor. They retreated on board their own vessel, the guns were their next re­sort. With cannon and small arms they poured in upon us a shower of balls, and we endeavored to pay them in the like kind, to the full amount of our re­ceipt, so that a balance should be left in our favor, and not against us. The captain and myself had fired nearly all the small arms, which were loaded. The commander of the Lugger, kept bellowing from his quarter deck, that if we did not strike, he would give us no quarter. I took a blunderbuss, which remained loaded, and taking aim, very lei­surely, at the mouth of his trumpet, let fly. I believe this did his business, at least, I heard no more of this bravado. Twice more did they at­tempt to cut away our boarding nettings, but, to as little effect as at first. We, by this time, had disa­bled their fore-top-mast, and carried away their gib­boom. They cut from us, and made all the sail possible towards the Penmarks, which were hidden and dangerous rocks, lying under water, where they expected we should not follow them. In this con­jecture, they were right. We arrived the same day in the river Loire, and came to an anchor at a town called Penbeef, 30 miles below the city of Nantz. The next day, I went up to the city, and took lodg­ings at one Madame M. Harty's, a house of general resort for the Americans. To undertake a partic­ular description of the places through which I went, will be less interesting than the accounts of travel­lers [Page 54] of more observation; being too young, at that time, to make those remarks, which would serve to throw any light upon your previous knowledge of those places, by the information of other authors.

Soon after my arrival, I had an advantageous of­fer, of going as Doctor's second mate, in a ship bound for the East Indias. I accepted of the offer, and was preparing to go; but the ship, which lay at Penrine, ten miles below Penbeef, had order sud­denly to sail, and so left me behind.

We received our dividend of the prize money, which was 42 guineas each. Being possest with so much money, and some time on hand, I determined to take a short excursion through the country, in or­der to see what of France, my finances would ad­mit. I, accordingly, set out, with two more A­mericans, for Angers, from thence to Brest, from there to L' Orient, and then back to Nantz. I was absent on this excursion about three weeks, if I remember right; as nothing more occurred than what happens to travellers generally, I shall not take up your time in giving you the uninteresting detail.

When I returned to our ship, I found some alter­ations had taken place in my absence, which proved a source of the utmost mortification to me, after­wards. The prize brig had been bought by the Captain, and fitted out for Lisbon, on board of which, went the first mate, as commander, and one Kenne was engaged to succeed him in our ship. The third mate supposed this, by the right of suc­cession, belonged to him, and accordingly, desired me to write to the Captain, who was at Nantz, in his behalf. I did according to his desire, which I was induced to do, by the drunken irregular con­duct of Kenne, who had disgusted the whole crew, he having proved a worthless wretch. This act of mine was the cause of a mortal enmity towards me, which he was but too successful in shewing. [Page 55] When the Captain came on board, I found his feel­ings were cooled towards, me. However, no open breach a [...] yet took place. We sailed for America some time in April, and being becalmed off the western isles, we went on shore at St. Michael's; when we came on shore, we saw a great concourse of peo­ple, about half a mile distant. Our curiosity lead us to see what was the occasion of this assemblage; when we came to the spot we found a negro bound to a cannon, and a man standing by with a stake in his hand, sharpened at one end. The people were Portuguese, and consequently, we could not un­derstand their language, nor learn the occasion of what we saw, only from conjecture. The ne­gro appeared to be in great distress, with fear­ful apprehensions. The dreadful operation of empaling soon began, which consisted in driving the stake through his body, from one end to the other, till it came out a little above his shoulders. The agonies, which he manifested by writhings and hedious yells, had such an effect on my mind, that I almost fainted. The wind breezing up, we soon returned on board, to my great satisfaction. I could not, for a number of days, get the scene of this horrid action out of mind, and even now, sir, my blood recoils with horror, at the recollection! What strange infatuation! That man, who is pla­ced in this state of dependence, in stead of granting that help, which the voice of nature calls for, should exert his power to make a fellow creature more miserable, than to be left to the savage beasts of prey.

We sailed from hence, I soon began to perceive that Kenne was intriguing against me, by holding conferences often with Jack, the cabin boy. One day, it was said, that wine had been, clandestinely, handed out of the cabin to two men, who appeared to be drunk. I was ordered in a very peremptory [Page 56] manner to leave the cabin, and remove my chest in­to the forepack. I moved according to orders, but you can scarce conceive the emotions of my mind on the occasion. No reasons were offered for this order▪

The conduct of the Captain, before, had been of such a nature as to gain my warmest esteem. I felt those emotions of friendship for him, which would have carried me almost any length to serve him.

To receive this treatment from him, and, as I supposed, by the influence of a low dirty scoundrel, added a poignancy to the sting of disappointment; which is more easily conceived, by a mind of sen­sibility, than language can discribe. For the Cap­tain to suppose it possible, that I could be actuated by so base a motive, as to hand his wine clandestine­ly to any of the crew, was a sacrilegious profanation of the feelings of my heart.

All intercourse between the Captain and myself was at an end. I often had visits from Kenne, who in the most arrogant insulting manner tri­umphed over me, and it was well for him, that I was sick with the small pox at this time. About the time I was recovering from this disorder, I found by the noise that a number of the crew was drunk on dock. The Captain came down into the fore­peak, and clapped me into irons, being in a great pas­sion, accused me of breaking open a box of wine and giving it to the men, in order to revenge the affront of being turned out of the cabin. I en­deavored to expostulate, but in the room of being heard, I received a brutal kick on my head. All this did not wean my affection from the Captain.—I considered him a dupe to the low intrigues, of those wretches, who were unworthy his notice.

We arrived at Newbury-Port, where I left the ship, and put up at a boarding house. Here I re­mained three days, about entering on board of a [Page 57] sloop bound to the West-Indies. I had removed all my things out of the ship, and had no further com­munication with any one belonging to her. I in­tended a further investigation of the treatment I had received. While I was contemplating these circumstances, I was arrested in the street, and car­ried before a Justice of the Peace, and there found, to my surprise, the Cabin-boy, Kenne, and an Irish­man, who testified, that one Bradley, who had be­fore run away, and could not be found, told them that I gave him wine out of the cabin; that after­wards, I broke open a chest of wine, and handed him the bottles; and likewise broke open a bale of silk, and hid one piece of it; all which was done through a revengeful disposition. Something worth observing took place on their side, viz. Kenne and the Cabin-boy were those, who made the discovery, of the wine box being broken open; of the silk bale being broken, and the place in which the piece of silk was hid; it being where no man would have mistrusted, who did not know beforehand: it was concealed in a cask, once in my use. Kenne was the man, who informed the Captain, that the wine was gone out of the cabin; and as he was half drunk, the greater part of the time, from his first coming on board, till we arrived, I never doubted, in my own mind, what became of the wine. And as for Bradley's telling the story, which they relat­ed, I knew it was false, unless it was done by a pre­concerted plan. However, I was committed to jail, where I lay some time, how long, I do not remem­ber, and was then turned out, in a manner as unac­countable.

By this time, all my money and clothes were gone I know not where; I never saw them more. The assistance of my friend Ripley was not wanting, to embellish this scene, who was in Newbury-Port, at this time. My situation did not afford me the op­portunity [Page 58] of calling those to a legal account, who had con [...]ined me, contrary to law, and dismissed me in such a clandestine manner. I returned to my father's sunken and discouraged; the world appeared a gloomy chaos; the sun arose to cast a sickly glim­mer on the surrounding objects; the flowers of the hold insulted my feelings with their gaiety and splendor; the frolicsome lamb, the playful kit­ten, and the antic colt, were beheld with those pain­ful emotions, which are beyond description. Shall all nature, said I, smile with joy, shall the brute creation break out into irregular transports, by the overflowings of pleasing sensations, whilst I am shut out from even the dim rays of hope? The comparison between my situation, and that of the rest of intelligent nature, was so much against me, that I could not bear the ideas which this brought into view, without groaning with pain, under the pressure of the load.

Those, who had before pursued me, with their unabating enmity, proclaimed their triumph. I found a censorious world, little desirous of inquiring into circumstances. It was sufficient for them to have such facts, as served to raise a slanderous re­port; and they felt easy, without giving themselves the trouble of inquiring into the causes, why those facts existed, and the circumstances attending them.

CHAP. VI.

AFTER I had remained at my father's house a­bout one year, without attending to any kind of business, I concluded, from what reason I was capable of exercising, that it ill became me, as a [...], to remain thus inattentive and useless. I de­termined [Page 59] to enter into business of some kind; and as a school was the only employment which imme­diately offered, I entered into that calling. At a town called Haverhill, thirty miles from Hanover, I engaged to teach an English school, for four months. No sooner was I seated in the business here, than I found my friend Ripley busy in his endeavors to throw me out of employment. He came to Haverhill, and in that plausible manner, of which he was master, stated the evil consequences of continuing me in that business. The base ex­amples I should set before the children, who at­tended my school; and although I did very well now, yet, notwithstanding my subtilty to conceal my disposition, I should, ere long, do something, which would make them repent of their credulity, and expose myself to their universal censure. His representation had but too much effect on the peo­ple. He was a clergyman, and consequently, must speak the truth. They were afraid—they kept their children chiefly at home, for fear of some terrible explosion, which had been foretold by their spiritual leader. With indignation I quitted them, and the school.

I then took a school in a town called Orford, eighteen miles below Haverhill, and twelve miles from Hanover. Fortunately for me, I had kept this school long enough to get established, before Mr. R—y knew where I was, and of course, his efforts for my overthrow, here, were ineffectual. I con­tinued this school until the expiration of the [...] agreed for, to the universal satisfaction of all con­cerned. I began this school in November, and ended with the month of February. The [...] time for schooling, in all the towns through the eastern states, is only in the winter, some few [...] ­ulous towns excepted.

Whilst I taught this school, I [...] [Page 60] with a woman, who was supposed to be a wid­ow, possessing those amiable qualifications, calculat­ed to attract the attention of every admirer of the fair part of creation. I paid strict attention to gain her affections, and flattered myself I had in a measure succeeded. After the school was ended, I returned to my father's. I had not been long with my father, before I had a visit from Joseph Hunt­ington, who was a member of Dartmouth College. He came in a sleigh, and brought a class mate, who was of that peculiar turn of mind, as to be a butt for the ridicule of all the Wits in College; and it was certain, he would be lead into all the scrapes then in vogue. Huntington proposed to me to take a ride that evening, in his sleigh, telling me at the same time, he had brought A—with him, to steal a bee-hive. For the diversion of drawing A—into a ludicrous situation, I immediately consented to be one of the party. We accordingly all got into the sleigh, and drove away about two miles, when, coming near where bees were kept, we sent A—after them, who was ever prompt to do what he was set about by any one. He soon returned with a hive to the sleigh, when we drove off with great speed to the College, where I found a num­ber assembled, ready to partake of the repast which the honey afforded. All were regaled with this de­licious morsel, but myself, having an insuperable antipathy to honey, which wholly incapacitates me from ever making use of it.

I am now, Sir, at a place in my narrative, which has caused me pain in relating, because I view my conduct entirely wrong, and my mode of reasoning upon such subjects, at that age, quite ridiculous. For some unaccountable reason or other, Youth are carried away with false notions of right and wrong. I know, for instance, that Huntington pos­sessed those principles of integrity, that no consid­eration [Page 61] would have induced him to deprive anoth­er by stealth, of any species of property, except fruit, bees, pigs, and poultry. And why it is con­sidered by Youth generally, that depriving anoth­er of those articles is less criminal, than stealing a­ny other kind of property, I cannot tell; but it is a fact, that almost all do esteem this so, and robbing others of those articles is thought to be only the play­ful wantonness of thoughtless inexperience. I will ask you, Sir, whether our treatment of those things does not give too much reason to convince Youth, that we view them in that light ourselves.

We parted at 11 o'clock that evening, and I re­turned home. The man, that lost the bees, suspect­ed the scholars as the authors of this depredation, and accordingly, went to the governors to enter his complaint. Search was made, and by the inatten­tion of A—, a discovery was effected. It was found, likewise, in the discovery, that I was of the party,—this was a fine bone for my friend R—y to pick. He did not fail to fulfil the office of a cler­gyman, by setting his face against iniquity. He was determined I should be made a public exam­ple. After Huntington and A—had settled with the owner of the bees, R—y represented to him, the necessity of not making any settlement with me, but prosecute in the law, and there have it terminate. Coffin was ready to back this repre­sentation, with all his oratory. They succeeded; I was informed into the circumstances; and as an­other circumstance had now taken place, which co­operated with this, it is necessary I should go back a little in my narrative, and bring forward this e­vent, to the present time. The lady, of whom men­tion has been made, and who was supposed to be a widow, I still addressed upon the terms of court­ship: matters between us had proceeded to consi­derable length. I went to visit her one day, after I [Page 62] had left Orford, and coming to a neighbor's of her's, about six rods distant, I saw a man standing in the door of her house, a stranger, whom I never before saw; and upon inquiring who he was, re­ceived information that her husband was alive, and had come home. This intelligence was like hea­ven's artillery, charged with ten-fold vim. The wheels of nature ran backward! The blood cur­dled in my veins, and I fell almost senseless into a chair! I was aroused from this stupor, by female shrieks! Howlings of bitter lementation assailed my ears ********* God of nature! what greater scenes of distress are reserved in store!? What sharper arrows yet remain in thy quiver!? ****************************** May I hide myself with a mantle of darkness, and retire from the stage of action, into eternal obscuri­ty.

CHAP. VII.

WEARY with life, I returned to my father's, made some small arrangements, and left the country. One pistarene was all the ready cash I had on hand, and the suddenness with which I depart­ed, deprived me of a chance to raise more. Travel­ling on leisurely, I had time for reflection. What, said I, again an outcast among mankind? where am I going? what can I do with myself in this world, where I meet with nothing but disappoint­ment and chagrine. True it is, I am an outcast, but who cares for that? If I will not use means for my own preservation and prosperity, what am I to ex­pect? Is it to be supposed that whining over mis­fortunes is calculated to make them better? No, by no means. Then arouse, said I, for shame: [Page 63] use such means as you have in your power. The greater embarrassments, the more honor in over­coming them;—lay aside the idea of being any lon­ger a child, and become a man. If others endeav­or to throw obstacles in the way of your prosperi­ty, show them that you can rise above them.

This dialogue with myself was productive of the most happy effects; I began to look about me, to see what was to be done in my present situation, to what business I could turn my attention.

The practice of Law, which would have been most to my mind, I could not undertake, until I had spent some considerable time in the study, which would be attended with expense, far beyond my abilities; therefore, this object must be laid a­side. Physic was under the same embarrassments: business of the mercantile line, I could not pursue, for want of a capital; and even a school, at this time of the year, was hardly to be obtained.

Business of some kind, I must enter into, and that immediately, in order to answer the present calls of nature. And what can that be? said I: have not I enumerated all the callings, which are profitable for me to attend to? I might possibly write in an of­fice, or tend in a store, on wages, had I any person to recommend or introduce me into that business: But what can now be done? A stranger—money­less—and friendless.—There is one thing, said Con­trivance, which you may do; and it will answer your purpose. Preach!!—Preach?—What a pretty fellow am I for a preacher!—A pretty char­acter mine, to tickle the ears of a grave audience! Run away from my own home, for being connected in robbing a bee-house, and for my attention to a married woman; having been through scenes of tu­mult, during my whole career, since I have exhib­ited on the active stage of life. Besides all this, what an appearance should I make, in my present [Page 64] dress? which consisted of a light grey coat, with silver plated buttons, green vest, and red velvet breeches. This, said I, is a curious dress for me to offer myself in, as a Preacher; and I am by no means able to obtain a different suit.

These objections, truly, are weighty,—many dif­ficulties must be surmounted, in order to enter into this business, but as this is the only kind, you can attend to, said I to myself, under present circum­stances, you can but be destitute of resource, if you make the trial, and do not succeed. At any rate, it is best to see what can be done; therefore, in order to obviate the first difficulty, viz. of disagreeable reports following you, it will be necessary to pre­vent, as much as possible, your being known, where you offer yourself to preach: and in order to pre­vent that, you must change your name. This be­ing done, you must go some distance, where you are not personally known; and the probability is, that you can continue in such business, till some op­portunity may offer for your entering into oth­er employment. As for your dress, you cannot alter that, at present, and therefore, you must make the best of it you can. I do not think it will be an insurmountable obstacle; if you fail in one at­tempt, mind not to be discouraged, but repeat the trial, until you succeed,

After I had held this parley with myself, I was de­termined to follow the foregoing plan, according to the best of my abilities. I exchanged my horse for another, much worse, and received three dol­lars for the difference: This furnished me with money for my immediate expenses in travelling. I pursued my course, down Connecticut river, about 150 miles, judging, that by this time, I was for e­nough from home, to remain unknown, I conclud­ed to begin my operations. Hearing of a place call­ed Ludlow, not far distant, where they were [...] [Page 65] of a clergyman, I bent my course that way, it be­ing Saturday, and intended to preach the next day, if I proved successful. I arrived about noon, and put up at the house of one Fuller, whom I found to be a leading man in their religious society. I intro­duced myself to him as a clergyman, and he gave me an invitation to spend the sabbath with them, and preach. You will readily conclude, that I did not refuse this invitation. The greatest obstacle was now surmounted, as I conceived, viewing my­self as fairly introduced into the ministerial func­tion. I retired to rest at the usual time, and after I had composed my mind, sufficiently for reflection, I began to consider under what situation my affairs now stood, and what was to be done under present circumstances. I had engaged to preach on the morrow. I had almost forgotten to tell you that my name here was Davis.—People had been notifi­ed that a sermon would be delivered: This busi­ness I never had attempted. It is true, the study of Divinity had come under my attention, together with every other subject of common concern, in a cursory manner. I concluded that sermonizing would not be so difficult, as the other exercises of public worship. Many disagreeable possibilities a­rose into view. What, said I, would be my feel­ings, should I make some egregious blunder in trav­elling this unbeaten road? I must be exposed to the mortifying consideration of being observed by a whole assembly, in this ridiculous essay to preach, and not be able to carry my attempt into execution; and all those things possibly may happen. Those considerations made so dismal an appearance, that I once concluded to get up, take my horse private­ly out of the stable, and depart, rather than run the risk of the dangers which were before me. But up­on more mature reflection, I found the hard hand of necessity compelled me to stay. When I awoke [Page 66] the next morning, my heart beat with anxious pal­pitation for the issue of the day. I considered this as the most important scene of my life. That in a great measure, my future happiness or wretchedness depended on my conduct through this day. The time for assembling approached! I saw people be­gan to come together. My feelings were all in arms against me, my heart would leap almost into my mouth.

What a strange thing, said I, is man! why am I thus perturbated with these whimsical feelings? I know my dress is against me, and will cause some speculation, but I cannot help it, and why need I afflict myself with disagreeables, before they arrive? I endeavored to calm my feelings, by those reflec­tions. I fortified my countenance with all my res­olution, and set out with my bible and psalm book under my arm; those being the only insignia of a clergyman about me. When I made my appear­ance, I found a stare of universal surprise, at my gay dress, which suited better the character of a beau, than a clergyman. My eyes, I could not per­suade myself, to raise from the ground, till I had as­cended the pulpit. I was doubtful whether I had the command of my voice, or even whether I had any voice. I sat a few moments, collecting my res­olution for the effort of beginning: I made the at­tempt—I found my voice at command—my anxie­ty was hushed in a moment—my perturbation sub­sided;—and I felt all the s [...]renity of a calm sum­mer's morning. I went through the exercises of the forenoon, without any difficulty. No monarch, when seated on the throne, had more sensible feel­ings of prosperity, than what I experienced at this time.

During the intermission, I heard the whisper, in swift circulation among the people, concerning my appearance, in such a dress. The question was of­ten [Page 67] asked with great emphasis, "Who is he?" but no one was able to give those answers, which were satisfactory. A consultation took place among some leading members of the society, relative to hiring me, to continue among them, as a preacher; as I had intimated to Mr. Fuller, that I should [...]e willing to continue among them in that capacity, should such a matter meet with their approbation. I attended on the afternoon's exercises without any singular oc­currence. The meeting being dismissed, and the people retired, I was informed by my land-lord, that they did not agree to here me any longer;—accordingly, I found my business here at an end.

I was advised by Mr. Fuller, to make application to Mr. Baldwin, minister of Palmer, about twenty miles distant from Ludlow, for information where were vacancies, and for an introduction into those vacancies. I, accordingly, set out for Palmer, on Monday morning, and arrived at Mr. Baldwin's a­bout 4 o'colck in the afternoon. I introduced myself to him as a clergyman, wanting employ­ment. I saw he noticed my dress, but asked no questions. He examined into my education, knowledge of Divinity, tenets, &c. and finding all agreeing with his ideas of orthodoxy, he conclud­ed to recommend me to a town called Pelham, eighteen miles distant from Palmer. The next morning I set off for Pelham, with a letter to one Deacon Gray. I arrived, and delivered my letter, and was hired, in consequence of the recommenda­tion of Mr. Baldwin, without any hesitation, for four sabbaths, five dollars a sabbath; boarding, horse-keeping, &c. &c.—I now found myself, in some measure, settled in business. The want of an immediate relief, to my temporary inconvenienc­es, was now supplied. I [...] and the family into which I had fallen, to be an agreeable sociable cir­cle, and I was much respected in the family, not on­ly [Page 68] on account of my sacerdotal character, but likewise on account of the ease with which I mixed with them, in all their little social enjoyments.

CHAP. VIII.

BEFORE I proceed to the relation of succeed­ing events, it will be necessary, to give a des­cription of the people inhabiting this town; as much will depend on knowing their character, to rightly understand the relation of incidents, which will follow.

The town of Pelham was settled with people, chiefly from the north of Ireland. They were, of course, strict Presbyterians. They valued them­selves much, on being acquainted with the nice dis­tinctions between orthodox and heterodox principles and practice. They, likewise, wished to be thought shrewd in their observations on ministers and preaching. A people generally possessing violent passions, which once disturbed, raged, uncontrolled by the dictates of reason; Unpolished in their man­ners, possessing a jealous disposition; and either ve­ry friendly or very enemical, not knowing a medi­um between those two extremes. The first settled minister they had among them, was one Abicrom­bie, from Scotland, a man of handsome abilities but violent passions, resolute and persevering. Not many years after he was settled among them, a dif­ficulty took place between him and the people, which was carried to considerable length, and end­ed in his dismission. After Mr. Abicrombie left this people, they made application to one Grayham, who, at length, settled among them, to their uni­versal satisfaction; being a very handsome speaker, [Page 69] and otherwise possest with popular talents, as a preacher. Mr. Grayham was a man of very deli­cate feelings, of superior refinement, and inherit­ing a great desire for that peace, which establishes the enjoyments of society.

After preaching a number of years to this people, he found an uneasiness prevailing among them, the chief cause of which was his practising upon a sys­tem of manners more refined, than what was preva­lent in the place; consequently, they accused him of pride, of attention to the vanities of the world; of leaving the plain path of scripture, and follow­ing after the vices of Rome. Mr. Grayham labor­ed to convince them of their mistake; of his wish to live with them upon the most intimate terms of equality; of his ever having it in view, to pursue such measures, as would, in their operation, con­duce to their good and prosperity; and in that pur­suit, he had expected his examples and precepts would answer a valuable purpose. His expostula­tions, remonstrances, and entreaties, were all given to the wind. The difficulties encreased, and the clamour grew louder. The mind of Mr. Grayham was too delicately strung to bear those strokes of misfortune; they insensibly wore upon his constitu­tion, till at last he fell a sacrifice to the tumult, and sought his rest in the grave.

The town of Pelham remained destitute of a min­ister for a considerable time. They tried a number of candidates, but not finding any, with whom they could agree, no one was yet settled. At length, a Mr. Merrill came among them. He was a man possessing the gift of utterance and flow of expres­sion, perhaps equal to any. He was an eccentric genius, and imprudent to the last degree; posses­sing violent passions,—head-strong and impetuous. The plausible part of his character was so captivat­ing, that the town agreed to settle him. He, ac­cordingly, [Page 70] was installed. His imprudences soon made their appearance. Complaint was made, but they found one, now, who paid but little attention to their complaining. Both parties began to give way to passion. Their contention increased, and a flame was kindled, which set the whole town in an uproar. Mr. Merrill refused to start from that foundation, to which his legal contract intitled him, therefore, the other party determined to use extra­ordinary and violent measures. This attack, Mr. Merrill durst not meet; therefore, he suddenly left the town. Matters were in this situation, when I came to Pelham. From the information of Mr. Baldwin, and from the communications of my land­lord and family, I soon gained a pretty thorough knowledge of the people, whom I was amongst; and I endeavored to adopt my conduct to their genius, as far as I was capable. I found myself soon able to dress in a habit fitting my calling. I soon found, likewise, that my endeavors to suit the people had not altogether failed. At the expiration of the four sabbaths, they engaged me to preach sixteen more. I began to form an acquaintance in the neighbor­ing towns, and with the neighboring ministers.

This happened to be a time of great mortality a­mong women in child-bed; consequently, I was called to preach many funeral sermons, in this, and the neighboring towns, many of which were desti­tute of a clergyman of their own. I always attend­ed this business, when I had a call. This circum­stance began to raise a wonder in the minds of some, how I could be prepared for preaching so con­stantly, and on so short notice, being as yet, only nine­teen years of age. I had, in reality, ten Sermons with me, written by my father.

At a certain time, being suddenly called to preach a funeral sermon, I had none of my own written, proper for the occasion. I took one of my [Page 71] father's, and delivered it to a crowded audience. As this sermon was delivered in a private house, it was in the power of any to look into my notes. One, who had wondered at my always being prepar­ed to preach, took this opportunity of looking over my notes, and thought they appeared too old to be lately written. This circumstance was mentioned to a number, who began to grow uneasy, with the apprehension of my preaching sermons, not my own. Mr. Baldwin coming to Pelham, about this time, they mentioned the matter to him, that he might make some inquiry into the business, and in­form them. He, accordingly, mentioned the mat­ter to me, in a confidential manner, and desired to see the sermon, alluded to. I was sensible the hand­writing of my father was so different from my own, that the first view must clearly convince any observ­er, that this sermon was not written by myself: I, therefore, thought it the better way, to treat the matter ingeniously, and tell him the simple matter of fact.

I told Mr. Baldwin, that the sermon was a man­uscript which I had in my possession, together with some others, written by another person, and that the want of time to prepare a discourse had induc­ed me to take this, rather than refuse to preach.—Mr. Baldwin made some observations with regard to my situation; of the necessity of a great degree of prudence; and of the impropriety of using other sermons, as a general thing. He returned to Pal­mer, without giving the men any account respect­ing the matter of their suspicion. Not gaining that intelligence by Mr. Baldwin, which was expected, those, who were uneasy, spread their suspicions a­mong others, until there became uneasiness, pretty generally, through the town. They proposed a number of ways to obtain that satisfaction, with re­gard to their suspicion, which would either clear [Page 72] me from the fact of which they were jealous, or else establish them in it. They, at length, agreed to this method, viz. to send one of their number to me, on Sunday morning, previous to my going in­to the meeting house, and desire me to preach from a passage of scripture, which he should give me. I was informed of all these circumstances, previ­ous to the time of trial. Their reasoning upon this subject, was of this nature, viz. That if I was able, on the shortest notice, to preach on any occa­sion, I should be able likewise, to preach on Sun­day, from such a passage as should be given me, on the morning of the same day; and should I not be able to preach, the evidence would be conclusive against me, that I preached the sermons of others, and not my own.

The Sunday following, I was waited on by Mr. Clark, who desired me to oblige him, by delivering a discourse from the first clause of the 5th verse of the 9th chapter of Joshua; the words were, "old shoes and clouted on their feet." I informed him I would deliver a discourse from that text, and ac­cordingly he left me. I truly felt somewhat blank­ed, at the nature of the passage I had to discourse upon. However, I was determined to do the best on the subject I was capable. I endeavoured to make some arrangements in my mind on the sub­ject. I had not thought long on it, before the matter opened to my mind, in such a manner, as to give me much satisfaction. As your patience would hardly endure the repetition of a tedious ser­mon, I will not trouble you with it, yet, sir, indulge me, in giving you some general outlines of this dis­course, as it was founded on a very singular passage, and delivered on a very extraordinary occasion.

CHAP. IX.

IN handling this discourse, the exordium consisted of a description of the Gibeonites; the duplicity which they practised upon the Jews; the nature and general tendency of deceit, &c. After I had gone through with the introduction, I divided my discourse into three general heads, viz. To consider in the first place of shoes, 2dly of old shoes, and 3dly of clouted shoes. In treating of the first gene­ral head viz. shoes, I considered them in a meta­phorical sense, as shewing our mode of conduct in life. We are all, said I, sojourners in this world, but for a season, travelling to another country, to which we shall, ere long, arrive, we must all beshod, in order to enable us to travel the road before us. We find the good man represented as having his "feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace." All mankind are in a state of motion; none remain inactive on this stage of probation; all are moving forward with rapidity, and hastening to their final end. Not only the natural world, but likewise the mental, is filled with briars and thorns, stones and rubbish, which wound us at every step, when we are not shod to guard us from those inju­ries, we should otherwise receive from those impe­diments. Mankind, finding this to be the case, have immediate recourse to such coverings for their feet, as they imagine will protect them from the injuries to which they are exposed, &c. &c.

In treating the second head viz. of old shoes, I en­deavoured to shew, that they represented those, [Page 74] "who had been hewing to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, which can hold no water." We find, said I, from the earliest ages of the world, mankind prac­tising upon that system. They have continued ever since to tread in the steps of their predecessors, and to wear the same old shoes. The old shoes repre­sent old sins, which mankind have made use of from old times, down to the present day. And would to GOD, they had been worn until mankind had been ashamed of them. A spirit of jealousy and discord, perhaps, may be accounted as old as any shoes now worn. How soon after the creation do we find this same destructive principle raging in the little family, which then composed the whole human race. Murder was the consequence; revenge and hatred were perpetuated by it. Now I am possessed with this accursed passion, said Cain, "whoever shall find me, shall slay me." The direful influence of this passion spreads its dismal effects among all mankind, when it once prevails: Solomon, viewing the operation of this principle upon the human heart, says "Jealousy is more cruel than the grave." It deluges countries, destroys socie­ties, and renders man hateful to man. All civil and religious bodies are destroyed, when once this hateful monster is allowed an entrance. Ministers and people, parents and children, husbands and wives, fall a sacrifice to the influence of "jealousy, that green eyed monster, which makes the meat it feeds on." Therefore, wo be to that people, who cherish the seeds of jealousy, or practise after her counsels, &c. &c. &c.

In considering the last general head, viz. of clout­ed shoes, I observed, that those, who wore those old shoes, and practised upon a system of jealousy, were sensible of its odious and hateful nature, and of con­sequence, ashamed to be seen by GOD, man, or the devil, nay, they were ashamed to be seen by them­selves, [Page 75] therefore, they had recourse to patching and clouting themselves over with false and feigned pretences, to hide their shame and disgrace. This vice has been considered, by all wise men, as the most destructive to human felicity, and the least ex­cusable, and most unreasonable, of any passion inci­dent to the human heart. It is a passion, which debases the human character to its lowest ebb, as says a noted author; "Where I see a jealous peo­ple, I expect, likewise, to see every thing base and sordid among them.

Look around, my hearers, and judge for your­selves, whenever you have left this first born son of hell triumphing in your bosoms, how soon has joy and comfort fled from your hearts? how soon has this doleful monster turned all the sweets of life into wormwood and gall? &c. &c. &c.

I concluded this discourse by an application of the subject, after the following manner. My hear­ers, where shall I apply this doctrine? is it calculat­ed for a people only at some great distance? can we not bring it home, even to our▪ own doors? search and see. Try yourselves by the sanctuary, and if there your garments are not washed in innocence, you will find, "Mene, Mene. Tekel Upharsin", writ­ten on your walls. Will you suffer this hateful monster to rage among you? will you wear these old filthy clouted shoes any longer? will you not rather put on that "charity which endureth all things, which hopeth all things." Will you not rather be "shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace?" &c. &c. &c.

After this sermon was delivered, I found the people, though somewhat disturbed at my esteeming them jealous, satisfied with regard to my ability in sermonizing, and they, afterwards, remained quiet on that head. I found it necessary to purchase me a horse, saddle, and bridle, as well as to cro [...]he my­self [Page 76] anew entirely, with such apparel as became a clergyman; therefore, I was under the necessity to anticipate my wages to answer these purposes, after I had disposed of my old horse, saddle, and bridle, to the best advantage.

No person of my acquaintance kn [...]w where I was at this time, except Joseph Huntington, whom I had left at Dartmouth College: with him I con­tinued, a correspondence by letter, by engaged to make me a visit in September, as he should then be on his way to Coventry, and could take Pelham in his journey. I once saw a person, whom I had for­merly been acquainted with at Coventry, by the name of Avery, but he did not appear to recognise me, being under a different name, and in a differ­ent dress. The first of my seeing him was in the meeting house. I made i [...] convenient to fall in with him afterwards, to see if he had any recollection of me, and found he had not.

Not long after this, I saw a young man by the name of Powers, with whom I was acquainted at Dartmouth College. I saw he [...] attention to me, whilst I was preaching, and concluded, from a number of circumstances, he knew me. He liv­ed in Greenwich, a town adjoining, and had con­nexions in Pelham. I, therefore, concluded it to be a matter of consequence, to throw myself in his way, and come to an explanation with him. Ac­cordingly, after meeting, I made it convenient for him to speak to me, which he readily did; and he being informed into the motives of my conduct, promised not to say any thing, which should create an uneasiness among the people.

At another time, coming from a town called Colrain, having been on a visit to the clergyman living in that town, I met one Church, with whom I was acquainted at the College; he now being a clergyman, and seeing me in clerical habit, star­ed [Page 77] with surprise at me. I frankly told him my sit­uation, and where I was preaching. At the rela­tion of this, his phi [...] became lengthened, he assumed all the importance attached to his function, and ad­dressed me in a lengthy h [...]ran [...]e, shewing the sac­re [...]ness of the character, which I had assumed, and of the great importance of "walking worthy of the vocation wherewith I was called." I pulled off my hat, made him a profound reverence, and rode on.

Soon after I had left this Knight of the Cros [...], I began to reflect upon the nature of my own con­duct, and upon mature consideration, blamed my­self much for giving him that information which I had, with regard to my own matters. This infor­mation, said I, can do him no manner of good, and it may do me much injury. The secret is now gone from me, and I cannot recal it. I cannot re­ceive any possible good from communicating this matter, and many possible evils may befal me in consequence of [...].

I will leave matters in this situation, and go back some way in my narrative, in order to fetch forward a number of matters, necessary to understand many events, which will hereafter be related.

