Memoirs of the notorious Stephen Burroughs: Containing many incidents in the life ...

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MEMOIRS
OF
THE NOTORIOUS
STEPHEN BURROUGHS:
CONTAINING MANY INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE
OF THIS WONDERFUL MAN, NEVER
BEFORE PUBLISHED.
STEREOTYPE EDITION,
NEWLY CORRECTED AND REVISED.
<*He left a rillain's name to other times,
Linked to no virtue, but a thousand crimes!"
—
Btbok.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.
NEW YORK
:
PUBLIS lED BY NAFIS & CORNISH,
St. Louis, (AIo.1—Nafis, Cornish it Co.
^2^ Philadelphia—John B. Perry.
I.
M^
KAD^I-i BROWN DRAUGHON LIBRARY
AUBURN UNIVERSITY ALABAMA 36^4^^
m-r 1 '74
no I y^g following is a Letter from the Author to a Friend) who
had requested a Narrative of his Life.
Washington, July 25, 1791.
Dear Sir,
The uninterrupted attention of your politeness to my
welfare, since my arrival in this country, is a sufficient in-ducement
for me to attend to any request which you shall
barely intimate. You mentioned yesterday, whilst I was
enjoying the agreeable society of your family, that a relation
of my adventures would be highly gratifying at some con-venient
time, when opportunity would serve. You say, that
what had come to your knowledge previous to any acquaint-ance
with me, but more especially what has occurred since
my residence in this place, has filled you with an almost irre-sistable
anxiety to be made acquainted with the more minute
circumstances of a life which has been filled with so many
curious anecdotes and unheard of occurrences. I fear the
relation will poorly answer your expectations. My life, it
is true, has been one continued course of tumult, revolution
and vexation ; and such as it is, I will give to you in detail,
(in this method, rather than verbally, it being more conven-ient
to peruse it at your leisure, than to listen to the drAl tale
of egotisms which I must make use of in a verbal relation.)
When you become tired with reading, you will be under no
necessity of holding the book in your hand from the feelings
of delicacy, but can lay it by at leisure. This liberty you
could not so conveniently take with a dull relater of a more
dull narrative. You say my character, to you, is an enigma
;
that I possess an uncommon share of sensibility, and at the
^ same time, maintain an equality of mind which is uncom-mon,
particularly in the midst ot those occurrences which
^
are calculated to wound the leclings. I have learned forti-tude
in the school of adversit^. In draining the cup of bit-
I terness to its dregs, I have ^een aught to despise the occur-
4fences of misfortune. This one thing I fully believe, that
VI
our happiness is in our power more than is generally thought ;;
or at least, we have the ability of preventing that misery
which is so common to unfortunate situations. No state or
condition in life, but from which we may (if we exercise
that reason which the God of Nature has given us) draw
comfort and happiness. We are too apt to be governed by
the opinion of others, and if they think our circumstances
unhappy, to consider them so ourselves, and of course, make
them so. The state of the mind is the only criterion of hap-hiness
or misery. The Cynic Diogenes was more happy
than the Conqueror Alexander, and the Philosopher Socrates
more happy than either. They all had, undoubtedly, pas-sions
and feelings alike, which, not properly regulated,.
would have rendered them equally unhappy. Yet, when-ever
reason stood at the helm, the vessel was brought into
the haven of peace.
MEMOIES
OF
STEPHEN BURROUGHS
CHAPTER I.
"Full well I know you; deep, too deep engrav'd,
"On memory's tablet your rude horrors live."
In relating the facts of my life to you, I shall endeavor to
give as simple an account of them as I am able, virithout co-loring
or darkening any circumstances ; although the rela-tion
of many matters will give me a degree and kind of pain,,
which only they who feel can describe. I have often lament-ed
my neglect of keeping minutes of the occurrences of my
life, from time to time, when they were fresh in my memory,
and alive to my feelings ; the disadvantage of which I now
feel, when I come to run over in my mind the chain which
has connected the events together. Many circumstances are
entirely lost, and many more so obscurely remembered, that
I shall not even attempt to give tnem a place in this account.
Not to trouble you with any more prefatory remarks, I will
proceed to the relation.
I am the only son of a clergjman, living in Hanover, in
the State of New Hampshire ; and, were any to expect merit
from their parentage, I might justly look for that merit. But
I am so far a republican, that I consider a man's merit to rest
entirely with himself, without any regard to family, blood, or
connexion. My father being a Presbyterian by principle, I
was educated in all the rigor of that order, which illy suited
ray volatile, impatient temper of mind ; this being the case,
my first entrance on the stage of life, was by no means the
8 MEMOIRS OF
most agreeable. My thirst for amusement was insatiable,
and as in my situation, the only dependence for that gratifi-cation
v/as entirely within myself, I sought it in pestering
others, especially those who were my superiors in age, and in
making them appear in a ludicrous situation, so as to raise
the laugh at their expense, and partake of the generrj diver-sion,
which such a matter created. My success in those
undertakings was so great, that I became the terror of the
people where I lived, and all were very unanimous in de-claring,
that Stephen Burroughs was the worst boy in town
;
and those who could get him whipt were most worthy of
esteem. Their attempts to bring on my back a flagellatioa
were often very successful, for my heedless temper seldom
studied for a retreat, when I was fairly in danger ; however,
the repeated application of this birchen medicine never cured
my pursuit of fun. A neighbor of my father, an old man,
had a fine yard of water-melons, which had been purloined
by somebody for three or four succeeding nights ; the old man,
being of a hastj', petulant disposition, was determined to
watch his water-melons, with a club, and severely beat the
thief. One night he took his stand in a convenient place for
watching, unknown to any one. Accident made me acquaint-ed
with the old man's situation, and suspecting his intention,
I went to a son of his, a young man of about twenty, and
told him I saw a man in the water-melon yard, whom I
suspected to be the thief, and advised him to go cautiously to
the yard, and peradventure he might catch him. Accordingly
j^ the young man went; but no sooner had he got into the yard,
, than the old man, supposing this to be the thief, rushed from
his hiding piace, and attacked his son with his club, and
severely handled the poor fellow before he found out his
mistake ; the son, supposing the thief v/as beating him, bawled
out to his father, who he expected was at the house, murder »
father ! father ! murder » murder \ This scene of merriment I
enjoyed to the full, but soon paid for it through the nose. The
plot being discovered, and the agent who sat this machine in
motion clearly detected, complaint was made, and I tasted of
the same food I had so ingeniously cooked for the old man's
son. I should hardly mentioned the insipid anecdotes of my
childish years, were it not for the purpose of shewing how
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 9
those small occurrences had a decided influence in giving a
tone to the character which I sustain at this time, and in di-recting
the operations ofmy after life. So much do the great-est
events depend upon circumstances so minute, that they
often pass unobserved, and consequently, wrong causes are
attributed to the effects which take place. Being passionately-fond
of informatio J, I embraced all opportunities for reading,
which my desultory life would admit, and unfortunately many
novels fell in my way, of that kind, which had a direct ten-dency
to blow the fire of my temper into a tenfold rage. The
character of Guy, Earl of Warwick, was my favorite. I felt
an enthusiatic ardor to tread the stage on which he had so
fortunately exhibited. I often viewed myself at the head of
armies, rushing with impetuosity into the thickest of embat-tled
foes, and bearing down all who dared to oppose me.
Reading and dwelling so much on those romantic scenes, at
that early period of life, when judgment was weak, was at-tended
with very pernicious consequences in operations ofmy
after conduct. Nothing gives the mind of childhood a more
unfavourable bias, than a pepresentation of those unnatural
characters exhibited in novels and romances. It has a direct
tendency to lead the mind from the plain simple path of nature,
into the airy regions of fancy ; and when the mind is once ha-bituated
to calculate on the romantic system, error and irregu-larity
are the common consequences. Likewise, when a man
is long habituated to think erroneously, we can hardly expect
that he will be able to root out the first unfavourable senti-ments
of his education. I will candidly confess, that I too
strongly feel the truth of their doctrine, even to this day.
