ST. PIERRE'S STORY. DURING a valetudinary journey on horseback, through the central parts of New England, some years ago, I turned aside from the highway to enjoy the greenness of a country road which wound under the arches of a forest, towards the bases of steep and rugged hills. Coming upon a steep ascent I fastened the bridle of my horse to the swinging arm of an oak, and pursued the ascent by a rocky ravine, through which a stream rushed full and foaming The branches that grew far above, interlaced a green canopy, which made the color of the rushing waters of the purest emerald. Stepping from rock to rock, I ascended. The waters came down by a succession of slender cataracts, lessening toward the summit. Here was an open and cultivated space, forming a ring of green fields, surrounding a lake, out of which these waters flowed. Deep forests rose around, on the sides of precipitous hills. A narrow footway led along the edge of the forest to a clearing beyond the lake, where a farm house of the smallest dimensions indicated a master whose poverty, or whose misanthropy led him to prefer a life of solitary, unassisted labor. The entire cultivated space lying about the lake did not exceed perhaps ten acres. It was not more than could have been rudely tilled by the hand of one man. A footway leading from the house to the lake, went out upon the water, by a pier of planks and stones, showing that the owner could content himself with the turbid and insipid waters of what must have been, most time, a standing pool. Rude implements of husbandry were laid on the bare earth before the door. A lean horse bit the herbage near by, and a dog of savage appearance saluted me with a surly, inhospitable growl. The door opened slowly and suspiciously. A man evidently advanced in years made his appearance, of a stature tall and perfectly erect. His head was bald, but a beard of snowy whiteness flowed from his face, almost to the girdle. The rough dress of an husbandman indicated his occupation; but his invitation to enter was given with a voice that showed an early refinement and a knowledge of hospitality. His countenance, showed lines of character blended with the injuries of grief and melancholy, and somewhat impaired by the timidity of a long solitude. I entered, and accepting the sole chair, while my entertainer seated himself on the frame work of boards which served him for a bed, a conversation ensued, such as is usual between travellers and rustic entertainers. The situation of his farm, the character of the soil, the splendor of the scenery, for a while engaged us, and soon, as if forgetful of himself, and after he had set before me some temporary refreshment, he began to speak of other scenes in other lands. His accent and a certain vivacity of manners showed that he was of foreign birth. From a beam in one corner of the room, among a collection of dried gourds and bunches of maize, hung, neglected and covered with dust, a suit of regimentals, and by a gold chain the star of an order, and the cross of the Legion of Honor. Seeing my attention attracted by these marks of former though evidently not forgotten glory, a melancholy smile overspread his features, which communicated to them an expression of regret, though not unmixed with pride. "You have served," I said, " in the armies of the Emperor." "Yes," he answered, "from the age of sixteen till that of twenty-five. After the defeat at Waterloo I renounced the military profession, and came to America. I brought with me a moderate fortune-what you here call a competency; and what was more, I brought hope, and even enthusiasm. The fortune I have still left me." A pause followed I began to have a strong desire to know something of the history of this recluse Wishing to open an avenue to further and freer conversation, I asked how it in possession of wealth, he had chosen the hard conditions of poverty. was, that "Merely to live," replied he carelessly, "is perhaps necessary while God pleases; but for happiness, I know of but one kind; and that is, to have a mind free from remorse, a conscience void of offence. The life I have chosen is that of a monk, of a penitent," he said bowing his head meekly; "and even in that I can find, if not happiness, at least content." Respect forbade my pressing this dignified ascetic with questions of his life; but he said, "Your countenance is one that most men would confide in, and as it is not my fortune to meet often with such, for here I am visited only by rustics, let me confess that it would be a pleasure to me to relate what you seem desirous to hear." I assented. We went out and took seats upon the greensward, under the shadows of a neighboring oak. After a pause of some minutes, during which he seemed to be collecting his thoughts, the stranger began as follows: "Living solitary, I have perhaps fallen into childishness, which is one of the effects of solitude; and at intervals I feel a desire to relate my history. This desire once indulged requires a second indulgence. setts, who was wintering in New Orleans, I made a formal offer of myself in marriage, and was accepted. An unexpected happiness ensued. As my opinion of the other sex had been formed by the rude experience of a soldier, and not much improved by the intercourse of a frivolous society, the virtues of my sweet companion were a new and delightful discovery. We soon became attached by the