When I first came to Pelham, I formed an ac­quaintance with a family, which must remain nameless, for reasons which you will understand by the after relation. The man was possest of information far above the rest of the inhabitants. His manners and sentiments were▪ equally refined; his wife possest those amiable accomplishments, which made her a paragon of excellence, among the rude inhabitants of this town. This couple liv­ed together on such terms, as to do honor to their refinement. The most tender affections marked all their actions, while their parental care had form­ed a family of the most lovely children. With this family I formed an acquaintance, which was not [Page 78] only intimate, but ardently affectionate. I lived with them on such terms of nearness and confi­dence, as I never expect to do with any other. All their propensities, feelings, and sentiments, were in union with my own; so that not a discordant sound was heard among us. In fine, I do not know the act of friendship too romantic or desperate for me to have performed, for this amiable family, had oc­casion called; my feelings of friendship were so strong towards them. I communicated all the se­crets respecting myself to them, without disguising any circumstance. The man told me that meas­ures were in such a train, that he should soon be in possession of an independent fortune. Prompted by the feelings of friendship, he wished me to en­joy a part of the blessing in store for him; he, therefore, let me into the knowledge of his wealth and greatness. He informed me that one Philips, who was then at work, in New Salem, with the not­ed Glazier Wheeler, a money-maker, known throughout all New England, had the art of trans­muting metals, so as to make copper into good silver, which would stand the test of every essay made upon it. This knowledge Philips had a­greed to communicate to my friend, who, for dis­tinction sake, I will call Lysander. Said I, if this can be done, at no considerable expense, it is a mat­ter of the utmost consequence, but his working with Glazier Wheeler is an exceptionable circum­stance against him, in my opinion; however, he may have his own reasons for it, and those reasons, were they known to me, might be satisfactory. Ly­sander appeared to entertain the highest confidence in the business. His wife was more doubtful; who, by the by, was the most penetrating of the two. In order to put the matter out of all doubt, I agreed to attend Lysander on a visit, to this won­derful transmute of metals, and there examine his [Page 79] experiments, until we had reduced the matter to a certainty. The visit was to be made in the night, to prevent any suspicion arising from the circum­stance of being at the money-maker Wheeler's. We accordingly, one night, set out on our destination, it being a rout of about twelve miles, and arrived there about 10 o'clock. We made our business known to Philips, who was willing to give us proofs of his skill.

He, in the first place, weighed one half ounce of copper, and put it into a crucible, and then put the crucible into the fire; after it remained there a short space of time, he put in a paper, containing something wrapped in it, and immediately the mat­ter in the crucible became turbid, and began to foam and boil with great violence, for the term of ten minutes, and then settled down into a clear beauti­ful metal, which, when poured off, and cooled, was good silver, weighing one half an ounce. It stood the trial by aqua-fortis, and several ways, so that I had no doubt of its being good silver. My only doubt remained as to the contents of the paper, which was put into the crucible. This contained a certain powder, as Philips said, which served to destroy the verdigrise, which the copper absorbed, and the remainder was pure silver. I wished to see the powder—with some seeming reluctance, he shewed it me.—I saw it was in reality a powder.—I wished him to try the experiment again, and to put the powder in open, so as to have it seen after [...] was in the crucible. He pretended it would not do quite so well this way, but, to gra [...]y our curiosity, consented. The experiment, in all [...] circumstanc­es, was repeated, excepting his laying a large flat coal over the mouth of the crucible, immediately after the copper was put in. The effect was the same—one half an ounce of good silver was poured out of the crucible.

[Page 80] I again desired him to furnish me with the mate­rials, and let [...]e go through the operation myself, without his coming near the fire. He consented. I weighed the copper, put it in, and proceeded ac­cording to his method, which I had seen him per­form, till the powder produced the boiling foam in the crucible, when he cried out to me to [...]. I did not recollect seeing him stir it, however, I put an iron rod, about the bigness of a large nail-rod, and about eighteen inches long, into the crucible, and stirred the contents. There was nothing but this i­ron rod, which would answer to stir the metal with. When we empried the crucible, we found half an ounce of good silver. Once more, I begged his in­dulgence for another experiment; and that he should not be in the room when it was performed. He readily consented. Lysander and myself pro­ceeded together in the experiment, s [...]cundum ar [...]em. When we came to stir the metal, we could find nothing calculated for that purpose, excepting a short piece of a walking-staff; we, therefore, made use of that; but saw afterwards, we had burn off a­bout four inches of that end, we put into the cru­cible. We poured out the usual quantity of good silver. I was now satisfied beyond all doubt. We returned to Pelham with no small satisfaction. I felt all the confidence in the business, which was possible to feel on any subject. I saw in my own im­agination my fortune certainly made. Not a doubt remained in my mind of becoming the [...] man on the continent of America. But how fleeting our joys! how [...] our expectations! Can you suppose the whole of this an [...]? It was truly so. All the plausible experiments, which were performed by Philips and ourselves, were a [...] ­ries of the most consummate duplicity, which was ever performed. We did not make this discovery, till some time afterwards, but I will go forward [Page 81] with the account now, for the reason of its being so closely connected with the incidents already relat­ed.

When the first copper was put into the cruci­ble, he put half an ounce of silver in likewise, which was wrapped in the paper, with some powder, which consumed the copper and left the silver. The next operation was after this manner: Being prevented from conveying the silver into the crucible, by my request of seeing the powder put in, he therefore, secretly, put his silver on the forge, and laid a large flat coal over it. At the proper time, he took up the silver and coal togeth­er, with his tongs, and laying them over the top of the crucible, the silver, unperceived, fell in. The next deception was performed thus: at the time in which I was ordered to stir the metal in the cruci­ble, an iron rod was the only thing to be found for such a purpose: on the lower end of this rod was fixed the silver, blackened like iron, which, being put into the crucible, melted off. The last experi­ment for supplying us with silver, was performed by making the end of the piece of walking-staff hollow, and placing the silver in the end of it, which being burnt off, left the silver in the crucible. Thus this mighty fabric of wealth was blown away in an instant, like the baseless fabric of a vision. This a­droit deceiver obtained property of a number, to the amount of 2000 dollars, and snddenly was mis­sed.

As he will be fouud on the stage, a number of times, in the course of this Narrative, it will be ne­cessary to give some more particular description of this singular man—He was about five feet eight inches high, dark complexion, thick set, down look, plausible in conversation, very ingenious in execut­ing mechanical undertakings, and what is more sur­prising, he has but one arm. He had the entire [Page 82] command of his own feelings, so that his counte­nance or actions never betrayed his inward sensa­tions, persevering in any undertaking, perfidious, subfil, and designing, lost to all feelings of fidelity, either towards the public, as a member of the com­munity, or towards individuals, to whom he had more immediately pledged his faith, a rank coward, yet possessing the happiest abilities of imitating courage, of any man I ever saw. There was no part of the coining art, but what he was master of, and could, with one arm only, execute it to perfection.

Being fully possessed with the idea, that our pros­perity was certain, we concerted a plan, to carry on the business to that amount, as to answer a purpose of magnitude. We therefore concluded to charter a vessel, load her with copper, coal, provision, &c. necessary for the business, and retire to the isle of Sable, where we could pursue our plan uninterrupted. A writing was made and signed by all parties, for our regulation in prosecuting said purpose.

CHAP. X.

AT the time fixed on, Joseph Huntington came to see me at Pelham, I introduced him to my acquaintance, and particularly to Lysander. We opened our schemes of aggrandizement to him, without reserve. He was pleased with our pros­pects, and in the overflowings of our friendship, we agreed to allow him, as the highest favor possi­ble for us to communicate, to set his hand to our a­greement, and so become a partner in our business. In the course of Huntington's remaining with me at Pelham, he made several unguarded mistakes, [Page 83] which reduced me to a very disagreeable situation. He called me by my proper name, a number of times, before the family where I lived. He excus­ed himself by saying, that Burroughs was my nick name at College, and was given in consequence of my looking so much like one of that name. One Sunday morning, as people were going to meeting, I was leaning back in my chair, the pommel rest­ing against the door case. Huntington seeing the situation in which I was resting, put his staff against the chair and pushed it off the case, and down I fell on the floor. This impudent action, done on Sun­day, by my known intimate friend, had a very dis­agreeable appearance, and made people look with astonishment at the circumstance, however, I re­proved Huntington, with some warmth, and he, seeing the naure of his folly, bore it with patience. The Monday following, Huntington was to proceed on to Coventry. I rode with him about twelve miles on his way, and then returned; but previous to my return, an affair took place, which gave a new face to the scene of things.

As we were riding by the house of Mr. Forward, minister of Belchertown, he came out of his house, and desired us to call, alledging that Mr. Chapin, a minister from Windsor, was in the house, to whom he offered to introduce us. Mr. Chapin was a man well known to me, and I presumed I should be e­qually well known to him. I excused the matter, alledging that I was in haste, and therefore, could not do myself the pleasure of accepting his invita­tion. Mr. Forward was pressing for us to alight, and go in; and while this dialogue continued Mr. Chapin came out of his house, and addressed me by the name of Burroughs; I endeavored to convince him of his mistake, but to no purpose; he insisted in a very peremptory manner, that my name was not Davis, but was bona side Barroughs. I replied that [Page 84] those insults were not grateful to my feelings, and what I should not bear. "Your humble servant gentlemen." We then rode on, though repetedly desired to stop. When Huntington and I were by ourselves, we were merry upon the circumstance of being driven into so short a corner.

After I had parted from Huntington, I was un­der the necessity of returning back the same road I came, and consequently, must pass, again, by the house of Mr. Forward. Soon after I had gone by the house, I heard some body calling after me, "Mr. Davis, Mr. Burroughs," but for reasons which you will easily conceive, I did not answer. As I rode on towards Pelham, I endeavored to concert measures of retreat against the storm, which was fast gather­ing, and would soon burst upon me, if it were not averted. The news would soon come to Pelham, of my real name, character, &c. This would serve to arouse the indignation of that people to its full height. To continue among them any longer, would be out of the question, and to meet the rage of their resentment, after the whole matter of fact should be promulgated, I dared not, neither did I wish it. One Sunday more I was to preach among them, before my time of engagement expired, and for this Sunday, I had already received my pay, but under existing circumstances, it was doubtful in my mind, whether they would insist on my fulfilling my engagement. At all events, I was determined to leave them very suddenly. I, accordingly, came to my land-lord's that evening, put my horse in the barn, and after the family were all retired to rest, I put my things in order, took my horse, and silently left the house. In this situation, I sought Lysan­der, related the circumstances which I was under, and concluded to lie by with him, till I should see what the event of those things would be.

The next morning, Mr. Davis was not to be [Page 85] found. My land-lord was almost frantic with sur­prise and grief. The town was alarmed, and sud­denly was all in a flame. About 11 o'clock P. M. a man came from Belchertown, with information respecting the character, who had exhibited among them, as a preacher, this blew the flame into a ten­fold rage. No pen can describe the uproar there was in the town of Pelham. They mounted hue and cries after me in every direction, with orders to spare not horse flesh. They perambulated the town, and anxiously asked every one for some cir­cumstance, which would lead to a discovery where I was. All this took place whilst I lay snug in the corner, observing their operations. In holding a consultation upon these disagreeable matters, every one was anxious to clear himself of being the dupe to my artifice, as much as possible. "I never lik­ed him," says one,—"I always thought there was something suspicious about him," says another. "He ever had a very deceitful look," says a third. In fine, it had come to this, that not one now could discern any thing, which ever appeared good or commendable about me, except one good old lady, who said, "Well, I hope they will catch him, and bring him back among us, and we will make him a good man, and keep him for our preacher."

You may, with propriety, ask me, what the peo­ple of Pelham expected they could do, should they overtake me in their pursuit? I know the quest­ion will naturally arise; but I cannot give you an answer, for I do not know their intentions or ex­pectations. Perhaps they thought, for they were a people very ignorant, that I had broken the laws of the Land, to the same amount, as I had offended them.

About 12 o'clock, the night following, I took my leave of Lysander, promising to return and see him again, as soon as the tumult was hushed, and [Page 86] concert further measures for our prosecuting our schemes, for gaining wealth by transmutation; be­ing obliged so suddenly to leave the country, that we could not ripen our plans, for the present. It was not without the most sensible pain I left this a­miable family. Journeying on, I had time for re­flection. At dead of night—all alone—reflection would have its operation.

A very singular scene have I now passed though, said I, and to what does it amount? Have I acted with propriety as a man, or have I deviated from the path of rectitude? I have had an unheard of, difficult, disagreeable, part to act: I do not feel en­tirely satisfied with myself in this business, and yet, I do not know how I should have done otherwise, and have made the matter better. The laws of the Land I have not broken, in any instance, but my situation has been such, that I have violated that principle of veracity, which we implicitly pledge ourselves to maintain towards each other, as a gene­ral thing in Society: and whether my peculiar cir­cumstances would warrant such a line of procedure is the question? I know many things may be said in favor of it, as well as against it. How I came into this disagreeable situation, is another matter: I know that the leading cause, which produced it, was founded in wrong. My giving countenance to an open breach of the laws of the Land, in the [...]ase of the bees, was a matter in which I was just­ly reprehensible; but that matter is now past; the owner of the bees is remunerated to the utmost ex­tent, which is provided for by law, and therefore, I must take things as they now are, and under these circumstances, do the best I can. I know the world will blame me, but I wish to justify my con­duct to myself, let the world think what it may. In­deed, I know they are not capable of judging upon the matter, with any propriety, because they ever [Page 87] will and ever must remain ignorant of the particu­lar causes, which brought these events into exist­ence. They understand the matter in the gross, that I have preached under a fictitious name and character, and consequently, have roused many i­deas in the minds of the people, not founded in fact. Therefore, they concluded from this general view, the whole to be grounded in wrong. The name imposture, is therefore easily fixt to my character. An imposture, we generally conceive, puts on feigned appearances, in order to enrich or aggran­dize himself, to the damage of others. That this is not the case with me, in this transaction, I think is clear. That I have aimed at nothing but a bare supply of the necessaries of life, is a fact. That I have never, in one instance, taken advantage of that confidence which the people of Pelham enter­tained towards me, to injure them and benefit my­self, is a truth acknowledged by all. Under these circumstances, whether I ought to bear the name of imposture, according to the common acceptation, is the question?

That I have a good and equitable right to preach, if I choose, and others choose to hear me, is a truth of which I entertain no doubt: but whether any circumstance will justify my putting on a false ap­pearance, in order to introduce myself into that bu­siness, is the only doubt remaining on my mind. I think it my duty, at least, to stear as clear of this base guise, for the future, as my safety will ad­mit.

About 1 o'clock at night, leaving the confines of Pelham, I overtook Powers, the person whom I have before mentioned, likewise coming out of Pel­ham. He knew me—I asked him where he had been—He was embarrassed about giving me an an­swer. I mistrusted he had been employed in searching after me; I laid it to his charge. Af­ter [Page 88] some hesitation, he owned the fact. I put on a fierce look, and commanded him to stop, in a very peremptory manner; he obeyed. Now, said I, Powers, you see my situation, you art the only per­son, who knows where I am; therefore, I am deter­mined to take measures for my own safety, and for that reason, promise me, with the solemnity of an oath, that you will give no information respecting me. Powers began to expostulate—I added yet more terror to my looks, and commanded him to swear to secresy, immediately, if he ever wished for the opportunity. He was terrified. He began to imprecate curses on his head, of the most horrid na­ture, if he should divulge his having seen me, or knowing which way I had gone. We then fell into familiar chat on various topics; rode on together till we arrived at the place, where he left me to go to his father's. I went on without suspicion of dan­ger, but no sooner had I left Powers, than he took his way back again, with all speed, and informed the people of Pelham of his discovery. It was a­bout the dawn of day, when he had returned to Pel­ham, and gave this important information. The news was like an electric shock. It was commu­nicated through the town with that rapidity, which would have done honor to a cause of importance. The people were assembled, and a select number ap­pointed to pursue me.

All these things were unknown to me, whilst I rode on leisurely and securely, thinking of no dan­ger. I had determined to bend my course for Rut­land, (Mass.) where I expected to find an ac­quaintance of mine, by the name of Frink, who was doing business in the mercantile line, in that town and if fortunately, I could obtain business of some other kind, through his means, I determined to drop preaching, which subjected me to so many false appearances, contrary to my inclination. I [Page 89] arrived about 8 o'clock A. M. at Rutland, and found Mr. Frink, according to my expectation, at his shop.

CHAP. XI.

I RELATED to him the scenes through which I had passed; my motives in performing such parts in those scenes; and my present determina­tion. Mr. Frink had no business of his own, in which he wished to engage me; but said he would make inquiry among his acquaintance, and see what could be done. In the mean time, he wished me to tarry with him, and make myself easy, until he could have opportunity of making the necessary inquiry. After I had taken some refreshment, and put out my horse, I went into his counting-room, to have some further conversation upon the subject of my business: Whilst I was leaning my elbow out at the window, I turned my eyes at the sudden and violent trampling of horses, and saw a large number of people from Pelham after me. Seeing so ma­ny, and they riding with such fury, gave me a sud­den impulse of fear, and I thought to elude them by flight; therefore, sprang out of my chair, and ran across the shop, in order to go out at the back door; but no sooner had I arrived there, than I was met by one Konkey, who attempted to seize me. This roused my indignation, and with my walking-staff, I gave him a blow across the right arm, which broke it. Having, by this mean, made myself a passage, I ran round the end of the shop, which I supposed would be most out of sight; but, [Page 90] when I turned the corner, I met, full in the face, two of my Deacons. I then turned and ran about twenty rods, down a small hill, and the Pelham­ites all after me, hallowing with all their might, "Stop him! stop him!" To be pursued thus, like a thief, an object of universal speculation, to the inhabitants of Rutland, gave me very disagreeable sensations, which I was determined not to bear. I, therefore, stopt,—took up a stone, and declared that the first, who should approach me, I would kill on the spot.

To hear such language, and see such a state of determined defiance, in one whom they had lately reverenced as a clergyman, struck even the people of Pelham, with astonishment and fear. They were very credulous in stories of the devil, witches, &c. and now thought the devil had appeared in human shape, ready to destroy them. They all stopt—a­mazement being pictured on their countenances, except one Hind. This man valued himself much on his courage and dexterity, and in order to shew his seperior ability, advanced alone, till he came within my reach; when, with a stroke of my stone, I tumbled him to the ground, apparently a lifeless corpse. This was a sufficient corroboration of their first suspicion, and they were now very certain, that the devil had actually taken the liberty to hold a tight dispute with them. A sharp dialogue took place between those men and myself. Seeing a large number of people beginning to collect and come toward me, I moved on about two rods in front of the Pelhamites, and they after me. I told them in the most decided manner, that instant de­struction should be their portion, if they attempted to approach any nearer. They believed, and kept their distance, till coming to a barn, which had on­ly one small door, I went in, determined to defend the door, which I expected to be able to do, on ac­count [Page 91] of its advantageous situation. After I had entered the barn, I found there a situation, which pleased me much better, viz. the hay-mow, there being only one place, by which it was possible to as­cend it, therefore, when I was on the top of this hay-mow, I could keep off any number of men, that should attack me. I, accordingly, seized this strong hold with dispatch, mounted my fortress, and car­ried with me a sithe-snath, as a weapon of defence, to keep off the assistants. When the Pelhamites saw, through the crannies of the barn, where I had taken my station, they ventured to come in, to­gether with a number of the inhabitants.

I found the people, who came into the barn with the Pelhamites, were anxious to learn the reason of this uproar. Deacon Mc. Mullen, of Pelham, in­formed them that I was an impostor; had called my name Davis, when in reality it was Burroughs; had come among them under that character, and grossly deceived them; preaching with them through the summer. It was demanded of him whether this Burroughs had, during the time of his preaching a­mong them, preached well, and conducted accord­ingly? The answer was in the affirmative. "Well," says a by-stander, "why need you make any diffi­culty? he preached well—you paid him well—all parties were satisfied, and why need you now be un­easy? What signifies what he called his name? A name does no good nor hurt, as to the matter of his doctrine; therefore, it will be well for you to make the best use of his preaching; and of course, you will find yourselves rewarded that way, for the money which you have paid him." But, said the Deacon, "we have paid him for one Sunday which he has not preached." "As to that matter," said the by-stander, "I think he is wrong, if that be the case. If he has engaged to preach, he ought to ful­fil his engagements; but as the Sunday is not yet [Page 92] come, on which he is to preach, I think it a hard interpretation of his conduct, to say he has cheated you out of that sermon, until that time comes, so that you may see whether he will perform his en­gagements or not." "He certainly has attempted to murder Doctor Hind and Mr. Konkey," said Deacon Mc. Mullen. He therefore ought to be ap­prehended, and prosecuted according to the sever­ity of the law." "As to rightly understanding that," replied the other, "I believe a number of circumstances will come into view. As first, you came upon him in a riotous, tumultuous manner, indicating by your conduct, that your intentions to­wards him were evil, and, under this situation, he might well suppose, that to submit tamely to what you were about to do, might be exposing himself to immediate death: And, secondly,—he took those measures to discover the violence of your inten­tions, which prudence dictated, under such circum­stances, by telling you to keep your distance; and at the same time, declaring his determination, in case you did not do it. Therefore, as self-defence is justifiable, and as it will appear that his conduct was dictated by self-defence; I believe it will be somewhat difficult to make it evident to any im­partial Jury, that he has transgressed the law, in the instance you mention." "If he has broken the law no other way," said the Deacon, "he has done it in threatening to kill a young man, last night, by the name of Powers, because he'd not promise to keep it a secret, that he had seen him." "If that be the case." said the other, "he certainly is cognizable by the law, when that is proved. But where is this said Powers?" "At Pelham," said the Deacon. "Then," said the other, "it is our of your, or my power, to do any thing in this business. It would be subjecting us all to very hard terms, to be liable to be apprehended, on every report of our breaking [Page 93] the Peace. If the said Powers, whom you men­tion, has been threatened with death, and, under that threatening, he absolutely fears that his life is in danger from Burronghs, and to all this, will give testimony under oath, before any Justice of the Peace, it will then be in his power to obtain such security, as to render him safe against the threatenings of Burroughs; but for others to un­dertake a prosecution of this business, upon a vague report, is not only out of the question, but is ridicu­lous to the last degree."

Deacon Mc. Mullen, being driven from all his strong holds, began to grow uneasy at the ap­proaching termination of that cause, upon which he had entered with so much sanguine assurance. However, as his last resort, he adverted again to the pay which I had anticipated, for one day's preach­ing, which I had not yet performed, and said he was very sensible I did not mean to perform, and to my deceiving them under a false name.

As to obviating the first difficulty, this objection arises, said the by-stander, "From whom did Bur­roughs receive this money, which you mention?" "From Deacon Gray, our committee for supplying the pulpit," said Deacon Mc. Mullen. "Then, said the other, the business stands thus: Burroughs stands indebted to Deacon Gray, for money had and received of him, to the amount of the sum total. On the other hand, Deacon Gray stands indebted to Burroughs, for the services which he has rendered, according to their agreement. Now, if Deac. Gray's advances have been greater than his receipts, un­doubtedly Burroughs is indebted to Deac. Gray, for the balance, and ought to pay him according to con­tract, but as you have no power, to act for Deac. Gray, I do not conceive how you can have any de­mand either mediately or immediately against Bur­roughs, [...]n that account; and if Burroughs should [Page 94] even pay you back the five dollars, which you say, though without any legal evidence, he owes Deacon Gray, yet that would not exonerate Burroughs from the debt, or make him less liable to pay it over a­gain.

And as for his deceiving you by a false name, I will tell you how you may settle that matter, in the best way I can think of. I recollect, some years since, when Mr. Abicrombie was your minister, there was an uneasiness prevailing among his peo­ple, on account of his intemperance; they, there­fore, chose a committee, of whom, I think you, Dea­con Mc. Mullen, was one, to deal with him, for this crime. They accordingly came. The old fox un­derstood how to avoid the trap. He had laid in some excellent W. India rum, treated the commit­tee with great hospitality, and, in the language of the Poet, caused them to "drink deep at the foun­tain of pleasure," till they were unable to leave him through the night, on account of dipping too deep into the sweets, for which they were about to re­prove him. Under this situation, they concluded the next morning, as the better way, to make their report to the church, that Mr. Abicrombie had giv­en them christian satisfaction. They did so—and here this matter ended. Now, continued this by­stander, the way that I propose is, for Burroughs to do as Mr. Abicrombie did, and for you to accept it as christian satisfaction, from this minister, as well as that. Wood keeps an excellent tavern hard by; I propose for all to move up there."

This proposal was finally accepted by all. I, therefore, came down, and we all went up towards the tavern. I called for drink, according to the or­ator's advice, to the satisfaction of all, till Hind, whom I had knocked down with the stone, came a­mong them. He foamed with rage and disap­pointment. A number of them retired into anoth­er [Page 95] room, to consult on measures to be adopted for their future procedure. I learned that they had en­tered into a determination to carry me back to Pel­ham, by force of arms. I was doubtful whether people would interfere, where they were not imme­diately interested, so as to prevent this being done. I concluded it best, by all means, to put this proj­ect out of the power of the Pelhamites. Being in a room on the second story, I locked myself in. When they came after me, they found my door locked, and immediately determined to break it open. They sent some of their number after an axe—Hear­ing this, I jumped out of the window, on to the horse-shed, and off that on to the ground, close by those, who were after the axe.

Coming so suddenly among them, they had not time to recollect themselves, so as to know what this meant, till I had run the distance of twenty rods, when they started after me; but one of their number much exceeded the rest in swiftness, so that in running sixty rods, he was twenty rods before the others. By this time, I was out of breath, by running, and coming to a high wall, made of small stones, I jumped over it, and sat down behind it, by a tree standing against the wall. I took a stone in my hand, as I went over, intending to knock down the foremost man, when he came up to me, which I supposed would be easy to do, as I should take him by surprise, and execute my plan before he could defend himself; after this should be performed, I could easily out-run the rest, as I should, by this time, be rested, and be forward of them. An alder swamp, about half a mile distant, was my object.

When the foremost man came up to the wall, I heard him panting and puffing for breath, and in stead of being able to lerp over he ran a­gainst it, and threw it down in such a manner as to [Page 96] cover me almost entirely from sight;—the stones [...] ­ling against the tree, in such a manner as to do me no injury. The man ran through the breach of the wall, and continued his course about fifteen rods beyond me, and stopped until the others came up, who anxiously inquired, what had become of Bur­roughs? The others replied, that he had run like a deer, across the meadow, and gone into the alder swamp.

They concluding it would be in vain to pursue me, gave up the chase—went back to the tavern—took a little more satisfaction—and returned to Pelham.—After they were gone, I crept out of my hiding-place, and returned to Frink's store. My first object of going into business, through his rec­ommendation, was now lost. After this uproar, I did not wish to find employment in Rutland; nei­ther did I suppose Mr. Frink would feel that free­dom in recommending me to others.

CHAP. XII.

EARLY the next morning, I left Rutland, and travelled on towards Providence, endeavoring again, to learn where I could find a vacancy for preaching. On the road, I heard of a town called Attleborough, nine miles from Providence, where they were destitute of a preacher, and wanted one. I came to this town, and engaged to preach four Sundays. Here, I called myself by my own name, and engaged only for a short time, expecting I could [Page 97] tarry here, that length of time, without any disa­greeable reports following me.

I took lodgings at Mrs. Weld's, widow of the former Minister of Attleborough. The family con­sisted of the old Lady and her maiden daughter. They were both agreeable, and of course the whole time I spent here was pleasing. I formed, whilst in this place, many new acquaintances, which heigh­tened the enjoyment of the scene; one in a particu­lar manner, which I cannot think of, even at this day, without feeling the flush of pleasing emotions.

I found the people of Attleborough were desirous to have me continue longer, after the term of my first engagement had expired; but I positively re­fused to do it, alledging that I was engaged to preach at Danbury in Connecticut, which in fact was true, having entered into an engagement of that kind, with a man belonging there, who had heared me preach in Attleborough.

I had determined in my own mind to take Cov­entry in my way, as I went to Danbury, and see Joseph Huntington, for this particular purpose, viz. Hearing that a gentleman from Amherst was going to Dartmouth College, previous to holding the an­iversary Commencement; and that he had a design to make such representations to the Corporation of said College, against Huntington, for acting a part in the Pelham business as should deprive him of the degre of A. B. As H—n had passed his examina­tion for this degree, and was approved previous to his leaving the College, it was in his power to ob­tain his degree at any other College; Therefore, I had a desire to give him information of the evil, which was hatching against him, that he might avoid it, [...] applying else where, and obtaining that, which his [...] was about to refuse. I, accord­ [...] [...] [...] to Coventry, and gave him this inform­ [...] [...] [...], accordingly, made immedi­ate [Page 98] application to the College in New-Haven, in Connecticut, and obtained his title of A. B.

When these matters came to be known at Dart­mouth College, that Huntington had fairly stolen a march upon them, and consequently, warded off the stroke of fulmination, which they had laid by in store for him, there was no small stir about the matter; but no help could be obtained, for then he had his diplomatic commission, which could not be recalled, or wrenched out of his hands. They sus­pected the Doctor, as being confederate with his son in this business; and hence, an altercation, warm and recriminating, took place; but their suspicion, of the old Doctor's being acquainted or active in this business, was entirely unfounded.

The Doctor had ever designed his son should re­ceive a degree at the College in New-Haven, as well as at Hanover, and as the commencement at New-Haven was previous to that at Hanover, he was very willing his son should take his degree at New-Haven, in the first place; but was, at that time, totally ignorant of any intention of refusing his son the same degree, at Dartmouth College.

The commencement at Dartmouth College hav­ing arrived, the Doctor and his son came on. When the reasons of the corporation were offered, for not granting his son a degree, the Doctor thought them highly inadequate to answer such a purpose, and remonstrated with warmth, upon the impro­priety of their conduct; but all to no purpose. The Doctor had been enthusiastically pursuing the pros­perity of this College; being a member of the cor­poration himself. These difficulties cooled his af­fections. He soon after resigned his office of trustee, and dropped all further connexions with the insti­tution.

When I left Coventry, I was determined to make a visit to Lysander, in Pelham, and see whether he [Page 99] had brought his business of transmuting metals to perfection; and whether he had made the necessa­ry arrangements, for prosecuting our intended pur­pose of a voyage to the Isle of Sable; and, in fine, to see what aspect the whole business now wore. I ac­cordingly travelled again into the state of Massa­chusetts, and arrived in Pelham, about 1 o'clock at night, at the house of Lysander.

Those, who have felt the glow of friendship, will readily conceive of my feelings, at meeting again in this agreeable family. The contemplation of this object kept me in the highest flow of spirits, dur­ing my solitary ride through the greatest part of this gloomy night. My heart expanded with fraternal kindness towards them. My whole soul was tun­ed to the soft harmony of friendship; and I had formed in my mind a thousand tender expressions, to communicate the overflowing of my feelings to­wards them. Never did the lover fly with greater rapture to the arms of his mistress, than what I did to the embraces of this beloved family. A thou­sand soft expressions I had anticipated from them. My heart beat quick with the palpitations of pleas­ure, and my whole soul was in extacy, at entering their house. My reception was equal to my most sanguine expectations; and to endeavor to describe this scene, would but shew how absolutely incapa­ble language is, to a real representation of those ex­quisite joys, which flow from a heart of sensibility.

We mutually recapitulated the entertaining oc­currences, which had taken place, in the time of our absence. We laughed at the strange wh [...]s and manoeuvres, of the Pelhamites: at their chagrin, when returning from Rutland: at their consulta­tions and execrations upon me, for an impostor; and upon the people of Rutland, for not rising up to a man, and fighting the battle of the Lord. Af­ter we had ended the first friendly salutation, and [Page 100] that course of information, which flows in upon the mind, immediately after those salutations, I inquir­ed of Lysander, what were his prospects with re­gard to transmuting metals, and more particularly, of changing copper into silver. At this question, my friend Lysander looked disconcerted, and seem­ed embarrassed at giving me an answer. His wife smiled significantly. I saw there was something in the business I did not understand. My anxiety and curiosity were excited. I inquired with solicita­tion into the meaning of what I saw.

Lysander, by this time, saw I was in earnest. He at first entertained an idea, that I was treating him in a satirical manner. That I was fully possest with a knowledge of facts, after which I inquired, and consequently, rallied him on a subject too disa­greeable to be called into remembrance in this man­ner. He was now satisfied of the contrary. His countenance fell. The tear glittered in his eye. He said, "Burroughs, we have been deceived! greatly deceived by Philips, that king of villains. Could you have thought, that all the experiments which he tried before us, when we were at Salem, were nothing but the vilest deception? It truly is the case. We were not alone the dupes of his duplic­ity. He had lead as many as thirty men into the [...]ame belief, until he had obtained property of us to the amount of two thousand dollars, and then he was suddenly missed. Search was made after him, in every direction, but all to no purpose. He could not be found. Nothing could be heard of him. That elegant mare, that you formerly so much ad­mired, the villain had obtained from me, with one hundred dollars in cash, when he left this coun­try.

His partner, who was knowing to all his hellish manoeuvres to deceive, was equally cheated with the rest of us. Philips having promised him one [Page 101] half the booty for his assistance, but left him equal­ly destitute with the rest. This man, finding mat­ters in this forlorn situation, revealed all the artful plans which Philips had recourse to, in order to make mankind believe, he possessed the secret of changing one metal into another.

We could not any of us believe, but what Phil­ips had the knowledge he pretended to, so fair were his experiments, until we saw them all unveiled by his partner, who went over them again, shewing us, at the same time, how Philips practised the decep­tion at every experiment."

As I have already given you an account, respect­ing this series of deception, I shall not repeat Ly­sander's narrative of it any further in this place. I now found those ideas of wealth, which had before so wholly possest my mind, entirely unfounded. The painted vision fled quickly from sight; the airy bubble broke in an instant, and left me in the abyss of poverty.

My hopes in this resource had been sanguine. I had reflected upon the subject till I was as confi­dent of extensive wealth, as of any occurrance, which had not taken place. I felt all the enjoyment of the advantages resulting from property. I had formed, in my own mind, schemes of conduct thro' life: How I should make the rich respect me, and the poor adore me. What exquisite pleasure, said I shall I enjoy in relieving the heart of distress? In distributing bread to the hungry, clothes to the na­ked, and consolation to the broken-hearted? I had already, in imagination, distributed such benefits through the land, as not to leave a poor person to in­habit his poverty. I beheld myself at the head of a people, distributing joy and gladness. I saw the brow unclouded with care. Hilarity and vivacity were in the countenances of all; an index of peace and quiet within. Hail, happy people! said I, [Page 102] where no want is known to thee,—where no anx­ious care corrodes the breast.

These were, sir, the fond images which I had pic­tured in my imagination. I was at this time, in a state of real delirium; but it was a delirium of joy; a state of happiness, which I believe none can have a just idea of; for I expect none ever allowed their imagination so far to get the start of their judg­ment: and therefore, when I awoke from my de­lirium, to a sense of my real situation, and saw that in the room of distributing wealth, to others, I had but barely the necessaries of life, for myself, and that the supply for those necessaries was on a very precarious footing, I awoke to distress, anguish, mortification, and chagrin. My feelings were shocked beyond description, with this sudden re­verse of fortune!

I believe that the disappointment would not have been greater, or more keenly felt, had I in reality [...] in possession of all the enjoyments, which I had so [...] pictured to my view, and from that state, had been reduced, on a sudden, to poverty, as great as what in reality, now existed. My friend Lysander and his wife saw the workings of my mind. They had passed through the same scenes themselves. They endeavored to console my feelings—They discoursed upon the uncertain events of this world like Philosophers. They adverted to the disappointments which all meet with daily: to that fortitude which we ought to exercise under every trial; so as to rise above disappointment, rather than to have disappointment rise above us. That riches and poverty were nothing but imaginary beings, created by our own fancy, by comparing one sit­uation with another, and thereby giving a name to each: to the calls of nature, as being very simple, and easily supplied, if we would rest contented with that supply; and that every thing beyond, [Page 103] [...]ended to render us uneasy, rather than to contrib­ute to our happiness.