Permit me here to digress a moment from the narrative, and
offer a remark on education for your consideration.
The motives of the most sincere friendship to you and your
family induce me to do it. I have been in the habit of edu-cating
youth for seven years, constantly ; in the course ofmy
business, I have endeavored to study the operations of the
human heart, that I might be able to afford that instruction
which would be salutary ; and in this, I find one truth clearly
established, viz. a child will endeavor to be, what you make
him think mankind in general are His first ambition is to
be like his parents j he soon finds that his neighbors, the in-
10 MEMOIRS OP
habitants of the countrj^, nay, the world of mankind, are (•
be his associates for life, and to whom it is necessary for him
to recommend himself, in order to enjoy the benefit of their
society, without alloy ; he therefore endeavors to assimilate
himself to the character which he supposes mankind generally
possess. This motive, I believe, has an operation more or
less on every man. If these remarks are just, which I think
no observing man will deny, how evident is this truth, that a
child, in forming his own character, will be essentially direct-ed
by that idea which you instill into his mind respecting
mankind ? Give him an idea, that the inhabitants of the world
esteem virtue, integrity, mildness, and modesty, and that the
contrary are obnoxious to them, he will be most likely to
pursue that course unremittingly. Perhaps an objection may
arise in your mind, to the truth of this observation, and you
will say, it often happens that those who are the most strict
in cultivating principles of integrity in the minds of their
children, are disappointed in their endeavors to make the
children virtuous. In answer to this objection^ I will observe,
that our actions are as strong a language, and perhaps strong-er,
than our words ; and as the observations of children are
extremely keen, they discover at once, whether our words and
our actions speak the same language ; and when they find
them interfering, they immediately conclude, that deception
is the object of the parent, and not sincereity, that he utters
words that he does not believe himself, and puts on a false
appearance to answer some sinister end ; a view of which
insensibly leads the child into the practice of dissimulation.
The ambition in children of becoming like their superiors,
rightly directed, is of the utmost importance, in forming them
such as they ought to be. To grant a child your approbation,
when doing, or desiring to do right, is a reward which he will
ever seek after, when he thinks it within his reach ; therefore
to keep that reward uniformly within his power, is a matter
of importance; and not by indulging a petuleut disposition,
destroy or render doubtful his expectations of obtaining what
he merits. Here you establish the first principles of justice
in his mind, upon which he will practice, when he becomes
an active member of society. As the child advances to a
riper state, and becomes what is generally termed a youth, he
STEPHEN BT7RR0UGHS. 11
feels the strength of his disposition for assimulatmg his cha-racter
to the feelings of mankind increase, and he will adopt
such measures as his judgment then dictates ; hence, to inform
his judgment, is the only way to make him capable of con-ducting
well ; to restrain him, by dictatorial dogmas, from the
paths of error, will answer but a tempory purpose ; until he
lear.-s by the lessons of reason, or by the more feeling effects
of prudence, he never will be in a capacity to act his part in
life with propriety. We must expect to find many errors in
the calculations of you thfuJ years, and those errors ought to
be pruned by the most careful hand, lest the harshness ofthe
pruning should appear to the subject the cruel stroke of an
enemy, rather than the gentle touch of a friend. To censure
the faults of youth beyond what they ought to bear, is gener-ally
attended with fatal consequences. It destroys the object
of their pursuit, viz. approbation; they revolt at justice, which
they sensibly feel; therefore inflicting unjust punishment is
generally attended with fatal consequences in the system of
education. It destroys the principles of equity in the youthful
breast, and substitutes in their room, the despotic principles
ol tyrranny. This cause strongly operates in society. Hence,
my Lord Hale, with great pertinency and humanity says,
"better ten guilty escape, than one innocent person suffer."
I have often seen instances where the ambition ofyouth to do
well, has been destroyed, by censuring their faults with too
much severity ; one of which I will mention. I once taught
a school in a town ol Masschusetts, by the name of Charlton.
Having a school consisting of eighty members, I divided them,
according to my usual custom, into two classes. My school,
at this time, was entirely regulated according to my mind,
and in the most obedient order, greatly to the satisfaction of
the parents of the children, who frequented the school. Ap-plication
was made to me at this time, by a clergyman in the
vicinity, for the admission of his son into the school. With
great difficulty I persuaded the committee, who had the dir-ection
of admitting members, to admit him. My desire for
his admission sprang from the same cause which the com-mittee's
aversion did. The youth was fifteen years of age,
and had been expelled from all the schools in the country,
consequently, whatever Dodge, the name of this youth waa
i2 MEMOIRS OF
concerned in, must, in the opinion of people be adopted from
a wrong motive. Convinced from my own feelings under
simular circumstances, that a different line ofconduct towards
him, from what had been observed, would produce a different
effect, I was desirous of trying the experiment. Accordingly,
when he came to my school, I intimated to him, that he must
take the lead ofone of the classes, which composed the school
;
and that I expected from his exertions and example, his class
would make a very respectable appearance. I endeavoured
to convince him, that this appointment was not from design,
but from a real esteem of his merit, by showing him many
little distinctions. His conduct, for about twelve or fourteen
days was equal to my most sanguine expectations ; but re-turning
from dinner one day, I found the school in an uproar
at the conduct of Dodge, who, in my absence, had gone into
the upper loft of the house, and had most scandalously insulted
some young women, who were at the back side of the school
house. Complaint was made of this, with all the exagger-ations
which are apt to attend the transgression of such a
character. Dodge himself was present at the time, and
discovered that mortification in his countenance, which made
me feel sensibly affected for him. I treated the report as
though I could not believe that Dodge had conducted in such
a manner as to render it possible, that the thing should be as
represented ; that some mistake must have existed, and refused
to pay any further attention to it. It would have been to you,
sir, a matter of curiosity, to have observed the workings of
the countenance of Dodge under this trial ; and when he
found that my confidence in him was yet unshaken, so con-trary
to his fears, I was really afraid he would have fainted.
This had the desired effect. Never had I one in my school
who conducted better afterwards, during his whole continu-ance
with me, which was about a year.
I would not wish to be understood that a relaxation of
discipline is ever to be admitted ; on the contrary, the most
uniform course of this administration should be attended to,
without the least deviation. Our commands, in the first place,
ought to be reasonable, humane, and parental, calculated to
promote, not only the good of the subject ofour government,
but likewise embracing for their object, the benefit of the
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 13
wliole cnmniunity. When tlie commands are once given,
never ousht v/e to suffer a breach of them under any circum-stances
whatever. By such a practice we make good subjects,
good leaislators, and good executors. By the^^^e means we
habituate our youtli to submit to good and wholesome laws,
without being in danger of that restless turbulent disposition,
which so frequently distracts the government of a Common-wealth.
We liivewise make them good legislators, by giving
them constant examples, in our mode of governing them, of
justice, humanity, and parental kindness ; and \vhen those
principles are once established in the human breast, the
governing object of such characters will be, to enact and
establish such laws as will distribute and support the genu-ine
and real principles of their education. They, likewise,
will make men, who in their execulive capacity, will promote
the highest good of society, by uniformly adhering to an
undeviating course of executing laws to which they are ap-pointed.
But I return from this digression to the narrative.
CHAPTER ir.
" 'Tis education forms the common mind,
Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inciin'd."
Being possessed with the most romantic ideas of military
prowess, I longed for an opportunity of signalizing myself in
that department, and consequently, embraced the first oppor-tunity
of entering into the militar|> line. At this time a regi-ment
of the continental forces, commanded by Col. Hazen,
were marching through the country where I lived, and I, at
the age of fourteen, enlisted into an artillery company attend-ing
the resiment, as a private soldier. This circumstace soon
coming to the knowledge of my father, he applied to the offi-cer
under whom I had enlisted, and obtained my discharge.