most ardent affection. The year after our marriage was passed in the enjoyment of the most innocent and heavenly delights. So absorbing was our attachment, it became more agreeable to us to withdraw into a comparative seclusion, in order to find more leisure for the enjoyment of each other. Our felicity was the envy and the admiration of those whom we admitted to our society. His Among our most frequent visitors was a gentleman of my own age, an American, and a Northerner by birth, but educated, as I had been, in a French university. Foreign travel had improved the naturally easy and agreeable manners of my friend, (for as such I was soon obliged to regard him,) to a great refinement. His bold bearing was tempered with an acquired At the age of twenty-five, in the full mildness, which only added fear to the reenjoyment of youth, health, and fortune, spect with which he was regarded by his I landed at New Orleans, with the resolu- inferiors. The name of this gentleman tion, as I touched your shores, of becoming was Eustis. He was of good extraction, in every sense a citizen of your country. and prided himself upon the antiquity and As I had faithfully served the Emperor in virtue of his family, and on a character war, so I wished to serve the Republic in uncontaminated by any meanness. peace. Provided with letters of introduc- Northern blood appeared in the metaphystion, and accustomed to your language, in ical and calculating habit of his mind. Ena little time I found myself accepted in joying the reputation and the business of cultivated and influential circles, with a a popular advocate, he could yet find leisprospect before me of realizing my ambiti-ure to engage in speculative adventures, ous hopes. I shunned the company of Europeans. I mingled especially with persons politically influential. I brought with me the frank ambition of a soldier: I learned from them something of the shrewdness and too much of the scepticism and the policy of those who seek power for its own sake." After living for a time an easy and somewhat dissipated life, into which I entered with the desire of familiarizing myself with the character and social habits of your countrymen, I began to contemplate a more serious and settled course of existence; and being taken with the manners and the beauty of a young heiress from Massachu and though his losses were often equal to his gains, he preserved the equanimity and calmness of a man whose confidence in his resources never deserts him. With me it had been always a necessity to have a friend, and even an intimate; and until the powerful passion of love made him seem less necessary to me, Eustis had been to me all that one man can be to another, a friend, a social intimate, a skillful adviser in business, and a means of introduction to good society. There was nothing in him, one would have thought, that he would desire to conceal, and his morality surpassed the standard of my own. It was especially by this latter advantage, which he had by his Puritan education, that Eustis acquired a great control over my sentiments. What seemed right to him, seemed right to me. Morally speaking, he was my master, though to others I appeared his superior in every external advantage. My wife, on the contrary, who was a distant connection of his, and had been his playfellow in childhood, conceived for him a strong aversion, which, notwithstanding her devotion to my wishes, increased almost to a passion during the first year of our married life. As Eustis and I were constantly exchanging visits, I very soon discovered her sentiments in regard to him, and did all in my power to change or soften them, but with consequences the reverse of what was intended. At a little distance from the city I had purchased a plantation, adjoining that of my friend, who was unmarried, in order to make our social intercourse more free and frequent. I learned from him the arts of agriculture and economy, as then practised, and what was more difficult, acquired, by assiduous inquiry on my own and skillful instruction on his part, a good knowledge of the history and political constitution of the country. These obligations bound me closely to my friend. We maintained a daily intercourse. We did every thing in our power to make our homes agreeable to each other, by society of the choicest, and conduct the most hospitable. Eustis was too quick an observer, not to comprehend at once the excellence of my wife, and to think he understood the hostility with which she regarded him. "When we were children together," he would sometimes say, "Ellen and I were excellent friends; but now, she is jealous of me. She wishes to absorb you entirely. Some women are as jealous of a male as of a female rival." This explanation seemed very agreeable, and heightened my regard for both. With this exception, I remember nothing that happened amiss during the first three years of my marriage. At the end of the first year, my wife brought me a daughter, who is still living, in enjoyment of the fortune which I have long since renounced. A vigorous constitution carried me unacclimated through two seasons of danger. landed. In the midst of the first, I had The second and third year safely passed. The fourth now approached and prostrated me. I fell violently ill with the fever of the country, and my life was despaired of. Notwithstanding the little preparation I had made for