How easy is it for man to give the most saluta­ry advice to his fellow. In reasoning upon a sys­tem in theory, many will discover a depth of wis­dom beyond our expectations; yet, when they at­tempt to reduce this advice, founded in theory, into practice, how great the contrast! The feelings of the human heart, the weaknesses of nature, and the errors of judgment, all set themselves in array a­gainst us, when we attempt to listen to the dictates of wisdom, in our practice.

Happy would it have been for Lysander, and fa­mily, yea, thrice happy would it have been for me, had we attended in our practice to those les­sons of reason: but alas! the mania of [...] taken strong possession of our minds, and we listen­ed with eagerness to her calls. This soon reduced me to a state of wretchedness, far beyond the power of language to describe. But, sir, as your messen­ger is in waiting, I will end this letter, concluding that the God of night will cast his sable mantle o­ver your mind, before you complete this chapter: I am as always, &c.

CHAP. XIII.

IN order to give me some consolation for the dis­appointment which I had suffered, Lysander told me he had a plan in agitation, which would op­erate nearly as well, as we expected the other would have done. "Glazier Wheeler," said he "is a man, who can be depended on, for his honesty to those for [Page 104] whom he undertakes to work, and he can make one silver dollar into three connterfeits, which will pass as well as any. And it will be in our power, to prosecute our intended expedition to the Isle of Sable, upon this scheme, with nearly as great profit, as we expected from transmuting reetals. We shall not be with the old man a great while, before we shall be able to work at that business as well as he; and should we find it necessary, can hire a number of hands, and drive the business, at this place, to a great amount; as we shall be retired from the observations of the world, and can carry on the business without molestation."

My answer to Lysander was to this purport.—You are sensible that counterfeiting the coin of any country, [...] contrary, not only to the laws of that country, [...] likewise to the laws of our own minds, having implicitly engaged to observe and protect those laws, when we once take advantage of their efficacy, to protect us in the enjoyment of our rights and privileges; therefore, should the busi­ness succeed, according to our most sanguine wish­es, and the coin pass, to the end of time, as stand­ard silver, yet, we should as really violate the sim­ple principles of justice, as though we should be detected in passing coin so base as to serve only a temporary purpose, and die in the hands of an in­nocent person. The transgression would be as ab­solute, should it never transpire to the world, or be attended with any personal injury, as though it should be proclaimed to the universe. Therefore, this reason alone, would be sufficient to deter me from wishing such a thing to take place.

Another very powerful reason is, the danger we run, in prosecuting such a matter, and the ruin which would inevitably follow a detection. Gla­zier Wheeler, it appears, has followed this business for fifty years, constantly—syet he never could bring [Page 105] his apt to such perfection as to have his money pass undetected. How often has he been confined, pillo­ried, cropt, and whipt, for this business? How many have been involved in the same difficulty, who embarked in this dangerous voyage with him? How then can we expect to share a better fate? And what would be the consequence of a detec­tion? The property which you now possess, would be swept away; your children would cry in vain for bread; your reputation, which you now hold so dear, would be lost forever; and you would entail misery and infamy on your posterity. You must, then, be separated from your companion, from your children, from your friends; confined in a jail, a receptacle for the off-scourings of nature—treated with contempt—injured without pity—made the scoff and jeer of fools.—This, sir, is a scene for a mind of sensibility.

The wife of Lysander heard this discourse with the utmost attention. Her countenance was a strong index to the feelings of her mind:—Her co­lour went and came:—She now grew pale with ap­prehension, and now her cheeks redened with the flush of desire—to prevent her beloved husband from r [...]shing into dangers so desperate. She remonstrat­ed—She expostulated—She entreated—but all to no purpose. Lysander was fixed, and nothing was a­ble to remove his resolution. He turned to his wife, with a look of that ineffable sweetness, which overpowers the mind, and said, "My dear, I wish very much, to see you in possession of a coach, which I shall send you in a few months."

"As to the objections which you offer, Mr. Bur­roughs," said Lysander, I will endeavor to answer them in such a manner, as to give you full satisfac­tion, on that subject."

"If mankind had no disposition to infringe up­on the rights of each other, there would be no need [Page 106] of law;—and the whole nature, design, and spirit of law, is to protect each other from injury▪ and where no injury is intended, nor in fact done, the whole essence of law is attended to. I know the Law speaks in general terms, because it cannot de­scend to particulars; there being such an infinity, as to put it beyond the power of man to compre­hend the whole in a system: therefore, general prin­ciples must direct us in our interpretation of law. We ought, in our conduct, to act as men possessing reason, sufficient to direct us under the various oc­currences of life, so as to vary our conduct accord­ing as circumstances shall point out; keeping in view, and practising upon the spirit of law; and when we attend to this, we cannot be said, in reali­ty, to transgress the laws of the land, nor indeed, the laws of our own mind; because we, in fact, do fulfil our compact with society, viz. protect each other from injury.

"From what I have observed, I believe you will readily agree with me, that I am right, in prosecut­ing my present plan, if I can make it evident, that no danger of injury will arise to any one from it▪ and that by it, many will be made better.

"Money, of itself, is of no consequence, only as we, by mutual agreement, annex to it a nominal value, as the representation of property. Any thing else might answer the same purpose, equally with silver and gold, should mankind only agree to con­sider it as such, and carry that agreement into [...]e­cut on, in their dealings with each other. We find this verified in fact, by those bills of credit, which are in circulation through the world. Those bills, simply, are good for nothing; But the moment man­kind agree to put a value on them, as representing property, they become of as great consequence as silver and gold, and no one is injured by receiving a small insignificant piece of paper, for an hundred [Page 107] bushels of wheat, when mankind stamp that value upon it, by agreeing to receive it for that amount: therefore, we find that the only thing necessary to make a matter valuable, is to induce the world to esteem it so; and let that esteem be raised by any means whatever, yet the value is the same, and no one becomes injured by receiving it, at the valua­tion. Hence, we find the world putting an enor­mous value upon certain stones, which intrinsically are of no use; as for instance, the diamond, the car­buncle, &c. These stones cannot be made use of in any pursuit of life. They will not serve for food, for raiment, or for any instrument of any kind whatever; therefore, of what real use can they be?

"Their scarcity, and certain peculiarities, have induced mankind to esteem them; and this esteem stamps a value upon them, so that they pass from one to another, as the representation of property: hence, the holders of them, always have a valuable possession, and probably, always will have, which they at any time can exchange, for property of more immediate consequence to their support, &c.

"Had I the art of making diamonds, do you suppose I should transgress the laws of equity, in putting that art into practice? except I should fill the world with them, so as to destroy their scarc­ity, and hence, depreciate their value in the hands of others.

"To put this art into practice, so as to enrich myself, and not destroy that due proportion between representative property, and real property, is do­ing myself a favor, and injuring none.

"Gold and silver are made use of for conveni­ence, to transact our business of barter and ex­change, with each other, as the representation of property, it being less cumbersome, and more easy to communicate from one to another, than real property of any kind: hence, when there is a due [Page 108] proportion of representative property, business can be transacted to the greatest advantage▪ and with the greatest ease. And when the public experience a scarcity or redundancy, they of course suffer an in­conveniency: therefore, that person, who contrib­utes his mite, to keep the balance between these two species of property justly poised, is a blessing to himself, and to the community of which he is a member.

"That an undue scarcity of cash now prevails, is a truth too obvious for me to attempt to prove. Your own observation will convince you of it. Hence, whoever contributes, really, to increase the quantity of cash, does not only himself, but likewise the community, an essential benefit. And, that this can be done, in the pursuit which I have un­dertaken, and without endangering the safety of a­ny one, I will convince you by occular demonstra­tion."

He then presented me with a bag of dollars, which he said were made by Glazier Wheller. I poured them all out; I examined them with care, as I then thought: I compared them with other dollars, which were good—I could discover no dif­ference.

His arguments now stood all plain before me; they were collected in a line,—and what do you think was the consequence? I blush to tell you the truth!—I feel ashamed of my own weakness!—My great want of solid judgment at that time, al­most persuades me to hide the relation of this fact. These arguments convinced me, unfounded as they were.

Lysander told me his intentions were to pay strict attention to the business, and did not doubt his finally raising himself and family to a state of the greatest affluence. He had already obtained a sufficiency to answer present purposes; He should [Page 109] soon obtain much more. The business was at a stand, just at present, for want of drugs, proper for carrying it forward. He intended to go soon to Springfield, where he should obtain whatever he wanted for such a purpose.

Lysander had not yet passed, or attempted to pass, any of his money: As I expected to leave his house the next night, on my rout to Danbury, and to pass through Springfield in my way, he agreed to set out with me, and go his rout in my company. His wife had ever felt dssatisfied about this business; being easily alarmed with the least appearance of danger, towards one in whom her happiness was so essentially embraced; but when I drew the dread­ful picture of a detection, she grew almost frantic with fear; and when she saw that no entreaties would prevail over his determination, she embrac­ed the first opportunity of conversing with me a­lone; and besought me in those moving terms, which would have melted a savage, to use my influence to prevent him from prosecuting his present undertak­ing.

Her grief spoke more powerfully for her, than all the oratory of a Burke. I could not resist her importunity. The language of her countenance and actions were irresistable. When Lysander came into our company, I began the attack in the most vulnerable part of his fortress. I endeavored to set the distress of his wife in its true light, before him. I recapitulated his own arguments, which he had be­fore used, in order to induce me "to be contented with a bare competency." I repeated to him, em­phatically, the words of Young, in his "Night Thoughts," viz.

[Page 110] I told him I knew perfectly well, his sincere af­fections for his wife, and his ambition of seeing her become possest with an equipage, &c. But believe me, sir, Not all the pomp and splendor of rich­es will repay her for the pain and anxiety she will endure on your account, for the space of one day, when you have absolutely launched into this danger­ous ocean: therefore, sir, inasmuch as her happi­ness is a leading motive in your pursuits in life, you will make a most egregious blunder in your calcu­lations, even, provided you are ever so successful in your undertakings.

The feelings of Lysander were moved. The struggle in his own breast was apparent in his countenance. He sat in silence a while, then burst into a flood of tears,—and retired into another room. Not many minutes had elapsed, before he returned. His countenance wore a more settled aspect. He mentioned his weakness, with some confusion. He said he was ashamed of being seen in tears, especial­ly on such an occasion, not having resolution suffi­cient to withstand our united attacks. "But," said he, "the business is fixed—the die is cast—I have pledged my faith—I have given my word to procure those articles at Springfield. Not only my­self, but more than a dozen others, are now wait­ing for me to fulfil my engagements. Shall I, of all others, after having agreed in the most solemn manner, to yield my aid in the prosecution of this business, now in open violation of faith, retreat and leave them in suspense?

I feel the emotions of gratitude, towards you, Mr. Burroughs, for the warmth of your feelings in my concerns; but this truth is manifest to me, that the enthusiasm of your feelings, as well as my wife's, does not give you an opportunity of reason­ing cooly and candidly upon this subject. Enough has been said—These articles must be obtained— [Page 111] and no entreaties shall deter me from paying atten­tion to it."

What could be done? What more could be said? Lysander's wife, I saw, was inconsolable. What would you have done, had you been in my situation? Words had now become entirely out of the question, and only one thing remained to be done;—and that I determined to do.

I told Lysander I would take his money,—go to Springfield,—purchase all the articles,—and return with them immediately.—With some reluctance, he consented; gave me twenty dollars for the business—made out his account of the articles wanted—and directed me to the apothecary's shop, to which I must apply for them. At night, I left them with ten thousand blessings accompanying me.

Riding alone, through the dreary night, reflexion would make me a visit. The scenes through which I had passed, had been so rapid, and filled with the emotions of sensibility, to that degree, as to leave but little room for reflection.

I have now, said I, set out to perform that busi­ness, which, two days since, I do not believe the art of man could have persuaded me to. It is a new undertaking; but I believe not attended with dan­ger; for the money is executed so well, as to pre­vent any man from distinguishing it from standard silver; at least, it looks as well to me, as any mon­ey; and I do not see why I cannot distinguish counterfeit from true money, as well as others.

I think my motive for this undertaking is found­ed on the principles of uprightness. I think the sentiment of friendship is the uppermost object in this undertaking: Possibly a species of vanity might have some influence on my mind; and that I might wish to shew the wife of Lysander how rea­dy I was to undertake such a desperate business, to befriend her; though, in reality, the danger con­sisted chiefly in her own fancy.

[Page 112] What would be the consequence, would one a­mong the ten thousand events, which [...], serve to reveal t [...]e the part, which I am now about to act? What would be the opinion of people, concerning me, but of the most disagreeable kind, after having passed the ordeal of Pelham reports, founded on facts, which, to the world at large, would appear very unfavorable? They would undoubt­edly form their opinion from ostensible facts, that I was divested of every principle of honesty, up­rightness, and integrity. And even, should I de­clare to the world, that my intentions were not a­gainst the good of society, this declaration would fall upon the unbelieving hearts of a multitude, prone to place confidence in an evil report, and difficult in giving credit to that which is favora­ble.

These circumstances would, moreover, be attend­ed with the following disagreeble events, viz. Re­ports of my misfortunes, or crimes, would spread; and probably be attended with that exaggeration, of which reports of that kind generally partake, and reach my friends, connexions, and enemies; and of all misfortunes, that which gives triumph to an en­emy, is the most keenly felt. My friends would mourn, my enemies would rejoice.

A view of these disagreeable events, which prob­ably might happen, made a very deep impression on my mind. I was almost ready to faint under the trial, and thought to relinquish my undertak­ing. But, said I, again, should I fail upon this first trial, what a pitiful appearance should I make in my own eyes? I set out on this expedition with an idea that my friendship would carry me any length. I have pledged my friendship for the per­formance of this business; and shall this be said of Burroughs, that in fair weather he was possest with friendly sentiments, but the moment the prospect [Page 113] became overcast with clouds, his friendship failed? How shall it be known whether I really possess those sentiments of benevolence, of which I have made such a pompous display, otherwise than by standing the trial in time of adversity? If the feel­ings of Damon and Pythias were graduated upon that scale of cool deliberation, which has appeared in my reasoning upon this subject, those God-like acts of benevolence, towards each other, would ne'er have been recorded of them, which not only made Dionysius stand in mute astonishment, but left a memento, to the end of time; to what an amaz­ing height virtuous friendship may arise.

Contemplating upon matters, in this point of view, it gave me pain to think that I had even hes­itated, about my performing the engagements which I had entered into. I felt a degree of guilt, which I wished to hide from my own view; it pro­duced a mortification which was exceedingly pain­ful; therefore, I determined, in my own mind, nev­er again to allow myself to query upon the proprie­ty of my undertaking, but to pursue it, with unre­mitting attention, till it was accomplished.

About 11 o'clock, A. M. I arrived at Springfield—made application at the shop where I was direct­ed—told the shop-keeper my demands—and re­ceived from him the articles according to the bill. I delivered him his money, and departed. Step­ping into the printing-office, across the way, to do some business, I was there, in a few minutes, arrest­ed, by an officer of justice. The business at the a­pothecary's had made so little impression on my mind, that I could not conceive, what could be the cause of my being arrested, at the time when the officer made me a prisoner. He informed me—and in an instant, the whole view of my desperate situa­tion opened upon me. I was taken before Justice Pincheon, who treated the business with a great de­gree [Page 114] of candor. However, a company of attor­nies' clerks, merchants' clerks, &c. being called to­gether, by this event, were very active in making observations against me, and hunting for evidence, for fear I should not be committed for trial. Af­ter all circumstances had been attended to with care, on both sides of the question, and the Justice was about giving his final decision on the business, a part of the beforementioned clerks came into the office, haulling after them a man, like the Trojans, when they had found the Greek Sinon, vociferat­ing, "here is a man, who knows him! here is a man, who knows him!

When the stranger was introduced, and silence prevailed, Justice Pincheon asked what he knew concerning me? The answer was, "that I was the greatest villain in the world, had come to Pel­ham under a fictitious name,—had there preached, when I was unworthy of the business,—had endeav­ored to kill a number of men in Pelham,—had cheated them out of their money," &c.

This man, you will readily understand, was a Pelhamite. He rode Post, from Springfield to Pel­ham, constantly, once a week. He felt all the prej­udice incident to that people. He gave his testi­mony in a very categorical manner. It was now determined that I must take up my abode in jail, and there continue, till the session of the Supreme Court,—when I should take my trial for passing counterfeit money. I was accordingly committed. And now, sir, I believe I have brought your pa­tience to a very severe trial, by the length of my te­dious narrative: therefore, I will leave the busi­ness here, till to-morrow; for I feel almost sick, myself, with ruminating upon the gloomy scenes, through which I soon passed, after this.

CHAP. XIV.

AS the apothecary was the only witness against me, which could be produced at Court, I en­tertained warm expectations of being acquitted on my trial.

In the state of Massachusetts, many inconvenienc­es had been experienced from the frequent circula­tion of counterfeit money: therefore, the governor had offered a reward of twenty-five pounds, L. M. to any person, who should detect another, in mak­ing or passing counterfeit money,—knowing it to be such. Hence, the complainant became interested in the issue on trial, and of course, ought to be ex­cluded from giving his testimony.

The apothecary, it is evident, would be intitled to the reward, from government, the moment I became convicted of the crime, for which I remain­ed confined, and for which I was shortly to take my trial. Hence, I felt confident, that his testimony could not, according to every principle of justice, and of course, would not, be admitted.

In cases where not more than one dollar is in dis­pute, this regulation is invariably and sacredly ad­hered to, viz. that no one shall be admitted a wit­ness in a case, wherein he is, mediately, or immedi­ately, concerned; and certainly, said I, where char­acter, liberty, and property, are all at stake, they will not dare to deviate from this rule of impartial­ity.

Those, who would plead for the propriety of the apothecary's being admitted a witness in this cause, must either deny this general rule, viz. "That a man interested in a cause, ought to be excluded from [Page 116] bearing testimony in that cause," or else the being intitled to twenty-five pounds, in case of my con­viction, did not make the apothecary interested in the case.

Immediately after my confinement, a number of speculating geniuses resorted to me, expecting I would turn evidence for the state, and involve many more in the situation to which I was reduc­ed: they, therefore, were anxious to improve this time of harvest, and enrich themselves from the bounty of Government. Hence, they offered me their exertions in my behalf, and moreover, half of the reward, which should be received, in case of the conviction of others, from government.

Had these speculators known with what contempt I viewed their conduct, they might have saved themselves some considerable trouble. To specu­late in human woe, and barely for the sake of en­riching themselves, reduce others to a state of wretchedness and misery, is an object so detestable, as to excite horror, in every feeling breast. Had their real motive been the good of society, their ob­ject would have been laudable, but it was a matter of public notoriety, that Glazier Wheeler had wrought openly for months past, in New-Salem; but these heroes took no notice of him, until the moment it was known, that a reward was to be obtained for prosecuting money-makers to conviction, then all their ardor was in action;—and this too, for the be­nefit of government.

Those, who applied to me, found their expec­tations frustrated; that I had no design to communicate to them any knowledge, which I pos­sest concerning others: therefore, they turned their course to different objects; and determined, since I would not further their designs, that I should suf­fer the effects of popular prejudice.

The printer, in Springfield, inserted a paragraph [Page 117] in his weekly publication, not calculated to fix the most pleasing idea upon the minds of people, thro' the crountry, viz. That I had been to a clergyman, under pretence of coming from a mission among the Indians, and being poorly clothed, had stated to the clergyman, that my clothes had been worn out, during my continuance among them. That the clergyman had invited me to preach, and in order to my appearing in character, offered me a suit of clothes;—that I accepted his offer:—and in order to prepare myself for the exercises of the next day, had retired into his study, begging the favor of his watch, to know how long I might allow myself to study, previous to retiring to rest. That after the clergyman and his family had retired to rest, I had silently left the house;—carrying with me, at the same time, watch, clothes, &c. And leaving this text, written on paper, folded as for a sermon: "you shall seek me early, but shall not find me."

These matters were all calculated to fix an in­vincible prejudice against me, in the minds of those people, by whom I must ultimately be tried, and consequently deprived me of that favor, which eve­ry person ought to have, upon a matter of such in­finite consequence to his prosperity in life, I saw these matters, and what would be the probable e­vent.

I expected that application would be made to me, for a discovery of my confederate, or confederates, at the session of the supreme court; and therefore, ought to form some system in my own mind, to reg­ulate my conduct upon such an occasion. I ought either to discover the person of whom I received the money, and for whom I had acted in passing it, or else I ought to exonerate him entirely from crimi­nation, or even suspicion; and in order to weigh these matters in the balance of justice, it will natu­rally arise into view, what is his situation, contrast­ed [Page 118] with my situation and circumstances? The con­nexions which have existed between us, and our views and expectations, under that connexion?

True it is, that this act was performed solely for his advantage, not having my own emolument in view, either directly or indirectly; therefore, ought he not to suffer the consequence of this business? Moreover, his character stands as fair in this coun­ty, as any man's whatever; and of consequence, he would stand a better chance on trial, in the prej­udices of people, than I should. He is likewise a man of property, and can of consequence, make ar­rangements for assistance, by counsel and friends, which I cannot expect; and even should he be con­victed, the exertions of government may be more mild towards him, than they would towards me: for Judges are but men, and are subject to like passions and prejudices▪ with other men; and it is not impossible, but that they may feel the opera­tion of prejudice in a trial respecting me, as well as others, which I daily see are governed by it.

These were the arguments in favor of my mak­ing a discovery of the person from whom I had re­ceived the money. The arguments on the other side were, That Lysander, it is true, has a character, property, &c. to loose, and which he moreover must loose, in a great measure, should he be subjected to trial. He has a family, a description of which, I have already given you, which must share his fortune in the world; therefore his ruin must bring ruin likewise on his family. A wife, possest of every tender feeling, must suffer more than is possible for a man to suffer, who is calculated by nature, to en­dure the robust toils of pain and hardship; and as she must suffer with her husband, in feelings, at least, it will be involving two in misery, as great as what I can endure, should I reveal this business res­pecting Lysander.

[Page 119] It will, likewise, involve those, who are perfectly innocent, in difficulty, as well as the guilty, viz. Lysander's wife and children; therefore, whether will it be better to meet the impending storm, a­lone, and unsupported, or else to exculpate myself, by throwing the same burthen onto six others, and all of them entirely innocent, excepting one? Moreover, why did I undertake this business, un­less it was to hazard the danger myself, which at­tended this undertaking? I am determined. The arguments are more against me, than they are for me, and I must stand the power of this storm, thick and fast gathering over my head.

Happy was it for me, that I was ignorant at that time, of the dreadful trials and miseries, which I had to encounter, before I was released from a state of confinement;—otherwise, my courage must have sunk; my resolution must have failed.

My blood, at this distant period of time runs cold, at taking a retrospective view of those scenes. Since I have been writing this narrative, necessity has compelled me to have recourse to minutes, which brought those scenes into view, which have been a great tax on my tranquility. I cannot now close my eyes in sleep, without being called to act these things over again in imagination. I start from sleep often, sweating with agony of mind, under the apprehensions which those images present to my view.

My determination being fixt, I laid my account to conduct accordingly. Many people visited me daily, out of curiosity, to see a character entirely new, the public being fully possest with the belief, that I had absolutely stolen a watch and suit of clothes from a clergyman, and had left him the text beforementioned;—and all I could say or do, had no influence to make them believe to the contra­ry.

[Page 120] Some said this clergyman was Doctor Hunting­ton of Coventry, and some said it was Mr. Trum­bull of North-Haven; but those two gentlemen, de­nying any such transaction towards them, said the matter was a fact, but who the clergyman was, was unknown.

It appeared that the world were determined not to give up any unfavorable idea, which had once been broached concerning me, let it be ever so un­founded or improbable. Therefore, their ears were open to every breath of slander, which was puffed against me.

My visitants would often look at me, when relat­ing matters of fact, with an arch significance, de­clarative of their knowing the bottom of the busi­ness, notwithstanding all my plausible declarations. I do believe, if I had set out with warmth, to prove to the world, that I was a man, and not a woman, that a great number, from that circumstance, would have been able at once, to look through the decep­tion, which I was endeavoring to lay them under, and known for certainty, that I was, in reality, a woman; so strong was the desire of mankind, at that day, to elude my deceptions, which they tho't I was master of, to the utmost degree.

In this situation, you will readily conceive it could hardly be expected, that I should run clear of a verdict against me, let the proof be ever so in­adequate; for the wisest and most considerate of men will be influenced in their reasonings by those popular clamours, more or less; and they cannot avoid it, so liable is human nature to err in the de­vious path of life.

The speculators in government bounties had now taken Glazier Wheeler, who was likewise com­mitted for trial; this man you will likely have a curiosity to be made more minutely acquainted with, as he will make somewhat of a figure in this [Page 121] narrative. He was a man tottering under the weight of years, having long since, to all appearance, been a presumptive candidate for the grave. He was a man of small mental abilities; but patient and per­severing, in any manual pursuit, to admiration. Credulous in the extreme, which subjected him to the duplicity of many, who had resorted to him for his work: inoffensive and harmless in his manners, simple in his external appearance, and weak in his observations on men and manners. He had spent all his days in pursuit of the knowledge of coun­terfeiting silver, so as to bear the test of essays. He had always been unfortunate, and always lived poor.

This was the man, concerning whom, the world had said so much, and who was to take his trial at the same time with me. One other, by the name of Jones, was likewise committed, either for coun­terfeiting, or passing counterfeit money; which, I do not recollect. Likewise one by the name of Cook was in confinement, to take his trial for bur­glary. These were the men, who waited for the approach of the court, with fearful apprehensions of the event.

Many circumstances had taken place, whilst I lay confined here, which served to give me a pret­ty sanguine dependance on my own abilities. I had written a scroll of ribaldry, and intitled it "the Hay­Mow Sermon," representing my exploits in Pel­ham, at Rutland, &c. and delivered this often to those, who came to see me, as a phenomenon. I found many applauded this as a witty thing, until I finally began to think it so myself. The flattery of those, who were willing to alleviate the miseries of my situation, by making me at peace with myself, had such an operation on my mind, that I seriously began to think myself a man of some consequence, and was determined to let this circumstance be ful­ly known at court, when I should have an oppor­tunity [Page 122] of displaying all my abilities, in such a con­spicuous manner, as to create admiration in the minds of all.

This was the state of things when I was called to the bar, and my indictment read, The Judges on the bench, at this time, if I remember right, were, Messrs. Cushen, Sargent, Sumner, and Dana. The attorney-general was Robert Treat Paine, of whom you have heard much mention made: yet, sir, as this is so extraordinary a character in the depart­ment of our Jurisprudence, I will give it you more particularly in this narration. ^*

In the indictment I was charged with passing two pieces of base metal—the counterfeit of Spanish mil­led dollars—knowing them to be such, &c. To the indictment I plead not guilty. I had no coun­sel at this time—owing to the following reason, viz.

When I was first committed to confinement, I expected to be in want of more money, than what I had on hand, for my expenses in jail, attorney's fees at trial &c. Therefore, I sold my horse, sad­dle and bridle, and had a promise of the money in ten days;—but to my no small disappointment, have not received my pay to this day: of consequence, at the time of trial, was entirely destitute of mon­ey.

Being wholly unacquainted with the practice of the gentlemen of the bar, at that time, I had em­braced the opinion that they never would attend to [Page 123] the application of any, without an advanced fee. This idea I afterwards found to be entirely ground­less. Under this apprehension, I applied for no help, having no money to remunerate a counsellor for his assistance.

This being the case, I stood alone in the business, which communicated an idea to the gentlemen of the bar, that a confidence in my own abilities induc­ed me to look with indifference on their assistance. This, of consequence, did not serve to ingratiate myself into their favor. This was not all. In my address to the jury, I flung out some hard expres­sions, against them, owing to my mistaken idea of their venal practice; all which served to create my­self enemies, without the least apparent advantage arising from it.

I have often thought that a retrospective view of a thousand foolish calculations which people make, in the days of youthful inexperience, and the thoughtless unmeaning impetuosity, with which they pursue these objects of calculations, would serve greatly to lessen the resentment, which the wiser part of mankind often feel towards them.

After I had plead to the indictment, the attorney-general arose and opened the cause to the jury, stating, in the course of his observations, that I had been a most abandoned character, leading a life of iniquity from the beginning; that I had been a counterfeiter not only of the coin of the country, but had likewise counterfeited a name, a character, a calling: all which seemed to communicate this i­dea to the world, that I had given aloose to the practice of every enormity; that my wickedness had at length found me out; and, that I should now suffer a punishment due to my long course of crimes.

After he had closed, he proceeded to call on his [Page 124] evidences. When the apathecary came on to the stand, I objected to the court, against his being ad­mitted, being a person interested in the business. After having heard the arguments pro and con, the bench took the matter under consideration, and de­termined that his evidence might be taken: giving for reason, that it had before been determined; and that the reward which government had offered, would militate against the conviction of crimes of that nature, rather than promote it, if the com­plainant should be excluded from giving testimony.

As soon as this determination of the court was declared, I pretty much gave up the idea of being acquitted. However, I thought it necessary to make the last defence I was able to: therefore, af­ter the witnesses were examined, I began my address to the jury, and in the course of my observations, took notice of the remarks of the attorney-general; that he had, contrary to every principle of law and justice, asserted facts, in open court, apparently, with a wicked design, to fix a prejudice in their minds, in order to prevent my trial's being impartial, not even attempting to produce evidence to support the base assertions, which he had made.

I continued still further:—I am astonished, said I, to see all justice and virtue fled from the bench. That those characters, whom we are taught to re­vere, on account of their eminent station, should so far debase their own importance, as to remain in si­lence, when the most flagrant violations of all rules of order are perpetrated before them in open court: therefore, gentlemen of the jury, I turn to you as the only support, which now may be depended on, for the enjoyment of our just rights and privileges.

And now, sirs, what do you think of this rant? I know what you will say, viz. that it was the eb­ullition of a mad, hair-brained, fellow. My seel­ings, it is true, were wounded by the operations of [Page 125] the attorney-general, and I verily expected to pun­ish all those, whom I thought to blame in the busi­ness; but how weak was my reasoning upon such a subject! How mad the part which I acted! I soon found to to my cost, that in the room of punishing others, I was irritating that power, in whose grasp I was embraced.

I continued my remarks to the jury, upon the evidence which had been exhibited against me, with as much argument as the case would admit of. The attorney-general answered my remarks, and the Judges summed up the evidence, and stated the business to the Jury, not in a very partial man­ner. The jury retired, and in about one hour re­turned with the verdict of GUILTY!

The sentence was soon pronounced,—which was to this effect, viz. That I should stand one hour in the pillory, and remain three years confined to the house of correction, without the corporal punish­ment, which generally is inflicted on those, who are sentenced to said house. Glazier Wheeler's sen­tence was the same—excepting an addition of twen­ty stripes, and to be cropt. Jones was sentenced for two years to the house of correction, and twenty stripes. Cook, for burglary, was sentenced for two years to the house of correction, an hour in the pil­lory, and ten stripes.

I was remanded to jail, there to contemplate the gloomy prospect before me, of spending three years in a state of close confinement. I expected this state of imprisonment would be in the common jail of the county, there being no other house of correc­tion provided. Here the horrors of my situation began to open to my view! I saw an eternity in meniature before me, consisting of one continued scene of gloomy horrors. Shut [...] the en­joyment of society, from performing a part among the rest of my fellow mortals, to make some estab­lishment [Page 126] for myself, in this state of dependance; and from tasting the sweets of liberty, for which we had so lately fought and bled.

How is this, said I to myself, that a country, which has stood the foremost in asserting the cause of liberty, that those, who have tasted, in some measure, the bitter cup of slavery, and have known, from hence, the value of liberty, should so soon after ob­taining that blessing themselves, deprive others of it? I know, that it will be said, that for my crimes, I am deprived of liberty, which is according to every dictate of justice; whereas, America was only struggling for her natural rights, when exercising the principles of virtue.

I have no idea of calling in question the justice of the American cause, but only advert to the situ­ation and feelings of the people in this state; to shew that they feelingly knew the value of liberty; and therefore, it appears more strange, that they should wantonly trifle with this valuable treasure. It has been abundantly said by the leading men in this state, that life without liberty is not worth the possessing. This was abundantly urged to the peo­ple in time of the war; and it was urged with great truth and propriety; therefore, that the same cha­racters, upon a revision of the criminal code, with a pretence of mollifying those laws, which were san­guinary and cruel, should substitute slavery, for Death, is, to me, conduct truly enigmatical.

As this narrative will not admit of entering into a political disquisition of the subject, I shall content myself with barely stating facts, which have abun­dantly come to my knowledge, from seeing the op­eration of this system of servitude upon men. These facts I shall relate from time to time, as they naturally connect with the narrative; and [...]presume▪ sir, you will think with one, that in political reason­ing, strongly marked this legislative act.

CHAP. XV.

THE evening after my sentence, the prisoners, in the room adjoining, were endeavouring to make their escape. Their attempt was overheared by the jailor, who came into the room, where I was, about 12 o'clock at night, with the high sheriff, who with his drawn sword, threatened to put me to instant death, for making the attempt to break jail. The cold contempt, with which I treated his threats, stung him to the quick; he lowered on me with an eye of malignancy. He cried "ah! ha! But roughs, you are in my power, and I'll make you know it, before I have done with it you." He, by this time, had learned his mistake, by hearing the prisoners, in the other room, crawling out of the hole which they had made.

This circumstance serves to shew the prejudice which the high-sheriff had conceived against me, by his concluding, without the least evidence, that I was making an attempt to break jail; however, this I found was a pretty general opinion among people at this time, that I must be conversant in every species of outrage, which was going forward, and consequently, when any thing of that nature was known to be on foot, they were very confident of my being interested in it.

It was thought that the jail in Springfield was insufficient to hold me securely, and therefore, con­cluded to remove me to the jail in Northampton, another half-shire town in this county; they accor­dingly put this determination in execution; remov­ing all the prisoners at the same time. I was con­fined [Page 128] with a large chain around my legs, secured in the most critical manner, and then bound fast to the waggon, in which I was transported; it being twen­ty miles between the two places. In this situation, carried through the country, as a spectacle to the inhabitants, I will not attempt to describe to you my feelings, because I know the attempt will be in vain. There is a language of the heart, which we cannot express, it so far exceeds the descriptive powers of speech: yet, by comparing our own feel­ings, in different situations, we may give the near­est guess, what our feelings would be, under other circumstances, and hence by this rule only, can you judge of my sensations upon this voyage to North­ampton.

It was on Sunday, when we were carried through the country, on our journey to Northampton: and in the room of attending the usual solemnities of the day, people thronged the roads, to see this proces­sion, when we passed, the people would inquire with eagerness, who was the minister, being known more by that appellation, than I was by my own name. When the minister was pointed out to them, some would shout with joy, considering that I was now detected, notwithstanding that amazing fund of subtilty, which I could use when I had oc­casion. Their ideas of their own judiciary be­came highly exalted, in their opinion, for said they, "this man has been all over the world, playing pranks in all countries, but could never be bro't to justice, owing to his amazing subtilty, until he came among us, and we have shewed him what is what—he finds by this time, that we are not such fools as he thought for." Some examined my looks with great attention, to see if they could dis­tinguish where that depth of knowledge lay, which had set the world in an uproar. Some few dropped the sympathetic tear over our wretched state, ap­parently [Page 129] sensible that we belonged to the same hu­man family with themselves, and were capable of suffering equally with others.