Chagrined and disappointed at this unexpected repulse. Icon-eluded
that all my prospects for fame were at an end, knowing
of no other opportunity by which I could, probably, introduce
myself into the military department. The regiment were on
a march, which took them about six weeks, and returned
2
14 MEMOIRS OF
through Hanover again, on their way to head-quarters. While
they lay encamped in this town, about five miles from my
father's house, I began to consider the probability of joining
them again ; thinking that should I neglect this opportunity,
all my future prospects in life were at an end. After revolv-ing
this subject some time in my mind, I came to a resolution
to elope from my father, about the time the regiment were to
march, and go off with them. Report said they were to march
on Monday morning, therefore that was the time fixed in my
mind to leave my father's house. On the Sunday pi'eceding
the time of their march, my father was absent, on a change
with a neighboring minister, and so produced a favorable op-portunity
for the execution of my plan. On some pretended
cause, I tarried from church that day, in order to have an
opportunity of making those arrangements which I thought
necessary to equip myself for a soldier. Accordingly, I took
a bed blanket and tied it full of clothes and provisions, not
knowing that I should ever be provided with either by the
public. My provision consisting of bread and cheese, that
being the only kind which was ready cooked, would best an-swer
my purpose. All this baggage, together with an old
musket, belonging to my father, powder-horn filled with pow-der,
thirty balls, I laid by in a conveinent place until the
important moment should arrive. About the dawn of day,
on Monday morning, I placed myselfunder the enormous load,
contained in the blanket, after being accoutred with powder-horn
and musket, and pursued my way with energy to the
camp, where I arrived a little after sunrise. My appearance
in camp, in this ludicrouf plight, was an object of universal
curiosity and amusement. Sweating under an enormous
load of bread and cheese, brandishing the old family musket
of my father's, accoutred with a due quantity of powder in a
horn, by my side, and a sufiiciency of ball in my pocket to
kill thirty men, if rightly directed, I made the appearance of
more than Quixotic bravery. Surely the knight of LaMan-cha,
had he seen me in my present plight, would have dis-mounted
from the most redoubtable Rozinante, and would
have yielded to me the palm of chivalry, as the most accom-plished
knight on the sod.
These first dawnings of resolution and perseverance^
STEPHEN' BURROUGHS. 15
which were manifested in this ridiculous essay, I found were
pleasing to the officer, under whom I had formerly enlisted
;
to whom I again applied for admission into his company, but
previously declared, that I would not again enlist with him,
unless he would engage not to discharge me if my father
should pursue me. The regiment did not march till near the
middle of the day, much to my disappointment, and I receiv-ed
the disagreeable intelligence that my father had arrived
in camp previous to their march.
The resolution of my officer, who was a man of feeling,
was not proof against the solicitations of my father. He
again discharged me, and my father took me home. As the
obstacles to my joining the army increased, my resolution to
surmount them gained strength, and my anxiety for this pur-
•pose had risen to such a degree, that I determined to elope
the first minute I was from under my father's eye, and follow
the regiment. All that day and night I was guarded with
the utmost attention. About ten o'clock the next morning
I was sent on an errand to the next neighbor's, about the
distance of ten rods. When I had gotten that distance, I
ran with all my might, and never stopped until I had run
twenty-eight miles from home, where I overtook the regi-ment.
There I enlisted with another officer, determined not
to be dismissed again by my former misplaced confidence.
I had not been here long before my father, with two other
men, came full tilt after me. Being somewhat doubtful
whether I should again be discharged, 1 determined to make
my own safety by flight, but the men who were with my fa-ther,
observing my operations, pursued and overtook me after
some little difficulty. However, the officer under whom I
had enlisted absolutely refused to discharge me, unless I
gave my consent. Accordinglj"-, my father made application
to me, for my approbation in the matter. This was a new
scene ; to view my parent before me a supplicant, beseeching
me to return with him ; staling to my view, the situation of
a disconsolate mother, the most affectionate of parents ; the
yearnings of his own feelings of compassion towards me,
and the unhappy situation to which they should all be re-duced,
should I still persist in my desperate resolution of
leaving them ; this was a situation too affecting for me to
IQ MEMOiKS oy
bear. A flood of contending passions rushed oa my mind.
To return from the first attempt for military fame, before I
had fairly set out, after forming such strong resolutions to
the contrary, appeared to me pusillanimous and foolish. On
the other liand, to break through all the ties of nature, com-passion
and benevolence, was what my soul sickened at
viewing. One moment I was determined on going, the next
I was for returning. No permanent resolution could I form
till the next morming, when the reveille being beaten, all the
feelings of military ardor were again rekindled, and I was
determined to march. My father finding my resolution fix-ed,
took a most solemn and afiecting leave. This scene I
cannot reflect upon without feeling the weakness of a wo-man.
The night following, when the hurry of contending pas-sions
had subsided, and I had full leisure for taking a retro-spective
view of those very singular transactions, they filled
my mind with the severest compunctions. To view my pa-rent
returning to a disconsolate family, laden with sorrow,
whilst I had been deaf to all the calls of nature and compas-sion,
were circumstances which filled me with the keenest
sensation of distress ; and the night following I was not able
to close ray eyes to sleep, such were the agitations of my
mind.
Then I determined to return to my father, notwithstand-ing
all the mortifying circumstances which would attend such
a procedure. Early the next morning, a clergyman, by the
name of Olcott, came to me, to persuade me to return to my
father. This he found no difficult matter to do. I told him
frankly I was willing : but when he made application to my
officer for a discharge, he was flatly refused. We marched
from thence to head-quarters, at West Point, without meet
ing with any occurrences worth relating.
When the regiment had arrived on the North River, they
were constantly alarmed by the enemy, and had a number of
skirmishes with them. 'At such times I was always kept
back with the baggage, and never sufiTered to go into action,
notwithstanding all my entreaty. I fully believe had I been
indulged in my romantic disposition, I should have rushed
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 17
foolishlj^ into that danger, from which I never should have
returned. These repulses brought about that mortification,
and disappointment which cured me of military ardor, Fill-
€d with resentment and chagrin, I suddenly left the army
and returned home to my father. Soon after my return, my
father wrote the following letter to General Washington for
my discharge, and sent it by the hand of the honorable Be-zaleel
Woodward, Esq., who was then on his way to Con-gress,
tiam the state of New-Hampshire.
I « Hanover, New Hampshire, Dec. 24, 1779.
'<«MucH Honored Sir,
"These wait on your excellency to inform, that while
Col. Hazen's regiment remained at Coos, Lieut. Crowley, an
officer of the train, meeting with my son, a young lad of the
age of fourteen years, persuaded him to enlist into his com-pany
; with some difficulty I obtained his release from that
enlistment. But the young lad having had his mind inflamed
by many fair promises and airy encouragements, with unap-peasable
desires to join service, afterwards eloped from me,
and enlisted under Capt. Lloyd, on the regiment's return from.
Ihese parts to head -quarters. But finding his expectations
disappointed, he left the army soon after its arrival at head-quarters,
and is now at home with me. As a sovereign God
has not long since deprived me of four children, and has left
me but two to survive their death ; and as this son is a lad so
much under the age that is commonly deemed necessary to
constitute a soldier fit for the service, and as I had ever de-signed
him for a public education, your excellency will please
to indulge my request, that he may be discharged from the
service. Though I have the cause of America sincerely at
heart, and ever have, and trust ever shall exert myself to the
utmost of my ability in its behalf; yet your excellency will not
wonder at any degree of reluctance in me, against my son's
engaging in the service under my present circumstances.
Your excellency will please to signify .your pleasure by the
bearer, and due obedieare shall be rendered to your commands
with cheerfulness. With daily prayers, that the God of armies
will be your shield and friend, and honor your excellencv as
2*
18 MEMOIRS OF
an instrument of complete salvation and deliverance to the
United States of America, I am your excellency's
Most obedient humble servant,
EDEN BURROUGHS.
His Excellency George Washington, Esq.
P. S. During the time my son was in the army, he never
passed muster, nor drew any bounty or clothing."
CHAPTER III.
Scenes of my youth ! pale sorrow flings
A shade o'er all your beauties now
;
And robs the moments of their wings,
That scatter pleasures as they flow.
Soon after this my father placed me at school under the
tuition of the late Joseph Huntington, D. D. whose fame for
an instructor was very noted throughout all the New-England
States ; where 1 coutinued one year, and was then removed
to Dartmouth College, of which I became a member.