death, I was unconscious of fear. Only one anxiety possessed me, to ensure the worldly comfort, and if possible the happiness, of my wife and child. Under the advice of Eustis, my fortune had been judiciously invested in valuable plantations. To secure it to its right owners, I had only to make my friend the guardian of my child, and the executor of my will. Believing that it was only an affectionate jealousy that excited her hostility toward him, I had no hesitation in placing her under his care and direction. In the excitement of the time, my confidence in Eustis acquired a romantic character, and it began to seem necessary (for it was my fault to mistake impulses for necessities), that in the event of my decease, my widow should become the wife of my friend. He who has so loved me, thought I, will surely love my child; at least, for my sake, he will be kind and just to it. As for my poor Ellen's hostility to him, it is the effect of jealousy, and will wear off as soon as she finds herself dependent upon his generous nature. The design once formed, I thought it impossible to die in peace until it was made sure. I caused a will to be executed in which, after disposing of the body of my property to my wife and child, I bequeathed a valuable share of it to Eustis. I then wrote a paper, containing an injunction upon him, and upon my widow, if they wished for the continued affection and approbation of the departed soul (which, from its place of rest or of torment, would continue to sympathize with their happiness and their misery), to unite themselves with each other in marriage, after the lapse of not more than two years from my decease. After the making and witnessing of the will, I called Eustis to my bed-side, and with difficulty, so near did I seem to dissolution, laid upon him the solemn injunction that the document, urging the marriage, should not be opened, under any conditions, until two years had elapsed from my decease; and that if, at the end of that time, it appeared that the consent of the other party could not be obtained for the marriage, the paper should be destroyed, and its contents remain a secret with him self. Although my eyes at that moment were somewhat dimmed with the film of a threatened dissolution, I remember well the flush of astonishment and pleasure which passed over the features of my friend when he learned the contents of the papers. A dreadful misgiving smote upon my heart with such violence, my very life seemed to fail under it, and from that instant all was a blank. ent, insisted on a farther examination, and soon discovered signs of life in the body. The first effects of this astounding intelligence was to produce a stupefaction of my senses, changing quickly into the delirium of fever, which lasted, almost without intermission, until we had gone far out on the Atlantic. A gradual convalescence enabled me, at length, to collect my thoughts, and resolve upon a course of conduct which I afterward pursued with a strength of resolution natural to me, and wholly independent of all scruples of conscience. Indeed, such, until then, had been my way of life, that ideas of right and wrong had hardly made their appearance in my thoughts. I was a man of honor, a firm friend, a dangerous enemy, and a sit-keeper of promises, and that seemed to be enough. My own will, and my proper fame were the gods of my adoration. On rousing from this trance, which had lasted I knew not how long, I found myself lying in the cabin of a ship, attended by a French surgeon. The change of uation, so apparently instantaneous, though I learned afterwards that a full week had elapsed, affected me like the loss of personal identity. And for some time I was speechless, and trembled with fear and astonishment. The surgeon began to speak to me in French, calling me by name, with many respectful and soothing expressions. Soon, I recognized his features and voice as those of an old friend and companion in the army. As I gradually acquired strength to bear it, he explained to me my situation. It was supposed that I had died. After the second day, fearing putrifaction, Eustis had commanded my corpse to be sealed up in a leaden coffin. It was thought proper that my body should be sent to France, to be placed with those of my ancestors, in the family tomb at Aix, where I was a native. My obsequies were celebrated with great magnificence, and the coffin placed on ship board on the third day, the ship setting sail that very hour. The third day after, while in the gulf, they met a violent storm, which the mariners superstitiously attributed to the presence of a corpse on board. A mutiny was raised in consequence, and it was thought necessary to throw the coffin with its contents into the sea. In attempting, however, to bring it up from the cabin, the sailors were terrified by a movement within, and let their burden fall The surgeon communicated every particular of the funeral. He described the pale and almost deathful countenance of my wife, the dignified grief of Eustis, the lamentations of my faithful slaves, the sincere sorrow of the neighbors. In regard to all, I questioned him so closely and repeatedly he at length grew weary of the topic, and refused to advert to it. I became dissatisfied, and finally a suspicion. made a lodgment in my brain, that the dignified sorrow of Eustis was, at best, but a sham, and that my death had been desired