Then each glad voice
Shall loud rejoice,
And chains shall fall from every hand,
Whilst myriad tongues shall loudly tell
The grateful joy of hearts that swell,
Where Freedom reigns o'er sea and land.
TAPVILLE was situated on the borders of one of the most beautiful rivers that grace and refresh the soil of New England. It was once a quiet place, once as perfect in its character as any of its sisterhood. A moral atmosphere pervaded it, and the glorious and divine principle of doing unto others as they would have others do unto them governed its inhabitants; and, therefore, it was not strange that its farmers and storekeepers kept good the proverbial honesty and hospitality of their progenitors. Tradition said (but written history was silent) that a few of those who landed at Plymouth Rock separated from the main body, and took up their abode further in the interior; and that, from these "few," a flourishing company arose, and the place they inhabited was "Springvale." But time and circumstances having much to do with the concerns of earth's inhabitants, changed the character as well as the name of this ancient town, and "Springvale" became "Tapville."
One evening, in the year one thousand eight hundred and I don't remember what, after a somewhat fatiguing ride on horseback all day, my heart was cheered on coming in view of the town. I had never visited Tapville, but, from accounts I had heard, judged it to be a sort of Pandemonium-a juvenile Bedlam. As I entered, troops of children greeted me with shouts, and my horse with stones. Despite of my treatment, I could not but compare their appearance, to say nothing of their conduct, with those I had last seen in another town, thirty miles distant. These were attired in rags, those in good clothing; these with unwashed faces, uncombed hair, and bearing every mark of neglect,—those bright and smiling, happy themselves, and making all around them so.
I did not much fancy my reception, I assure you. My horse seemed wondering at the cause of it, for he suddenly halted, then turned slowly about, and began to canter away with a speed that I thought quite impossible for a beast after a long day's work. I reined him in, turned about, and entered the town by a small and not much frequented pathway.
There was a large building at my left, with a huge sign over its principal door, from which I learned that "Good Entertainment for Man and Beast" might be had within. Appearances, however, indicated that a beast must be a very bad beast who would accept its "entertainment."
A fat man, wearing a green jacket on his back, an old torn and tattered straw hat on his head, and both hands in his pockets, stood lazily at the door; before which half a score of dirty children were playing with marbles, and a short distance from which a couple of children were fighting, upon whose pugilistic exercises a woman, with a child in her arms and a pipe in her mouth, was gazing with intense interest.
The general appearance of the town was far from pleasing. At nearly every window, hats, or shingles, or bundles of rags, took the place of glass, and the doors, instead of being hung on hinges, were "set up," liable to be set down by the first gust of wind.
Near one miserable shantee, poor, very poor apology for a dwelling-house, one man was endeavoring to get another into the house; at least, so I thought; but both were so much intoxicated that I could not tell, for my life, which the latter was. At one moment, the man with the blue coat with the tails cut off seemed to be helping the man without a coat; the next moment, I thought the coatless man was trying to help the other. The fact was, both needed help, which neither could give; so they remained "in a fix."
Now and then, a bare-footed little child would run across my path, and hurry out of sight, as if fearful of being seen where so much that was neither of heaven nor of earth was discernible.
In striking contrast with the want and desolation around, stood a beautiful mansion. Around it was a garden of choice flowers, and the vine, with its rich clusters of luscious grapes, shaded the path to the entrance of the house.