Whilst I was with Doctor Huntington, many of those boy-ish
pranks which students are apt to practice, in order to give
themselves the tone of wits, were performed by me to the no
small diversion of myself and the other students, and to the
great hindrance of my pursuits in literary acquirements. This
"was the hour of folly. From the effect of this age flowed a
continued stream of crude, undigested whims, which kept the
school and myself in a constant uproar. I became an inmate
in the family of my preceptor, which consisted of the Doctor,
Mrs. Huntington, two sons by a former wife, nearly my own
age, and a number of small children, how many I do not re-collect.
The Doctor himself was a character whose parallel
is not commonly found. A man of very considerable orato-rical
abilities, which consisted more in smooth figures, and
ingenious declamation, than in close nytaphysical reasoning.
A mind by no means tied down to establish modes and forms,
but internally despising them ; possessing an unbounded am-bition
; fond of flattery. A temper, when undisturbed, philan-thropic,
but disappointment and chagrin, changed it into the
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 19
boisterous rage ofa whirlwind. Mrs. Huntington, a character
truly amiable. Joseph, second son to the Doctor, after his
own name, about one year younger than myself. This youth
was truly the son of his fathes. The fire of his ambition was
great ; his resolution was equal to his ambition ; and his
excentricity was equal to both ; with a strong mind, equal to
his father, he despised the shackles of education, broke
through all the little obstacles ofvulgar prejudice, and pursued
those paths to whicli the fire of genius, and the want ofjudg-ment
at that time directed him. The rest of the family had
nothing uncommon in their characters which distinguished
them from mankind in general.
Being full of vivacity, Joseph and I were almost perpetually
prosecuting some scene of amusement or diversion. Some of
those pastimes were graduated upon a scale of innocence,
and some I am sorry to say, embraced for their object the
vexation and detriment of the neighbors. Our chief force
was aimed at a neighbor, commonly known by the name of
Tyger, on account of his morose misanthropic disposition.
One night we repaired to hi? house, and took logs from his
wood pile, about two feet in length, and piled them up
against his door, until they reached the top, laying them in
such a manner as to incline into the house. After arranging
matters in this order, we made a noise as if attempting to get
into the old man's garden, sufiiciently loud for him to hear
;
immediately upon this the old man crept softly to the door,
and opening it suddenlj', down came the logs so rapidly as to
knock him to the floor, and cover him over. The noise
which this had made alarmed the family universally, with an
idea that they felt the shock of an earthquake, and that the
last judgment had arrived, which set some a screaming and
some a praying, and for a long time these ideas so wholly
occupied the minds of the family, that the old man could not
get any assistance from the load of timber under which he
was buried. Immediately upon his being freed from his con-finement,
he put on some clothes and repaired to Dr. Hun-tington's,
in order to enter a complaint against Joseph and
myself, whom he suspected of being the agents in this disa-greeable
scene ; and the reason of his suspicion was founded
20 MEMOIRS OF
in this, viz : but a few days before, Joseph and I were car.ght
by him, picking some early apples oft' a tree in his garden;
a complaint of which was made, and we obliged to pay three
shillings. But as we were seen to go to bed that night and
found in bed when he came with this last complaint, and no
evidence that we had left our bed, it was concluded that his
suspicions wanted proof, and there this matter ended.
Soon after this we contrived another plan to disturb the
old man's quiet. Joseph went to him, and with a woful
countenance professed his sorrow for his having given him
trouble, and in order to evince his sorrow, told him lie had
to inform of an intention of some of the scholars to rob his
apple trees that night, and advised him to watch, that he
might detect them ; and if he should, they would have to
pay him a considerable sum of money. This bait the old
man eagerly swallowed, and took his stand accordingly for
watching.
The other part of this contrivance I was to act myself, as
being the best fitted for it, on account of my superior agility.
Accordingly, about ten at night,^ crept along close to the
garden fence till I came, as though by accident, near to the
old man, at which I turned and ran, and he after me. Being
able abundantly to out-run him, I kept but a very small dis-tance
before him, pretending to run with all my might, in or-der
to raise his expectations of being able to overtake me^
when coming to the edge of a ditch, which contained about
three feet depth of mud and filth, I clapped down on my
hands and knees before the old man, and he stumbled over
me plump into the ditch ; but catching hold of the skirt of
my coat, tore it oft' and carried it into the ditch with him.
This was a clue which served the next day to unravel the
plot in part, as it related to me ; and when complaint was
made to our Preceptor, he acquitted us entirely, as not hav-ing
done any thing unlawful, nor having attempted it accord-ing
to the proof.
This was a scene ol great diversion to the Doctor. The
woful countenance which Tyger made about falling into the
ditch, together with my strutting about without a skirt to
my coat, altogether, made so ludicrous an appearance, that
Jiotwithstanding all the exertions of the Doctor, he could not
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 21
suppress the rising inclination to laugh, but would, once in a
while, burst forth in spite of himself. Not long after this I
had intelligence of the death of an only brother by a letter
from my father to the Doctor, a copy of the answer to which
is as follows :
" Coventry, Con. 20th November, 1781.
*' Rev. and very dear sir,
" In your great affliction I am afflicted; and the sight of your
letter, with the melancholy tidings, made a very deep impres-sion
upon my heart. I have several times tasted the bitter
cup ; may we learn to live wholly on God. If our houses are
Hot so with him as we naturally wish, and do not grow and
flourish agreeably to our fond hopes ; yet there is an ever-lasting
covenant, ordered in all things, and sure ; let this be
all our salvation and all our desire. Dear sir, I condole with
you and Mrs. Burroughs in this furnace of affliction, and our
prayers for each other, I doubt not, are mutual. With regard
to Stephen, he behaves well, and makes good progress in his
learning ; seems well contented : we take the same care of
him as of our own children, as to every thing he stands in
need of. I am glad to see that he takes serious notice of the
death of his dear brother. I have done, and shall do, all in
my power that with the blessing of God, he may make a good
improvement of it, and be a spiritual gainer by so great a loss.
You know how, dear sir, to leave your now only son with
God, as well as all your other concerns, for time and eternity.
While Stephen is with me, be assuree that I will be as kind
and faithful a parent to him as I am capable. But alas!
what are friends, children, or any of the dying enjoyments of
this transitory world ! had you not a better portion you would
be very unhappy ; but you can say with the Prophet, " although
the fisr tree sliaJl not blossom ."
" May Mrs. Huntington's sincere love and sympathetic
condolence, together with mine, be acceptable to Mr. Bur-roughs
and his lady. I have the honor to be, my dear sir,
with great respect.
Your most obedient, humble servant,
JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.
Rev. Mr. Burroughs."
As it is a custom generally through the slate of Connecti-cut
to keep Saturday evenings as the commencement of holy
22 MEfliOIRS OF
time, and consequently, to consider Sunday as expiring witli
the beginning o{ the succeeding evening, the relation of the
following circumstance will not be so much wondered at.
One iSanday, after sunset, a number of the Doctor's students
had assembled in the street, and were somewliat noisy about
a pastime by which they were amusing themselves. This
noisy m.erriment appeared to the Doctor to be mistimed, when
exhibited in the street, at so great a proximity with the Sun-day;
and tiiereforc, he wished us to desist from pursuing our
sport in the street, and attend to it in the door-yard; telling
ms we might do any tiling in the yard, if wc would not make
any noise in the street. We accordingly all came into his
3'ard, and began our amusement again ; but soon stopped by
an idea being suggested of the great liberty which the J)octor
had granted us, of doing any thing in liis yard. His olfice of
necessity stood within the limits of the yard; therefore, it was
proposed, and immediately agreed, to upset this building.
Dr. Huntington rising very early the next morning, accord-ing
to his usual custom, saw the destruction of his little house.