About sunset, we arrived at Northampton, and were consigned to the abodes of misery. The ponderous doors growled on their reluctant hinges! The rattling of bolts, bars, and locks, reverberat­ing through the hollow apartments of this dreary abode, made such an impression on my mind, that with difficulty I supported myself under this situa­tion. The appearance of the Ceberus of these in­fernal abodes was equal to every poetic descrip­tion of the Janitor of hell. Hail, ye infernal Pow­ers! said I, who inhabit these regions; assemble your forces, gather your strength, and keep high carnival to-day, in consideration of those victims, which have now fallen a sacrifice at your shrine.

I was confined in a room on the ground floor a­lone, and shut out from the possibility of seeing any company. This was a situation which left me to the corroding pangs of thought. However, these thoughts were, in the end, calculated to fortify me against impending troubles. I reflected on my im­prudence at the time of trial. On the desperate voyage I had undertaken for the sake of befriend­ing others; on the consummate folly in our plans for wealth; and upon three years' siege I must now undertake against the walls of a prison.

But, said I, what does it signify to complain? The die is cast—my fate is fixed—and at the close of three years, what will it matter, whether I have lived in affluence or been confined in a dungeon? Does it now militate against my happiness to think that yesterday or last week I was in a disagreeable situation? The present and future are the only times for enjoyment. The present blessings we have in our power, and consequently, can partake of every joy they grant: the future we possess by [Page 130] anticipation; and it is thought by many, that the foretaste of pleasure by anticipation is greater than the participation.

At any rate, happiness is the pursuit of all, and it is evident that the nearer we can approach to a state of content, by the same proportion we ap­proach to that happiness, which we are in pursuit af­ter; of consequence, the dictates of wisdom will in­duce me to throw aside care and trouble, let my pres­ent situation be ever so disagreeable.

Not long after I was confined in this jail, there was a man by the name of Rood put into the same room with me. This man had held a commission in the military department of Massachusetts; and was an inhabitant of a neighboring town; had a family consisting of a wife and one daughter, a young woman in the bloom of life, and a pretty handsome figure.

This man, by mistake, having taken some cattle, not his own, and appropriated them to his own use; some people were so impolite as to charge him with theft. This charge was carried before the Supreme Court, and there he was fined about seventy pounds, if I mistake not. As the circumstances of this Rood were somewhat embarrassed, he could not pay the fine which the court had laid upon him. Therefore, the prospect was, that he must lie in jail a long time—until he should be able to pay his fine, and this he had no apparent chance for doing.

This man had a genius somewhat singular. His stature was about six feet. He had an upright bold look; possessing a small share of learning. He was fond of using far-fetched and hard sentences, in or­der to appear like a man of letters. He was very fond of using high sounding words, and had a most singular talent of palming himself upon the vulgar, for a man of real information. He was cunning, [Page 131] out not politic, sociable and amusing, but not edi­fying.

Finding himself in this embarrassed situation, Lieutenant Rood determined to extricate himself by any mean which he should find in his power. As he was not possest with those delicate feelings of uprightness, which would subject him to a hurtful system of honesty, he determined to have recourse to any measure, which would answer his pur­pose.

We were soon joined by another, who was com­mitted by the name of Warner; but I believe his real name proved to be Hutchins. This man was apprehended for passing counterfeit bank-bills, and committed for trial, at the next court of quarter sessions, to be holden in March following.

This man was wholly destitute of literary knowledge, and also unacquainted with men and manners. He was simple, and destitute of intrigue, but possest an inviolable attachment to secresy, when any thing of that nature was committed to him. He had a great share of enterprise, but was wholly destitute of system.

Under these circumstances, I found many design­ing characters had made use of him, as a tool to ef­fect their nefarious purposes.

Having this company, that eternal series of en­nui, which had hung like a leaden mountain upon me, was now in some measure removed. The pri­vilege of conversation was now restored, and amuse­ment in some measure occupied our attention.

When I have been debarred the privilege of see­ing and converting with others, the bare fight of a man has involuntarily and unaccountably raised a sensation of joy in my mind, greater than you can easily conceive, even when I had not a possibility of speaking to him. This, I think, is a strong evi­dence that we are all descended from one common [Page 132] origin, and that a certain attraction of cohesion op­erates upon the human race, and will so continue till we all return to that fountain from whence we originated, and form an union as perfect as is form­ed between the river and the ocean when their wa­ters become one.

The scanty allowance of provision, which we re­ceived at this place, made us feel severely the pains of hunger. Those, who had friends near them, commonly received an additional supply from them, but those, who had only what our keeper allowed us, to supply the calls of nature, often felt the grip­ing hand of hunger, in addition to other inconveni­ences. All these circumstances made me feel an in­conceivable uneasiness at my confinement. I would walk backward and forward across the room, by the whole day together, ruminating upon the posi­bility of making my escape. How I longed to be at liberty, is beyond my power to tell. Often would I wish that I was possest with the ability of pas­sing from place to place, with the same facility, that we could discern objects at a distance, in this place and that place.—How quick would I then leave these hateful abodes, and wonton in the sun­beams of liberty!—How easily could I then elude the iron grasp of this petty tyrant, who triumphs over the miseries of the wretched few under his con­trol.

Often would I contemplate upon the situation of the beggar, who gained his daily bread by the cold hand of charity, and yet walked at liberty, free as the air in which he breathed, capable of going to a­ny place to which his fancy directs him, without let or hindrance; I compared his situation with mine, and in the comparison, I fell infinitely short of his state of happiness.

I was determined to try some measure for my es­cape from this place. I peeped into every corner [Page 133] of the room—I surveyed all the barricadoes with which I was environed—I contemplated every possi­ble measure which occured to my imagination. I at last concluded to begin my operation upon the chimney way, hoping that I could, by taking up the foundation of the chimney, get to the ground, and by that mean, undermine the jail, and make my es­cape that way. I laid the plan before Warner and Rood, for mutual consultation and approbation. Warner, at once, entered into the scheme, and prom­ised his assistance. Rood refused to lend his assist­ance, but encouraged us to proceed; suggesting that the thing probably might be accomplished.

I soon saw into the drift of Rood. He determin­ed to take advantage of our success, if we proved fortunate—if otherwise, he thought to exculpate himself by saying he had no part in the business. He had acted the part of a sycophant towards the jailor and the high-sheriff, from the time of his commitment, hoping [...]through their intercession, to gain some alleviation from the court of their sen­tence, at the next session.

Notwithstanding the assistance of Rood was not to be expected, Warner and I were determined to make the attempt, immediately after the approach of night, as that was the only time in which we could work, without an immediate detection. Therefore, after the time of retirement, we pulled off our coats, and went to work, with a great degree of energy, upon the stones in the chimney. We soon almost filled our room with stones and rubbish. In this situation, we experienced great inconveni­ences for the want of light, being obliged to have recourse to pine slivers pealled off from a board, which kept one hand constantly employed in feed­ing the blaze, lest it should be extinguished, which would at once defeat all our purposes.

As I was the strongest of the two, I kept War­ner [Page 134] seeding the light, whilst I labored like Sisy [...]phu [...] in rolling huge stones out of the chimney-way. Happy should I have thought myself at that time, if Hercules like, I could have turned the course of some mighty river under the jail, to have assisted me with its force, to sweep away those huge rocks.

I labored and toiled without intermission, till a­bout midnight, when coming to a rock I could not possibly get out of the hole, I for a moment des­paired of success, after straining with all my might, a number of times, to no effect. Rood, seeing the situation in which matters stood, jumped out of bed, and helped to lift the stone from its place, and then returned again into bed.

I again renewed my labor, and had overcome the greatest part of the difficulties before us, when the light became extinct for want of fuel, the board be­ing all consumed. I tried to pursue the business in the dark, but found it in vain, and therefore was o­bliged to quit our undertaking. How much would I now have given for a farthing candle! but wish­es were as vain as our expectations were unfounded. The necessity of our relinquishing the pursuit was absolute, and therefore with a sullen reluctance I yielded to the force of necessity.

I did not entirely lose all hopes of succeeding yet, by this method. As soon as day light should af­ford an opportunity, I determined to renew my la­bor, and if by good fortune our Cerberus should not make us a visit till some time in the morning, I was still in hopes of making the breach soon e­nough, to leave him to his own agreeable reflections, when be came to search our room, which he con­stantly did every day. Therefore, at the dawn of day, I again renewed my labor, with increased ani­mation. I struggled and toiled with the huge rocks in such a manner as to establish the belief, that in the course of an hour, I should again fl [...]t upon [Page 135] the wing of liberty. But O! horrid to related the thundering noise of the jailor, in opening his pon­derous doors, throwing back the many bolts, and turning the keys of the enormous locks, at once de­feated all my expectations of freedom. The migh­ty castles which I had been building in the air, came tumbling over my head, like a sweeping deluge.

The jailor came into the room, and what was the scene pictured to his view? Rubbish, rocks, stones, and dirt, filled the room! Two men almost naked, covered with sweat and dust!

The door was again immediately shut, and the jailor retired, but his absence was almost momenta­ry. He returned with a band of flinty hearted Myrmidons to assist in the execution of his diabol­ical system of revenge. We ^* were taken by those patrons of humanity, tied to the grates, and receiv­ed ten lashes each, on our naked backs, with a horse-whip. Immediately after this, we were put in the dungeon, where we lay two days, and were then removed into another room.

The day after we were confined in the dungeon, the high-sheriff came to the jail, and threatened to put Rood into the dungeon with us; this threat had the desired effect. Rood declared he had giv­en no aid, assistance, or advice, in the business of breaking the jail, but on the contrary, used all the arguments and entreaties to induce us to desist, which were in his power: and moreover, said he,—"when I saw they would not give up the at­tempt, I got out of my bed, and went to the win­dow, in order to call the jailor, but when Burroughs saw what I was about, he came up to me with his penknife, and threatened to stab me, if I proceeded; therefore, I was obliged to desist."

This contradiction happened to take place where I overheard it all. I called to Rood, in the midst of it, and informed him that he was a liar, that he [Page 136] had, in reality, been aiding and assisting in our efforts for breaking the jail; that had he conduct­ed with ingenuity in the business, I should have been willing to have him exculpated from blame, but when he manifested a disposition to heap addi­tional censure upon me, for the sake of making him­self stand high in the opinion of others, I supposed it a just tribute to my own vindication, to set mat­ters relating to him, in their true light.

This I expected would be heard by the high-sher­riff likewise, as they two were in conversation to­gether; and my main object, in making this declar­ation at this time, was to prevent Rood from build­ing himself up in the opinion of the sheriff, at my expense.

When Rood found I had detected him in his du­plicity, he entreated the sheriff to put him into a room separate from me; dreading, as I suppose, my just vengeance upon him, for his perfidious conduct. He promised on this condition, to give information concerning any attempt of the prisoners to break jail. He was, of consequence, put into another room.

The second day of my confinement, nearly night, I heard a terrible clanking of massy chains, ap­proaching towards my apartment. The door of the dungeon was opened, when lo! horrid to re­late! a deformed Vulcan ^* attended with his grisly Cyclops, ^† carrying with them a huge iron chain, and all the tools for their infernal purpose!

I was ordered into another apartment, and to work went those engines of cruelty. They, in the first place, made fast a flat ring around my leg, a­bout six inches wide and an inch thick. This was connected with a chain weighing about 36 lb. and ten feet in length. The other end of the chain was fastened to the timber composing our floor, [Page 137] with a staple driven in with a sledge, which made the whole jail tremble. After I was fixed in this manner, they left me to my own reflections, inward­ly exulting at their mighty power, in making a poor wretch secure from enjoying the cold com­fort of hoping for better times.

O! ruthless mortals! said I, why so infatuated! am not I a member of the same family with your­selves? am not I capable of suffering the same woes with others? Place yourselves in my situation for a moment, and try to regale your feeling, in such a condition. Even suppose a brother, a child, or any near relative, or friend, in my situation: Would you conduct towards him as you now do towards me, who am a stranger among you? Surely you would not. Does not the language of nature, does not the principles of that benevolent religion of which you make so great profession, teach you to treat the stranger with kindness? How then is it that you pinch me with hunger, mangle me with whips, confine me in a dungeon, &c. as though you envied me the enjoyment of the liberty of walking a room of twenty feet square? You have confined me to a space of half that dimension; and this con­finement too, performed in the most cruel man­ner!

Would any of you, who are walking at your ease, enjoying the sunshine of liberty, if placed in my sit­uation, lie down tamely under the burden, and not exert yourselves for freedom, when you possest a faint ray of hope, that you may obtain it by exer­tion?

You, who have never felt the burden of confine­ment, can have out a faint idea of its nature: hence, you esteem it as it feels to you, and treat those who are [...]n [...]er its pressure, according to your feel­ings.

I lay in this dismal situation about a fortnight, if [Page 138] I remember right. My leg, by this time, was worn by the iron around it, till the skin was quite off. In this situation, I became entirely im­patient. My sufferings I thought insupportable. I cursed the day in which I was born. I cursed my friends, and all the human race, in the bitterness of my anguish! Well was it for Warner, that I was confined with a chain, at that time, lest haply I should have vented my rage on him in the over­flowing of my distress. I roared with anguish! I raged like a Bedlamite!—

The obdurate heart of my Cerberus was not mov­ed by my situation, he was terrified, and durst not approach me. Yet that adamantine barrier which fortified the avenues to his soul, from the approach­es of compassion, remained entirely unimpaired▪ and prevented the least motion of pity from disturb­ing his repose.

There are certain situations of suffering which will make a man mad—will take away every exer­cise of rational conduct—will reduce him to a state of desperation,—so that he will rush into the most desperate danger. This was my situation at this time. I was determined not to endure these trials any longer;—and, in the language of the poet,—to end them "by taking arms against myself, and all my woes at once."

I ruminated upon the means of accomplishing this design. Various were the plans which offer­ed to my view, but none appeared so eligible to answer the state of my mind, as the terrible ele­ment of fire. Therefore, I determined to set fire to the jail, and Sampson-like, make a sacrifice at my death, which should atone for the cruelties I had suffered in my life!!!

The flooring of the jail was laid with two thick­nesses of timber,—each thickness being about four­teen inches and over these timbers, a floor [Page 139] of inch boards. The boards which composed the floor I cut away, in such a manner as to be able to take up a piece about two feet long, the cracks be­tween the timbers were about two inches wide, into which I dropped coals of fire, which fell down to the ground, twenty eight inches below the floor, among shavings and other combustible stuff. The air drawing in strongly, at the place where the fire was, it soon began to rage with great violence. I re­placed the board in its former situation, placed my straw, which served for my bed, on the board, and lay down, with great composure, viewing my suf­ferings as fast hastening to an end.

The floor being so tight as not to admit the blaze into the room, it sought a passage elsewhere, and soon burst out, through the underpinning and blaz­ed up to the height of the caves of the jail, about twenty feet! this was a scene possessing more of the horrid sublime than any thing I ever met with dur­ing my life.

At the dead hour of night, when all nature was lost in forgetfulness, as Young emphatically express­es it.

In this situation to see columns of smoak and fire rolling up with a majestic power, enveloping me around, was a scene which surpasses all descrip­tion! I viewed the operation of the flames with a tranquil horror! I now felt myself exalted above the operations of the petty tyranny of those, who [Page 140] had exercised the rod of severity over me. Your reign, said I, will be shore, and I shall not fall alto­gether unrevenged. It may serve as a memento to others, not to drive those to desperation, who have the misfortune to fall under their power.

I soon found that the fire had loosened the staple, which consined my chain to the floor; therefore, I was at liberty to walk from one end of the room to the other, contemplating the progress of this dread­ful devouring element.

By this time, the prisoners in the room over head were awakened, alarmed, and began to cry out for help. The jailor was aroused, the inhabitants gath­ered, and the bolts, bars, and locks, were in motion. They immediately came into my room, and finding me loose, conveyed me into the dungeon.

Whilst I was in the dungeon, I heard the bustle among the people, in putting out the fire. From the expectations of some, I thought the danger in­creased, and from the operation of others, I thought it diminished. My mind was wavering between hope and fear, till about 4 o'clock in the morning, when I found the noise decreased until it became entirely silent. I now concluded they had subdued the fire, and of course, I should be called to an account as disagreeable, as when I attempted to break jail.

The scene following, of all the scenes of my life, strikes my mind with the most distress in relat­ing. To paint it according to the existence of facts, and the sensations arising from those facts, is an arduous task, too great for me to undertake, till I have refreshed nature with a little relaxation by sleep, and application to other objects, which will turn my mind a while from the disgust, which the contemplation of this subject creates. Therefore, sir [...] accept my sincere wish for your welfare, my de­sire that you may never taste that cup of adversity, which I have drained to the dregs.

I am, Dear Sir, &c.

CHAP. XVI.

ABOUT 9 o'clock in the morning, I heard the usual tumult at entering the outter door of the jail. I saw a crowd were entering and passing a­long theally-way, previous to their coming to the dungeon door! The door opened! The high-sher­iff, jailor, and about twenty more entered! I saw by the appearance of things, that I must prepare for the worst possible event. The sheriff advanced with a cocked pistol, which he presented to my breast, and swore by GOD, that if I offered to resist, he would put me to instant death. He had an idea that I had become desperate, and would sacrifice my own life for the sake of ridding myself from the mis­ery I was under, and obtaining revenge, for the in­juries I had suffered.

I called him a poor despicable cowardly wretch, to advance upon a poor, helpless, unarmed man, in the manner he assumed. I told him I placed his ut­most malice at defiance, and challenged him to do his worst. I told him I expected every thing base and cruel from him, ever sensible that the ignoble spirit, which possest a coward, led to cruelty and barbarity. That I had been punished ignobly once, for nothing; and therefore, I determined he should have something for his next attempt, which should make his cowardly soul tremble with fearful appre­hension.

He ordered his posse to advance and seize me. They advanced and laid hold of me. As soon as they had made me secure, the sheriff took hold of my hand and twisted it round, so as to make [Page 142] the pain very sensible. I thought he would have wrung my arm off my shoulder. I was led out of jail in this manner, into the yard. I was then tied fast to the grates, and stripped naked.

The reason why I was carried into the yard was, that this mild distributor of justice, might have a better opportunity to give his whip full scope, with­out impediment. He improved his opportunity, and with a whip commonly known by the [...] [...] of hunting-whip, he laid about me with all his ven­geance, for about five minutes. I then was taken down, and Warner put in my place, who received twenty lashes. We were then re-conveyed into the dungeon; when I was loosed from the iron I had about my leg, and in lieu of that, a large ring was put about each leg, with an iron bar running from one to the other. This bar was bolted to the floor. I then had an iron about my waist, and bolted to the floor: after all, I was hand-cuffed and pinioned.

The sheriff then came to take his farewell, and parted with some hearty curses for my incorrigible conduct. The curses he received back again with interest. I was now left to myself, a gloomy spec­tacle of helpless misery. This was in the month of December, in the year '85, a remarkable cold month, and my confinement in this situation, con­tinued until January, '86, being thirty-two days, in the whole.

Here I was deprived of fire, of clothing, and ex­ercise, till the time was nearly expired; and even the pitiful allowance of straw to lie on: but all this was nothing, compared with what I suffered with hunger.

Those, who know the cruel effects of hunger, are the only people who can understand me, when I re­late these facts. But few people have ever felt its effects: therefore, should I relate this story to peo­ple in general, not many would know what I meant.

[Page 143] I had not been in this situation many days, before I began to experience the severe effects of the cold. As I could not stand, walk, nor step; the only re­course I had to keep my feet from freezing was rubbing them against an iron spike, a little from my [...]et, perhaps three inches, which had either never been driven into the floor entirely, or else had started back by some mean, the space of about four inches. This I wore very smooth with a perpetual friction. No person was allowed barely to lo [...]k through the little aperture into the dungeon. This little hole was secured by a door, so as to hide eve­ry object from our sight.

About the seventh or eighth day after my confine­ment, in this pandimoneum, the pains of hunger be­came excruciating. Gladly would I have eaten my own flesh. I even had a hankering desire to [...] the excrements out of the vault, but that was ou [...] [...] my power. All my thoughts were occupied up­on victuals. I could not conceive what I had been about through life, that I had not eat [...] more when I had the opportunity.

I could not possibly conceive of the idea of a man satisfied with eating. That a man could be glutted with food, so as to loath it, was a fact estab­lished in my mind, by my own personal experience—yet, at this time, I could not believe it; indeed, I thought I knew to the contrary.

Had I been possest of an empire at this time, I should have parted with it in a moment, for a sup­ply of food for the present necessity. It is said that hunger will break through a stone wall, but I [...] that hunger will carry a man the greatest length of any thing in nature. It destroys the feelings of hu­manity, and makes a man a savage. [...] his nature a ferocious feeling, which [...] more to the tyger than to a being possessing the milk of human kindness: therefore, take the mi [...] ­est [Page 144] couple that ever lived, reduce them by famine to a state of extremity, and you will see the fond husband tearing from his beloved partner the food upon which her existence depends. Nay, more, you will see, in this situation, the tender mother re­fusing her dying infant the smallest pittance of sus­tenance to its expiring entreaties!

Must not the mind of sensibility shrink with hor­ror at a sight so dreadful? And this have I expe­rienced in a land of christianity! A land where great professions of humanity and christian benevolence have been made! In charity to the inhabitants, I now believe they did not know the extremity of my sufferings. At that time I did believe it, and that they concurred in the business; but I know my sit­uation did not admit of cool reflection and candid reasoning upon the subject. I begged, I entreated, of the keeper of these infernal abodes, for bread, but my entreaties were given to the winds. I raved, I swore, I tore, cursed and lamented, but all did not move his ob [...]rate feelings. After the fifteenth day the rage of hunger began to subside. Nature, [...] ­ed with the struggle, gave way, and began her re­treat. I grew faint and sick. There was a gloom hung over me, which is entirely inexpressible. Noth­ing did I ever feel of the kind before or since; and how to describe it to you now, I am entirely at a loss. I know if I undertake, I shall not succeed in giving you an image of the most distant resem­blance.

I grew sick of life, I hated the idea of ever mix­ing again with the world, I wished for death with a [...] impatient ardor. There is a situation, sir, when life is no more s [...]et. There are circumstances, un­der which life becomes a burden, and is no longer desirable. This was my situation. I began to con­sole myself with the hope that my miseries would soon have an end in the arms of death. The ap­proach [Page 145] of this grim tyrant now was the most plea­sing object of my contemplation. Here I found a balm for all my wounds—"To rest from my la­bours" in this world, was the height of my wishes. Here was a pleasure in the prospect which assuag­ed the rage of my pain, and calmed the boisterous emotions of my mind.

I had now become emaciated to a skeleton. My beard had not been cut, during the time of my being in the dungeon, hence it was about two inch­es long. My hair had not been combed, which stood in every direction. From these circumstan­ces, I had more the appearance of some savage beast of the forest, than any thing appertaining to the hu­man species. I now looked for the speedy end of my toils, I found my strength daily decreasing, and concluded that nature must soon march out of her fortress, and give entire possession to the king of terrors.

Matters being in this situation, one morning a­bout 11 o'clock, I heard the outer door of the jail loosed from it's bolts and bars. The door looking through the little aperture into the dungeon was opened, and the name of Burroughs was vocif­erated by the jailor. For him to have any business with me at that time of the day, was what had not happened for thirty two days before, and what could be his business now, I could not conceive.—The objects of life were so far out of my view, that I thought at first to pay no attention to this call, but upon more mature reflection, I rose up as far as I was able, and looked through the little hole. I there saw a man whom I did not recognise, a stran­ger. He called me by my christian name, when he spoke to me. Who it was addressing me thus fam­iliarly I could not tell. I told him he had the ad­vantage of being unknown to me, while I was known to him. He asked me if I did not know [Page 146] my uncle?! I surveyed him with some attention, and at length saw he was my Mother's oldest Brother.

He appeared to examine my condition with as much attention as his situation would admit of. He entered into some general observations upon the na­ture of my folly in setting the jail on fire, and at­tempting to break out. He lamented the distressed situation in which he found me, and handed me two dollars to supply my present necessities. He then retired.

Immediately after this, the jailor's wife came in­to the [...] told me if I wanted any victuals she would supply me with it. How this declaration sounded in my ears, you will more readily conceive, than I can describe. To have a prospect of a spee­dy supply of food, again recalled the desire of life. My feelings were in arms, and all the vigor of desire was again rekindled in my bosom. I told her I wished for something to eat immediately, and on her informing there was nothing ready dressed, I be­sought her to fetch me some bread, that I might be eating, whilst she was making ready something else. She brought me a brown loaf weighing a­bout four pounds.

With what pleasure did I view this precious morsel approaching me. I half devoured it with my eyes, before I got hold of it. How sweet was the taste! how exquisite the pleasure! Warner laid hold of the loaf and tore away about half the contents. Yes, said I, thou fellow sufferer! eat and be satisfied! the day of bitterness is over, we have the promise again of food, sufficient to supply the calls of nature!

The bread was almost instantly gone, but the cries of hunger were not appeased. Soon however the wife of the jailor came with strong tea and toast. I was astonished she brought so little, but she un­derstood [Page 147] my situation better than I did myself. We eat up the recruit of food in a moment. I entreat­ed for more, but could not obtain it, under near an hour. When I had received my third portion, and we had eaten it, Warner began to experience terri­ble pains in his bowels, and I thought, for some time, he must have expired under the operation.

The same characters, who had made their ap­pearance, when I was bound in the manner descri­bed, now entered the dungeon again, and to work went hammers and files, and in about half an hour, I was freed from the terrible load of iron, under which I had groaned for thirty two days.

When I was liberated from these irons I had al­most lost the use of my limbs; my feet would hardly answer my desire for walking, for both of them had been touched with the frost, and the irons on one of my legs had been put on so tight as to cause a swelling, which ended in a sore about six inches long, and which has never yet gotten entire­ly well.

I was removed out of the dungeon into an upper room, which was much more comfortable than the one I had first occupied. Here I received food as often as once in three hours, through the next day. Yet I could not be satisfied, my appetite was keen as ever, even when I was so full as to prevent me from swallowing more. This continued to be the case for the space of a fortnight longer, when I found my appetite regulated upon the common scale of eating.

At this time, my Uncle wrote the following let­ter to my Father, giving him some account of my situation in Northampton jail.—

After the receipt of this letter, my Father wrote to an acquaintance of his in Northampton, by the name of Strong, to pay some attention to my needs, afford me what my necessities called for, and draw upon him for the amount of expenses incurred.

By some strange fatality, when this letter arrived, Capt. Strong either thought, or wished people to believe he thought it a forgery of mine. He payed no attention to it, and the report was soon circu­lated, that I had forged a letter in my father's name and sent to Capt. Strong; and even at a very mod­ern period a gentleman of some eminence, from [Page 149] Northampton, has repeated this false report, in those places, where he knew it must be attended with ve­ry disagreeable consequences to me.

And now, sir, permit me to digress a moment from the course of the narrative, and offer a few re­marks upon the very singular scenes through which I passed in this jail.

As you, sir, have been long in the practice of the law, you will more readily conceive of the illegality of these transactions.

The fundamental principles upon which our lib­erties and privileges are founded are the trial by jury, that no unnatural and cruel punishments shall be inflicted, and that a person shall never be pun­ished, but by due course of law. These leading principles, I believe, are never to be deviated from, except in case of rebellion, when the state is in dan­ger: then martial law may operate; and even when▪ martial law has its operation, it is necessary to have matters of fact established by evidence, and the voice of a majority of three, at least, to warrant a punishment. In the punishments inflicted on me none of these preliminaries have been attended to, but I have been subjected to the arbitrary will of a petty tyrant. He punished when his inclination was for cruelty, and inflicted what kind his pleasure directed. It may be urged that I had made myself liable to pun­ishment, by my conduct in jail. This being supposed, which I by no means believe, yet, to punish me with­out a legal trial, was as absolutely contrary to every dictate of law and justice, as though I had been in fact innocent.—It may further be said, that my sen­tence confining me to the house of correction, made me liable to the punishment of the master of the house at his discretion. If this be the case, we take away from one class of citizens a right, which we have very justly been tenacious of, and have sub­jected them to a state of as abject slavery, as the ne­groes [Page 150] in the West-Indies. And even if this doc­trine is well founded, yet the injustice of their con­duct will receive no extenuation, for Warner was punished equal in kind, though not in quantity, with myself, although be was only committed for trial, and of course must be innocent in the eye of the law, until he should be convicted.

As the narrative will not admit of treating this business largely, I have given you only the leading ideas, which possess my mind upon the subject, knowing your ability to state them in your own view, much more clearly and logically, than what I shall do.

About this time Philips, of whom you have heard mention, was committed to this jail, and lodged in the room where I was first confined; likewise one Hinds was lodged in the room where I now was. This Hinds was committed for adultery with the wife of one Wallace, and the woman herself was kept in the common dwelling-house of the jailor. One Norton, who was charged with the murder of a man by the name of Brown, was committed about this time, and confined in the dungeon. It appear­ed from all the information I could gather, that the circumstances of this business were of the following nature, viz. Norton, being a house-joiner, was on a new building, laying shingles, when Brown came by, and in a playful manner, threw stubble at Nor­ton a number of times, which impeded him in his work. Norton was a man hasty and petulant in his temper. He told Brown if he did not desist, he would come down and give him a floging. This threat induced Brown to continue his folly with more eagerness, to shew that he did not regard Norton's threat. With this, Norton immediately descended the ladder, came up to Brown, and a scuf­fle ensued. Some blows passed, at length Norton gave Brown an unlucky stroke, after which he nev­er breathed again.

[Page 151] Norton seeing that Brown was absolutely dead, made his escape, and left the country. He had been absent about twelve months, when he became known in some part of Connecticut where he resided, and was apprehended and brought to Northampton for trial.

From experiencing the treatment▪ I had received in this place, I had, through mistake, formed an idea, that Norton would have no chance for justice at the time of his trial; I found likewise he enter­tained the same idea of this matter himself. I sin­cerely wished him out of their hands, and felt wil­ling to yield him any assistance which was in my power.

Matters were in this situation when, one night a­bout 12 o'clock, I heard a whisper as though it came from out of the room, calling me by name. I sprang up and ran to the window, but found the voice did not come from there. I then ran to the door▪—but there again was disappointed. Where the noise came from, I could not conjecture, which still continued. I at last bethought me of the pump, leading into the vault, under the jail. I ran, and uncovering the pump, could easily distinguish the voice of Norton, who had gotten down into the vault. He entreated me to let him have a knife, for "by that," said he, "I can make my escape." Had it been a diadem, for ought I know, I should have parted with it, to have assisted him at this mo­ment. I took the knife, and tied it to a string, and let it down. I then covered the pump, lay down, and reflected with a great degree of pleasure upon my affording some small assistance to befriend a hu­man being whom I never saw. Truly, said I, this conduct has been guided by the principles of phi­lanthropy.

I soon fell into a sound sleep:—my slumber was refreshing and sweet:—I felt entirely at peace with [Page 152] myself, under the fullest conviction I had acted ac­cording to the plan of the good Samaritan. I did not know that any in the room were awake, at this time; therefore, I thought myself the only person possest with this secret. The next day, Hinds was taken out of the room where I was, and let into the alley with the woman, [...]r a criminal connexion with whom, he was confined. They remained together about an hour, when he was put back into the room where I was. [...], I heard a number of peo­ple entering the outer door of the jail, and the clanking of chains, as though some internal purpose [...] in agitation. I listened with attention, and soon heard the dungeon door open: when, to my surprise, they cried out that Norton was gone. I did not expect he would so soon have made his es­cape; and now felt the exultation of joy, on the account of his success. My joy was soon damped, by hearing another voice, soon after, crying out, "here he is! here he is!" Norton, at this time▪ was so busy at work in the vault, that he never heard any of the uproar, until a youngster, putting his head down into the hole he had made, saw him at work.

They soon got him up and made him fast in i­rons: after this, they came into my room, took me out, carried me into the room where I was formerly confined, and there made me fast, with my old chain.

Here were Philips and Warner. Soon after the jailor had left us, I began to discover the amazing ability for contrivance which Philips possest. He freed me from my irons in ten minutes. We then all went to work to make the hole larger through our pump into the vault under the jail. This we effected, to my surprise, in the space of about six hours, so that a man, when stripped naked, could let himself down through it into the vault. This [Page 153] hole was made in such a manner, as entirely to se­cure it from the observation of those, who per [...] ­ally searched the jail, Even should they examine the hole itself, they would not discover its [...]ing otherwise than what it was originally, so perfect was Philips master of what he undertook, of such a na­ture. We wrought with assiduity all the night fol­lowing, and had made such progress in diging out, that we arrived at the stones of the underpinning of the jail, they being sunk about four feet into the earth.

The prisoners, in the room out of which I was taken, and especially Hinds, were of opinion, they heard a noise, on the night that we were at work in the vault, but the other prisoners suspecting how the case really was, and being somewhat jealous of Hinds, endeavored to persuade him, that it was a matter of mere conjecture, not founded in reali­ty,

The next day, I found Hinds and his paramour were put into the alley together, as formerly. Plac­ing myself in a situation, where I could hear their conversation, I became acquainted with a very sin­gular and curious circumstance, viz. that Hinds had entered into an agreement, to discover whatev­er plan should be in agitation, for the purpose of breaking the jail, and was to receive, as a compen­sation, liberty to be alone with his Miss, one hour in the course of every day. That in consequence of this agreement, he had given information of my help­ing Norton to my knife, and that he was about breaking jail. In consequence of which informa­tion, Norton was discovered, and I was again con­fined in irons.

Hinds told his prostitute, that he had heard the noise of somebody diging, and believed Norton was attempting to break out again. This noise, said he, continued through the whole night. After this [Page 154] interview, they were both replaced in their former situation.

Soon after this, the jailor, and a number with him, made a visit to the dungeon; carrying lights with them, in order to search every hole and cor­ner. After about an hour's investigation, they gave up the pursuit, as fruitless; concluding that Hinds was mistaken in his conjecture, or else the breach was [...]made in an other room. They, therefore, came into the room where I was confin­ed, and after searching some time, concluded some mistake must have existed, with regard to the con­jecture of Hinds. The jailor even looked into our pump, and could discover no manner of breach, which we had made: however, he thought that the hole was so large, as possibly to admit a small boy down it; and therefore, determined he would make it more secure.

You will naturally ask the question, with regard to my irons, whether this was not a suspicious cir­cumstance, as well as the noise? This business was fixed equally secure with the other. After I had been liberated from my irons, by Philips, he made them answer a number of other purposes, in the prosecution of his plans; and likewise prepared them in such a manner, that I could slip them on my leg, in half a minute, so as to wear the appear­ance of remaining closely chained: this I always did, when I heard the jailor entering, so that by this mean, I remained undiscovered.