by him, and was rejoiced over in secret. Ellen abhorred the man. Why did she so? Faultless herself, could she feel a groundless abhorrence? Was it an idle bias, or a well founded dislike? Perhaps, nay, probably, the latter. What a thrice sodden ass was I, then, to entrust her happiness in the keeping of one for whom she had a real cause of hatred! It was food for bitter and exquisite regret. But why, ah, why! if that was so, did she not open to her poor, deluded husband, the reason of her dislike? Was it just? was it kind? This, then, was a fault in my reputed angel. "But, stay. Women are frail. Weakness and wickedness are sister and brother. down through the companion way. It Perhaps my angel had another fault, grossburst open with the shock, and discovered er and more heinous;" and with that, a dark the face of a person in a trance, but evi- suspicion crossed me. Her aversion had dently not dead. The surgeon being pres-been only feigned, as a cover to something more than friendship. "Ah!" thought I, "I have it now. making myself known to Ellen, if the susWould Eustis have en-picion of her infidelity was confirmed. But if it proved that Eustis only was the deceiver, I would allow him to test her affection to the utmost until the two years of her probation had fully elapsed. dured, day after day, the presence of a spirited woman who hated him, and who did not conceal her hatred? I could not have done so, nor could he. Plainly, then, her animosity was a ruse.' Going to sleep with resolutions of a jealous revenge, I would dream that I had returned and was reconciled to Ellen. Again I pressed her to my heart, and waking, cursed the idle jealousy. Now, I resolved only to have revenge on Eustis, whose triumphant countenance, as it appeared at the moment of my supposed decease, haunted me like a vision of hell. Torn both ways by adverse jealousies, I resembled an unhappy soul for whom two fiends are contending. One hurries him toward the fire, the other toward the ice. No merciful angel interposed to rescue me from their malicious talons. My cries went up to heaven in vain. Haggard and despairing, I landed at Havre. A gift in money, amounting to a considerable sum, had been sent over in the care of the surgeon to my relations. The ship, having discharged a part of her cargo, moved off on a long voyage, and by the promise of a sufficient bribe to be paid them on their return, I imposed silence on the Captain and his men. They were soon after wrecked in the bay of Biscay, and all on board lost. My secret was safe. Under a feigned name I resided a year at Paris, with hardly a companion but my own direful imaginations. A hideous expression of despair appeared in my countenance, which made all men shun me. My nearest friends would not then have known me. My body became gaunt and emaciated. My hair and beard, which I now, for the first time, suffered to grow long, changed from dark brown to gray. My gait became unsteady and irregular, like that of a drunkard, for which, indeed, I was sometimes mistaken, though scarce any thing beside bread and water passed my lips. A powerful constitution, however, after a long continuance of this morbid misery began to get the better even of despair, and as my purse was nearly exhausted, it became necessary for me to return to America. During the homeward voyage I matured my original resolution of never again I had assumed at Paris the name of St. Pierre, and retained it; trusting also for an effectual disguise to the change of countenance which sickness, gray hairs, and a thick beard had given me; to which I added the black dress and demeanor grave of a clergyman-the latter, indeed, involuntary, and brought upon me by the wear and waste of sad meditation. I arrived at New Orleans at midsummer. The pestilence was raging in the city. The streets were deserted. The wealthier population had removed into the interior, or sought the cooler atmosphere of the Northern States. At the hotel I recognized an old negro of my own, a carpenter by trade, who by his industry and economy had acquired a competency for himself and his family. I had given this man his freedom. and a legacy in my will. He was the steward of the house. Trusting to his natural taciturnity and faithfulness, I sent for him to my chamber, having first darkened the room sufficiently to prevent too sudden a recognition. I began by questioning him in regard to Eustis, and learned with some difficulty from the old man, that my estates had been lately sold by him, and that he had gone to New York, taking with him my child and supposed widow, with the intention of remaining there, as the health of mistress, he said, had declined very much since the death of his former master. Struck with a sudden and poignant grief, I fell with my face upon the bed upon which I had been sitting, and wept aloud. The old man was very naturally surprised at this exhibition, and inquired whether master was in any way related to mistress. I assented, and then told him the story of my wonderful resuscitation. After listening to the whole in silence he came forward and fell at my feet. He wept and sobbed with emotion. He said that on first beholding me he did not think it was I, but that he knew me by my voice when I spoke of his mistress. Confirming the fidelity of the old man by a present of some valuable jewels, and the promise of a larger douceur on my return, I engaged |