On making inquiry of the scholars, they all denied that they
Ifnew hov/ the house came to be overset, until he came to me,
and said, « Burroughs, do you know how the little house was
turned over?" « Yes, sir."—"Well, who turned it ever'/"
«« We, who were at play, last evening, in the yard." « How
came you to turn it over ?" « You said, sir, we might do any
thing in the yard." The Docter said no more ; went do.wn
;
procured some hands ; and replaced the necessary on its for-mer
foundation. Not long after this, the Doctor wrote the
following letter to my father.
" Coventryy {Con.) Blarch Sih, 1781.
"Reverend and deah sir,
" You and your lady \viil please to accept our best regards ;
no doubt the welfare of your only son lies near both your
hearts : lie is well ; has a fine genius, makes swift advances
in the classics. There is ia him such an exuberance of life
and spirits, as requires uncommon vigilance and care in the
oversight and direction of his ways, in this early period of
life, Avhich however, I trust may in future time make him so
much the more active and useful in the service of God and
his country. 1 hope he will pass a good examination at the
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 23
next commencement, if you choose he should enter College.
At his own earnest request, he boards about a mile and an
half from my house, with a young man a little older than he ;
I have thought proper to dispense with the distance of way,
in consideration that the family and. the whole vicinity are
attached to religion, virtue, and good order, more than any
other neighborhood in this place, and more, almost, then ever
I knew any where in the world. Mr. Wright lives next door
to him : he and all the neighbors have a great respect for you,
and unite in every friendly efforts for the best interest of
your son. I often tel] him, however, that he may return and
board with me whenever he is willing ; mean while, I take
the same care of all his wants as though he was in my own
house.
" Such are the times with us, sir, that the support of those
ministers who live by the penny, without farms, is one half
curtailed, even among parishes that do the best for them, and
ifsuch times continue, I must give my sons their education at
home. I hope, however, in the good providence of God, they
will live to have the benefit of Dartmouth College.
" What we can do for your son in the family, is left wholly
to your generosity ; and indeed was my income as in years past,
the whole expense I should look upon not worthy of any ac-count.
Rest assured, sir, that the best interest of your son is
daily consulted, to the utmost of my ability, and I hope and
trust thai his parents and his country will rejoice in his honor
and usefulness in days to come.
" I am, dear sir, with great affection and respect,
" Your most obedient humble servant,
JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.
Rev. Mr. Burroughs."
Sometime after this, boarding about a mile and a half from
the Doctor's, with another lad nearly of m^y own age, we took
an old horse that ran in the road and mounted him, as wc
were going to school, without saddle or bridle, and rode him
through the street full tilt. This circumstance becoming
known, the owner of the horse applied to a justice of the peace
and obtained a warrant for us, and being taken, were brought
before him and fined, together with the cost, fifteen dollars
;
the owner having summoned twenty witnesses to prove one
fact. Soon after this I returned to my father, and brought
the following letter from llie Doctor to him.
3
24 MEMOIRS OF
"Coventry, Con. Sept. 1781.
" Reverend sir,
" On examination, I trust you will find your son well ac-complished
to perform the exercise of a freshman at college
;
with constant study I think he is able to do it better than
freshmen in general did at Yale College in my day. I have
done every thing in my power for his education and his
morals, and am exceedingly grieved to accquaint you, that
one affair has happened since I last wrote you, which must
be uncomfortable to his parents, as indeed it has been to me.
"Stephen was so unguarded, about the middle of June last
as to take and use a horse several times, and that even in
a cruel manner, Avithout the knowledge of the owner, who
lived not in my parish, but in the vicinity, near the borders
of it : the owner of the horse happens to be one of the most
inhuman, cruel, revengeful, spiteful monsters that ever dis-graced
humanity ; and as soon as he found out the matter, he
was wholly bent on vengeance and the utmost cruelty. I
took and pastured the horse eight weeks, and repaired all
damage more than sevenfold; I also offered the man two
crowns if he would settle the matters without a lawsuit, and
took every other step I could thmk of to save expense and
prevent a public noise : but all in vain. The monster knew
that the law in such a case is extremely severe, awarding
three fold damages and all costs, and nothing could glut his
infernal malice till he had drawn your son before authority.
And, for three fold damages and costs, obtained judgement
against him for about fifteen dollars : for the payment of
which, two of my neighbors, Mr. Porter and Mr. Hawkins,
gave their security, and your son returned to his study as be-fore.
The affair gave me unspeakable distress of mind, and
even kept me awake several nights. The authority could do
nothing in the case but what they did; the law is plain.
The monster that prosecuted summoned a great cloud of
evidences on purpose, I suppose, to gratify his malice in
augmenting the cost. Our people, sir, have all the highest
respect and veneration for you, and are ready to interpose and
do all they can to save you trouble, and with one voice cry
out upon the wretch that has been so cruel to you and your
son.
" It is highly necessary, sir, that you should make us a
visit as soon as may be after commencement. I am in fear
you will think somewhat hard of me, that I did not retain
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 25
Stephen in my own house ; when I see you, I will give you
the fullest satisfaction in that matter. Had he been willing
to have lived with me the whole time, I should have rejoiced
at it, notwithstanding the extreme difficulty of my keeping
any boarders in these times. I hope God will dispose and
improve him in some important and honorable station in life,
as he has certainly an excellent genius ; though he is as yet
in the vanity of youth.
" I mourn that I cannot wait on you, as I intended, and
the other worthy gentlemen of the board.
*•' May our kindest regards be acceptable to Mr. Burroughs
and lady ; may all New Covenant blessings be your portion,
and that of your remaining children; after all our trouble
may we meet in everlasting rest.
" My kind love to all my friends and acquaintance in your
parts. I remain, Rev. and dear Sir, with the firmest attach-ments,
and most cordial affection, your faithful friend, and
most obedient humble servant,
JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.
Rev. Mr. Burroughs."
Inasmuch as you are now on the subject of Dr. Hunting-ton,
and his correspondence with my father, I will here in-sert
two other letters written by him some years after ;' one,
when I was in great adversity, and the other, at a time of
apparent prosperity.
" Coventry, Con. 26th January, 1783.
*' Rev. and very dear sir,
" Your late epistle came safe to hand ; and while I was
afiected with pleasure in your kind remembrance of me, I
was impressed with much sympathy and grief in the case of
your dear and only son. The ways of divine Providence are
a great deep; what God does we " know not now, but shall
know hereafter." St. Austin, when a youth, was very vain,
vicious, wild, and ungovernable : his pious mother, Monica,
was continually in prayers and tears for him : an eminent
Divine, one day, told her, that so many prayers would never
be lost. You well know what God did for St. Austin, and
what a blessing he was to the Church, and to the world.
Let us submit, pray, hope and wait.
" We are in good health ; have no news more, perhaps,
than v/hat you have been acquainted with ; the work of God
26 MEMOIRS OF
has been considerable among us, and yet continues ; the el-fusion
of the divine spirit with you has been more copious
;
Oh ! may it be on all the world, " as rivers in the wilder-ness,
and as floods on the dry ground I"
" I beg that my most cordial regards, with Mrs. Hunting-ton's,
may be acceptable to Mr. Burroughs and his lady.
" Remaining as ever, dear sir,
" With great Yespect,
" Your most fcbedient, humble servant,
JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.
Rev. Mr. Burroughs."
« Coventry, Con. 23d Oct. 1784.
" Rev. and very dear sir,
" Could you know the tender feelings of my heart toward
vou and your family, it would give me comfort ; my friend-ship
is warm as ever, while I lament the separation made
among your people, and mourn that we could not worship to-gether,
when I last waited on you at Hanover. But as my
prayers have been answered with regard to your son, so I be-lieve
they will be with respect to your people; you have now
great comfort in the former, you will, I hope soon have in
the latter ; and the whole people shall unite and rejoice in
your light, as in days past.
" Mrs. Huntington unites with me in love and respect to
Mr. EuiToughs, his lady and son. God Almighty, grant you
every New Covenant blessing. I have the honor to be, dear
sir, with much respect,
" Your most obedient humble servant,
JOSEPH HUNTINGTON.
Rev. Mr. Burroughs."
CHAPTER IV.