After the search was over, I called to one of the prisoners in the room with Hinds,—Grinold by name, who was a person holding such conduct as Hinds had been guilty of, in the utmost abhorrence, and related to him a simple account of facts, res­pecting Hinds. Grinold immediately began an al­tercation with Hinds; they soon proceeded to blows—and Hinds, who was as great a coward as [Page 155] he was a villain, soon cried enough; but this sub­terfuge did not answer his purpose. Grinold still continued to bear him, alledging that such conduct as Hinds was guilty of, did not entitle him to the common usage, under such circumstances.

In the afternoon, the jailor came into my room, and the blacksmith with him, and after taking up our pump, placed two bars of iron over the hole, and spiked them to the timber. This, I thought, was an effectual security against our ever again get­ting into the vault. But no sooner was the jailor gone, than Philips shewed me how mistaken I was in my conjectures. Not more than six minutes af­ter their departure, before we had all the irons loos­ed from their place: and that was effected in this manner, viz. We took the chain that was around my leg, and put it under one of the iron bars, and fetching it round, fastened it together, over the bar, with a key made of one of the links. After this was done, we took an oaken bench, about ten feet long, made of a slab, as much as four inches thick, in the middle, and put the end of this bench into the bite of the chain; placing it in such a manner as to gain a great purchase, we lifted the bar in an instant, drawing out the spikes with ease.

Immediately upon the setting in of night, we a­gain went to work, but had not continued many minutes before the outer door of the jail opened, and in came a number of people, and passing our door▪ went up to the prisoners over head. Here Hinds had an opportunity of giving the hint to the jailor, that he had something to communicate to him. Therefore, after the people had finished their business with the prisoners, the jailor took Hinds out into the alley, and there learned that we had broken again into the vault. Upon this informa­tion, the jailor came into the room, and removed [Page 156] all the prisoners into the dungeon, excepting my­self, being in [...] so securely confined, that he re­mained at ease with regard to me.

After all matters were again settled, I silently let myself out of irons, went down into the vault, and wrought hard all night. By morning, I had dug through the underpinning, gotten out-side the jail, and all that remained now, was to break through the frozen ground, which was about eighteen inches, as I conjectured. I thought my operations through this night, had been so silent, as to prevent a discov­ery from any one; but I was mistaken. The least noise in the vault, founded strong through the pumps; these being the only apertures, through which the sound could escape; therefore, its whole force was carried in one direction.

In the morning, the jailor took Hinds out of the room, where he had left him the night before, hav­ing put him into a separate room from Grinold, for fear of a repetition of that chastisement, which he had so largely tasted the day before; and by him received information, that somebody had been at work in the vault all night. After this informa­tion, Hinds was put back into the same room a­gain, being a room-mate with Rood.

About ten o'clock in the morning, the jailor, at­tended with his blacksmiths, came into the dun­geon, and removed the prisoners back again into my room. They searched the dungeon, with a great degree of care, to see whether the prisoners had broken through into the vault, but not finding any breach, they were a [...] a loss to account for the report of Hinds, not conceiving it possible for me to be the person, owing to my irons. However, af­ter a while they came into my room, and searching the irons around my leg, they discovered the de­ception, seeing at once, with what case I could take my irons off my leg, when I wished. They then [Page 157] searched the iron bars, which had been spiked to the floor, and found them pulled up. They looked at me with a stare of astonishment, not conceiving how it was possible for such a thing to be effected with what tools we had.

The blacksmith retired—and in about an hour, returned—bringing with him an iron bar of twice the magnitude of the former, and six spikes, about twelve inches in length, and ragged, in such a man­ner, as to prevent a bare possibility of their ever be­ing drawn. This iron bar he placed across the hole, and with a heavy sledge, drove in the spikes, look­ing round exultingly on me, saying "Burroughs, if you get down here again, I'll come and take your place." After he had driven in his spikes, and put all things in order, he came and examined my i­rons, fastened them on again, so as to prevent my getting loose, as he vainly boasted.

I now lost all hopes of liberty, by that method which we had been pursuing, viewing it impossible, ever to get the iron from across the hole, if I should get free from my irons around my leg; but again, I was taught to admire the vast ability of Philips; for before the outer door of the jail was locked, I was freed from my irons, and the bar a­cross the hole was torn away. This was done while the jailor was shutting, bolting, and locking, the doors; so that the noise which we made, might be so blended with his noise, that it should not be dis­tinguished by the prisoners over head, viz. Rood and Hinds, in such a manner as to lead to a discov­ery. This had the desired effect. Not the least suspicion was entertained of our operations, so quick was Philips, in seeing every advantage, which oportunities offered, for the prosecution of our pur­pose.

However, I found all the abilities, which apper­tained to Philips, were set down to my credit, so [Page 158] stronly were all possest with the opinion, that I was the soul of every enterprise, of such a nature. And from the efforts which he made in this room, many were of the opinion that I had preternatural assist­ance. For say they, "no irons will hold him, and no fortification will stand against him."

You will be curious, sir, I presume, to learn the method, by which we effected such a surprising seat, in so short a time, as to liberate me from irons, and tear away the huge iron bar, which was spiked so strongly across our pump-hole. This I will give you a description of.

You will recollect that one end of my chain was fastened to the floor, the other end around my leg, the length about ten feet; and the ring about my leg was flat. ^* Making the chain into a ring by the beforementioned process, we ran the end of our oak­en bench into it, and placed the ring, which was a­round my leg, under the bench, and bent it down [...]ight to my leg; then turned it one quarter round, and bent it back again: this we repeated three or four times, and the ring broke. We, immediately, after this, hoisted the bolt confining the chain, by the same process.

After all, we took up the pump, and fixed our chain around the iron, on the pump-hole, as for­merly, and proceeded again according to the same plan. I thought it a piece of madness to think of drawing these spikes, and made observations to that amount: Philips paid no attention to what I remarked, but pursued his plan: and when we all jumpped on to the bench, to pry up the ironbar, the heads of the spikes flew off, in a moment; the bar was torn from its place, and the whole jail trem­bled.

I now considered my escape as certain, having nothing but the frozen ground to break through, [Page 159] which I expected to effect, in the course of an hour. Therefore, when night progressed so far in her course, as to carry people generally to their beds, we all stripped, and went down into the vault, with as much silence as possible, that we might keep Rood and Hinds in ignorance of our operations; but this we found impossible. We soon heard them take off the cover from their pump, and listen to the noise in the vault: However, as we soon expected to make our escape, we did not so much dread their hearing us at work, not expecting they could give any information to the jailor, till next morning, when we should be far from his restraining pow­er.

We were vigorous in our operations, till we had broken the frozen ground, so as to discern the snow—I communicated this circumstance to Warner, who was near me, and he, imprudently, in the warmth of his feelings, told one near him, that in ten minutes we should be at liberty. This he spake so loud, as to be heard by Rood and Hinds.

They hearing this, immediately called to the jail­or, and informed him that we were breaking out. The alarm flew rapidly; people gathered into the jail-yard, with lanterns, and discovered the hole, which was almost large enough for a man to pass through, whilst others entered the jail, and turned us all into the dungeon.

CHAP. XVII.

OUR fond expectations of liberty were again blasted. We found ourselves confined in the dungeon, and two spies to watch all our motions. [Page 160] It appeared that Fortune delighted in raising my hope, in order to tantalize me with disappointment. There was a strange fatality attending all my un­dertakings! The most flattering circumstances were, in the end, attended with effects of the sever­est nature. Misery was my portion, notwithstand­ing every effort to the contrary. I now saw no way but that I must lay my account, to wear away the three long redious years, to which I was sentenc­ed, in jail!

Early the next morning, I was, contrary to my expectations, taken out of the dungeon, and recon­veyed into my old room, which was considerably larger than the dungeon, and there saw preparations for punishing me again, with the horse-whip. I had a sharp pointed penknife about me, which had been often sought for in vain, by the jailor. I pul­led out this penknife, and opened it, and told the jailor, I would positively put him to death, if he dared to inflict that punishment on me again. I stood, at this time, in one corner of the room, where I could not be attacked only on one side. The jail­or ordered those with him to take hold on me, and secure me; but none chose to run the risk: for I had declared, with equal determination, that the first, who offered to approach me, should feel the weight of my arm.

Matters remaining in this situation, the grisly locking tyrant was abashed and confounded, not daring to approach me himself, to execute any of his hellish plans,—he therefore gave up the ob­ject.

About this time, the blacksmith and his appren­tices came into my room, with all my former load of irons, to confine me as he formerly had done, in the dungeon. Having succeeded so well with regard to the punishment of whipping, I determin­ed to try the same experiment again, and see wheth­er [Page 161] it would keep me out of irons. I, therefore, re­fused to have any chains put on me. The black­smith came towards me in a threatening manner, with his hammer lifted, as though he would strike me; but seeing me stand, as though I was deter­mined to execute my threat, with my penknife, he gave back. They soon left the irons lying on my floor, and all departed from the room. I expected they were gone after a recruit, but in this, my fears were disappointed.

About one o'clock, the same day, I was taken out of this room, and put into the upper loft, with Gri­nold. Philips and the rest, who were in the room with him, were taken out of the dungeon, and put back into their former place of abode, after the breach was secured. I believe it was effectually secured this time, for I never heard of their break­ing it again: but by what process they made it so strong, as to prevent the prisoners from making an­other breach, I do not know, never being put in that room any more. It was currently reported that the devil had assisted me, in my attempts to break jail. Many foolish people would apply to me for a discovery of matters unknown to them­selves; as things lost, stolen, &c.—and when I refused to pay any attention to their application, alledging that it was out of my power, they would look wisely at each other, and observe, "that I was not permitted to do such things, it being against the articles of my league!"—

It being now the last of January, if I rightly re­collect, news was brought us, that all the prisoners, who were sentenced to the house of correction, were to be removed to Castle-Island, in the harbor of Boston, there to be confined to hard labor. This news had but little effect on my mind, being as yet entirely ignorant of the place, its situation, the state of prisoners on it, or the treatment which I should [Page 162] receive there. The idea of being again carried through the country, in the manner I had former­ly been, a spectacle to surrounding fools, gave me most sensible pain; but whether I should be in a better situation there, than what I was in at North­ampton, was wholly unknown, and I had no evi­dence, by which I could form my conjecture.

Early one morning, a number of deputy sheriffs came into the jail, and bade us prepare for our journey to the Castle. They chained the prisoners two together, placing the chain about one leg of each, then put them into a sleigh, and drove off.

When I came to breathe a pure air, and to con­trast the prospect of surrounding objects, with the gloomy mansions which I had left, you cannot con­ceive the ardor of my feelings for liberty. Every object, which my eyes beheld, was a loud proclaim­er of my miserable state.

Oh! said I, to myself, could I run about like yonder little boy, who, regardless of his privilege, looses its enjoyment,—then should I feel like the lark, that, escaped from its cage, flits into the air, and claps its wings for joy. I wondered people should feel so indifferent about my situation. I e­qually wondered at their not skipping with joy, because they were at liberty themselves. I thought if they had known the feelings of my heart, they would have arisen to a man, and granted me that liberty, which my heart so ardently panted after. It appeared to me, sometimes, that the sensations of my mind must be apparent to them, and that under this circumstance, they would actually grant me relief. Yet, in the bitterness of my soul, I found these ideas all chimerical.

Certainly, said I, did those very characters, who were instrumental in placing me in this state of confinement, feelingly, know my whole heart, they could not resist the language of nature so far, as not [Page 163] to wish me at liberty. I know that even the Pel­hamites themselves would have cried his punish­ment is enough—his sufferings are equal to his crimes.—Then, why will ye yet torment me? Why will you gall me any longer, with the chain of slave­ry?—The answer is, the course of law has brought you to this, and we cannot reverse its mandate. But, said I, what is law, but the voice of the people? and what is the voice of the people, but the lan­guage of the heart? Does not every day's experi­ence teach us, that cruel and severe punishments serve to harden, rather than reform the vicious? Ought we not to consider ourselves as members of one and the same family, and to adopt those rules and regulations among ourselves, as a society, which will, in their operation, be congenial with such an i­dea? Surely, this is the idea, which the language of nature strongly inculcates upon our minds. Should we not shudder with horror, if a Father treated his child, as the laws of society treat each other? When do we hear of an unnatural parent chaining his child, confining him from the enjoy­ment of liberty, and placing him in such a situa­tion, as to make him an object of contempt and scoff to the rest of his children, without feeling that indignation in our bosoms, which such an un­natural action merits? Between parents and chil­dren, the voice of nature is heard in its simple state, without being perverted by the sophistry of those, who are blind to the laws, which bind mankind together, as brethren of the same family. Is there not a spirit of nobleness in man, which [...] the lash of tyranny, in whatever shape it [...], which manifests all the love and partiality of children, tow­ards those laws, which discover the care and pro­tection of a parent towards them? View the con­duct of the Parent of nature, towards his children! "He causes his son to rise on the evil and on the [Page 164] good, and sendeth rain on the just, and on the un­just." He grants his parental kindness to all his chil­dren, without distinction, and watches over the wants of the smallest part of the works of his hands. Is his example worthy of imitation▪ or are we wiser than our Maker? I have often read with the high­est delight a fable invented by Dr. Franklin, to shew, in a familar manner, the arrogance of man, in his attempts to place his own wisdom, above that of Deity. The Doctor represents Abraham as grossly abusing a stranger, whom he had invited into his tent, because he was an idolater, and did not worship God according to his method. The fable states, that at midnight; God called unto Abraham, and inquired for the stranger, Abraham recapitulat­ed his treatment▪ of him, which was done said he, because he worshipped not thee." God took occasion, from this, to shew Abraham the folly of his reason­ing, for said he," have I nourished and cherished this man ninety and nine years, notwithstanding his rebellion against me, and could not thou, who art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night."

As we travelled through the country, I again found the curiosity of people had brought them together in many places, where we stopped▪ there a philosophic mind would have found ample scope, for contemplating the human character. We cannot discern the operation of the human heart in man, until we are in such a situation, as to prevent his wearing a disguise. This situation must be very abject, and then we become of so little con­sequence in society, that the notice of man is re­move from us, and he acts in our presence with­out disguise; viewing our approbation or disappro­bation as immaterial to his prosperity. Under such a situation, the human character becomes re­ally known, and he, who has ability with this know­ledge to learn such regulations as will tend, in their [Page 165] operation, to promote the highest good of society, is called upon, by that duty which man owes to man, to assert the cause of truth, with regard to these im­portant points.

Under this view of matters, I have clearly stated my sentiments to you, upon these subjects. I know you to be a man of so much observation, as to know, that severe laws have the most fatal tendency, not only upon the criminal part of society, but likewise upon every member. Every thing, which tends to destroy the principles of humanity, serves to era­dicate from the human breast that benevolence and compassion towards mankind, which is the bond of perfection in society.

When we see the father of a family conducting with mildness towards all his children, treating them all as equal members of his household, and never permitting the ebullitions of wrath and ma­lignity to operate towards any; at the same time, we see them inheriting their fathers meekness, and compassion. Benevolence marks their ways, and harmony brightens all their paths. But on the contrary, where we see the parent becomes the tyrant, punishing the faults of his children, with the unre­lenting hand of rigor, executing judgment un­mingled with mercy; we see a family possessing the feelings of cruelty, lost to the god-like principle of mercy, at war with themselves, and governed by those ferocious feelings, which disturb the tranquil­lity of mankind.

The same principles operate upon the great fa­mily of mankind. Where we find severe laws ope­rating among a people, or mild laws executed in a cruel manner, we see the influence of this, upon the manners of the people, to be very great. It gradu­ally roots out the feelings of benevolence and compassion, and in their room, implants the sen­timents of cruelty and severity.

[Page 166] The body of mankind can judge of things only in a very partial manner. They are taught, in the first place, to revere the laws; they are taught, in the second place, to believe that the laws are founded in justice: from this consideration, they are lead to treat others, as they see the law treats its subjects; to cherish the same spirit, which they see manifested in the execution of the laws; there­fore, if the law, or the mode of executing it, is se­vere and cruel, they will of consequence imbibe a spirit of severity and cruelty.

Having treated these matters so largely in our conversation, it will be needless for me to say more on the subject. I believe we are both agreed in this sentiment viz. that the laws and the manner of their execution do, ultimately, form the manners and morals of a people; and the best criterion, to form an estimate of the laws and regulations of a people by, is their manners and morals.

On the first day of our journey towards the Cas­tle, we dined at Belchertown. Here I found an assemblage of many characters. Some were led here by an anxious desire of seeing me perform some feats of dexterity, in eluding my guard, concluding that I should not remain with them, longer than to arrive at this tavern. Whether they expected I should evaporate in a flash of fire, or disappear in a cloud of smoak, or whether they thought I should, Faustus like, fix my guards, like pillars of stone, im­moveably, to some spot, until I could leisurely walk away, I do not know; but it was apparent that something they expected would be done. The least movement I made, their eyes were upon me, the least word I spoke, their ears were open, and their attention alive. When I moved they made way for me, as though destruction would fall upon them, if they obstructed my passage. It gave me pain to see the apparent fear, that many manifested upon [Page 167] this occasion. I endeavoured to persuade them that their fears were groundless, but all to no pur­pose. Some I found took this opportunity of shew­ing their courage to the world, by letting the bystan­ders see, they were not afraid to insult me. One man even ran his fist into my face, making his boast that he would venture me, as great a man as I was, but took very good care to keep so far distant from me, that I could not reach him, being chained to Glazier Wheeler, so that I could not move, only when he moved, and the old man having the infir­mities of age upon him, could only move with a de­gree of moderation.

While the scoundrel continued his insults, one of the sheriffs came into the room, I think his name was White, and observing the unprovoked abuse, struck the villain across the head, with the hilt of a hanger, and felled him to the floor. This spoiled the fun of this courageous fellow.

After dinner was over, the Landlady came to the high sheriff, and informed him, that one of her sil­ver spoons was missing, and she said it was impos­sible for any one to get it out of her cupboard, which had not been unlocked, unless it was Burroughs; therefore, the high-sheriff set about searching me for a silver spoon, stolen out of a room, in which it was known I had never been, but before the search was over, the good lady informed him, that the spoon was found.

We soon moved from this, and arrived that night at Brookfield.- Here I found a little respite from that perpetual attention, to the various whims, false opinions, and strange ideas, which people had form­ed of my character. But even here, I was accosted by a grave looking old gentleman, smoaking his pipe in the corner. I had observed him sometime, sitting in silence, but now and then glancing his eye upon me, at length taking his pipe leisurely [Page 168] from his mouth, spitting carefully in the [...], and adjusting his looks, with some precision, he turned and addressed me as follows: "Burroughs, I have had a desire to see you, for some time, I have heard much of you.—I know your uncle Colonel Davis, and had he given ear to my advice, he would have been a great gainer; but he did not, and the time is now passed, for him to profit by his dear bought experience; however, I can give you advice, which you will find to your advantage, should you be en­dowed with wisdom sufficient to follow it. Your extraordinary conduct has made mankind form ve­ry strange conjectures concerning you, and many throw a great degree of blame upon your conduct; but as for myself, I cannot say I think your crimes unpardonable, or indeed very heinous, excepting one, and that was, the flagrant transgression of the principles of gratitude towards the Clergyman, whose clothes and watch you stole."

Here I interrupted the Orator, in the midst of his discourse, by my ardor to set him right in his mis­taken opinon of this business; I told him the story of my stealing a watch and suit of clothes from a Clergyman was entirely unsounded, as no such cir­cumstance had happened to any Clergyman in this country; that this was an old anecdote, new vamp­ped and handed to the world, as a modern occur­rence, the approbium of which, a good natured populace were willing to fix on me.

He looked me full in the face, with a sarcastic sneer, pulled a news paper out of his pocket, and turned me to a paragraph, relating that I was the person, who had stolen the clothes, watch, &c. Af­ter I had read this paragraph, the old gentleman said. "Now Mr. Burroughs, I hope you will not undertake to correct my judgment again. When I form an opinion, it is not on slight evidence, there­fore, since you have set up your opinion, in opposi­tion, [Page 169] to mine, I shall let you pursue It; you may repent when it is too late."

He then turned from me, put his pipe into his mouth, and remained silent the rest of the evening, notwithstanding all my endeavors for a further ex­planation upon this business.

The next day we proceeded on our journey. In the course of this day, I could have made my es­cape, if I had been chained to any body but Gla­zier Wheeler. I went out of the house, where we stopped to dine, accompanied by only one person, and he, being impatient at staying out in the cold, went into the house, and we remained by ourselves, as much as half an hour. I proposed our escape to Wheeler—but the severity of the weather, the in­firmities of age, and the uncertainty of success, op­erated so strongly on his mind, as to deter him from concurring in my proposal. We returned, and I flattered myself, that this apparent instance of my peaceably remaining confined, when I had an op­portunity of making, at least, a trial for escaping, would make my keepers more remiss in guarding me; but in this I was disappointed.

I found the guard were all in commotion, when we went into the house, at our being left alone so long; and they took special care [...]ver to fall into the same error again.

In the course of this day, we made a stage at a public house, where I found a number of the Pel­hamites. They had been to Boston, and were on their return. They were affected at seeing my con­dition! They dropped the tear of compassion! They pitied me! They offered me, as a token of their benevolent feelings, as much punch as I would drink. Whether some of their more benevolent feelings, on the present occasion, did not proceed from the efficacy of the punch, which they them­selves had drunken, is a question, I shall by no means undertake to answer.

[Page 170] In the course of this day's journey, we met with Mr. Baldwin, minister of Palmer, of whom men­tion has already been made. The good old gentle­man was truly affected: and, in stead of reflections, which I expected, he lamented my untimely fall; wished I might meet with some alleviating circum­stance in my sentence, before the expiration of my confinement.

We arrived at Little Cambridge, and tarried all night. The house where we put up was filled with people. I found the good lady of the house giving her daughters a lecture, on the propriety of keeping out of the room, where the prisoners were. But, as these young females possest the curiosity natural to their sex, they endeavored to pursuade their ma'am, that the danger, which she feared, was more in her fancy, than reality. The prudent mother, howev­er, cut her daughters short in their arguments, by telling them, in the most peremptory manner, that they should not go into the room where Burroughs was; for, said she, "he has a faculty to lead any bo­dy astray: why, there's Pelham now, where he preached—he undertook to preach to people, that it was lawful for him, to lie with all the women in town, and he carried his point so far, as to lie with every man's w [...]e; and then ran away and left them; but if he should offer such a thing to me, I'd shew him, he want in Pelham."

After this harangue of the careful mother, her conduct through the remainder of the evening did not manifest so great a fear on her own account, as what she had shown on account of her daughters: but whether she meant to give me an opportunity of making such proposals, as on her part, would lead to a discovery of her impregnable chastity, or whether her attention was the pure effect of hu­manity, I shall not undertake to tell, not being in a capacity to give information upon that subject, [Page 171] having made no advances towards her, through the course of a long tedious evening.

A sober-faced clergyman entered into conversa­tion with me, upon the events of my life. I found him entertaining all the acrimony attached to of­fended dignity. Says he, "what an enormous crime you have been guilty of, by bringing an irre­parable disgrace upon the order of Clergy, in as­suming that character, with all your vile hypocrisy about you; and as though that was too little, you preposterously exhibited the works of others, and not your own. You have taken the most direct measures to overturn all [...]er in civil and religious societies, by making the character of a clergyman appear in a ludicrous point of view to the world; a character, of all others, which ought to be held most sacred: and which, of all others, has the greatest influence to the good order of society."

My answer to the clergyman was to this effect. "Seeing, sir, that you are professedly the embassa­dour and representative of him, who has command­ed us, "in lowliness of mind to esteem others better than ourselves;" who was despised and rejected of mankind; who was set at naught by the rulers; and declared that his kingdom was not of this world: I say, sir, that seeing your dignity in this character is encroached upon by my conduct, I feel most heartily sorry for touching your highness in this respect."

The clergyman was stung with this reply, and retorted, that, "I might find that the government would teach me how to carry myself to my superi­ors. After I had been kept to hard labor on the Castle two or three years, my courage would be cooled, and my manners mended, &c."

We arrived at Boston the next day, about 11 o'­clock—stopped and dined at the Sign of the Lamb. I found many of my former acquaintance now [Page 172] shunned me, as though I carried some pestilential disorder about me. One in a particular manner, who was a class-mate of mine in College, coming in sight of the sleigh, in which the prisoners were con­veyed, and discerning me in the sleigh, stopped short—ran into a shop contiguous,▪and viewed me through the window, with great attention.

Afte dinner, we were taken to the commissary's store, who provided for the Castle, and all the pris­oners, excepting myself, received their clothes; which consisted of a party-coloured suit. I was en­tirely willing to be excused from receiving this bounty from the state.

After the clothing had been delivered, we were taken to long wharf, put on board a small sail-boat, and left the main land, for the Island, on which the Castle stood. As we put off from the wharf, the peo­ple standing on this, and the neighboring wharves, gave three cheers—declarative of their satisfaction, in our leaving them, for a state of confinement. We returned three cheers, immediately after; endeav­oring to retort their insult, by letting them under­stand, that we were also glad to leave them, even for a state of confinement.

We soon arrived on the island, were conveyed in­to the Castle, our irons taken off, and we left to view the situation, in which we were now confin­ed.

This Island is situated three miles below the town of Boston, its figure being nearly circular, containing eighteen or twenty ac [...]s of land. The main channel of the river runs on the east side of this island, very near the shore, and not wider than would be sufficient for two vessels to sail up a-breast—of course, the east side of the island is much the strongest fortified. A platform extends the great­er part of the east side, on which are mounted can­non, twenty-four and thirty-two pounders. This [Page 173] platform is nearly the height of the island.

Nearly on a level with the water, at full tide, is a place where another tier of cannon were placed, du­ring the time in which the British had possession of it; but destroyed by them, and never since rebuilt. The remaining part of the island is but very indif­ferently guarded by fortifications.

The buildings, when I came on to this island, were the Governor's house, standing upon the most elevated spot on the island, under which was what was called the bum-proof, in which we were con­fined; a stone magazine, barracks for the officers and soldiers, and a blacksmith's shop.

On this island I found a company of fifty sold­iers, commanded immediately by three officers, viz. In the first place, Lieutenant Perkins, formerly holding the title of Major in the continental army. Secondly, Lieut▪ Treat, and thirdly,-Burbeck, hold­ing an Ensign's commission, if I mistake not, and doing the duty of gunner. The Lieutenant Gov­ernor of the state, was Captain of this compa­ny.

When I first came on to this island, there were in all, only sixteen prisoners. The principle part of them were kept at work in the blacksmith's shop. The remainder did little or nothing. Our provi­sion was one pound of bread, and three fourths of a pound of meat, per day.

The officers, who were in commission here, were of the following description, viz. First, major Per­kins a man of about six feet high, well propor­tioned, and strong built; possest with care, fideli­ty, and great attention to his duty, as a military character. He was a man of sentiment and feeling, His courage was unimpeachable, having tried it my­self, as thoroughly as was necessary to learn that circumstance: notwithstanding his personal cour­age, he stood in such fear of his superiors in socie­ty, [Page 174] that he could not always maintain such a state of independency, as to act himself. His military education had taught him obedience to his superi­ors, and he now maintained that principle, with a degree of mechanical exactness.

Major Perkins had a family living on the island with him. This family consisted of Mrs. Perkins, whose amiable and compassionate conduct has left the most grateful feelings in my heart, and a number of children,how many, I do not recol­lect.

Lieutenant Treat was a man about five feet ten inches in height, trim built, and slender; more fond of appearing in the fashion, with regard to his dress, the cock of his hat, &c. than he was to raise the garrison to the highest pitch of military fame. There was nothing very positive in his character. He was by no means a bad man, and as for his goodness, it did not appear with such eclat, as to place him in a very conspicuous situation in socie­ty.

Ensign Burbeck, may be described by compar­ing him to a petulant boy, of about fourteen years old, who had never been taught or restrained by pa­rental authority. He was more fond of his dogs, than of any other society; playing with them by the day together.

Immediately after my confinement on this isl­and, I began to look about, to see whether a possi­bility for escaping remained. I viewed the build­ing in which I was confined. It was made of bricks, the walls of which were five feet thick, laid in ce­ment, which was much harder than the bricks themselves.

I searched every corner for a spot upon which I could work, without detection,—our room being searched every day, to see whether the prisoners had made any attempt to break away. I, at length, hit [Page 175] upon a place. There was a chimney at one end of our room, grated in a very strong manner, about twelve feet above its funnel, which was sufficiently large for a man to go up. About three feet above the mantel-piece of this fire-place, I concluded to begin my operation. Here I could work, and not have my labors discovered, unless very critical search was made up the chimney. I had not been at work long, before I had made a beginning of a hole sufficiently large to crawl through; I then took a board, and blacking it like the chimney-back, made it of the proper size, and put it into the hole, so that the strictest search could produce no discov­ery.

The prisoners in the room with me were seven in number. These prisoners were all turned out to work, about sunrise, when the doors of the prison were again shut, aud not opened again until 12 o'­clock, when the prisoners came from work, and continued half an hour: they were then taken back again to work, and there remained until sun­set. Therefore, I had as much as sixteen hours in the twenty-four, in which I could work upon this brick wall, which work I continued, with the most unremitting attention.

The labor was incredible! I could, in the first place, work only with a large nail—rubbing away the bricks gradually, not daring to make the least noise, lest the sentries, who stood round the prison, should overhear me at work, and thereby become discovered. One night I rubbed the bricks so hard, as to be overheard by the sentry, standing on the other side of the wall. The alarm was imme­diately given, and the guard and officers rushed in­to the room, to detect us in our operations. For­tunately, I overheard thesentry tell the sergeant of the guard, that Burroughs was playing the devil in the jail. The sergeant ran to inform the officers, [Page 176] and I had but just time to put my board in its place, and set down to greasing my shoes, when the officers entered, and with a great degree of stern­ness, inquired where I had been at work? I told them that I had been rubbing some hard soot off the chimney, and grinding it fine, to mix with the grease, and put on to my shoes. They laughed at my nicety about my shoes, that I should wish for slick shining shoes in this situation.

Major Perkins, knowing my inattentiveness to dress, could not so readily believe that blacking my shoes was the only object in view: he, therefore, made a very strict search for some other matter, which should account for the noise, the centry had heard▪ but, after a fruitless pursuit of such an ob­ject, they gave over their search, concluding, that one among the thousand strange whims, which marked my character, had prompted me to set a­bout blacking my shoes, at that time.

After they were gone, I felt as strong a disposi­tion to laugh at them, for the deception under which they were labouring, as they did, whilst pres­ent, to laugh at me, for the whim of greasing and blacking my shoes.

This temporary check was of the utmost import­ance, in my further prosecution of this business. It made me more careful for the future, not to pursue my labors with too much impatient impetuosity, a falling I ever was subject to.

The prisoners in the room were merry, on the occasion of my turning the suspicion of the officers, so entirely from the real object, to another very for­eign from it. They thought it a manifestation of ability. In fine, I had gained such an ascendency over the prisoners, that they implicitly gave up to my opinion, in all our little matters: and more particularly, when any contentions arose among them, I generally succeeded in amicably terminat­ing [Page 177] the difficulty, without their proceeding to blows.

My conduct towards all, I determined, should be marked with the strictest impartiality. I not only satisfied my own mind, in the business, but like­wise took the greatest pains to shew them, that I meant to be an impartial friend, towards all par­ties. When they fell into disputes and bickerings, I would address them to the following purport, viz. "Gentlemen," (even the convicts were fond of good words, and would listen, when I called them gentlemen, much sooner than when I addres­sed them by a less elevated epithet) "our situation, you are all sensible, is very miserable; do the best we can, it will not be tolerable: but when, in ad­dition to slavery, we render our society hateful and irksome to each other, by falling into broils and wrangles, it then becomes a hell indeed, and an­swers the strongest wish of our inveterate foes. I know there are many circumstances calculated to harrass and sour your minds; to render you peevish and petulant; to make you at variance with the whole race of mankind: but, to indulge these feel­ings, only renders your case worse, rather than bet­ter; it gratifies your enemies, and serves every pur­pose, which they could desire: therefore, as wise men, I expect you will act with prudence, with re­gard to your own comfort, and to the views of those, who wish you ill."

Even the convicts had reason sufficient to hear these arguments with attention, and they generally practised according to this direction: so strong is that principle, in all men, to listen to the voice of friendship.

I determined to be more careful, in prosecuting my labor on the wall, for the future, and check that impatience, which often hurried me on, beyond the dictates of prudence. I now wrought with the [Page 178] greatest caution, and made slow, but sure advances. After I had been employed in this business about a week, I found I could work to greater advantage, if I had a small iron crow; therefore, I ordered one of the prisoners, who wrought in the shop, to make me one, about a foot long, and sharp at one end. This he found an opportunity to do, undiscovered by the overseer, and brought it to me.

I found that with this crow, I could pry off half a brick at a time, without the least noise: after I had worn a hole with my nail, sufficiently large, to thrust in my crow. The rubbish which I took out of the wall, I put, every night, into a tub, standing in our room for necessary occasions, and this was emptied by one of the prisoners, every morning, into the water.

After I had labored with unceasing assiduity, for two months, I found, one night, after I had pried a­way a brick, that I could run my arm out of the prison, into the open air. This circumstance made my heart leap with joy. After such a length of la­bor, to find my toils crowned with such apparent success, gave me a tone of pleasure, of which you can have no idea.

Upon examination, I found the breach through the wall, was just below a covered way, so that it would remain unseen, in the day-time, unless dis­covered by some accident. I had measured the height of the covered way, by a geometrical opera­tion,-not being permitted to come near it: and this was done with an instrument made by my penknife. That penknife which had done me such excellent service in Northampton jail.

When the prisoners saw my measurement was ex­act, their idea of my profound knowledge was great­ly raised; and they appeared to entertain the most sanguine assurance, that their liberty was certain, when their operations were directed under my aus­pices.

[Page 179] After I had found the hole through the wall was entirely secreted by the covered way, I proceed to make it sufficiently large to pass through.

After all this was accomplished, one difficulty still remained. The centry standing on the cover­ed way, would undoubtedly hear us in going out at this hole; and moreover, if we should be so fortu­nate as to get, unheard, into the covered way, yet we must come out of that, within five feet of the place, where he stood; and therefore, could not pre­vent a discovery.

Under these circumstances, we found it necessary to lie quiet, until some rainy night should remove the centry from his stand on the covered way, to some place of shelter. This was generally the case, when the weather was foul, or uncomfortable, unless some special cause should detain him to this partic­ular spot. I recollect, that soon after the officers had found me blacking my shoes with soot, the cen­tinels kept their post, invariably, on the covered way, in every kind of weather; but they had, by this time, become more at case in their feelings, and consequently, would, at such time, retire into an al­ley, leading through the bomb-proof.

CHAP. XVIII.

WE did not wait many days for the happy mo­ment, before we heard the sentry leave his station on the covered way, and enter the alley, for shelter from the rain.

About 11 o'clock at night, I made the necessary [Page 180] arrangements, for the expedition. The Island be­ing in a circular form, I ordered seven men to go round it to the south, whilst I went round to the north. The reason, why I did this, was of the following nature, viz. There was a wharf on the western shore of this island, where the boats were kept, and a sentry placed over them.

It was necessary, after we had escaped out of the bomb-proof, to procure a boat, in order to trans­port ourselves off the island; and as there were none, except what were immediately under the eye of the sentry, the only alternative, which remained, was to make the sentry a prisoner, and carry him off with us.

