CHAPTER II.

HIS FATHER RUINED REMOVAL TO VERMONT.

New Hampshire before the era of manufactures-Causes of his father's failure -Rum in the olden time-An execution in the house-Flight of the father-Horace and the Rum Jug-Compromise with the creditors-Removal to another farm—Final ruin-Removal to Vermont-The winter journey-Poverty of the familyScene at their new home-Cheerfulness in misfortune.

BUT while thus Horace was growing up to meet his destiny, pressing forward on the rural road to learning, and secreting character in that secluded home, a cloud, undiscerned by him, had come over his father's prospects. It began to gather when the boy was little more than six years old. In his seventh year it broke, and drove the family, for a time, from house and land. In his tenth, it had completed its work—his father was a ruined man, an exile, a fugitive from his native State.

In those days, before the great manufacturing towns which now afford the farmer a market for his produce had sprung into existence along the shores of the Merrimac, before a net-work of railroads regulated the price of grain in the barns of New Hampshire by the standard of Mark Lane, a farmer of New Hampshire was not, in his best estate, very far from ruin. Some articles which forty years ago were quite destitute of pecuniary value, now afford an ample profit. Fire-wood, for example, when Horace Greeley was a boy, could seldom be sold at any price. It was usually burned up on the land on which it grew, as a worthless incumbrance. Fire-wood now, in the city of Manchester, sells for six dollars a cord, and at any point within ten miles of Manchester for four dollars. Forty years ago, farmers had little surplus produce, and that little had to be carried far, and it brought little money home. In short, before the manufacturing system was introduced into New Hampshire, affording employment to her daughters in the factory, to her sons on the land, New Hampshire was a poverty-stricken State.

It is one of the wonders of party infatuation, that the two States which if they have not gained most, have certainly most to gain from the "American system," should have always been, and should still be its most rooted opponents. But man the partisan, like man the sectarian, is, always was, and will ever be, a poor creature.

The way to thrive in New Hampshire was to work very hard keep the store-bill small, stick to the farm, and be no man's security. Of these four things, Horace's father did only one—he worked hard. He was a good workman, methodical, skillful, and persevering. But he speculated in lumber, and lost money by it. He was bound,' as they say in the country, for another man, and had to pay the money which that other man failed to pay. He had a free and generous nature, lived well, treated the men whom he employed liberally, and in various ways swelled his account with the storekeeper.

Those, too, were the jolly, bad days, when everybody drank strong drinks, and no one supposed that the affairs of life could possibly be transacted without its agency, any more than a machine could go without the lubricating oil. A field could not be 'logged,' hay could not be got in, a harvest could not be gathered, unless the jug of liquor stood by the spring, and unless the spring was visited many times in the day by all hands. No visitor could be sent unmoistened away. No holiday could be celebrated without drinkingbooths. At weddings, at christenings, at funerals, rum seemed to be the inducement that brought, and the tie that bound, the company together. It was rum that cemented friendship, and rum that clinched bargains; rum that kept out the cold of winter, and rum that moderated the summer's heat. Men drank it, women drank it, children drank it. There were families in which the first duty of every morning was to serve around to all its members, even to the youngest child, a certain portion of alcoholic liquor. Rum had to be bought with money, and money was hard to get in New Hampshire. Zaccheus Greeley was not the man to stint his workmen. At his house and on his farm the jug was never empty. In his cellar the cider never was out. And so, by losses which he could not help, by practices which had not yet been discovered to be unnecessary, his affairs became disordered, and he began 14, descend the easy steep that leads to the abyss of bankruptcy. He

CHAPTER II.

HIS FATHER RUINED-REMOVAL TO VERMONT.

New Hampshire before the era of manufactures-Causes of his father's fail in the olden time-An execution in the house-Flight of the father-I the Rum Jug-Compromise with the creditors-Removal to another nal ruin-Removal to Vermont-The winter journey-Poverty of t Scene at their new home-Cheerfulness in misfortune.

BUT while thus Horace was growing up to meet 1 pressing forward on the rural road to learning, and se acter in that secluded home, a cloud, undiscerned by hi over his father's prospects. It began to gather when little more than six years old. In his seventh year drove the family, for a time, from house and land. had completed its work-his father was a ruined 1 fugitive from his native State.

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In those days, before the great manufacturing to afford the farmer a market for his produce had ence along the shores of the Merrimac, before roads regulated the price of grain in the barns by the standard of Mark Lane, a farmer of N not, in his best estate, very far from ruin. So forty years ago were quite destitute of pecuniar an ample profit. Fire-wood, for example, wspected; and was a boy, could seldom be sold at any pleaded, was burned up on the land on which it grew, as a wo Fire-wood now, in the city of Manchester, cord, and at any point within ten miles of M lars. Forty years ago, farmers had little su little had to be carried far, and it brought short, before the manufacturing system w Hampshire, an employment to her to her sons d, New Hampshi

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tup for a counhey were cleared found an estate," mansion house" has e wing here, another attempt at a park-gate it tawdry once, to look seful to Zaccheus Greeley n work, rented him a small ust mentioned, and thus ent his family to a new home. n they made the journey. The es to tell how 'old Zac Greeley

d take his sleigh and horses, and pshire State, and bring his family d got a few miles on the way, he said ) was a stranger to him, and he did n't tout enough to secure him; and so Zao ure him, and away they drove to New Sabah, was sufficient to convey all the little the load could not have

arrived lingered a few years on the edge-was pushed in--and scrambled out on the other side.

It was on a Monday morning. There had been a long, fierce rain, and the clouds still hung heavy and dark over the hills. Horace, then only nine years old, on coming down stairs in the morning, saw several men about the house; neighbors, some of them; others were strangers; others he had seen in the village. He was too young to know the nature of an Execution, and by what right the sheriff and a party of men laid hands upon his father's property. His father had walked quietly off into the woods; for, at that period, a man's person was not exempt from seizure. Horace had a vague idea that the men had come to rob them of all they possessed; and wild stories are afloat in the neighborhood, of the boy's conduct on the occasion. Some say, that he seized a hatchet, ran to the neighboring field, and began furiously to cut down a favorite pear-tree, saying, "They shall not have that, anyhow." But his mother called him off, and the pear-tree still stands. Another story is, that he went to one of his mother's closets, and taking as many of her dresses as he could grasp in his arms, ran away with them into the woods, hid them behind a rock, and then came back to the house for more. Others assert, that the article carried off by the indignant boy was not dresses, but a gallon of ruin. But whatever the boy did, or left undone, the reader may imagine that it was to all the family a day of confusion, anguish, and horror. Both of Horace's parents were persons of incorruptible honesty; they had striven hard to place such a calamity as this far from their house they had never experienced themselves, nor witnessed at their earlier homes, a similar scene; the blow was unexpected; and mingled with their sense of shame at being publicly degraded, was a feeling of honest rage at the supposed injustice of so summary a proceeding. It was a dark day; but it passed, as the darkest day will.

An "arrangement" was made with the creditors. Mr. Greeley gave up his own farm, temporarily, and removed to another in the adjoining town of Bedford, which he cultivated on shares, and devoted principally to the raising of hops. Misfortune still pursued him. His two years' experience of hop-growing was not satisfactory. The hop-market was depressed. His own farm in Amherst