" In life's gay morn, -what vivid hues
Adorn the animating views,
By flattering fancy drawn ?
But storms with gloomy aspect rise,
To cloud the azure of the skies ;
Now mists obscure the dawn."
At commencement, 1781, I was presented, examined and
'''Admitted a member of Dartmouth College. Here I had a
STEPHElr BURROUGHS. 27
new situation before me, and another part to act ; not pos-sessing
all the advantages to act it with eclat. The reports
of my many wild eccentricities had come before me, magni-fied
in a tenfold degree, and I found all were waiting with
open mouths to see an exploi^ion. Those, who were fond of
such scenes of diversion, were disappointed at my neglect in
exhibiting some specimens of fun, which I had determided to
lay by entirely. Others, who were of a different cast, low-ered
upon me with a threatening brow, indicative of their
intention to cheek my wildness at its first appearance.
Here, I found my situation very different and disagreeable
on the one hand, I was excited, invited and flattered to gra-tify
those who were fond of amusement ; on the other, I was
watched, with the scrutanizing eye of jealousy, for miscon-duct,
and a readiness to censure in me what would be thought
innocent in others, to humble and check that growing pro-pensity
to disorder, as was alleged. My father was careful
to have me take a room with one Jacob Wood, A. M. w^ho,
of all others, was best calculated to humble and mortify any,
whom he entertained a suspicion against as differing from
him in principle or practice. A man of small stature, and
yet smaller mental abilities ; rigid and enthusiastic in his no-tions
of religion, which consisted in a sour, morose, misan-thropic
line of conduct towards all who were not of his par-ty.
To be an inmate with such a character, you will readi-ly
conceive, no way comported with a disposition like mine
;
and conscquentlj^, we never enjoyed that union and harmony
of feelings in our intercourse, as room mates,which was ne-cessary
for the perfect enjoyment of social life. Possessing
a mind very unstable, he was often out of humor, at his want
of success, in making me submissive and humble to his ca-price
J and being desirous of my sharing a part of his cha-grin,
he assailed my ears with a perpetual stream of petulant
criminations. He sought opportunities to mortify me before
company, by representing me as a person inattentive to mat-ters
of religion, and consequently, wanting every virtue.
This mi-de of procedure, I could not tamely dispense with
my invention was the only mean of resort for retaliation.
One night, while he was paying his devoirs to a young
lady, word was brought him, that in a fit of the epilepsy, I
was about expiring, and wished for him to perform the last
kind office of a friend, to pray with, and for me. This was
a business he always attended with great promptitude ; his
3*
.28 MEMOIRS OF
Dulcinea being equally possessed with the laudable ambition
of proselyting, agreed to accompany him to the room. But
when they came there, they found it empty of every living
thing, and not even the appearance of any person's being
there that night; for the truth was, I had, the day preceding,
obtained leave of absence, and was gone to myfather's. This
was readily understood as a pun upon his sacerdotal charac-ter,
than which, nothing could have wounded him more. His
character, in that respect, he wished to have considered as
sacred ; and to trifle with that, was striking at the very root
of all his sanctimonious self-importance. He suspected me
to be the author of this mortifying scene, and was unwearied
in his endeavors to gain some evidence of the fact ; but all
his exertions were ineffectual. Notwithstanding all these
singularities and eccentricities, I believe him to be a man
of an honest heart, led to practice those ridiculous plans by
a misguided zeal for religion.
About this time, the Indians had made inroads upon some
of the frontier settlements^ and destroyed them. It was fear-ed
they would make a descent upon Hanover, and burn Dart-mouth
College, with the buildings in its vicinity ; and con-sequently,
the minds of the people were full of fear, and
easily aroused by an alarm of any kind. One evening, being
in company with a number of others, we proposed and
agreed, to make a visit to a yard of watermelons, belonging
to a man in the vicinity, who kept them for sale, and help
ourselves to some of them. We accordingly put our plan in
execution ; and went as far as the river, half a mile out of
town, in order to eat them more securely. After we had
finished our repast, every one took his own way, in order to
get to his room unperceived. I came directly into town, by
the most obvious route, in company^ with one Paine. When
we had gotten to the green, around which the buildings stand,
we discovered some person walking before my door, suspect-ing
as I supposed, my absence from my room ; which being
against the laws of College, at that lime of night, would give
him an opportanity, if he made the desii'ed discovery, to in-volve
me in difficulty.
All these circumstances were very apparent to me, and
therefore, I wished to avoid being known to him, as well as
to avoid the discovery of the watermelons. We therefore
turned off another course, than directly to the College, and
rolled our gowns close together, and tucked them up on our
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 29
backs, so as to make the appearance of men with packs on.
This man, Higgins by name, seeing us by this time, came on
towards us ; we quickened our pace—he pursued us with
equal speed—we ran—he ran after us, and hallooed with all
his might. I was now sensible, that an alarm would be made
among the inhabitants, and of course, some immediate and
decisive measures must be taken to prevent a discovery, or a
suspicion of the water-melons business falling on me ; 1 there-fore,
turned a short corner, where my pursuer lost sight of
me, and ran directly back to the College, and got into my
room undiscovered.
Fortunatetly, my room-mate was not at his lodgings this
night. I heard an enquiry in. the rooms adjoining respecting
the noise ; I went into one of them, and found they were
about starting after Higgins, to learn the difficulty. We ac-cordingly
all started together, and after running about one
hundred rods, came up to him, who was still hallooing for
help. On enquiry, he told us that he had discovered two
men, carrying packs on their backs, lurking about the town,
whom he supposed to be spies from the Indians, and they
had fled on discovering him. The town was alarmed, the
militia turned out ; the boats up and down the river were
stopped ; the woods were scoured, but nothing found, nothing
discovered ; all night, the fruitless search was continued.*
About the dawn of day, the people returned, weary and
fatigued, into the town, and assembled for mutual consulta-tion.
Some thought one thing, some another. Some thought
the whole difficulty began in nothing, and ended in the same.
Some thought it a trick of the scholars to make themselves di-version.
At the suggestion ofthis idea, one Capt. Storrs observ-ed,
that he saw Burroughs and Paine pass by his house, about
six minutes before he heard the outcry. The name of Bur-roughs
cast a suspicious appearance upon the business ; they
all turned their eyes on me, as the author of this alarm and up-roar.
I cited those who ran from the College with me, on
the first of the outcry, to vouch for my innocence ; they
readily did it. All were satisfied on my account, except my
good friend Mr. Wood. He rolled the eye of jealousy over
the business—he was dissatisfied. He took Paine to a pri-vate
room in the College, and there, by a reiterate course of
* This is loo high colored. There was indeed an alarm, and the wri-ter
of this note was one of the pursuers; but the fright did not continue
all night; nor did the militia generally turn out.
30 MEMOIRS OF
flattery, threatening, terror, and soothings, he obtained the
mighty secret, as it related to me. I was immediately inform-ed
of the business, by a person whom I had placed in a room
adjoining, to overhear whatever should be the result of this
conference.
It was now about sunrise. I immediately went to the own-er
of the water-melons, and told him, that passing his yard
last evening, after he was in bed, I had taken twelve of his
water-melons, knowing he kept them for sale, and came to
let him know it, and pay him for them. After counting his
water-melons, and finding twelve taken, according to my ac-count,
he took the pay, and gave me his receipt.
I now returned to my room, ready to meet the heavy blow
I saw was preparing against me.
By this time it had taken air, that I was the author of last
night's alarm. Every countenance was turned upon me in
an oblique direction. They had all heard that theft was com-bined
in ihe business ; they had all determined I must fall un-ier
this blow ; therefore, they were waiting for the awful
moment of my being summoned before the authority of Col-lege.
Ten o'clock, the all tremendous hour arrived ! I ap-peared;
a number had gathered, which crowded the room.
After the charge was read against me, Mr. Ripley, one of
the Tutors, addressed me in a speech of half an hour's length,
stating the enormous crime I had been guilty of, the course
of iniquity I must have led through life, to be detected in
such an atrocious high handed breach of law, at the age of
sixteen; the disgrace I had brought on my family connex-ions,
and the seminary of which I was a member; that my
expulsion, which would undoubtedly succeed, would be but
only a prelude to ray punishment by the civil law : that ruin
and disgrace were the only effects, which would fall on my
devoted head.