As this was a business, in which some nicety of conduct was necessary, I chose to trust no one to execute it, but myself; and therefore, ordered the seven prisoners round the island, a different way, from what I went myself, and directed them to ad­vance to within fifteen rods of the centinel, and make a noise, sufficient to attract his attention to­wards them. This would bring the sentry between me and the other seven prisoners; and when he was turned towards them, I should be at his back.

Having made these arrangements, all the prison­ers, silently, crawled out of the hole, following them myself, as soon as I saw they all had passed, without any accident. We all met at the spot appointed. I told the men to be cautious▪ not to be in a hurry—not to be in any purturbation—but to proceed lei­surely and considerately, to the spot appointed. I told them to be five minutes in getting to the spot.- I then left them. I hastened round, and arrived as near to the sentry as I thought prudent, about one minute and an half, before I heard the noise from the other men. At the noise, the sentry turned, and hailed. "Who comes there?" No answer was made. Immediately on seeing the attention of the [Page 181] sentry turned from me, I arose from my position flat on the ground, and advanced as near as twenty feet, and lay down again. Immediately the noise from the seven men was again renewed—and the sentry's attention was fixed to the object of the noise. He again hailed, in a very peremptory manner, coc­ked his gun, and made ready to fire.

By this time, I had arisen from the ground, and advanced to within about eight feet of the sentry, when I heard the piece cock, and saw him present it! I immediately darted at him, seized him in an instant, and clapped my hand over his mouth, to prevent him from making a noise, which should a­larm the other soldiers on guard. When I first laid hold of him, he started—and attempted to get from me, making a noise through his nose, as though ve­ry much terrified: crying "eh! eh! eh!" I told him that the least noise from him should pro­duce instant death; that I would rip his guts out, the first moment he proved refractory.

After I had sufficiently terrified him, I took my hand from his mouth, and told him that no harm should befal him, so long as he behaved in a peacea­ble manner. I took his gun and cartridge-box from him.

The other prisoners now coming up, we all went into the barge, carrying ten oars, and put off.

It was now about half an hour past twelve, at night, it being extremely dark and rainy, and noth­ing to steer by, except mere conjecture. We were ignorant of the time of tide, whether it was ebbing or flowing; and consequently could not tell which way we drifted: however, we determined to row until we came to some land.

I set myself in the stern sheets, steering the boat, Richards, the sentry, set in the bottom of the boat, between my legs. The gun with the fixed bayo­net lay by me, and the cartridge-box hanging by [Page 182] my side. The other men were at their oars, row­ing the boat. We had proceeded about far enough, as we judged, to be in the middle of the channel, between the island and Dorchester, whether we meant to direct our course.

It was now demanded of me, by one of the men, who [...]at forward, rowing the boat, what I meant to do with Richards? As I did not know where we should in fact land, I was undetermined in my own mind, what I should do with him, when I came to land, and gave an answer to that amount. The per­son asking this question, looking upon his escape as certain, began to put on airs of consequence, and answered me in a sarcastical manner, "well, Cap­tain Burroughs, as you have had the command until you do not know what to do, it is best for some oth­er person to take it, who does know what to do;" and then turning himself to Richards, continued his discourse, "and as for you, Mr. Richards, you'll please to walk overboard, that we may not, after this, hear any of your tales told to your brother swads ^*. If you walk over without fuls, it is well, if not, you shall be thrown over, tied neck and heels."

When I heard this insolent treatment, and das­tardly language, I could hardly conceive what it meant.

Unprovokedly to throw Richards into the water, was a manifestation of a language of the heart, which appeared to me so unnatural, that I could not be­lieve the person using it, to be serious. Yet I could not conceive any propriety in using it in any other light. Richards himself was terrified. He began to supplicate me, in the most moving terms, to save him from the destruction, which was ready to fall upon him.

His entreaties made such an impression upon my [Page 183] mind, that I should have given him my assistance, if I had been opposed by every man in the boat: however, I did not yet believe, he was in that de­gree of danger, which he appeared to apprehend; but was soon undeceived by the three forward hands shipping their oars, and coming aft.

I endeavored to expostulate, but to no effect. I saw they were resolutely bent on their diabolical purpose! I saw the disposition of the infernals pic­tured in their operations. I let go the helm, started up, and swore by the ALMIGHTY, that I'd send the first to hell, who dared lay a hand on Rich­ards. The poor fellow, at this time, lay in the bottom of the boat, trembling with agony, and cry­ing in the most piteous manner. The blood flew quick through my veins. The plaintive cries of Richards vibrated upon my heart, and braced eve­ry nerve. At this moment the first villain, who had proposed this infernal plan, laid hold of me by the shoulder, to prevent my interposing between Rich­ards and the others, who were about throwing him overboard.

When I found his hand gripping my shoulder, I immediately reached my arm over his back, caught him by the waist-band of his breeches, and dashed him to the bottom of the boat. The moment of my laying hold of him, I determined to throw him into the sea, and why I did not, I have never since been able to tell. After I had thrown him into the bottom of the boat, I caught the gun, on which was a bayonet fixed; this I brought to a charge, and made a push at the man nearest me, who drew back—took his seat at the oar—when all again was qui­et.

We continued rowing, until we struck fast on the ground, but could see no land. We left the boat and waded about, until we discovered the shore. When we came to the land, we could not determine, [Page 184] on what place we had fallen. We were soon satis­fied, however, by the drum on the Castle, beating the long-roll, and immediately after, beating to—arms. We heard the alarm in that direction, which plainly pointed out, that we were somewhere near Dorchester-Point. We saw the Castle in an uproar, and all the signals of alarm, which are usually made on such occasions.

After we had found where we were, the three men, who engaged in throwing Richards overboard, left us, and went away together. I then told Richards, that he might go where he pleased—that he must be sensible I had saved his life,-even at the risk of my own; therefore, the dictates of gratitude would reach him a line of conduct, which would not mili­tate against my escape. This he promised in the most solemn manner. He was warm in his expres­sions of gratitude towards me. I believed him sin­cere—He departed.—

In this transaction, I enjoyed a sensation of pleas­ure very exquisite. To receive the tribute of a grate­ful heart, flowing from a stream of sincerity, was a circumstance, which, in a measure, counterbalanc­ed many evils, which I had experienced.

We had all lost our shoes in the mud, in getting to dry land; therefore, had to travel bare-footed. It was the space of an hour and a half, after we had landed, before we found the way off this point of land; the night being extremely dark, and we all strangers to the ground.

After we had found the road, I told the four men, who were with me, that the better way would be to separate, and every man shift for himself. This observation struck a damp upon all, who were with me—they entreated me to tarry with them, un­til the night following, when they could have a bet­ter chance of getting clear of the country, without detection:—they seared falling into the hands of [Page 185] their pursuers, if I left them. They felt a certain­ty of escape, if I remained with them.

My compassion was moved, and I acted directly contrary from what, I knew, was according to a sys­tem of prudence. We agreed to remain all togeth­er, until the next night.

The day began to dawn, and we found it necessa­ry to look after some place, to which we could re­tire, from the observation of the inhabitants, all the men, except myself, being dressed in the uniform of the Castle, and of course, would be noticed by the first observer. Some proposed retiring into a swamp, and secreting ourselves in its dark recesses; some proposed the plan of going into the the first grove of woods, and climbing up to the top of some trees, and securing ourselves that way: To these proposals I made the following reply: "it is like­ly, that as soon as day light has fairly appeared, the inhabitants of the country will be alarmed; and warm pursuit will be made after us; and every place, where the inhabitants will think it likely that we should hide, will be searched by them, in the most critical manner. No places will be sought more thoroughly than thick swamps, and high bushy trees: therefore, it will be our best way to hide where the people will not look after us, if such a place may be found. For my own part, I had rather take my chance, under present circum­stances, in the open field, than in a swamp, or at the top of a tree.

The object of the swamp and woods were imme­diately relinquished, and they all seemed content to leave the matter to my judgment entirely. We travelled on with rapidity about one mile further, and then came into a little thicket of houses, and a barn standing immediately on the road among them—this barn we all entered, and found two mows of hay.

[Page 186] I ascended ore mow, and having taken up the hay by flakes, near the side of the barn, to the depth of six feet—three of us went down, and the hay sell back into its former situation, covering us entirely over at the same time. I had ordered the other two to go on to the other mow, and do as they had seen me. They accordingly went, and I supposed all secure.

Not long after this, there came a number of wo­men into the barn, to milk the cows. Soon after, I heard children round the barn, as though they were in pursuit of something with a dog. I soon found that a skunk was their object, under the barn. However, when the women had finished milking their cows, the children were all ordered into the house, this day being Sunday.

To my astonishment and surprise, the two men, who had gone on to the other mow, now came o­ver where I was, and told me, they could not find a place to hide, "and indeed," said they, "we do not like to be so far off, for it appears to us, that we shall be taken, if we are!" How I felt under this situation you will readily conceive, by supposing yourself in my place, and people expected into the barn every minute to fodder their cattle! I jump­ped out of my place, told them to lie down in a moment, covered them over with hay, and return­ed into my place, just as the young men came into the barn, to take care of their cattle.

They came on to the mow where we were lying, and took the hay from it, for their cows; but made no discovery; and yet, notwithstanding all this, one of our men, by the name of Burrel, whom I had covered over with hay, was asleep, before the young men went out of the barn, and snored so loud, as to be heard; but the men did not know what noise it was, nor where it came from.

Immediately after these men had left the barn, I [Page 187] again jumpped out of my hole, went to Burrel, who had uncovered his head entirely, waked him, and expostulated with him, in the severest terms. "This is the consequence," said I "of attending to your request of remaining with you. Your own heedless disposition, not only exposes yourself to be found, but likewise involves me in the same danger. Is it a matter of such indifference to you whether you are again taken, that you can tamely and calmly fall a sleep, at the moment when you are surrounded with danger?

"If no regard to your own safety will influence you on this occasion, yet, I should suppose you might pay some attention to my welfare, seeing it was by your earnest entreaty I continued with you, being influenced by no other motive than compassion to­wards you. If nothing else will answer, I will have recourse to the means which are in my power; and if I find you a sleep again, I will positively put you to death; and this I think will be entirely just, if no other measure will answer to ensure my safe­ty."

I was of opinion this threat would answer the purpose, for which it was intended, viz. that fear would operate upon him so strongly, as to prevent his sleeping in such a situation for the future.

We lay quiet all the forenoon, without any acci­dent: during this time, I endeavored to make some arrangements in my own mind, for my future conduct. I concluded, that I should be able to reach the state of Rhode-Island by the next morning, when I should be no longer obliged to travel under cover of the night. When I could, again, mix with society, without viewing them as my open and declared en­emies.

We heard the various bells ringing at Dorches­ter meeting-houses, for the exercises of the day. The forenoon meeting was finished, and the first [Page 188] bell, for the exercises of the afternoon, was ring­ing, when a number of men came into the barn, to put a horse into the chaise, standing on the barn-floor. The streets were full of people going to the meeting-house. A number of children came like­wise into the barn, with the men, and climbed on to the mow, where we lay secreted, looking for hens' nests. At this moment Burrel began again to snore, which brought the children immediately to the spot where he lay, and, his head being uncov­ered, they saw it, and cried out, "Daddy, Daddy, here's the skunk! here's the skunk!" It hardly ap­peared credible to the old gentleman, that a skunk should be on the hay-mow, he therefore manifest­ed some doubt, as to his children's report, but they were determined he should believe them, and affirm­ed it again with warmth "it certainly is a skunk, Daddy, for it has got ears."

The peculiar manner, in which this was uttered, made the people, on the barn-floor, think some­thing uncommon was there. They accordingly as­cended the mow, to the number of eight or nine, in order to satisfy themselves concerning this mat­ter. By this time Burrel awaking, saw he was discovered, and began to pull the hay over his head. Those, who were on the mow, saw it, and were now convinced, that the children, in fact, had seen some­thing, that had ears. They took the pitch-fork and moved the hay, which lay over these two men, and immediately saw that they were convicts, escaped the preceding night, from the Castle.

The barn was instantly filled with people from the street, on the alarm's being given of these men.

Through the whole scene, from the first opening of the barn by the men, who were about putting the horse into the chaise, till this time, my feelings were of the keenest kind. When I had succeeded with all my plans for escape thus far, when I had endured, [Page 189] with so much patience, a course of such incredible labor, as what I performed in breaking through the bomb-proof; when I had, furthermore, overcome the difficulties of making the sentry a prisoner, of preserving him from death, of finding the land we sought, through the thickest shades of night, and the uncertainty of being drifted out of our course by adverse tides; and then by a retrograde course of incidents, to be deprived of the object, to which all these labors were directed, was a prospect which fil­led my mind with the keenest anxiety, and kept my fears in a perpetual state of alarm.

Burrel was a man of great stupidity, and I feared his senseless conduct more than any thing else. You will wonder at my continuing with him! I wonder at it myself. My weak side was an inconsiderate compassion. I did continue with him, and too late I saw my error. However, I acted the foolish part in another respect, viz. by not taking him into the hole with me, where I could have kept him perpet­ually under my eye. He was very disagreeable, and the object of being freed from a momentary incon­venience was so powerful on my mind, at that time, that for this paltry consideration, I lost my liberty for more than two years.

I heard the children around the hay-mow, with the utmost pain. I heard Burrel's snoring, with indignation and horror! I now almost gave myself over for lost! But what were my sensations when the people ascended ths mow and discovered these two convicts, plainly seeing who they were by their dress.

However, all hope of escape was not lost. I thought it yet possible to remain undiscovered, if the two convicts behaved with any prudence, see­ing we were so far under the hay. The question was asked, "what had become of the other prison­ers, who had made their escape?" Burrel answered [Page 190] that he should not tell, "but if they were any where in that barn, they are right down there," pointing with his finger to the spot where we in fact were. With this information, they began the search again, pitching the hay from the spot, till they came down to the place, where we had been secreted.

The feeble twig, upon which my last hopes re­mained, was now broken, and I sunk into a state of despair. All my fond hopes were lost in a mo­ment, and I found myself only fallen into a state of greater wretchedness, in the room of being liberated from my former misery.—"Is this the reward" said I to the inhabitants, for saving one of your number, but a short time since, from the devouring jaws of death, ready to swallow him up? But a little time since, he stood in need of my pity. I granted him that compassion, which nature has taught me to shew. I now stand in need of your pity; will you not grant, what you, in a like situation, would re­quest? Remember that this world is a state of revol­ution.—You may yet see the time in which you will want the exercise of compassion, ever from me, however improbable the present appearance. You would then lament not having shewn that compas­sion, which you would stand i [...] need of yourselves.

"You can hardly imagine that my escape can pro­duce any injury to you, [...] [...]all leave you, and shall never return to a place, where I might be in dan­ger of confinement.

"You, who are parents, may have children in my situation. Would not your hearts yearn with compassion towards a child in my condition? Would not you feel the most earnest desire, that some breast, softened by the tender emotions of com­passion, would say unto your child go; enjoy the blessing, which nature bestows; wonton in the streams of liberty, and celebrate the day of jubilee? Would not the strong emotions of gratitude fire [Page 191] your heart, towards such a benevolent part of cre­ation.—Would not such a compassionate action ap­pear to you more lovely than the beauties of the morning; more glorious than the sun in his majes­ty? this, surely you would say, is a narration of Deity; a spark of the fire of love, manifested by nature's God in the daily dispensations of his prov­idence to man."

All my entreaties were to no effect. The minds of people were so fortified against every observation, which I made, that the ideas of pity or compassion were shut entirely out.—They knew not my feel­ings, therefore could not judge, with regard to that conduct, which I thought they ought to exercise towards me. They had never been in my situa­tion, hence could not view it in its proper light.

We were all carried to a public house, and kept there, until a guard came from the island and con­ducted us back again.

Immediately upon our landing upon the island, I was ordered into irons. This was a circumstance proving the ideas existing here, of my being the soul of every enterprise; and indeed, they had pretty good evidence to found their opinion upon, considering that I was the only person remaining in the room, out of which we escaped, through the day, without being turned into the shop to work; and their recollecting the circumstance, likewise, of blacking my shoes with foot, in order to account for the noise which the centry had formerly heard; the reason of the noise being now more clearly un­derstood than formerly.

The next morning we were all summoned with great pomp and ceremony before the three officers, [...]ing as a court martial, ^* and there heard an e­numeration of the crimes laid to our charge, which [Page 192] amounted to five in number viz. first, breaking the jail, second, carrying the centry from his post; h [...]d, taking the arms and ammunition of the garrison and carrying them away; fourth, taking the boat be­longing to the gorrison and carrying it off the isl­and; fifth, and lastly, deserting from our state of confinement.

Of all these crimes we were found guilty, and re­ceived sentence of thirty-nine stripes for each, with the cat—o'ninetails, amounting in all to one hundred and ninety five lashes; we however obtained a re­mission of ninety five, and received one hundred only, the next day at sun sitting.

The three prisoners, who went away by themselves, were likewise this day retaken and brought onto the island, tried and sentenced; therefore at sun­setting, there were eight of us brought to the whip­ping post, stripped and punished according to the sentence.

The centry, whom we had made prisoner, had re­turned onto the island, the morning after his cap­tivity, and had given a very just relation of the e­vents which had taken place, while he was our pris­oner; of consequence, when the punishment was inflicted on me, it was a name rather than a reality. The others, and more particularly three of them, were punished with great severity, the flesh flying off at every stroke.

CHAP. XIX.

I FOUND that my humanity to Richards had made a partial impression, in my favor, upon [Page 193] the minds of people in the towns contiguous; but this impression was soon lost in forgetfulness, and no more remembered, when the event was a little re­moved from view, by the hand of time. You may now hear my name mentioned a thousand times, to­gether with a thousand circumstances respecting my adventures through life, without ever hearing the least mention made of this circumstance, though the fact was a matter of as much notoriety, as any event of my life. You may hear the mouths of people filled with anecdotes relating to me, of the disagreeable kind, through all parts of the country—nay, more,—all the reports which have circulat­ed through the world, for many years past, of that species, which serves to place the character in a vi­cious point of view, have been placed to my ac­count, and are now related as facts not admitting the least doubt. Hence, the anecdote of the watch and clothes stolen from the Clergyman, &c. &c. form a detail too long for me to insert in this nar­rartion. It has ever appeared, that an ungenerous principle has influenced mankind to relate the dark circumstances, which have composed my character—and that they have shrunk from the relation of any facts, which have worn the appearance of my being clothed with humanity, as though the most baleful poison was attendant on such a relation. Such a fondness is there in the human heart, to bring into view, such circumstances, in the charac­ter of others, as will exalt themselves, in a compar­ison between their own conduct, and that of oth­ers.

About this time, the shops were fitted up, suffi­cient to receive all the prisoners, with conveniencies for making nails. Therefore, I was put to work in in the shops, and taught to manufacture nails; but the lessons which I received here, [...] but little effect upon my progress in acquiring [...] noble [Page 194] art. That unaccountable stupidity, which I ever possest, had an unusual influence upon me, at this time. It is true, I could make a nail, equal to any thing you ever saw, of the kind, in beauty and ele­gance; but the slowness with which I executed this, was a circumstance of great complaint by the over­seer,-not being able to finish more than five in a day; which cost more than ten times the value of the nails, in coal and iron: therefore, it was deter­mined, that I should be more expeditious in my work. I obeyed the commands of those, who were over me. I made, the next day, five hun­dred nails; but they had as many heads and horns, as the beast we read of in Scripture.

This did not answer the purpose intended. I was reprimanded in severe terms, but all did not signify. When I made good nails, I could not o­vergo five in a day, and when I made more, they were as varied, in form and magnitude, as the rag­ged rocks upon the mountains.

The plain truth of the business was here: I view­ed the transactions of the government towards me, to be enemical and cruel. I felt none of that con­fidence in her treatment, which a child ought to feel towards the government of a kind parent. I consi­dered that she had declared open war against me; and would take every opportunity to oppress me. Under this view of matters, I meant to make those arrangements, in my conduct, which we see one nation making in their conduct, towards another, with whom they are at open war.

Whether I had just grounds to view matters in this light, I leave to your own judgment; mean­ing, with regard to that, only to relate simple facts. True it was, I had suffered may unusual, cruel, and illegal punishments, since I had been under the dis­pleasure of the government; but whether the odi­um ought to be thrown on individuals or the gov­ernment [Page 195] I leave for you to judge. I know my situation did not admit of that cool and rational thinking upon these subjects, which real justice re­quired: however, my design is not to justify that line of conduct, which ought not to be justified; nei­ther do I intend to criminate that conduct, which I think justifiable; because some might be pleased to criminate it themselves.

Viewing matters as I then did, I was determined to withstand every effort, which my overseers should make, to render me profitable in my situation; and how far I succeeded, in my undertakings, you will be able to judge, by the after relation.

About this time, the prisoners, whom I left in Northampton, for trial, came on to the Island, ac­cording to their sentence, viz. Philips, Warner, Ro­gers, and a number of others, whose names I have forgotten.

I was determined to defeat the business of mak­ing nails, entirely: and, accordingly, entered into a plan for that purpose.

There was a large well, about six rods from the shop, to which we used to repair for water. The well was twenty feet deep, and the water generally near the top. We took our nail-rods, broke them in pieces, put them into the water-pail, carried them to the well, and flung them into the water. This we continued for the space of three weeks, until the well was nearly filled with iron. The return of nails did not half pay for the first cost of the rods, so that the commissary was determined to send no more rods to the island; supposing it a waste of the public property. However, the overseer urged an­other trial, and the commissary, with reluctance, consented to send down a small quantity of nail-rods, for the last trial. This circumstance, I was informed of, by the boat-men, who went after the rods: I, therefore, exhorted the prisoners, to stand [Page 196] this last trial, with courage and perseverance. They universally promised to remain inviolate to their trust, and I pleased myself with the speedy accom­plishment of my plan.

The universal excuse of the prisoners, for not re­turning more nails, for the iron which they had re­ceived, was their inability. They constantly insist­ed upon it, that they could not make more nails out of the iron—all agreeing in one excuse, and all re­turning much the same quantity of nails, in propor­tion to the iron they received; it was thought that the business would not answer its design: and, therefore, was about being dropped. Yet, the o­verseer was minded to try one more experiment, to see whether the business would bear a profit, or whether it would not.

The law, regulating the treatment towards con­victs, on the Castle, had strictly prohibited the al­lowance of spiritous liquors, under any considera­tion: therefore, many, who had been formerly great drunkards, were now wholly debarred their favor­ite enjoyment: and moreover, being so long hab­ituated to immoderate drinking, and being now wholly deprived of the use of it, they had experienc­ed, in reality, great temporary inconveniences, with regard to their health, as well as to the cravings of appetite unsatisfied. Hence, the prospect of spir­itous liquor, to these, would have a very powerful effect. This the overseer was sensible of;-and, ac­cordingly, offered a gill of rum, to every one, who should return so many nails, out of such a weight of iron.

This bait I saw. I expostulated with the men, to beware of the treachery. I used every argument in my power, to convince them of the necessity of this self-denial I endeavored to shew them, that far from kindness, this rum was offered them, as the most fatal poison they could drink. They were all [Page 197] convinced, and all seemed resolute to put in prac­tice my advice But, when the rum was brought in­to the shop, and they saw the precious morsel be­fore them, they fainted under the trial! They could not resist the temptation! They weighed the iron, and returned the full tale of nails:—they drank the delicious liquid. They returned into the prison with exultation—they were rich—they felt far ex­alted above my situation;—being able to gain a gill of rum a day, whereas, I was unable to perform one tenth part of the task required.

"Now," said they, "we shall be able to earn a gill of rum every day!" This appeared so great a state of happiness, when compared with what their case had been, that they were almost contented with their situation. They began to despise my wisdom—to think that my head did not contain so much, as they were before inclined to believe it did. They, exultingly, said,—"This never would have been the case, if we had followed your advice. We must have a little sense, now and then, as well as you, all the time." I had no disposition to contradict these haughty Patricians.—"Perhaps, said I, before to­morrow morning, you may find yourselves sunken to your former Plebeian state of servile wretched­ness." I had rather see the operation of such pro­found penetration, than undertake to contradict one of these Knights of the Pot, with all his great­ness, armed capapee. I lay down in sorrow, repeat­ing the following words of Young, as a lullaby to sooth my disappointed feelings:

AFTER the prisoners had performed their task the next day, and returned their nails in full tale,-to their astonishment and sore mortification, they found no rum was to be dealt out to them. They made application for it, but received in return the bitterest reproaches, and heavy curses. They were given to understand that they should now do their tasks,-and that too, without a reward. I found, when they were shut into the prison, at night, that they had fallen greatly from their state of exalta­tion, which they felt the night preceding, They were, now, not so rich,-so great,-nor so wise.- They could now see the propriety of my expostulations: but alas! they saw it too late.

Seeing the success of this experiment had such a salutary effect, in discovering the real cause why the prisoners had not been more profitable in their la­bors, the overseer thought to make me change my plan of conduct, as much as the others had chang­ed theirs:—but, in this attempt, he found me pos­sessing what the West India-Planter would call ful­lenness, or incorrigible obstinacy, in one of his slaves. Those who felt friendly towards me, would call it manly resolution: others, who were enemi­cal, would call it deviltry, wickedness, &c. so that it would have as many different names, as there are different feelings towards one, in those who relate it. You, sir, may call it by what name you find propri­ety will dictate. The fact was, that by length of time, I did not become any more profitable in my employment.

About this time, there was a change of overse­ers. The first, whose name was Bailey, was by no means a bad man. He had something of the petu­lant and whimsical about him, but this was only [Page 199] the ebullition of a moment, and his governing character was reasonable, humane, and feeling.

In the room of the former, there came, to occu­py his place, a man whose name was Rifford,-igno­rant, stupid, cruel, barbarous and unfeeling. He was a blacksmith by occupation,-and hence, it was thought he would answer a better purpose to super­intend the nailing business, than one who was en­tirely unacquainted with such work.

He had not been long on the island, before the prisoners began to feel the severity of his arm. When he was offended, he made use of any thing which he could lay his hand upon, to chastise those, who gave him the offence: hence, the prisoners were unmercifully beaten with clubs, tongs, bars of iron, or any other missile weapon, which should come to hand. It was impossible to avoid the dis­agreeable effects of his anger. He would often be in a rage, when no one could account for it; and at other times, would suffer himself to be treated in such a manner, as no man of sense and dignity would allow:—hence, I found the old adage,-"it is hard to deal with a fool," most sensibly verified in this instance.

My prospcts did not, by any means, reconcile my feelings to my situation. I yet panted for liberty, with an ardor of desire, beyond description. I viewed every situation in which matters were plac­ed about this island. I endeavored to concert some plan to turn them to my advantage. I finally set­tled upon a resolution of making one bold and dar­ing push, to make myself master of the place. This plan I did not hastily enter upon, without [...] weighing all the circumstances, which might prob­ably attend such an undertaking.

There were at this time, about forty-five prison­ers confined in this place, a motley assembly of characters, from various nations in Europe, as well [Page 200] as America. These were a class of people of the most abandoned principles, hardened in the school of vice and danger; consequently, I believed them to possess the most unshaken courage, and daring fortitude of any class of men inhabiting the globe. How I was deceived in this opinion, you will learn by the relation following.

The bomb-proof, where we were confined, was about eighty feet in length, fronting the south, hav­ing only one door, which looked likewise to the south. A yard, with pickets, about six feet high, enclosed the front of our prison. The area of the yard was about one fourth of an acre.—This yard was made in a square form,-and a guard-house composed a part of the yard, standing in the south­east corner. There was a passage through the house, by which the soldiers, on guard, could come in and go out of the yard.

The ground around this yard was considerably higher, than what it was within, on every side except the west, where the gate was placed, through which we used to go to our work in the shop. There was a brass field-piece placed about ten feet from the guard-house, upon the highest ground on the isl­and, loaded with grape-shot, and a supply of ammu­nition constantly by it, for the purpose of prevent­ing vessels from passing the Castle without liber­ty.

The Governor's house stood on the bomb-proof, and having a walk upon the top of it, a sentry con­stantly stood there, to observe vessels, &c.

A sentry constantly walked in the yard, to ob­serve the motions of the prisoners; to keep them from coming out of the prison, until the moment in which orders were given for them to turn out to work: to give the guard notice at such times, who were all under arms, the moment that our doors were unlocked. This guard consisted of a sergeant, corporal, and twelve privates.

[Page 201] There was a row of barracks, a little distance north of the Governor's house, in which the gar­rison soldiers lived. The officers' barracks were a­bout forty rods westward of our prison, down the hill, contiguous to the water. The shop, where we were confined to labor, was about forty rods be­yond the officers' barracks, in a southern direc­tion.

When we were turned out of our prison, to be taken to the work-shop, three sentries attended us, who perpetually stood round the shop, to hinder a­ny prisoner from leaving it. Here we continued till 12 o'clock, and were then taken back to the pris­on, where we continued half an hour, then return­ed to the shop in like-manner, continuing our work till sunset. After we had finished our day-labor, we were put into the prison, and confined ac­cording to the usual manner, by placing a couple of iron bars across the outside of our doors, mak­ing them fast by letting them into two staples.

Matters were in this situation on the island, when I concerted the plan of making myself master of this place. My idea was to watch some favorable moment, to rise on a sudden, and take the garrison by surprise, when they were most off their guard, and least prepared to defend such an attack.

I endeavored to weigh every circumstance, relat­ing to the time, and manner, how to make this at­tack upon the garrison. I communicated my views to Philips, of whose courage and valour, I had the highest opinion, I had likewise the firmest confi­dence in his wisdom, to plan and pre-concert a sys­tem, which would embrace every advantage, that the nature of the thing would admit.

Various were our ideas upon the subject. Ma­ny schemes for executing our plans occurred; but [...]one of them, when thoroughly investigated, but what had many difficulties, almost insurmountable. [Page 202] Once, we had determined in our own minds, to em­brace the opportunity of coming from work, rush upon and disarm the sentries, who were guarding us,—and, with our hammers, and the arms, which we should take from the sentry, make a general assault upon the rest of the garrison.

This we found attended with the following diffi­culties, viz. The least unusual movement by us, would be discovered by the sentry on the Govern­or's house, who would instantly give the alarm to the guard, and to the soldiers in the barracks, where arms were always ready; and they, being more in number considerably than we, and being all arm­ed, would undoubtedly overcome us with ease, se­ing they would likewise had the advantage of the ground, being at the height of the hill, and we at the bottom.

But, this was not all. The guard were within a few paces of that field-piece, which commanded the island, and when once in possession of that, could subdue or destroy us, in opposition to every effort, which we could make. Moreover, when we came from the shop to the prison, the commanding offi­cer, Major Perkins, had ever his attention upon us, and observed all our movements, with the greatest attention.

This scheme was attended with so many difficul­ties, which appeared insurmountable, that we laid it aside as impracticable.

We then thought of embracing the opportunity which Sunday offered to rise on the garrison. Ev­ery Sunday, the soldiers and prisoners were assem­bled, in one of the barracks, to attend Divine Ser­vice. The soldiers occupied one end of the bar­rack, and the prisoners the other. The garrison generally assembled without arms; and, of conse­quence, were not so formidable in that situation, as when they had their guns in their hands loaded, [Page 203] and bayonets fixed. The guard, however, kept their places, which rendered this project alike im­practicable.

The greater number of the prisoners were, at this time, in irons; and, of consequence, when we should attempt to make prisoners of the soldiers, a scuffle would unavoidably ensue; and, as they would out-number us, we should have but a bare possibility of succeeding; even with the soldiers in the barrack, seeing so great a proportion of us were in irons; and should we succeed in this respect, yet the guard would unavoidably be alarmed; and be­ing in possession of the field-piece, they could, with the greatest ease, sweep us away.

These difficulties were thought too great, to make the attempt upon the garrison in that way: they were of course given up as impracticable.

We, finally, agreed upon the morning as the best time to execute such an insurrection.

We were awaked by the overseer about half way between day-break and sunrise. Immediately af­ter the words "turn out, turn out," had been given by the overseer, he retired—and was generally ab­sent about half an hour, when he returned—and finding us all dressed, turned us out, and took us to the shop to work.

The doors of our prison were not fastened in this interim. The guard were under arms, and the sen­try walked backward and forward before our door, to prevent any from going out.

My reasoning upon the prospect of success, at­tending this undertaking, was of the following na­ture. "It is now warm weather," said I,-it being the last of May, or the beginning of June—"there­fore, sleep has the most powerful effect upon man, in the cool of the morning:—this will prevent the officers and soldiers sleeping in the barracks, from being so easily awakened and aroused. The first [Page 204] and most difficult object is the guard. They are, at such times, under arms, and therefore, under a sit­uation far superiour to ours: but, as we could out number them, and as I entertained an opinion of the prowess of the prisoners, far beyond that of the soldiers, I think, pretty probable, we may succeed in making them prisoners. After that object should be effected, then it will be easy to become [...] the field-piece,-and when that is obtained, we are masters of the island at once.

"When we become masters of the island, we are in a situation, which will place us upon a footing of no mean standing. We, by being masters of the garrison, become likewise possest of the command of the harbor of Boston—of all the vessels going out and coming in;—therefore, can appropriate them to what use, we find the exingences of the [...] will require. We shall likewise be in possession of provision, arms, and ammunition of every kind. Warlike stores will be in our power, of every kind, should we find occasion to use them. I think that the prospect of escape by water, after we have over­come the garrison, will be more eligible than to at­tempt another flight by land: and as it will be in our power to arm a vessel, and equip her, every way, for defence, and along voyage, it would be al­most impossible, even should they pursue after and overtake us, to master us at sea. We shall likewise be able to prevent their following us, from the har­bor of Boston, with any great strength, by blowing up the magazine, and spiking the cannon. In this situation, I would leave the enemical shores of A­merica, and rather seek an asylum, among the inhos­pitable inhabitants of Barbary."

These were the outlines of my plan; and I de­termined to make one powerful effort to carry it in­to execution. Either to lose my life in the cause of liberty, or else gain a glorious freedom. And [Page 205] now, sir, before I go on to the relation of this insur­rection, permit me to make some reflections upon my situation, and the operations of my mind under it.

I had ever a warmth of feeling in following any object of pursuit, perhaps, peculiar to myself. From the first moment of my imprisonment, I felt a degree of insupportable impatience at confine­ment, and an ardent desire of the enjoyment of lib­erty, entirely beyond description. The various un­fortunate attempts, which I had made for the pur­pose of liberating myself, did not serve to cool my ardor for obtaining this object; but, my de­sires for liberty increased, in proportion to the time of my remaining confined, and the misfortunes at­tending it.

Reasoning upon the various occurrences which had been closely concerned in bringing me to this state of wretchedness, and upon the motives by which I had been actuated, under every scene through which I had passed, I concluded that my punishment was greater than I ought to bear. And even at this day, I am under great doubts how I ought to have acted, through all those trying scenes. I know much is due to government. Personal in­convenience is to be born, rather than government should suffer any injury; and for this plain reason, viz. that upon the uninterrupted administration of justice, by government, depends the welfare of the whole community. But, there are circumstances, under which a man may be justifiable, in opposing, at least, the despotic transactions of cruelty in gov­ernment, towards an individual. Whether this was the case with me, sir, I leave you to judge.

