CHAPTER I.
The little village of Burnsville, in Connecticut, was thrown into a state of excitement by the report that Hiram Meeker was about to remove to the city of New-York. Two or three elderly maiden ladies with whom Hiram was an especial favorite, declared there was not a word of truth in the ridiculous rumor. The girls of the village very generally discredited it. The young men said Hiram was not such a fool; he knew on which side his bread was buttered; he knew when to let well enough alone, and so forth. Still the report was circulated. To be sure, nobody believed it, yet it spread all the faster for being contradicted. I have said that the young ladies of Burnsville put no faith in the story. Possibly Sarah Burns was an exception, and Sarah, it was well understood, was an interested party, and would be apt to know the truth. She did not contradict the statement when made in her presence, and once, when appealed to for her opinion, she looked very serious, and said it might be so for all she knew. At length there were two parties formed in Burnsville. One on whose banner was inscribed: 'Hiram Meeker is going to New-York.' The other with flag bearing in large letters: 'No such thing: Hiram is not going.'
It would have been easy, one would suppose, to settle the important controversy by a direct appeal to Hiram Meeker himself. Strange to say, this does not appear to have been done, both sides fearing, like experienced generals, to risk the result on a single issue. But numerous were the hints and innuendoes conveyed to him, to which he always gave satisfactory replies—satisfactory to both parties—both contending he had, by his answers, confirmed their own particular view of the case.
This state of things could not last forever. It was brought suddenly to an end one Friday afternoon.
Hiram Meeker was a member, in regular standing, of the Congregational Church in Burnsville. The Preparatory Lecture, as it is called, that is, the lecture delivered prior to 'Communion-Sabbath,' in the church, was always on the previous Friday, at three o'clock P.M. On a pleasant day toward the end of April, Hiram Meeker and Sarah Burns went in company to attend this lecture. The exercises were especially interesting. Several young people, at the close of the services, who had previously been propounded, were examined as to their 'experience,' and a vote was separately taken on the admission of each. This over, the clergyman spoke as follows: 'Brother Hiram Meeker being about to remove from among us, desires to dissolve his connection with the Congregational church in Burnsville, and requests the usual certificate of membership and good standing. Is it your pleasure that he receive it? Those in favor will please to signify it.' Several 'right hands' were held up, and the matter was concluded. A young man who sat nearly opposite Sarah Burns, observed that on the announcement, her face became very pale.
When the little company of church-members was dismissed, Hiram Meeker and Sarah Burns walked away together as they came. No, not as they came, as the following conversation will show.
'Why did you not tell me, Hiram?'
'Because, Sarah, I did not fully decide till the mail came in this very afternoon. I had only time to speak to Mr. Chase, and there was no opportunity to see you, and I could not tell you about it while we were walking along so happy together.'
Hiram Meeker lied.
Sarah Burns could not disbelieve him; it was not possible Hiram would deceive her, but her heart felt the lie, nevertheless.
Hiram Meeker is the hero of this history. It is, therefore, necessary to give some account of him previous to his introduction to the reader on the afternoon of the preparatory lecture. At the date of the commencement of the narrative, he was already twenty-two years old. He was the youngest of several children. His father was a highly respectable man, who resided in Hampton, about fifteen miles from Burnsville, and cultivated one of the most valuable farms in the county. Mr. and Mrs. Meeker both had the reputation of being excellent people. They were exemplary members of the church, and brought up their children with a great deal of care. They were in every respect dissimilar. He was tall, thin, and dark-complexioned; she was almost short, very fair, and portly in appearance. Mr. Meeker was a kind-hearted, generous, unambitious man, who loved his home and his children, and rejoiced when he could see every body happy around him. He was neither close nor calculating. With a full share of natural ability, he did not turn his talents to accumulation, quite content if he made the ends of the year meet.