This rant I heard with the coolness of a stoic. After he
had talked himself out of breath, I had liberty to answer. I
mentioned the hardness of my case, in being accused, con-demned
and ixecuted without any proof, or even being heard
in my own defence. That I did not know what evidence
they could produce of my being guilty of the crime laid to my
charge, but whatever it was, I hoped to be sufiiciently able
to overturn its validity, and clearly establish my innocence.
At least, the human language of candor taught us to hold
every man innocent till he was proved guilty. True it was.
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 31
I had taken water-melons from Mr. Smith the night prece-ding,
but had early that morning informed him of the fact,
and paid for them. This information was like a thunder-clap
to some of the spectators. All their hopes of seeing
ruin fall heavy on my head were now quashed in the twink-ling
of an eye. Mr. Smith, the owner of the water-melons,
having been sent for, testified to all the facts which I had
stated ; and of course, here the business ended.
My father consented for my removal from the room where
I had lived. I accordingly changed my lodgings, to my no
small satisfaction. During the succeeding vacation, my fa-ther,
attentive to his wonted humanity, took a class-mate of
mine, by the name of Coffin, home to his house, whose pecu-niary
circumstances were difficult, and gave him his board
and tuition gratis. He likewise supplied Coffin with provi-sion
for his subsistance for the next winter, on condition of
his paying for them afterwards, at a time he himself had fix-ed,
as being most convenient. The time being elapsed, I
asked Coffin for the money, according to his promise, in be-half
of my father, in order to answer some small engagements
which I was under for the payment of money. He paid but
little attention to my request; I repeated it a number of
times afterwards, but without efifect. At length Coffin told
me plainly, he had no intention of paying the debt ; stating
the diflference between his and my father's circumstances ;
that my father was better able to do without it than he was
to pay it. I remonstrated in warm terms on the unreason-ableness
of his conduct. This brought about a violent re-sentment
on his side, which he never failed to shew when he
had an opportunity He united himself under the banner of
my friend Wood, in order to increase their strength by union.
Mr. Ripley, the Tutor, was likewise disaffiscted, not only by
the chagrin of being found to be a false preacher, when he
was on the subject of the water-melons, but likewise on ac-count
of a violent antipathy and resentment against my fa-ther,
owing to their disagreeing in sentiment with regard to
the management of certain religious matters; and therefore
was determined, according to the good old rule, " to visit the
iniquities of the fathers on the children." He, uniting his
force with those above mentioned, formed a powerful trium-virate
against me.*
* It is justly due to the memory of Professor Ripley, to acquit his char-acter
of such au unremitted aspersion. I do uot accuse the author of
32 MEMOIRS OF
About this time the President of the College left here, in-tending
a tour to Europe. The Tutors now became the only
executive authority of the College. My friend Ripley was
the second in standing, and consequently a great de2:ree of
influence fell into his hands. This influence he was careful
to exercise on every occasion. On a certain day of the week,
when my class were called upon to declaim, 1 did not at-tempt;
the reason of my absence was owing to this circum-stance.
I had sent my shoes to the shoemakers, and contra-ry
to my expectation, they had not yet reiurned, and I had
not shoes decent for my appearance abroad. Mr. Ripley
sent for me to appear, and perform my part of the exercises
of the day : the excuse, which existed, I sent him, but the
messensfer returned with positive orders for me to attend. I
attended with such shoes as I had, mounted the stage, and
declaimed. I made my obeisance, and retired. He called to
me, and publicly reprimanded me for appearing in such ha-biliment.
At a certain time he made a request to my class
to assist him in a certain piece of business, which he was de-sirous
of performing one afternoon. I turned out to assist
him. We were detained till ten o'clock at night. The next
morning I was absent from recitation. He sent for me—
I
came*—He again reprimanded me for being deficient in my
classic lesson, though he knew the cause was my performing
service for him at his request. Finding matters thus dis-agreeably
situated I determined to quit that ground which I
could not maintain with any probability of success. I ac-cordingly
left College, and went to my father's.
CHAPTER V.
" And thus my days in one sad tenor run,
" And end in sorrow as they first begun."
To remain an inactive member of society was far from my
desire ; various plans were proposed by my father for my en-tering
into business, or at least, preparing myself for it, but
falsehood. He undoubtedly considered this gentleman as his enemy ; but
it is believed that nothing could be more erroneous. Mr. Ripley labor-ed
with young Burrouhgs, as a tender father with his child, to dissuade
him from his vicious courses ; hnt unfortunately, the latter considered all
his exertions as the effect only of personal prejudice.
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 33
none appeared so eligible as going to sea ; therefore, it was
determined for me to bend my course that way. My father
fitted me out with a horse, saddle, bridle, and about twenty
dollars in money, and let me loose upon the broad theatre of
the world, to act my part according to my abilities. The
want of experience and a natural hasty temper, prone to in-considerate
actions, augured no very favorable prospects be-fore
me.
I had been a member of the seminary of Dartmouth Col-lege
sufficiently long, to be filled with that sort of learning
which gave me an exalted idea of my own importance, and
which was of no manner of use, in my pursuits through life.
This may appear strange, that I should spend three years in
gaining that, M^hich was good for nothing. However strange
it may seem to yon, sir, yet it is a fact. One year, I was
studying to prepare myself for admittance into that seminary,
where I spent two in learning nothing, or that which amount-ed
to the same in the end.
Perhaps you may think I entertain an opinion of this Col-lege
as being, in point of usefulness, much below the other
Universities on the continent; but it is not the case. It is a
melancholy consideration, that our youth should spend so
much time in acquiring that knowledge, which is of no use to
themselves or to the community, of which they are members.
To acquire an accurate knowledge of the dead languages,
seven years is a short time ; and after this is efiected, to
what does it amount? Does it give bread to the persons
possessing it, or does it serve to enlighten, enrich, or render
more happy any part of the community? I contend that the
person who has learned to make a shoe, does more good to
society, than he who has spent seven years in acquiring a
knowledge of the dead languages If this position is founded
in trutji, then this consequence will follow, that more than
one half of the time spent at the Universities, according to
their present establishment on this continent, is thrown
away ; and that the position is founded in fact, I will en-deavor
tu prove.*
The happiness of ourselves, together with the good of so-ciety,
is the governing pursuit of every valuable member of
the community ; therefore, whatever conduces to this end, is
" It is not strange the author should reason in this reanner. He was ex-pelled
from College in the second quarter of his second year, and it is a
fact, he studied but very little while he was a member.
34 MEMOIRS OF
the only object worthy of attention. The good of society
may be comprised in these three points, viz. 1st. To obtain,
what is necessary to supply the calls of nature, by the least
painful measures. 2d. Kules for the regulation of mankind,
in their relative situation, which, in their operation will tend
to harmonize the conduct of the whole towards individuals.
3d. A supply of food for the mental part of creation ; for the
mental part requires a certain supply, in order to render us
sensibly happy, as well as the corporeal. Mankind in their
present state of existence, find it necessary to submit to the
pain of labor, in order to protect themselves from the cries of
hunger and thirst, from the inclemency of the climates and
seasons, and from the unjust encroachments upon their in-dustrious
acquisitions and natural rights. These are the
first objects which mankind find themselves under the neces-sity
of attending to ; hence, we find the most savage and
barbarous nations occupied in these pursuits. Nations that
had made no improvements in useful knowledge, are subject
to the greatest degree of pain, in supplying the simple calls
of nature. The precarious eff'ects of the chase are the most
general supplies to the calls of hunger with them, and as that
is a resource of so doubtful a nature, those people often suf-fer
from hunger unsatisfied ; therefore, no wonder we find
the inventor of the plow immortalized and deified, because
the good which he had done to mankind was so essentially
felt and known. They then saw the uncertainty of a support
changed into a certainty ; that they now were able to pro-vide
for themselves and families, and consequently, the dif-ferent
sexes could enter into that connection, which con-tributed
greatly to increase the happiness of societj', without
the danger of seeing their tender ofispring perish miserably
for the want of sustenance. This object occupies the feel-ings
of mankind now, as it has done heretofore. They find
the same necessity for a support for themselves and offspring
;
and consequently those acquirements, which serve to render
men able to procure a suj.~port, in an easy and certain way,
are now the most essential to the good of society. That
learning the dead languages has no direct or indirect tenden-cy
to this acquirement is a truth so obvious, that more need
not be said on the subject : therefore, with regard to the use-ful
of this species of knowledge, in the first and most essen-tial
pursuit of mankind, we find that it is not founded in fact.