I had suffered, during my state of confinement in Northampton, the most unheard of course of illegal cruelty; and that too, in a very notorious manner,—so that the branches of government must univer­sally [Page 206] be apprised of it. And this punishment was inflicted likewise by one of the officers of govern­ment. Therefore, under such circumstances, wheth­er I had not just reason to suppose, the most cruel, arbitrary, and unjust measures, were prescribed a­gainst me by government, your own good sense will determine. This officer never received the frowns of government for his conduct, but remained in high favor to the day of his death:—neither was I ever compensated for the injuries, which I here re­ceived.

Moreover, when the scene was reversed, and one of their number became dependent upon my will, for his life, his liberty, and his safety; and under that situation, I had put my own life at stake, to save his; and had shielded and protected him from danger in the time of his distress,—after this, as soon as I had fallen into the hands of government, what was their language? Why, that I should receive an hundred lashes at the post!!

I recollect to have read an account respecting a York, who was a slave in Malta. He was asked by a Maltese merchant "why he wore that aspect of perpetual gloom on his countenance, and now and then appeared to struggle to suppress the starting tear?" The Turk replied "Can it appear strange to you, that I should lose enjoyment, with the loss of that, which is the foundation upon which we build all our joy?" "What would you do, said the Maltese, to gain your liberty?" "Ho, by Al­lah!" said the Turk, "name the conditions:—Place danger and death before me, in their most hor­rid forms,—and if I do not pay the price, then say that Hamet is not worthy of liberty."

When I heard this story of the Turk and the Maltese, my feelings entered, immediately, into the meaning of the Turk's observations. I could there discover and read the language of the human heart, [Page 207] notwithstanding he was a Turk. My heart pant­ed to tell him,—"Yes, thou infidel Turk, get thee hence from the land of christianity, and enjoy the pleasures of liberty, even in thy unbelieving coun­try."

His feelings were what mine had been:—the language of the heart is the same, among Turks and Christians,- Jews and Gentiles, &c. &c. &c.

Sir, accept my most sincere wish for your happi­ness, combined with your family's, and believe me to be, &c.

CHAP. XX.

IT was on Sunday, when I made my arrange­ments among the prisoners, for our great effort,—appointing the morning following, for the time of operation.

There were thirty-five prisoners, in whom I plac­ed the utmost confidence, as to their courage, and undaunted resolution. Ten of them I had selected to be with me, in taking the guard; and twenty-five I had left to be headed by Philips, who were to repair immediately to the barracks, and secure the officers and arms; intending, if possible, to accom­plish the business without blood-shed.

[Page 208] After I had made the necessary dispositions, I ex­horted the prisoners, "to be firm and courageous; to abstain from all acts of cruelty, which were not absolutely necessary; and, above all things, to pay the strictest attention to the orders given, that all might act in concert; to abstain from spiritous li­quors." And this I meant to make more certain, by knocking all the casks on the head.

As taking the guard was much the most difficult part of this business to execute, I had selected our ten of the most desperate fellows, among the pris­oners, to follow me. I told them that I did not wish for them to go farther into dangers than I went myself—that I expected them to follow and support me, as far as I went, and no further. To this they all agreed, without the least hesitation; and confirmed their agreement by the most solemn assurance, that they would remain by me till death or liberty.

After all matters were adjusted upon this system, we went to bed with all our clothes on, so that we might arise the next morning, immediately after the door should open, and the overseer should de­part.

After I had laid down, the importance of the scene before me kept me from closing my eyes through the whole night.

I WAITED, with impatience, for the approach of morn. This, of all nights, through my life, ap­peared the longest. I often arose and went to the grates, to see if I could discern any signs of day. At last the moment appeared! I heard the over­seer enter, and vociferate with great clamour, "Turn out, turn out,"—and immediately depart­ed.

I arose with precipitation, and hasted to gather those, who were destined to act different parts in the business, into bodies by themselves. I observed a few got out of their beds, with some reluctance. Philips, I saw, appeared extremely pale,—I asked him what was the matter? He told me he felt sick. I answered, That the moment did not admit of attention to sickness. He came to the spot, and took charge of his men. I ordered one of my men to secure the sentry, in the yard, the moment I gave the signal for starting. He took a stick about three feet long, and two inches in diameter, and stood rea­dy to execute his part.

When I came to the spot, where I could observe the guard, I saw them under arms, and standing in [Page 210] the door of the guard-house, with their bayonets fixed. This sight was by no means calculated to ensure our success; but not knowing what exertion would effect, I determined to make the push, at all hazards. I, therefore, clapped my hands, the sig­nal for rushing—and sprang forward towards the guard-house,—expecting the ten, whom I had ap­pointed to that business, were close following me. The soldiers, seeing me coming towards them, pre­sented the points of their bayonets, to prevent my entering the guard-house. I parted the bayonets with my hands, and disarmed two men, in a mo­ment. This I did by a sudden jerk, when I caught hold of these two guns. I immediately turned the bayonets towards the soldiers, when they gave back, and I entered the guard-house. I pronounced im­mediate death, upon any one, who dared to oppose me. I ordered them, in a very peremptory manner, "To lay down their arms, and retire behind the guard-bed." They obeyed—two roade their escape, and fled out of the guard-house, giving the alarm to the officers and soldiers in the barracks, together with the sentry on the Governor's house.

When I entered the guard-house, I carried with me two guns, intending to give one to the first, who followed me, in order that he might prevent any of the guard from escaping through that door, and to secure the other myself: wishing to prevent any a­larm, until the other party of twenty-five had time to get to the barracks; but imagine, sir, my disap­pointment and astonishment, when I looked and saw myself alone, without one of the prisoners to as­sist me!!

When I first started, Philips' courage failed—He turned and ran into the room, out of which he came—undressed, and jumpped into bed. The rest, see­ing this, were all struck with a panic—ran back, and went to bed: thinking, by this mean, to make the [Page 211] officers believe, that they had no part nor lot in this business. Therefore, I found the guard my prison­ers, and myself a prisoner to the guard.

I saw the soldiers and officers, from the barracks, running towards the guard-house, with their clothes in the utmost disorder—some half dressed, and oth­ers naked, a shirt excepted. Seeing the day was lost, I turned, and ran out of the guard-house, mak­ing again towards the prison, carrying my guns with me. The sergeant of the guard, who, but a minute before, had been begging his life, [...] [...] most abject state of fear, now began to bustle to­wards me with his gun, as though he had been in close contest from the beginning, and intended to sacrifice me to his fury,—he ran after me, hallow­ing, "Burroughs, you devil you, I'll kill you, I'll kill you." I turned indignant towards the coward, and threw my guns at him, with the points of the bayonets forward. One of the bayonets took his hand, and entered the skin about an inch. At this, he bawled out in the bitterest manner, "I'm wound­ed, I'm kill'd!"

The officers and soldiers rushed into the prison, laid hold of me, and brought me again into the yard. Major Perkins, with his sword, Lieutenants Treat and Burbe [...]k, with their rattans, were all lashing me at once, with the greatest violence. [...] this crisis, the sergeant, whom I had wounded, came up with his gun, and struck me over the head with all his might. The blood flew quick into my face, I moved suddenly towards the pitiful villain,—at which, he ran—making a noise more like a car [...], than a man.

I was then confined by a pair of heavy irons, com­monly called shackles, taken to the whipping [...], and there received an hundred stripes, which were laid on in a very serious manner, causing the blood to stream at every stroke, so that my shoes were [...] ­led by the time I was taken down.

[Page 212] This, sir, was a heavy stroke, too much even for my iron constitution to support. I fell [...] [...]. A fit of sickness succeeded, which continued abo [...] three months, making the prospect doubtful, [...] my career might terminate. O! happy, thrice happy, should I have been, had I fallen here! and closed the troubled scene of life! "O terque, qua­terque beati, queis Trojae sub maenibus altis, conti­git oppetere!"

During my sickness, I had to contend with in­conveniences of no small magnitude. There was no provision made for the sick; therefore, salt beef and bread were all the necessaries provided for me by government. A medical gentleman, from the town of Boston, influenced by the mere emotions of compassion, visited me, under this scene of distress, and administered to my necessities. The name of this humane ornament of nature, I have forgotten, but think it was Elliot.

My back was extremely sore; and having a pair of heavy irons on my legs, I could lie in no other position, than [...] my back. Major Perkins wished to liberate me from the irons around my legs, dur­ing the fit of sickness, but was absolutely for bidden by his superiors, until near two months after my punishment, when he was allowed to take them off.

My situation, and course of perpetual suffering, caused me to repine bitterly at the hand of provi­dence. It appeared, that I was marked out, as an object for the heaviest strokes of misery, to be reiter­ated upon, until I should be finally swallowed up, by the power of their force. Why, said I, should all this befal me? Do these misfortunes happen as a punishment to vicious conduct? and am I so self-blinded, as not to be sensible of my own unheard of wickedness? For certainly, if the wickedness of my conduct has been equal to my sufferings, I have been of all mankind the most abandoned. But, said [Page 213] I [...], is this reasoning just? Do the wicked alone [...] while the just are in a state of constant pros­perity? Let us advert to facts, for evidence upon this subject.

I behave that matters of fact will prove, that the best of men have suffered, in this state of imperfec­tion, in an equal degree with the worst. We will in­stance Socrates and Aristides, of the anci [...] and the unmortal Columbus, among those of a mere mo­dern date.

Many instances might I produce even among our­selves, were innecessary; but one moment's reflec­tion, upon this subject, is enough to confute the idea entirely, of a person's misfortunes being any ev­idence of his moral turpitude. Then why it is, that some are marked out, in the course of events, to en­dure the heaviest strokes of misfortune in one con­tinued serves, is, to me, an inexplicable mistery in the course of Providence.

Since I started into life, how has my course been checkered! even Death, the last resort of the wretched, has fled from my approaches, as though cautious of his friendly presence, administering com­fort, rather then terror. Is it not strange, that death should join with mankind, and even refuse the morsel afforded on his embrace, in order, to fill up my measure of sufferings?

When I set the jail on fire, at Northampton, I thought it our of the power malice itself, to prevent the approach of the moment of my quietus, but was disappointed; I then expected to have found an end to my trouble, in the cold embrace of death, in the dungeon, and here I found the tyrant eluding my pursuit. When I rose on the garrison, it ap­peared to me certain, that I should meet with death or liberty, but alas! in both was I deceived; then surely, said I, this punishment added to sickness must close the eventful scene; but horrid to relate I was re­served [Page 214] for woes, which yet untold, made my former sufferings vanish away, as not worthy of notice.

Are these matters painted to you, sir, in colours to high, for the simple statement of facts? No, sir, indeed they are truths,-the force of which I must feel, while I sit poring over the scenes; though they are past and gone, yet have left a mortal sting be­hind.

Soon after I was able to walk about, I was visit­ed by a gentleman, whose name I never recollect, without feeling that warmth of affection, and glow of gratitude, which fills my soul with rapture. This gentleman's name was Summers. He was my father's sister's son. He commanded a vessel then in the harbor of Boston. He possest an enlarged mind, which looked above the clamour of vulgar prej­udice; and where he saw the course of humanity lead, he pursued his way, let it be ever so unpopular. This gentleman made me a visit, even against the custom of the world. He was the first relative, that ever came, or sent to me, on this gloomy place. He saw my necessities—He administered to my relief—He poured the balm of consolation into my wound­ed mind—He conducted as a man ought to conduct, who is governed by a spirit of true benevolence.—He continued to visit me from time to time, during the whole course of my confinement on this isl­and.

Having been disappointed in my efforts for an es­cape, and that too, by the cowardly, perfidious con­duct of my fellow-prisoners, I pretty much gave up the idea of making any further attempts, for my lib­eration; but concluded to reconcile my mind, in the best manner possible, to the idea of wearing away the time of my confinement.

I, therefore, told Major Perkins, that I would give up the idea of ever making another attempt for escape, if he would not put me in irons, give me the [Page 215] liberty of the island, and not subject me to the di­rection or authority of Rifford, the overseer. Ma­jor Perkins believed me sincere. He ever had oc­casion to believe what I told him, by way of con­tract, while I was under his care.

He agreed to allow me the privileges which I re­quested, provided I would discover any attempt of the prisoners to escape. I told Major Perkins, that being under the same condemnation with the other prisoners, I had no intention to purchase any privi­lege, at their expense. That I should, by no means, give them any aid, in their escape; neither should I be a hindrance to them. After some days trial to obtain my promise, for discovering any attempt of the prisoners, to procure their liberty, without suc­cess, he agreed to my proposal; and gave me lib­erty of going to any part of the island, without a sentry to attend me.

This was a great degree of freedom, compared with what I had enjoyed; and, therefore, most sen­sibly felt. My situation was as eligible, as the na­ture of things would admit: and I, even in this state of servile wretchedness, began to look forward, with the pleasing expectation of better days.

[Page 216] ABOUT this time, an incident took place, which gave me the most sensible pain. At a certain [...], a number of people from Boston, came on to the isl­and, among whom was Thomas Cushen, son to the Lieutenant Governor. When these people came a­mong the prisoners, they asked money of them, as was the general custom. Cushen took a dollar out of his pocket, and gave it to me; telling me, at the same time, to give each of the prisoners a glass of rum, out of the avails of the dollar; and departed without waiting for an answer.

The prisoner, who had been instrumental in ob­taining the money, entertained an idea of his being entitled to a larger share of the dollar, than the oth­ers; and therefore, proposed a division with me. My reply was, that the money was given to me, for a particular purpose; and as I accepted the gift, I had implicitly pledged my faith, to execute the trust reposed in me. I told him, that a glass of rum must be given to each prisoner, if the dollar would purchase a sufficient quantity for that purpose; and that I should perform that, as soon as I could ob­tain permission of Major Perkins.

I, accordingly, made application to the Major, for liberty to give the convicts a glass of rum. He told me, that it was out of his power to grant my request, at that time; but that Governor Cushen would be on the island, in a few days; that he would consult him on the subject, and see if it would answer, to grant such permission.

While I was waiting the issue of this business. Thomas Cushen came on to the island again; and the prisoner, Mount by name, who had asked him for money before, now made application again, for more money. Cushen answered Mount, that he thought it a shame for him to ask for money again, so soon after leaving a dollar with Burroughs for them all. Mount told him, that Burroughs had [Page 217] kept the money himself, and the other prisoners had received nothing. Cushen then asked for an ex­planation of the business. I told him how the mat­ter was situated; and rejoined, that I would divide the money, if that was agreeable to his feelings. He left me without an answer. Not long after, Cushen being in company with a number of gentlemen in Boston, amongst whom was a Mr. May a rational phi­lanthropist, he, in a pompous declaration, respect­ing his own excellent qualities of heart, related, that he had given three dollars to Burroughs, for the prisoners, and, that Burroughs had appropriated them to his own use, refusing to participate with a­ny others, in the benefit of the money.

Mr. May entered with warmth, into the subject, and when he saw me, expostulated upon the impro­priety of my conduct; and when I gave him a simple narration of facts, he seemed to hesitate a­bout giving credit to a report, so different from Cushen's.

This circumstance, you may think, was of too small consequence to find a place in this narration; but the reason why I relate it, is the disagreeable ef­fect it had upon my mind; having met with but very few incidents, which have given me keener sensations, than this trivial occurrence.

As the remaining part of my confinement was ended, without any very remarkable occurrence, I will not dwell upon the uninteresting events; but only observe, that the terms of agreement between the Major and myself, were ever kept inviolate by both parties. I will, likewise, give you an extract of some letters, which passed between me and my friends, while I remained here, and then pass from the disagreeable prospect.

The first letter I received from that uncle, who had relieved me in Northampton:—It was to the following amount:

Soon after the receipt of the foregoing letter, I received another from my Mother's youngest broth­er, to the following import:

About three weeks previous to the expiration of the time of my confinement, my uncle Ebenezer Davis, came to see me on the island, brought me [Page 223] some clothes, and gave me money, sufficient to pro­vide myself with what things were necessary, to my making a decent appearance, and likewise to sup­port myself on the road to his house. The happy moment arrived! how beautiful was that day! of all the days of my life, this was the most beautiful and serene. The very heaven and elements were in unison with my feelings. I, for the first time, for the term of thirty months, dressed myself in clean decent apparel. I heard the sentence from Major Perkins, "Burronghs you are free" with a sensation of joy that is inexpressible. My heart bounded like the roe on the mountain! I went in­to the boat, the sea was smooth, and the wind was calm! the heavens were mild and serene; the sun was beautiful beyond description! the boat glided over the smooth surface of the waters, with a facility that was enchanting!

Having now ended in my narrative a tedious and bitter confinement, which lasted me three years and five weeks. I will here end this letter. I wish to make some reflections upon the nature of the punishment by servitude; and as that will take up too much time for this, I will reserve it for the sub­ject of another letter. In the mean time believe me as usual &c.

CHAP. XXI.

AS I intimated to you, sir, in my last, that the subject of this letter would be a consideration of the nature of punishment by servitude; I now [Page 224] take up that matter in obedience to my promise.—This is a subject, of which I have felt the operation in some measure; and therefore, may be thought to know its natural effect upon the human heart, as well as most men.

The object of punishment ever ought to be the preservation of the good order of society, by a refor­mation of those, who are disorderly through a vi­cious disposition, or a mistaken apprehension of matters.

The honesty of a legislative body will ever point at that, and their laws will ever effect that, where a suf­ficient fund of information directs their legislative acts.

Whether the system of servitude, upon its present establishment, does answer the purpose of produc­ing a reformation in the disorderly, is the question now under consideration

There was, on the castle, an assemblage of charac­ters, from various parts of the globe: some old in iniquity, and others but timid beginners, in the ways of transgression. Here, the objects of honor and promotion were reversed. In a winter evening's tale, you would not hear the feats of virtue recount­ed, as a recommendation. These were objects treated with contempt. On the other hand, that person, who could relate the most desperate and daring transgression, of the laws of national justice, was considered as the most honourable character a­mong the prisoners; while those, who were novices in wickedness shrunk from an examination of their deeds, and felt a degree of littleness, because they had nothing worthy of giving themselves a name, among those heroes of the night.

The natural effect of this you will easily conceive. Where our ambition leads, we generally make pro­gress. Those, who would blush at the thought of their illicit conduct, when they first arrived at the [Page 225] castle, would now sooner blush at the small part which they have acted, in the way of transgression.

They would listen with attention, to the acts of those, whom they considered as their masters in ini­quity, this is a lesson, but too easily learnt. Their whole object was discovering and inventing means to carry their diabolical purposes into execution, imme­diately upon their liberation. Finally, this of all others, was the most perfect school of vice, that I ever saw. For a man to remain uncontaminated by this socie­ty, after continuing in it a number of years, he must have more solid philosophy, than I believe mankind generally possess. Under these circum­stances, how can this institution serve to reform the morals of men?

Facts prove, that instead of becoming good mem­bers of society, the convicts have, generally, taken to a course of the most atrocious transgressions, af­ter their liberation.

Indeed, the situation of the prisoners is such, when they are liberated, that all motives for doing well are taken away. They generally, at that time, find themselves naked, moneyless, and friendless. Their previous confinement on the castle is a suf­ficient objection to their being employed in busi­ness; therefore, supposing them possessed of virtu­ous principles, what can such virtues do, in this situ­ation. They have the same necessities to supply, that other men have, and where they find, that govern­ment has not only confined them to servitude, for a number of years, but has, moreover, taken away the prospect of earning a small pittance of bread, by industry, will the feelings of nature allow them to consider any obligation which government re­quires, as binding?

I saw the effects of this system of servitude, whilst I was a prisoner on the castle. I published my sentiments upon the subject, for the con­sideration [Page 226] of the Legislature. Little attention was paid to my reasonings, in so low a situation. Had these sentiments come from one in a more exalted station, they might, perhaps, have been understood better, and the reasoning, upon such a subject, been more clear and convincing.

I will not detain you with any further observa­tions upon this subject, but proceed in the narrative.

I went immediately to the house of—Devens Esq. with whom I took breakfast, having received a previous invitation for that purpose, before I left the Island.

Immediately after breakfast, the good old man, taking me into a private room, entered into conver­sation upon my present prospects. I told him, that I had concluded to repair to my uncle's, at Charle­ton, who had supplied me with necessaries, for my appearing again in the world. It appeared to re­joice him, to hear that I was not left friendless. He said, he had it in contemplation to help me, if no other person appeared for that purpose. He gave me counsel, as a parent would give to a child. He appeared to be interested in my future welfare. He presented me with a dollar, wishing me to ac­cept it, as a token of his esteem, and good wishes. After this, I immediately repaired to Long Wharf, where Capt. Summers lay, with his vessel. I here met that Philanthropist, upon the shores of liberty, who had so often relieved my distress, in a state of slavery. My sensations, at this meeting, were ex­quisitely pleasing. I tarried with him two days; and during that time, an accident took place, which gave me an opportunity of feeling the extremes of pain and joy, in a very short space. The matter was this:

Capt. Summers, coming into his cabin, at a certain time, where he had left me, missed his watch, which, he supposed, he had left hanging in the cabin. [Page 227] He inquired of all the hands, whether they had seen or taken his watch, from the place where he left it. Their answers were in the negative. He asked if any body had been on board the vessel that morn­ing, they said no. I saw his countenance was troub­led. He felt in a situation too delicate to know what measure to take. My feelings, at this time, were as disagreeable as though I had been covered with burning embers. I knew that the appearance must be, that I had taken the watch. No other person could take it. The watch was gone. What a hor­rid figure of ingratitude, I must now make, said I, in the mind of that man, above all others, to whom I wish to appear amiable! A single word was not uttered for the course of half an hour. A dis­mal gloom hung over the countenance of every one present; at length, we were all relieved by the ar­rival of the mare, who brought the watch on board, having carried it to a watchmaker to have some work done to it, which was necessary.

The sight of the watch instantly dispelled the gloom from every countenance, we all felt the effects, as though a shock of electricity had operated upon us. Capt. Summers burst into a laugh, patting me on the shoulder, saying, "One hundred dollars would not make me so glad as the sight of that watch."

My sensations were too violent for utterance, I could not reply. I felt wounded to death, that, even for one moment, a jealousy should remain in the breast of Captain Summers, of my treachery tow­ards him; yet, what gave me such exquisite pain was, that circumstances were in such a train, that he could not avoid such a jealousy.

I visited a number of my acquaintance during this short residence in Boston; among whom was a Mr. Bingham, who was contemporary with me in College. This man had a warm heart, friendly to [Page 228] mankind, scrupulously nice in every principle of justice, regulating his conduct by the exactest rules of propriety.

After this I took leave of all my acquaintance in Boston, and measured back that road, which, nearly three years before, I had been carried through bound with chains, o Glazier Wheeler. Before I left Bos­ton, Capt. Summers offered to supply me with a sum of money, for my present necessities; but as I had a sufficiency already for my travelling expenses until I should arrive at my uncle's, in Charleton, I declined accepting his offer, seeing he had been so bountiful towards me already.

It was in the month of September, when I walk­ed through the country. To visit again the varied scenes of nature; to be at liberty, and without the least restraint, ramble through the country, was a luxury of enjoyment which only those can feel, who have been in my situation.

I arrived in Charleton, the second day after my leaving Boston. As no immediate business offered, I concluded to turn my attention to manuel la­bour, until some opportunity should offer, for my attending to other business. I went to work among the common labourers of my uncle. This was somewhat mortifying; but I was determined to endure any inconvenience, rather than give the least idea to any of my friends, that I was not willing to use such means as I possessed, to gain an honest support. I continued in this business, about one month, hoping to obtain a school, in this, or some of the neighbouring towns, as soon as the season should approach, for that business.

[Page 229] I will here give you an extract of a letter from my uncle to my father, about this time.

Sometime in the month of November, I engaged to teach a school, for one month, in the town of Charleton. The inhabitants being fearful of em­ploying me for any longer term, until they should find, by experience, whether I would conduct a school with regularity and propriety. I began this school with fifteen scholars, at the expiration of the month, I had forty five, I was then engaged for two months, which took all the public money, which had been raised, for the purpose of schoolling. My wages, for these two months, were raised; & I found to my no small comfort, that my conduct had given universal satisfaction. When the two months were expired, my school consisted of eight forty mem­bers. A number of young men, from various parts of the country, had resorted to my school, in order to obtain the higher branches of information.

When the time of the last engagement had ex­pired, the people composing this district assembled, and raised money for the continuation of this school, one year longer, this was a thing entirely unknown [Page 231] before in that town. The season for schoolling, heretofore, in this town, was three months, in the winter, and the same length of time, in the summer. The summer school was taught by a woman, which school consisted of small children.

I now found myself settled in business, and rising fast in the esteem of those, with whom I was con­nected; yet, under all these circumstances, I was by no means at ease. My mind was per­petually worried with a fear, that some of the ten thousand of the unfortunate occurrences, which had heretofore befallen me, might again destroy my present pleasing prospects.

My former sufferings had left such an impression of horror on my mind, that I could not close my eyes in sleep, but what these terrible scenes would be present to my view, and I compelled to act them over again. For years after this, nay, to the pres­ent moment, sir, I often start from sleep, reeking with sweat, under the intense misery of my fancied horror.

I will, here, give you a copy of a number of let­ters passing between me and my friends, and then pass on to more important scenes.

[Page 234] Matters continued in this train, without any ma­terial occurrence. I lived in the house of one Wil­liams, a very considerable man, in that part of the town where I taught the school.—He was a man of a feeling heart, was ready to assist the needy, and administer comfort to the wretched. I was treated in this house, by the good old people, more like a child, than a stranger. All the tenderness and care of a parent toward a child ever marked their con­duct towards me. Some time in the summer, D. Bacon received a letter from my Father, the con­tents of which was to our satisfaction.

I had settled in my mind, to make my father a visit, in the course of this summer; therefore, hir­ed a horse of one Curtis, formerly a clergyman, for this journey, and made my visit, in the month of July, after an absence of nearly four years. To re­visit again the scenes of early youth

gave a pleasing sensation, tender and soothing. Not long after I had been at my father's, my horse, playing in the pasture, fell and broke his leg. This was a calamity which I felt in a very sensible man­ner. I had grown so timid, that any object of mis­fortune was viewed in its most terrible form. I started at every danger, and grew pale with appre­hension. I have, since, wondered at my feeling this misfortune so sensible. In order to ease my mind, my father procured me another horse, and not only wrote himself, but added the testimonial of one of his neighbours, to his account.

I returned to Charleton, and the September fol­lowing, was married to the daughter of my uncle, Ebenezar Davis.

This circumstance opened a new field of contem­plation. To view myself in the relation of a hus­band [Page 235] and parent; to feel the attachment, which such a relation constituted; you, sir, who stand in those relations, yourself, can more easily judge of my feelings, than I can describe them. When I became the head of a family, perfectly calculated to render the domestic life happy; and saw myself es­tablished in such business, as would supply their ne­cessities, I was satisfied—the height of my ambi­tion was gratified—I enjoyed a flow of uninterrupted felicity, for days and for months. The enjoyment of my fireside was now a source of pleasure, which I, before, had never a distant idea, was the portion of mortals. It was indeed too great to be of a lasting duration. I received the warm con­gratulations of my friends, on my prosperity. Ev­ery event took place to please. All things swam gently down the tide of time, and lulled my feelings to repose, in the lap of security.

I have made a transition in my narrative, over about a year of the time, after my marriage, without entering into particulars; having drawn out the narration to such a length, already, as to fatigue my own patience; and I believe, sit, that were it not for your tenderness to my feelings, you would long ere this time have told me, "Burroughs, your story being both lengthy and gloomy, it is time to desist." Gloom is the chief I have to entertain you with, in the after relation; therefore, the most dis­tant hint, that the story is too melancholy to give entertainment, I will discontinue.

I will here give you a few extracts from those let­ters of congratulation, which I received, in these days.

Thus you see, sir, that my portion of happiness was complete. All that was possible for man to enjoy, I now experienced, I was raised to the ut­most pinnacle of bliss. But I was only raised to be thrown from my exaltation, to the deepest abyss of wretchedness and misery.

It appears to me, that fortune, to shew the ex­tent of her power, had curiously interwoven a train of circumstances, of all others, the most delicate; [Page 240] and of all others, the most calculated to make me [...]nerble by her shafts

From the castle, from a state of confinement, as a slave; from a state where I had suffered a course of unexampled cruelty; to fall among a people, of all others, the most agreeable, humane, and benevo­lent; to find among them a readiness to give or to all my virtues, notwithstanding the clamour a­gainst me; to make use of my abilities, where they found them useful; and to treat me as a member of the general family of mankind, was a situation, which rendered me most feelingly happy. Here I found a society, which I could enjoy, upon terms of that easy access, which renders it so grateful.

Here was a theatre upon which I had exhibited in such a manner, as to raise the desponding hopes of my friends, to a state of the most sanguine expectation, on, relating to the part, which I should perform, as a member of society. Here I had con­tracted such a tenderness for a fond wife and our helpless offspring, as to loose the desire for my own prosperity, in my anxiety for them. My own per­sonal benefit was, now, but a secondary considera­tion, and only viewed of consequence, as it contri­buted to [...]nder them happy.

Here I had a family; here were friends of near connection; and here was a society, among whom I enjoyed the social pleasures, in their highest per­ [...]; consequently, I felt the most ardent desire [...] myself agreeable, and endearing to all [...].

[...] the moment, when I had obtained the highest [...] nor my ambition, when I became completely [...], in the enjoyment of all my hearts desire; [...] hurled from this summit of happiness, and [...] under the weight of one general wide ex­tended ruin; to see myself in a moment, stripped of every enjoyment my heart held dear, and reduced [Page 241] back into that state of confinement, from which I had so lately been liberated, was a situation, in which all the powers of mind, and the strength of nature, operated and combined, to render me com­pletely miserable. Alas! thou unhappy compan­ion of my life, how changed our prospects! but a little time since, when all nature smiled on our en­deavours, to promote the welfare of our mutual concern, a rising family: even our hearts were ex­hilarated, our minds were soothed, and our souls fil­led with delight, with the playful smiles, and open­ning mind of a tender infant! but alas! those scenes are fled—fled "with the years beyond the flood"—fled alas! beyond the reach of hope! No more shall my heart be made glad by the fond embrace. No more shall the sun rise to cheer my fond hopes, my rising expectations. But midnight and death shall howl their horrid dirges around my bed! misery and melancholy shall spread their sable veil over every part of my life, and after my exit from this stage of trouble, furies shall shriek a doleful requiem to my departure.

I find, sir, that I am wild and unconnected in my relation. The gloomy scene crowded upon me, be­fore I was ready to give it a place; and I, involun­tarily, find my pen continually delineating those melancholy circumstances, I beg pardon for my irregularity, and will recal my wanderings,

I am sir, &c.

CHAP. XXII:

IN prosecuting the design of this letter, I must confess that I am at a loss, how to describe those events, of which I wish to give you a just idea. I know I shall fall infinitely short of my own wishes. The scene was so crowded with incidents, that it will be impossible to relate them, in such a manner, as to keep them clear and distinct, so as to render them entirely intelligible. Under this view, I have thought it the better way, to give you extracts of letters, relating to these events, inter­spersing them with some explanatory remarks, and filling up any deficiency, by an additional relation.

To understand the after relation, in as clear a man­ner, as the nature of the thing will admit, it will be necessary to give you the characters of some per­sons, who were active in my misfortune. And to begin with the chief engine of this business, viz. Israel Waters. This man was a near neighbour to me, during my living in my own family, When Waters first commenced his career in life, he was extremely poor, illiterate, ill favoured, and of a sour morose temper; hence he remained, for a long time, unknowing and unknown. A number of fortu­nate circumstances happening in the course of his business, he attained a handsome property. When he found himself to be a man of property, he grew unaccountably presuming and haughty. He had, heretofore, remained among mankind, without at­tention or notice, but, now manifested an ardent am­bition to start into consequence in the world.

His first effort was to rise in the military line. He stood for the command of the company of which he was a member, not sparing of his purse on the occasion; but was defeated in his pursuit. He then stood for the lieutenancy, and after a length of time, obtained his object.

[Page 243] The Captainship becoming vacant, a number of times, he endeavoured, by the dint of electioneer­ing, to obtain that office; his exertions were inef­fectual, and he threw up his commission in a pet, and joined a company of horse.

Towards this company, he truly acted a benevo­lent part, had his motives been a regard to the re­al prosperity of the company: but his after conduct made it evident, that electioneering was his object, in assisting various members of the company, with those articles, which their finances did not allow them to procure, without inconveniency. Notwithstand­ing every exertion which he made, the choice of the the company fell upon a deserving man, and of course, he occupied the second place in this com­pany.

Whilst he held the office of lieutenant, in the company of light house, the rebellion broke out, which, you will recollect, was termed Shay's rebel­ion.—This produced animosity among neighbors, and almost every man became a partizan. The militia were called upon, and Waters, with the rest of his company, went into service, against the in­surgents. Here he had an opportunity of hearing much said in favour of government, and likewise against those, who should oppose her measures.

Having been disappointed, in all his efforts, to become a man of that consequence in society, to which his restless ambition had lead him; he ex­pected, that he had now discovered the only sure road to preferment, viz. by making himself so strong a stickler for government, that he would be taken notice of, and promoted.

Under this view of matters, not having ability to distinguish between a real and pretended assist­ance to the laws of the country, he became the pimp, rather than the friend of government.

My rising so suddenly and rapidly into esteem [Page 244] had given this man great umbrage. "What" said he "shall this mushroom of a night be rewarded and caressed by mankind, whilst I have been labouring years in the pursuit, and spent great part of my time and interest in this business, and yet be neglected"? The comparison was too mortifying; and of course, he fought to remove that object from sight, which gave him so much pain to view. He was but too successful in his undertaking.

He had made his calculation upon answering two purposes, in rendering me obnoxious to the laws, viz. gratifying his own private spleen, and gaining the commendations of men in office, who, he expected, would be gratified, at my downfal; hence, after my calamity, he made his boasts, that he esteemed the honor he had done himself, in that business, so highly, that he would not part with it for one hun­dred pounds.

Another character in this business, was one Elice Putney, an old girl, who had not borne the character of a Lucretia; and of consequence, finding herself at a low ebb, calculated to make some bold efforts, to do away a jealousy there was remaining upon the minds of many, that she was by no means exposed to suffer on account of her virtue. No way ap­peared so eligible to this antiquated heroine, as to raise a report, of her having withstood some violent attacks, upon the castle of her honesty. This being the case, you will hear, in the after relation, how she succeeded in her undertaking.

The following character, who maintains a place most in dignity, in this narrative, is Daniel Bacon. This man is as punctual in telling his great religi­ous exercises, as any man you will generally meet with. Take his own account for your evidence, and you will believe him to be the best man living; but, when you examine him critically, by his works, you will find it necessary, to place much to the ac­count [Page 245] of human frailties, if you continue to believe in his goodness. He is a man possessing a very te­nacious memory, relating to matters which make in his own favour, and the contrary, he has a happy faculty in forgetting.

His wife comes forward, in the next place, and clearly demonstrates, that she is bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. They are both endowed with small mental abilities, timid, and fearful of meeting with danger, on every occasion.

About six months previous to my marriage, two daughters of D. Bacon attended my school. As I taught a school in the evening, separate from the common school, many scholars, who attended in the day, likewise attended in the evening. After I had dismissed the school for the day, I generally made a practice of tarrying at the school-house, un­til the time for opening that in the evening, in or­der to make some necessary arrangements.