Mrs. Meeker was a woman who never took a step from impulse. She had a motive for every act of her life. Exceedingly acute in her judgments of people, she brought her shrewdness to bear on all occasions. She was a capital housekeeper, a most excellent manager, a pattern wife and mother. I say, 'pattern wife and mother,' for she was devoted to her husband's interests, which, to be sure, were equally her own; she made every thing very comfortable for him indoors, and she managed expenditures with an economy and closeness which Mr. Meeker was quite incapable of. She looked after her children with unremitting care. They were sent to better schools, and their associations were of a better description than those of her neighbors. She took personal pains with their religious culture. Although they were sent to Sunday-school, she herself taught them the Catechism, the Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, and the Sermon on the Mount, beside a great variety of Gospel hymns and Bible-stories. But along with these excellent teachings they were taught—what is apt to be taught in almost every family, to almost every child—to regard appearances, to make the best possible show to the world, to seem what they ought to be; apparently a sort of short-cut to goodness, but really a turnpike erected by the devil, which leads any where rather than to the desired point. Mrs. Meeker was a religious woman, scrupulous and exact in every outward observance; in this respect severe with herself and with all around her. Yet this never prevented her having an eye to the 'main chance,' which was, to get on in the world. Indeed, to attempt to do so, was with her a fundamental duty. She loved to pray the Lord to bless 'our basket and our store.' She dwelt much on the promise of 'a hundred-fold' in this world in addition to the 'inheritance of everlasting life.' She could repeat all the practical maxims which abound in the book of Proverbs, and she was careful, when she feared her husband was about to give way to a generous impulse in favor of a poor relation or neighbor, to put him in mind of his own large and increasing household, solemnly cautioning him that he who looked not well after it, was 'worse than an infidel.' In short, being fully convinced by application of her natural shrewd sense that religion was the safest thing for her here and hereafter, she became religious. In her piety there was manifested but one idea—self. Whatever she did, was from a sense of duty, and she did her duty because it was the way to prosperity and heaven.
I have remarked how different were husband and wife. They lived together, however, without discord, for Mr. Meeker yielded most points of controversy when they arose, and for the rest his wife was neither disagreeable nor unamiable. But the poor woman had experienced through life one great drawback; she had half-a-dozen fine children. Alas! not one of them resembled her in temper, character, or disposition. All possessed their father's happy traits, which were developed more and more as they grew older, despite their mother's incessant warnings and teachings.
Frank, the first-born, exhibited fondness for books, and early manifested an earnest desire for a liberal education with a view to the study of medicine. His father resolved to gratify him. His mother was opposed to it. She wanted her boy a merchant. 'Doctors,' she said, 'were mostly a poor set, who were obliged to work very hard by day and by night, and got little for it. If Frank would only be contented to go into her cousin's store, in New-York, (he was one of the prominent wholesale dry-goods jobbers,) why, there would be some hope of him, that is, if he could cure himself of certain extravagant notions; but to go through college, and then study medicine! Why couldn't he, at least, be a lawyer, then there might be a chance for him.'
'But the boy has no taste for mercantile life, nor for the law,' said Mr. Meeker.
'Taste—fiddlesticks,' responded his wife, 'as if a boy has a right to have any taste contrary to his parents' wish.'
'But, Jane, it is not contrary to my wish.'
Mrs. Meeker looked her husband steadily in the face. She saw there an unusual expression of firmness; something which she knew it to be idle to contend with, and with her usual good sense, she withdrew from the contest.
'Have it your own way, Mr. Meeker. You know my opinion. It was my duty to express it. Make of Frank what you like. I pray that he may be prospered in whatever he undertakes.'
So Frank was sent to college, with the understanding that, after graduating, he was to pursue his favorite study of medicine.
A few months after he entered, Mrs. Meeker gave birth to her seventh child—the subject of the present narrative. Her disappointment at Frank's destination was severe. Besides, she met with daily evidences that pained her. None of her children were, to use her expression, 'after her own heart.' There were two other boys, George and William, who she was accustomed to say, almost bitterly, were 'clear father.' The three girls, Jane, Laura, and Mary, one would suppose might represent the mother's side; but alas! they were 'clear father' too.
