the

time, under the dominion of Anne Lee, the founder of the shaker society: by the charitable deemed an enthusiast-by those of severer judgment, an impostor. At her first appearance in this country, she made many converts from among respectable class of farmers. Her dominion however over the Allen family was of short duration, and after a few weeks of wild fanaticism, the father and children returned to the half-distracted mother, to lament or deride their delusion. Susan Allen, the youngest child, alone remained constant to her new faith, which she had been the last to adopt, and which had been endeared to her by difficult sacrifices. Justin Allen as he was preparing, according to the uniform custom of our unportioned young farmers, to seek his fortunes in the west, received the intelligence of the death of a bachelor uncle, who had resided within forty miles of Boston, in a beautiful village, which we shall take the liberty to call Lansdown. This uncle had bequeathed to Allen a valuable farm and all the appurtenances thereunto belonging. He hastened to take possession of it; and to complete his happiness he married a well-educated and exemplary young woman from his native state. Five years after their marriage, Mrs. Allen returned from a short visit to Connecticut, bringing with her an infant girl, the child, as she said, of a young friend of hers who had died within the first year of her marriage, and had bequeathed the child to her. There was no improbability in the story; and as no one

in Lansdown knew Mrs. Allen's early connexions, the busy questioning spirit of village curiosity was not excited to inquiry or suspicion. Mrs. Allen was a woman who walked straight forward in the direct line of duty-simple in her manners, and ingenuous in her conduct; there was nothing about her to invite curiosity. It was observed that she loved the child tenderly; but that was natural, for besides that she was a most lovely little creature, she came to Mrs Allen before she had children of her own to occupy her maternal affections. From the time the child, who had received the name of Ellen, could comprehend any thing, Mrs. Allen had been in the habit of talking to her of her mother. But in spite of her efforts it was always in a sad tone; and once the child interrupted her to ask, "was not my mother good?" "Yes, my love, perfectly good." "Well then, is she not glad to be in such a place as heaven ?" "Yes, I believe so." "You need not look so sorry then, when you are talking about her."

Mrs Allen felt the propriety of the child's rebuke; but besides that it is always grievous to see a bud so early torn from its parent stock, there were bitter recollections associated with the memory of Ellen's mother, and especially with her death, that clouded Mrs. Allen's brow whenever she spoke of her. She did, however, in compliance with the last injunction of the unfortunate mother, faithfully endeavour to inspire the child with a love for her to make hope take the place

of memory; and by constantly cherishing the expectation of a reunion to her mother, she preserved in its strength the filial bond. It is only when our human affections are consecrated by a belief in their perpetuity, that they can have their perfect influence on the character. Ellen experienced the holy ministration of which they are capable from her earliest years. Before she reasoned, she felt a relation to heaven; her affections were set on things above. This shielded her innocence, and gave a tenderness and elevation to her character, as if the terrestrial had already put on the celestial. The natural gaiety of childhood, though sometimes intermitted, was not impaired. Her eyes, it is true, were tearful while she sate on her little bench at Mrs. Allen's feet, and listened to stories of her mother; but the next moment she was playing with her kitten, or bounding away in pursuit of a butterfly-so natural is it for the opening flower to shrink from a chilling influence, and expand to the sunbeams.

Ellen had been told by Mrs. Allen that she had no father; and whenever the child's interest was excited about him, (which was not often, as Mrs. Allen studiously avoided all mention of him,) the answers to her inquiries were discreetly framed to lull her curiosity, without communicating the least information. The impression she received was that he had died at nearly the same time with her mother.

Her childhood glided on to her fifth year, bright as a cloudless morning, when an event occurred that produced a great sensation in Lansdown, and materially affected the character and destiny of our heroine.

There was an estate adjoining Allen's, which from time immemorial, (a period that in our young country may mean half a century) had belonged to the Harrisons, a family residing in Boston. It had the usual fate of the property of absenteesthe house was out of repair, the fences in a ruinous condition, and the land from year to year depreciating from unfaithful husbandry.

Allen had gone on in the usual way, buying more cattle to graze his land, and more land to feed his cattle, till smitten with a desire to enlarge his territory, (the ruling passion of our farmers, each one of whom is said to covet all the land adjoining his own,) he cast his longing eyes on the Harrison farm, and easily persuaded himself there were good reasons in the nature of things why it should be united to his own. Both farms lay at the distance of half a mile from the village. Allen's was on an eminence, and divided from the Harrison estate by a small stream, whose annual overflowing enriched the lowlands of his neighbour without reaching to the elevation of his ; with every rain the cream of his soil trickled down to his neighbour's, and the droughts that seared his fields left his neighbours smiling in their verdant prosperity. Still the hand of the diligent, busy on

:

Allen's farm amply compensated for this natural disparity and when he realized the profits of his labour and thriftiness, his hankering after the facilities of the adjoining property increased to such a degree, that he sent to the proprietor a proposition for the purchase of it, by one of his townsmen, a member of the state legislature. Mr. Ro

bert Harrison, the representative of his family, received the proposition with indignation, and failed not to express his surprise that any one should presume to think he would part with a family estate. The honourable member, who was one of the numerous Cincinatuses of our country, called from the plough to patriotic duties, felt his new-made honours touched by this reflection on one of his constituents, and he replied, as to 'family estate, that was an old joke, that one family was as good as another nowadays, and that for his part, he must say it was his humble opinion that no family could be any honour to an estate, and no estate to a family, when it was left in such a condition as the Harrison farm at Lansdown.' The member's humble opinion stung the family pride of Mr. Robert Harrison; and from that moment he meditated a removal to the neglected farm, which, in the pride of his heart, he loved to call the family estate. Many circumstances strengthened his resolution. At the breaking out of the revolutionary war, Robert Harrison had just attained his majority, and entered into the possession of a large fortune, with the expectation of succeeding VOL. I.

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