More or less of the scholars, who lived some dis­tance from the school, likewise tarried. At a cer­tain time, the elder of D. Bacon's daughters remain­ed with me in the school house, during the inter­mission, between the two schools. A number of circumstances happening to throw a certain enjoy­ment, full in my view, the temptation was too powerful. I fell before it. The fatal moment was past. It could not be recalled. After I had retired from school, the object had its full opera­tion upon my mind. This was a moment of calm­ness. This was a moment in which the examina­tion of my conduct gave me the keenest pain

I considered that my situation had been the means of gaining easy access to her virtue. That she had been taught to put the most implicit confidence in my instruction. That the example, in me, would have a fatal influence on her principles of virtue.

These considerations gave me no small degree [Page 246] of uneasiness, I lamented my untimely folly, but too late, I lamented it. I took the earliest opportunity of repairing the injury, so far as was now in my power.

Not long after this, the same opportunity offering again, at the school house, I entered into conversa­tion with the girl, on the subject. I endeavoured to give her a statement of my own views on the sub­ject. I expostulated with her in the warmest terms, upon the impropriety of ever swerving from the path of virtue. I intimated to her, that from the principles of integrity, as well as tenderness to her own welfare, I should keep this business a secret from every person living. It is true, I gave her no charge to keep this unhappy business buried in her own breast. I presumed, that the laws of delicacy and self preservation would have been sufficient for such a purpose, but in this I was deceived.

She divulged the secret among some of her com­panions. By little and little, it gained ground, un­til it came to the knowledge of Israel Waters. He embraced the opportunity to make such arrange­ments with the parents of these girls, as to carry his diabolical plan into execution. He pretended great concern for the welfare of the girl's character, and said he wished to save her free from imputa­tion of blame.

Matters being under this situation, one morning, about the dawn of day, I was awaked, and made pri­soner by a sheriff, Waters, and a number of others. I was immediately carried to the house of Waters, and kept closely confined, until the evening suc­ceeding, when there arrived two lawyers, one to act as justice of the piece, and the other to advocate the cause, in behalf of the state.

A circumstance somewhat curious, that these gentlemen should come twenty miles, to make in­quiry into a matter, when there were four justices [Page 247] living within the distance of four miles, who were equally competent to make the inquiry.

I was brought before the justice, and heard the complaint read, which contained allegations against me, amounting to a rape. To this, you may de­pend, I plead not guilty.

When the girl was examined, she would not stand the test, but declared that I only had made the at­tempt to ravish her, without success.

To my astonishment, I found two others were called upon to give testimony, viz. Elice Putney, and a younger sister of the first mentioned girl. They all testified to the same import, that I had laid violent hands upon them, in various places, and exerted all my abilities to proceed with them to acts of iniquity; but they had made such noble resistance, as to overcome my greatest exertions, and fairly out matched me in strength.

After they had finished their evidence upon these matters of offence, the justice made out my m [...]tti­mus to jail, for trial at the next supreme court, to be holden six months afterwards, for an assault with an intent to ravish. Notwithstanding, the court of quarter sessions had concurrent jurisdic­tion with the supreme court, in causes of this kind, and sat, if I mistake not, four months sooner.

The girls, D. Bacon, and wife, were bound over to give testimony at the sitting of the court &c.

To undertake a discription of my feelings, under this situation, would be as fruitless, as to attempt to give a blind man an idea of colours. I hate to dwell upon the scene, long enough to give you the general occurrences which took place.

It makes my head run round in a maze, to dwell long enough upon these matters, to bring them a­gain into view, so that I may state them in order. I rejoice that I may turn you to the perusal of some letters, which will lead you into the knowledge of facts, without my writing them over again.

I was confined, notwithstanding until the sitting of court. When I was brought to the bar, I found three endictments against me, each charging me with an assault, with an intent to commit a rape. To the several charges I plead, not guilty.

At this time, there were on the bench, as judges, Dana, Robert Treat Pain, and Nathan Cushing; James Sullivan, attorney general.

A large concourse of people had assembled on this occasion; and many evidences produced in behalf of the commonwealth, to substantiate the charges, which are brought against me.

After the evidences were gone through, on both sides of the question, and my counsel had made their remarks on the business, the attorney general arose, and addressing himself to the audience, made some very severe remarks upon the town of Charleton, for employing me in the business of teaching a school; and observations, yet more severe, upon the clergyman of the town (Mr. Campbell) for giving his approbation to such a business; and moreover, for even shewing compassion to me, under my present situation.

Mr. Campbell, who was in court, arose, and beg­ed leave of the court to offer one word, by way of reply, to what the attorney general had observed, relating to him; judge Pain commanded him to sit down. Mr. Campbell replied, "that he should, by no means have made the request of addressing the audience, upon this occasion, had not his name been [Page 264] drawn into question, in this very [...] and ex­traordinary manner, being th [...] publickly charged with blame, and that too, in the most wanton man­ner, when it was no way connected with the cause upon trial: under those circumstances, he thought himself warranted to ask, and insist, upon the priv­ilege of answering the ungenerous aspersions, which had been thrown upon his character." Without answering his reasons, judges Dana and Pain ordered him, in the most peremptory manner, to sit down. He accordingly desisted, and sat down.

[...] account for this very singular conduct, I will offer you what evidence I ever received upon the subject. Mr. Campbell, who was a man of feeling, has often expressed his sentiments upon my impris­onment &c. as being too severe; this highly dis­pleased Waters, and-he threatened, that Mr. Camp­bell should be disabled at court, if he did not change his sentiments. This, I suppose, was the punish­ment contemplated.

After the attorney general had finished his ad­dress to the audience and jury, he sat down; and judge Cushing arose, and summed up the evi­dence to the jury in a very clear, candid, and im­partial manner. After he had sat down, judge Pain arose and addressed the jury in a speech of an hour's length.

This was a subject, in which he appeared engag­ed, to the last degree. In the course of his observa­tion he took notice of every circumstance, which made against me, either in the feelings of people, or in point of law.

After him, followed judge Dana, in a speech or equal length. After exhausting himself, in pur­suading the jury, that I was guilty; after repeating the severe remarks against the town of Charleton and Mr. Campbell, he desisted.

[Page 265] You will take notice, that at this time, two juries were sitting, upon two endictments. The next morning, one jury returned the 1 verdict, guilty. The other, not guilty.

Immediately upon this, I was again endicted for two other crimes, founded upon the same facts, and sup­ported by the same evidence, as was exhibited upon the former endictments, viz. "open, gross, lewd, and lascivious conduct." To these charges, I plead not guilty, but afterward, by the advice of my counsel, entered a retraxit, and plead guilty.

My counsel alledged, that one jury had already, upon the evidence, brought me in guilty of at­tempting to ravish—"That it would not be so ex­traordinary, for them to find me guilty of the crime now laid to my charge, as it was for them to return a verdict against me, on the other endictment; and, if they should return an unfavourable verdict, the court, it was probable, would be more severe in their sentence, than what they would, should [...] throw myself on their mercy, by pleading guilty."

I objected to this, for the following reasons, viz. "I am accused," said I, of open lewdness. Accor­ding to the account of the witnesses, every thing which took place, was in private; therefore, how it can be said, that open lewdness is proved by this testimony, I cannot conceive. Open lewdness is every thing of that kind, which the law censures and punishes; therefore, it appears to me plain, that only a bare possibility remains for a jury to be so far lead astray, as to think the endictment support­ed." Notwithstanding these objections, my coun­sel did not alter their opinion, therefore, I submit­ed, and plead guilty.

Immediately after this, the following petition was presented to the bench.

Whether all these things served to molify the feelings of the Bench towards me, you will more readily judge by the sentences themselves, which were to this effect;—"That I should receive one hundred and seventeen stripes on the naked back;—should stand two hours in the pillory;—should si [...] one hour on the gallows, with a rope around my neck;—that I should remain confined in pri­son, three months;—that I should procure bonds for good behaviour, for seven years;—and pay the charges of prosecution.

I was remanded to prison. I was afterwards led to the place of execution, I suffered two thirds of the punishment, which was comprised in the sentence. A day was appointed for the execution of the re­mainder. Previous to this time, I left the jail, the country, and my enemies, to their own reflec­tion.

In addition to my account, I will subjoin an ex­tract of a letter, from a gentleman of high respecta­bility, and an old practitioner of law, who was present, through the whole transaction, to a friend of his upon this occasion.

CHAP. XXIII.

I HAD determined to end my narrative, for the present, with the foregoing letter, but, as my journey to the westward is prolonged another week, I will devote my leisure moments, during this week, to form a farewell address to the best of men, and the dearest of friends.

Perhaps you may feel some what interested in the continuation, and issue, of my narrative. Your in­timation of such an idea, has had a powerful opera­tion on my mind, to induce me to gratify your re­quest. You wonder I do not publish. Are not these scenes too disagreeable to be called again into view, and more particularly into public view? I wish I could forget, that they had ever existed; yet, I cannot say, that I am entirely without some conso­lation for these afflictions. They have learnt me a les­son, which no other school can teach. They have learned me to feel the woes that others suffer. They have learned me to contribute of the small portion, which I possess, to alleviate the distresses of others; and in this, Sir, there is a sensation grateful, beyond all description.

It is not without pain, that I view my prospect of leaving you, and your agreeable family, for a season. Were it not for the prospect of being sooner able to provide for my own family, I think no motive, however lucrative, would induce me to leave my present agreeable situation; but, sit, notwithstand­ing I am surrounded with this agreeable society, and in it enjoy a great portion of happiness, in the social line, yet, I cannot feel entirely at [...]ase, whilst my family is at a distance.

[Page 277] We find, that this situation appears desirable from the time of our first coming upon the stage of active use, [...] in a matrimonial state. Both sexes are looking forward to this, as the end of their pursuits; [...] when due attention is payed to the [...]ness, & such connexion formed, as the laws of na­ture enjoin; I believe, that man arrives to the great­est state of happiness, he is capable of enjoying—It has ever appeared to me, however, surprising that so little attention has been exerted to form such con­nexions, between the two sexes, as are congenial to nature. I am inclined to believe, that no one need be left destitute of a partner, entirely calculated to render each other as happy, as what things in this world will admit, should a regard be had to tem­pers, feelings, views, &c. previous to forming the matrimonial connexion.

Various are the objects, which occupy the atten­tion of mankind, in their pursuits after happiness, none, perhaps, more than riches and power. When these are obtained, they give a momentary spring to en­joyment; but, soon the soul reverts back to its for­mer state, and is left without any greater sensa­tions of happiness, than what are enjoyed in a state of poverty and impotence; therefore, but a very small difference remains between the poor and the rich, the humble and the powerful, as to actual en­joyment.

Did we act as philosophers, we should turn our attention from those objects, which a length of experience has taught us are futile, in our pursuit of happiness; and place our thoughts upon such subjects, as are calculated, by nature, to grant us that enjoyment, which we are ever seeking after. All this may be found in friendship; and the greatest friendship is formed in the intimate connexion of matrimony.

We find many times jars feuds taking place [Page 278] in families. The husband and wife drag on a life, through a course of bitter recriminations. From a view of these matters, many are led to despise and ridicule the married state. Were we to reprobate every condition, in which some do not happily suc­ceed, there is no calling or pursuit in life, but what would f [...]ll under our animadversion. But one strik­ing evidence, in favor of the happiness enjoyed, even in the most disagreeable matrimonial connexions, is, that a separation is dreaded, and never had recourse to, only in cases of the last extremity; as Young pertinently expresses

I believe, sir, you will think me very wandering in my observations, and preaching a doctrine to one, who stands in little need of instruction, upon this head; seeing your family connexions are such, that you need no arguments to enforce the necessity of enjoying your self, in your situation. I know, sir, your situation, in that connexion, is peculiarly a­greeable; therefore, I considered, that you would not only see the truth of my observations, but like­wise [...]eel it; and it is a pleasure to preach to those, who feel the truth of our doctrine.

I have determined, here, to give you a relation of some events, which took place in the course of my life, in point of time, some earlier, than where I have arrived; but, which could not be introduced [...] the course of the narrative, without interrupting the order,; therefore, I concluded to omit it, until some convenient time, in which I should not break in upon the relation of that chain of events, which appeared to be more closely connected together.—I give you the relation of these incidents, in order to illustrate one of the reasons, why popular preju­dice had arrived to such a pitch, against me.

[Page 279] I was, one day, travelling in Massachusetts, and late at night, put up at a tavern, where I was a stran­ger, as I apprehended. Soon after I arrived, being fatigued with the journey of the day, I retired to rest. This was previous to my marriage. About ten at night, I was awaked by some body at the bed side. Upon my opening my eyes, I recognised the person, as an old acquaintance, whom I had not seen for several years. I asked him where he lived—How he came there—and by what means he became possessed with the knowledge of my being in the house? At these questions he stared at me, with a countenance of surprise. He asked me where my wife was? I was equally surprised at this question. "How, said he, do you wish to conceal the matter from me? I am acquainted with the circumstances of your marrying——of your carrying her away, and to endeavor to hide it, from me, ar­gues no very honest design, in you."

You will not a o [...]der at my surprise being in­creased, by these observations. I told him, his conversation, to me, was wholy unintelligible, that he talked to me of a wi [...]e, &c. that I never was mar­ried, and what he meant by his observations about——was an enigma to me, never before hearing the name of such a person, that I was an absolute stranger in the town, and supposed myself equally unknown, in the house, until I was awaked by him.

His declaration brought on an explanation. He told me, that a man, [...] himself Stephen Bur­roughs, had been [...]n that town, had become ac­quainted in a respectable family, had, in oposition to all the efforts of the family, married a daughter, and carried her away; alledging, that he was going to Hanover, to live with his father, and that they had received no information from their daughter since.

[Page 280] I observed to this young man, that I thought it surprising, that he should be deceived by the arti­fice made use of. That he certainly must have known whether the person was in fact, what he pretended to be. He answered, that being absent on a journey, during this time, he never saw the person; that had he even been at home, the decep­tion might have passed undiscovered: for no one doubted, as to his being the person, whose character he had assumed; and without accident had thrown him in my way, I might never have seen him.

After this conversation, the young man left me, and soon again my eyes were closed in sleep. I had not slept more than an hour and a half, or two hours▪ before I was again aroused from sleep, by the same young man; when I had awoke, I saw in the room an old man and his wife, they approached the bed, the woman broke out into the bitterest la­mentations, crying "it is not he,—is ruined, gone off wi [...]h a vagabond, no one knows where." The father's countenance was a picture of distress, though his sorrows did not break forth, with such ungovernable rage. Here was a scene truly affecting. The distress of the parents was ex­quisite; and what gave the greatest poignancy to their sufferings was, they were left without hope.

Whether they have ever found their daughter I am not able to say, having never seen or heard from them since.

At another time, passing through a part of Con­necticut, I called at a tavern, for some refreshment, where I had been previously acquainted; I was ask­ed, with some surprise, how I had made my escape from jail. This question immediately introduced a dispute, between the landlord and myself. He af­firming that I had been committed for theft, and I with equal assurance denying it.

This dispute produced so much noise, that I was [Page 281] apprehended, and carried back to jail, as they sup­posed; but when we arrived, what was the surprise of may landlord, and the constable, when we found the Stephen Burroughs, who had been committed for horse-sterling, quietly remaining, where he was first confined.

The facts, upon which this laughable mistake took place were of the following nature, viz. A cer­tain person had been apprehended, and committed to jail, under a suspicion of horse stealing. My Landlord, who had formerly known me, heard that a person, by the name of Stephen Burroughs, had been committed to jail. This immediately fixed an idea in his mind, that I was confined under the suspicion of theft.

For some reason, the person, who had been com­mitted, chose to assume my name and character, which circumstance not only deceived my Land­lord, but likewise caused the report to be circulat­ed, that I was detected in horse stealing.

Had I conducted the business a little different, when I was accosted by the Landlord, perhaps the matter would never have come to an explana­tion. He did not seem inclined to apprehend me, at first; but, when I treated his assertion with some harshness, he manifested a disposition to let me know, that I was in his power; and that he would exercise that power, unless I soothed his resentment, by more gentle measures. How he felt when the mistake was discovered, you can more easily con­ceive, than I can discribe. His sensations were not of the most agreeable kind, you will readily ima­gine. Indeed, sir, I felt a degree of compassion to­wards the man, under that situation, notwithstand­ing, his conduct had not been of the most grateful kind.

A number of instances, similar to these, have oc­curred since I came upon the stage of action. You [Page 282] will readily understand, what consequences would naturally proceed from such events. I found the world ever ready to give credit to such reports—When mankind had once formed an unfavorable o­pinion, it was hard to eradicate such an idea, even by the most pointed evidence.

I recollect at a certain time, when I was among a people, who did not know my real name and cha­racter.—Among them, I gained a credit and stand­ing of the pleasing kind, long before my real name became known.—I happened at this time, to be­come acquainted with a certain physician, who came from a part of the country, continuous to where I had formerly lived. In the course of our acquaintance, he told me, "that he was acquainted with a certain character, by the name of Stephen Burroughs, who, of all others, was the most singu­lar. That he was a person possessed of the greatest abilities, of any man he ever kn [...]w." In order to Illustrate more fully the truth of his observation, he related many anecdotes concerning me, of the hu­morous kind, which I had never heard of before. "How I had deceived many people in the most sur­prising manner, and to the general diversion of the country. How I would still continue to deceive them, notwithstanding all their precautions against me. How I would steal from the rich, and give to the poor; and that people were afraid to prosecute me, because I would ever find some shift, to evade the business; and would, more over, always steal a­gain from the person, who had attempted the pro­secution; however," continued the Physician, "I could ever discern, in his countenance, the features of design. There ever was the appearance of de­ceit in his looks; and I should have known him to be a rogue, had I never heard of his charac­ter. I believe," continued he "that the counte­nance of a man, is a strong index of his natural dis­position [Page 283] position; as for instance, if you will permit me to make the comparison, without conceiving that I am attempting to flatter, I never saw a more strik­ing contrast; than between the designing, deceitful countenance of Burroughs; and your open, frank, and candid, countenance. I have generally found men wearing such characters after acquaintance, as the expression of their countenances had in­dicated, in the first place."

You will readily conceive, sir, that I smiled at the harangue of this physiognomy. He remained at ease, in the enjoyment of his own opinion, for a while, but the bubble soon broke, and he was fairly exposed to public view, without the thinest veil for a covering. M [...] real name and character were soon developped to the public, and all his knowledge in physiognomy was discredited, immediately, & even▪ a great share of that science, of which he was really master, fled at the same time. So fickle is the mul­titude—so prone to run from one extreme, into the other. This simple circumstance produced the fa [...]l of the poor Physician.

Thus we see, sir, that every person, be his situa­tion in life what it may, more or less exposed to re­volution, misfortune, and disappointment. Those very means, which we make use of, to answer our purposes of promotion, and exaltation, are often the direct and only causes of our calamity. We all wish to be happy, and all use such means to ob­tain happiness, as our judgment points out. From daily experience we learn how incompetent we are, to form right estimates of the various effects, which will follow the measures we pursue; therefore, he, who depends upon the uncertain occurrences of e­vents, for his happiness, builds upon a very slender foundation, and will most assuredly find the chan­ces run against him.

I have often wished that my memory was suffi­cient to retain a recollection of all the mistakes, which I have either made myself, or have seen oth­ers make, during the course of my life. From such a circumstance, I think I should be able to learn, whether any general cause existed in nature, which produces our miscalculations, or whether they al­ways arise from a general weakness of the mind, which is incurable. From what observations I have been able to make, I rather think the evil may in some measure be remedied, but I believe not en­tirely cured.

Should we lay a right foundation for happiness, and rear our superstructure upon that foundation, we should all find an indiscribable advantage aris­ing from such a procedure. I have once before hinted, that mankind were generally in pursuit of riches and power, in order to render themselves hap­py; that this pursuit is not calculated to contribute to our happiness, but on the contrary, to militate against it, will appear evident, when we take a can­did view of the subject.

That all mankind are descended from one com­mon origin, and partake of the nature and feelings which are common to each other, is not only al­lowed by the united voice of all, but is likewise de­monstrated [Page 285] by the united voice of nature, perpetual­ly crying in the bosom of every person.—Being all descended from the same origin, we are all upon the looting of brethren of the same family, entitled to equal privileges, and immunities. Being members of one and the same family, we have a common interest in the prosperity of each individ­ual, which composes this family.—This is the lan­guage of nature; however, we may have our minds perverted, by error and corruption—hence, we find a language speaking within us, that we cannot silence; a language that speaks strongly in terms of compassion, towards those in eminent distress. Who can stand still, and see another fall into the fire, without reaching forth the hand of assistance? Who so insensible to the pleasures, which he derives from society, that he will retire from them, with indifference! Are not all equally dependent on each other, for the comforts which are enjoyed in life? Has not our great parent constituted the order of things in wisdom, so that by following his laws, we arrive at the most exalted state of perfection, which things in this life admit?

It is a truth, I believe, apparent to every one, that all cannot possess power and riches—nay, the greater part must ever remain without these ac­quirements; therefore, he who strives for power and riches, endeavours to take from the general good of the whole, and appropriate to his own use. He en­deavours to invert the order of nature, by de­priving others of equal privileges, in order to add to his own, and by inverting the order of that wis­dom, which has bountifully provided for all her children, misery will ensue, confusion and disorder will run through the body, and many inconvenien­ces will be felt, by every member of the commu­nity.

On the contrary, when we feel the affection of [Page 286] brethren towards each other; when the welfare and prosperity of each member of society become, in a measure, our own, how changed the scene! how happy the prospect! our griefs become lessened by communicating them to others—our joys are in­creased, by the participation of our friend! the disgraceful passions of hatred, envy, malice, and re­venge, are lost for want of support.

When we set out in life, under the auspices of this disposition, and pursue such a course; we are in a situation not exposed to loose our enjoyment, by every puff of misfortune. We are inaccessible to the malignant passions, the great disturbers of human repose. In this line of conduct, we follow the directions of nature, and answer the purpose, for which we were designed Property, even riches, acquired by industry, (not by power) are of use, to contribute to our happiness; by rendering us capable of lessening the necessities of our brethren, and fellow members of society.

These ideas, to me, have ever appeared as matters of high importance; and I wish to see some abler pen go deeply into this subject, and try the experi­ment thoroughly, to see whether mankind can be reasoned into their own good. Should you, sir, de­vote a few of you leisure moments, to such an ob­ject, it might be attended with very salutary effects. It is said, "that mankind are daily growing in use­ful knowledge." Perhaps this may be true, in a par­tial [Page 287] sense, but it appears to me, that the state of so­ciety, in the days of the Spartan and Roman gov­ernments, was much more congenial to nature, than what we are under at present.—At least, we do not find such striking instances of affection towards the public welfare, among any of the modern Patriots, as what was instanced in the conduct of Lycurgus, Reguius Cincin [...]tus, &c. &c.

I have just hinted at a number of subjects, in the course of this narrative, which may appear to you somewhat mistimed considering the primary object was bearly a narration of facts. Ye, sir, this man­uscript will ever be a memorandum of those sub­jects, at which I have barely hinted; and as your at­tention is occupied, by your station in society, with political objects, there remains a bare possi [...]y of such a memorandum's being of service, in calling some of those subjects into view; as this country as happily situated, on many accounts, to pursue poli­tical inquires, without the [...]mbarrassments attend­ing preconceived opinions and settled systems; I feel the more desirous, that the truth of these observa­tions may be decided by experiment. Should they be productive of good to the community, even in the smallest degree, I shall feel the benefit of an es­sential reward, for suggesting those things. Should they, on the contrary, be found to be a system of error; I shall place them to the account of the many mis­takes I have made through life, and rest satisfied, that I wished to have them productive of good.

Whilst I am absent, you will have sufficient lei­sure to peruse the manuscript, and detect the errors, which I have been guilty of, and rest assured, that I shall ever receive any suggestions of yours, upon that head, as an additional mark of that sincere friendship, which you have ever manifested,

After you have sufficiently perused the present narrative, if you should wish for a continuation, I will [Page 288] attempt to gratify you, as soon as my situation shall again become so settled, as to admit of writing.

Entertainment of the highest nature, generally consists of a due variety, and I find people most fond of buying books of entertainment; where nov­elty, melancholy, humour, joy, and triumph, are interchangeably the leading features—hence C [...]a­rissa Harlow is condemned for being too gloomy—Young's Knights Thoughts fall under the same censure—the critics say there is a want of a variety. That our compassion is wounded, but never grati­fied. That our disgust is excited against certain characters. That the rewards of vice are set forth, but nothing on the pleasing side. That virtue is not rewarded. That our compassion is not reliev­ed, and that of course, we feel nothing but painful sensations. All these observations, I know, will ap­ply with propriety to my narrative. I should have been glad to have interspersed something of the plea­sing kind, among the relation of misfortunes; but, I could not do it consistently with the character of one, who had a regard to truth in his history.

Should I pursue hereafter the history of the re­maining part of my life, you may not be more pleased, than what you are with that already given. It is true, that I passed through many scenes entire­ly new, and partaking, in some measure, of the hu­morous kind; but, that uninterrupted course of se­vere trials, which I have experienced from the be­ginning, never forsook me, until I arrived in this hos­pitable town, where I have met with that attention and kindness, which has in a measure been a coun­terbalance to my former misfortunes.

This observation, I believe, may not be misplac­en, that when ever I have suffered a temporary re­spite from the stroke of calamity, my feelings have been more alive to the enjoyment of my situation. The comparison has ever been striking, both to my [Page 289] view and feelings; and of consequence, all the force of happiness had its operation upon my mind; without any impediment.

Another observation, I believe, ought to have a place here, viz. that our minds after giving way to the strokes of calamity a while, will regain their vigour and pristine state of tranquillity, under the most trying situation; hence we often find among our slaves (I blush to write the word) a degree of tranquillity and evenness of temper, which is want­ing in the more exalted stations of life. Visit the prisons, and you will find many in those situations, who are desperate, wearing in their countenances a content of insensibility produced by despair.

I recollect, when I was in the dungeon at North­ampton, and every prospect of relief was out of the question, that I felt a degree of calm or sullen con­tent, under my situation. I really thought, that I rejoiced in it, because, said I, "the end will soon come to all my sufferings." These were my sensa­tions, so long as the prospect of better days was out of the question; but, as soon as the sound of relief had reached my ears, these images fled like the "baseless fabric of a vision, and left not a trace be­hind.

The mind, when out of her bias, is ever struggling for a state of rest, or tranquillity, and according to the strength she possesses, gains that situation soon­er or later. There are but very few minds, but what will gain that situation, ultimately, let the strokes of adversity be ever so heavy. It is true, that some are overpowered; the powers of their minds are broken, and they either become delirious, or else sink to the grave, under the pressure of mis­fortune. Of all situations in life, that is the most dreadful, which produces death or dilirium, by those wounds, which the mind has suffered.

You intimate, sir, that you wish me to give a par­ticular [Page 290] description of the people, in the different states, their manners, their local peculiarities, their particular customs, their economy, property, in­dustry, genius, and tempers; likewise, the nature of the soil, in different parts of this country, the price that land bears, the quantity and kind which it pro­duces, the different methods of agriculture, the dif­ferent facility of obtaining a living, &c.

You require of me a task, which I do not think myself competent to perform, with accuracy; how­ever, in my next attempt, after my return, I will endeavour to gratify your request, in as great a measure, as my opportunity furnished materials for, when I made the tour of the United States.

My situation was such, when I made a journey through the states, that I had an opportunity of ob­serving many things, which other travellers have not; on the other hand, travellers in general, have an opportunity of observing many things, in the course of their travelling, which I had not; there­fore, sir, if you can gather any thing from my ob­servations, on those subjects, which you have request­ed, either profitable or amusing, I shall be heighly gratified with my performance.

Baron Tr [...]nk observes, that he once travelled in his coach through Poland, that he thought he was acquainted with the people, with their manners and genius. But afterwards he was compelled to travel through this country, in a most abject situation, and under the necessity of begging his bread. Then it was he discovered his mistake. He found them to be another, and very different people, from what be had apprehended in his former tour. So true it is, that mankind will wear the veil of deception, generally, in all countries.

My situation, in respect to property, was some­what similar to the Baron's, in his last tour through Poland, but to the honor of humanity, be it said, [Page 291] that in many places, I found a very different recep­tion, from what the Baron met with. Yet, in some instances, the unfeeling heart, wore a prominent appearance in the character of the inhabitants of the country.

In different states, I found a great difference in the manners and morals of the people; in their refine­ment, feelings, and sentiments; and in different parts of the same states, I found this variation e­qually great. The causes which produce this, I will not undertake to assign: however, shall wish to hint my ideas respecting it, when I enter on that subject. Could the causes of these variations be traced, and clearly understood, they would be of the utmost service to society, and an object worthy the attention of every benevolent mind.

There is something in the system of education, yet undiscovered, which, I believe, would have the most effectual operation upon the world of mankind, in forming their minds in such a manner, as to render them fitted for the enjoyment of society, without the interruption of those irregularities, which overthrow the happiness of the social state. That denomina­tion of people, called Quakers, have brought their mode of education to the greatest state of perfec­tion, of any class, with whom I have been acquaint­ed. We find a state of the utmost order among them, and this too, founded upon the most simple principles. Their manners and conduct savour very strongly of their education.

Having never been educated to the business of far­ming, it cannot be expected, that my mind was suf­ficiently enlightened upon that head, to make such inquiries, and observations, as would tend to throw light upon the subject; though perhaps this might afford an inquiry of the greatest utility to society, were it taken up, and pursued, by some one able to perform the task. True it is, that many different [Page 292] methods are made use of in agriculture; these meth­ods are in a measure local, retained by those, who have been in the custom of using them, and parted from with reluctance for others, not so common, but perhaps more useful.

What circumstances of that kind came to my view and observation, I will mention. Perhaps you may draw some ideas from them, which may be new and useful, but I have no expectation that you will many.

Relating to the subject of Land—the price which it bears in different parts of the states, the quality, situation, convenience, &c. which it possesses, its quality and kind of produce, the nett proceeds which it averages to the possessor, in different places, are all objects, which have claimed a considerable share of my attention, when opportunity has invest­ed me with a chance for observation. I have, more­over, had my attention much occupied by the differ­ent degrees of industry and economy, which have marked the characters of different people.

It has been the practice of the greater part of writers, to speak in general terms, respecting the sub­ject, of which they are treating—this mode has un­doubtedly its advantages; but perhaps it may not embrace all the advantages, which a more minute description would afford; as for example, should a a writer, in general terms, describe the state of Georgia, as a fruitful country, abounding with the conveniences and luxuries of life, &c. the reader would, undoubtedly, obtain an idea of its being a country, in which property might be acquired with a degree of facility. Yet he could hardly form an accurate estimate of the particular occupation or business, which would afford the most considerable and ready profit. Whether a capital would be ab­solutely necessary in order to prosecute business, and if necessary, how large that capital must be. He [Page 293] could not form an estimate of the difference in the profit, which he would realize by relinquishing bu­siness in one state, and removing to another; as for instance, from Newhampshire to Georgia; and of consequence, could not determine with propriety upon such an object, should it be presented to his his view. On the contrary, should the cost of an acre of land, in the state of nature, be shewn; the additional cost to render that acre pro­ductive, the profits which the land would afford, both in Newhampshire and Georgia; then the rea­der would be possessed with data, by which he might state his calculations, and form an accurate estimate of the object of acquiring property, both in Georgia and Nehampshire, and learn the advantage, if any, that one would have over the other; and how great that advantage would be.

Thus likewise, by a minute description of the price, which articles of importation bear in the two states; the price of those for exportation; the quantity and quality of those articles; the demand for them; the facility of importing, and exporting; the price of living; the mode of dealing &c. would give a sufficient fund of information, for any one to decide upon the subject of merchandise in either state; so likewise for mechanics, and every other employment which admits of profit.

This is a system of writing, which I do not recol­lect to ever have seen; and I have somewhat won­dered at the circumstance. There are advantages to be derived from such a method, sufficiently great to claim the attention of the literary world; and, I believe such a method would afford more useful instruction to the philosopher, the politician, the farmer, the mechanic, and the merchant, than any other, which has been made use of. This method draws the picture of men and manners to the life, [Page 294] and gives every man an opportunity of viewing, and making his own reflections upon it.

When we are, in this manner, made acquainted with countries, men, manners, customs, [...] in the more minute departments, we have data to form our own opinions, relating to the various causes, which produce the difference effects upon [...]; and are not dependent on others for an opinion res­pecting them.

When I travelled through the states, my situation and circumstances did not admit that extensive op­portunity for information and observation, upon these subjects, which my propensity lead me to desire. However, what observations I was in a capacity to make, I paid the strictest attention to form, with as much accuracy, as my judgment would allow. I did not settle down upon an opinion, until I had satisfactory evidence of the just principle upon which it was founded. Should I ever again travel through the states, I should devote my attention greatly to such an object; and endeavour, upon the most thorough plan, to investigate all the little secret springs, which set the wheels of society in motion.

Should the population and emigrations into these states, be as great, for one hundred years to come, as they have been for the same time past, what [...] multitude must this continent contain [...] seems to be swiftly hastening forward her events, to fill up the measure of time!

Here is a vast field for the philosophic eye to view; perhaps there may be more [...]ffected for the good of society, during the continuation of the A­merican settlements, improvements, inventions, and experiments, than ever took place at any other, or perhaps, at every period, since time began. The philanthropist will be induced to labour with re­doubled exertion, in this field, owing to the anima­ting [Page 295] prospect of success, which he will have in view, as a reward for his labour.

Did the philosopher have nothing more in view, than his own, particular benefit, this would be a sufficient motive for him to be incessant in his researches, after that knowledge, and improvement, which would tend to the general good; there is a general connection which does, and must exist, in the world; and no man discovers and communi­cates useful knowledge to mankind, but he himself will reap the advantage.

No discovery, in its crude state, but what admits of improvement. When it is flung open to the world, every person has the opportunity of amend­ing, improving, and altering, as judgment and ex­periment will [...], until it is brought to perfec­tion; and then every member of society enjoys the privilege, which such improvements produce.

A stronger motive, than all these considerations, has [...] influence upon the mind of the real philoso­pher. To view himself as able to promote the hap­peners of his brethren, the common stock of the human race; to see himself contributing to in­crease their joy, comfort, and prosperity; to be­hold the various circles of society, wearing counte­nances [...] of care and remorse; to see the ten­der [...] among more intimate degrees of [...] indulged in their utmost latitude, without the cloud of care to intervene, or the cor­roding sting of disappointment! this is a luxury of enjoyment, a feast of pleasure, beyond the utmost conception of the voluptuous epicure! and the more deeply we dip into these enjoyments, the kee­ner is our appetite for their relish. These bring no alloy, no pain, no disease. No evil attends their indulgence, no repentance grows from their use.

And now, sir, permit me to address this wish to you and family—That the perfection of all these [Page 296] grateful sensations may be enjoyed by you, in their fullest measure. That as your family increases, their opening minds may drink deep of this principle, and enjoy the effects, so long as they continue to oc­cupy a station upon this stage of mutual dependence. That the most striking examples of filial, parental, connubial, and fraternal affection, may pervade the whole body; and when such a series of time has rol­led away, as to admit you among the higher orders of beings, in that state, where we are but little ac­quainted, may the memory of you and family be called into view, with the most grateful emotions, and pleasing sensations.