In her great distress, as Mrs. Meeker often afterward declared, she resolved to 'call upon the Lord.' She prayed that the child she was soon to give birth to might be a boy, and become a joy and consolation to his mother. She read over solicitously all the passages, of Scripture she could find, which she thought might be applicable to her case. As the event approached, she exhibited still greater faith and enthusiasm. She declared she had consecrated her child to God, and felt a holy confidence that the offering was accepted. Do not suppose from this, she intended to devote him to the ministry. That required a special call, and it did not appear such a call had been revealed to her. But she prayed earnestly that he might be chosen and favored of the Most High; that he might stand before kings; that he might not be slothful in business; but fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. The happy frame of mind Mrs. Meeker had attained, at length became the subject of conversation in the neighborhood. The clergyman was greatly interested. He even made allusion to it in the weekly prayer-meeting, which, by the by, rather scandalized some of the unmarried ladies present.
Mr. Meeker took all this in good part. The truth is, he regarded it as a very innocent whim, which required to be indulged in his wife's delicate situation; so he always joined in her hopeful anticipations, and endeavored to sympathize with them. It was under these auspicious circumstances that Hiram Meeker first saw the light. All his mother's prayers seemed to have been answered. The boy, from the earliest manifestation of intelligence, exhibited traits which could belong only to her. As he advanced into childhood, these became more and more apparent. He had none of the openness of disposition which was possessed by the other children. He gave much less trouble about the house than they ever did, and was more easily managed than they had been at his age. It must not be inferred that because he was his mother's favorite, he received any special indulgence, or was not subject to every proper discipline. Indeed, the discipline was more severe, the moral teachings more unremitting, the practical lessons more frequent than with any of the rest. But there could not exist a more tractable child than Hiram. He was apparently made for special training, he took to it so readily, as if appreciating results and anxious to arrive at them. When he was six years old, it was astonishing what a number of Bible-verses and Sunday-school hymns he had committed to memory, and how much the child knew. He was especially familiar with the uses of money. He knew the value of a dollar, and what could be purchased with it. So of half a dollar, a quarter, ten cents, and five cents. He had already established for himself a little savings bank, in which were placed the small sums which were occasionally presented to him. He could tell the cost of each of his playthings respectively, and, indeed, of every article about the house; he learned the price of tea, sugar, coffee, and molasses. This information, to be sure, formed a part of his mother's course of instruction; but it was strange how he took to it. Systematically and unceasingly, she pursued it. Oh! how she rejoiced in her youngest child. How she thanked God for answering her prayers. I had forgotten to state that there was considerable difficulty in deciding what name to give the boy. Mrs. Meeker had an uncle, a worthy minister, by the name of Nathaniel. Mr. Meeker suggested that the new-comer be called after him. His wife did not like to object; but she thought Nathaniel a very disagreeable name. Her cousin, the rich dry-goods merchant in New-York, who had four daughters and no sons, was named Hiram. Hiram was a good name, not too long and very expressive. It sounded firm and strong. It was a Bible-name, too, as well as the other. In fact, she liked it, and she thought her cousin would be gratified when he learned that she had named a child for him. There were advantages which might flow from it, it was not necessary to specify, Mr. Meeker could understand to what she alluded Mr. Meeker did not understand; in fact, he did not trouble his head to conjecture; but it was settled Hiram should be the name, and our hero was baptized accordingly. He was a good boy; never in mischief, never a truant, never disobedient, nor willful, nor irritable, nor obstinate. 'Too good for this world;' that is what folks said. 'Such an astonishing child—too wise to live long.' So it was prophesied; but Hiram survived all these dismal forebodings, until the people gave up and concluded to let him live.
We pass over his earlier days at school. At twelve, he was sent to the academy in the village, about a mile distant. He was to receive a first-rate English education, 'no Latin, no Greek, no nonsense,' to use his mother's language; but the real substantials. Hiram proved to be an excellent scholar. He was especially good in figures. When he came to study bookkeeping, he seemed as happy as if he were reading a romance. He mastered with ease the science of single and double entry. He soon became fascinated with the beauties of his imaginary business. For his instructor had prepared for him a regular set of books, and gave him problems, from day to day, in mercantile dealings, which opened up to the youth all the mysteries of 'Dr.' and 'Cr.' Out of these various problems, he constructed quite a little library of account-books, which he numbered, and which were representations of various descriptions of trade, and marked with the name of some supposed company, and labeled 'Business Successful,' or 'Business Unsuccessful,' as the case might be.
We must now turn from Hiram, engaged in diligently pursuing his studies, and enter on another topic.