The second most important object, for the good of society.
STEPHEN ErRROL'GHS. oD
is those rules for the regulation of mankind in their relative
situation, which, in their operation, will tend to harmonize
the conduct of mankind towards each other. Legislation is a
subject, perhaps,, of all others, the most difficult to bring to
perfection, so as to have a thorough understanding of its na-ture
and operation. It has been the study of the greatest
men in all ages, since society has been formed ; and yet,
jiuch is to be learned on this subject.
To understand the operations of the human heart, so as to
adopt rules for the regulation of man, in his conduct towards
his fellow members of society, in such a manner as to render
those rules easy and acceptable to all, and under which, all
will enjoy the blessings of society uninterrupted, is an object
of su(5h magnitude and importance, that every breast, pos-sessing
the principles of philanthrophy, must be fired with
ardor in the investigation. As far as mankind deviate from
such a government, so far they are politically unhappy, and
in as great a degree as they approximate to this golden age,
not of poetic fiction, but of reality, so far they approach to-wards
real political perfection. What a perversion of the
talents and time of our youth, whom we intend for public
employments I to keep them tied down to the study of the un-interesting
and unessential branches of the Latin, Greek, and
Hebrew languages the greater part of their continuance at
the University, to the utter neglect of political knowledge
!
I am bold to affirm, that not one to twenty of those who are
dubbed with the title of A. B. or A. M. understand that con-stitution
or form of government under which they live. Will
not the mind of sensibility cry out v/ith the orator, on anoth-er
occasion ? " 0, the times ! 0, the manners !"
The last object of attention, though not less interesting, is
a supply of food for the mental part of the creation. The
mind of man is made capable of greater enjoyment than what
barely relates to the senses. The system of morality and
philosophy are what I mean to be understood as food for the
mind, or mental part of creation. When the mind of man
becomes disengaged from the primary objects of nature's call,
it then mounts to things of greater magnitude than what bare-ly
relates to itself; it views creation, the works of povidence,
and the end to which all these things point. The doctrine of
right and wrong, or in other words, virtue and vice, is a sub-ject
which supplies food for the mind, or which gives the
highest polish to the happiness which it enjovs. When we
4
36 MEMOIRS OF
view the curious order of nature, and see that all things are
governed by fixed and unalterable laws, which once discov-ered,
lead to a knowledge of future events and useful im-provements;
that the parent of nature has carefully and cu-riously
provided for all his children, even to the minutest in-sect,
we cannot but be filled with that delight at viewing the
fitness of things, which no other subject can create. I will
contend, that more satisfaction is enjoyed in viewing the op-eration
of nature on a single kernel of wheat, after it is com-
-
mitted to the ground, and there is more usefulness in that
contemplation, than in the study of the dead languages
through life. Can a knowledge of these languages help a
person in the investigation of ethics, philosophy, or morality ?
I am aware it will be said, that to read the scriptures in
the original tongues will enable a person to understand them
much better, than to be able to read the translations only;
and therefore it is necessary that all who intend the study of
divinity as their pursuit, should be acquainted with these lan-guages.
Happy would it have been for mankind had these
effects followed : but the truth is far otherwise. We find
the Christian world broken into parties and factions, by those
very characters who have been enabled to read the scriptures
in the original; and much greater disagreement has happen-ed
in the interpretation, than what has been am-ong those
who can read the translation only ; and even in this enligiit-ened
age, when so many are favored with this great privi-lege,
we do not find a more general agreement respecting the
doctrines of the scripture.
I appeal to your own observations, whether I have not sta-ted
mailers of fact, as they exist, without miscoloring or ex-aggeration,
in respect to the study of the dead languages.
Then the greater pari of the time spent at Universities
amounts to nothing, or what is worse. It habituates the
mind to a system of error, and puts it upon the pursuit of
wrong obiects, and of course it becomes difficult to break
those chains of habit which education has forged.
Look around on mankind ; do we see any of those lumi-naries,
who have been granted to the worM as Heaven^s
richest boon, from among our collegiate characters ? On the
contrary, a Washington, a Franklin, a Rittenhouse, have
shone resplendent, without the borrowed rays of a College.
We are prone to form a wrong estimate of education, per-haps,
more than of any other object of our attention* When
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 37
a youth has spent four years at a University, and has gone
the common round of establishing a character for ability, by
stealing water-melons, robbing hen-roosts, geese-houses, &c.
and playins tricks upon the inhabitants' cows and horses, and
can speak a number of sentences which others do not un-derstand,
his fond mother looks at him with pleasing signifi-cance,
and tells her inquisitive neighbors, that her son has got
to be a man of science, and in order to establish her doctrine
recounts all the manoeuvres he has practiced at College, in
order to get a hen out of the roost. The father thinks these
are marks of greatness of mind and depth of knowledge, and
from these evidences, forms the most pleasing expectations of
his son's future greatness. These anecdotes are recounted by
the neighbors to their families, through a long course of suc-ceeding
winter evenings' amusements. They drink deeply at
this fountain of enteriainment. When they hear of the fool-ish
pranks of scholars, they are exhilirated at the recital
;
they dwell upon them with pleasure, and behold the perform-ers
with admiration. Whereas, let it be said, that such or
such persons have outstripped their fellows in. depth of
thousht, or perspicuity of reasoning and invention, the tale
becomes lifeless, and is soon forgotten.
Our youth, possessing the ambition of becoming famous,
strike out into that road which the unaccountable prejudices
of mankind have marked out for them. They wish to start
into notice, and will most assuredly adopt such measures, as
Ihey see have brought others forward into public esteem. I
believe sir, you will be heartily tired wrth my digressions, be-fore
I get through my tedious narration ; but I ask for that
exercise of patience, towards my weakness, which I know
your generosity will grant. My feelinss are so warmly in-terested
in the ideas which some of ray observations commu-nicate,
that I cannot suppress them, without doing greatvio-lence
to my mind. But to return to the norrative.
I left my father's house, about the 20ih of Novf^mber, at
the age of seventeen, and directed my course for Newbury-port,
a small seaport town in the state of Massachusetts,
where they fitted outmany small vessels for privateering. Af-ter
I had travelled the chief of the day, I entered into the
woods about sunset. Bemg unacquainted with the way, I
was not aware of riding more than a mile or two, at farthest,
before I should come to inhabitants ; but to my surprise, I
continued my course till it became quite dark, without dis-
38 MEMOIRS OF
covering any traces of human beings, except the road I was
travelling. It began to snow violently, and the night was
extremely dark. I suddenly found myself against a team
and wagon, containing a family moving into the country. Af-ter
enquiring the distance through to inhabitants, and the na-ture
of the road, I found 1 had got the greatest part of the
night's work before me. I accordingly quickened ray pace,
and waded through the snow, which by this time had become
pretty deep, with all the exertio?i in my power. My horse^
which had not been refreshed since I left home, now became
fatigued ; alighting I drove him before me, till I became
weary with travelling myself; and then mounted again, i
pursued such measures alternatel}^ till about twelve at night,
when I espied a light, a little distance before me.
A person, who has' been in a similar situation, will readily
conceive the nature of my feelings at this time. The sight
of this illumination, through a small cranny of an old log hut,
was attended with those effusions of pleasure, which the mi-ser
never feels when hoarding up his treasures. Entering
the building from which the light proceeded, I found it a hut,
made in that rude state, which did not admit of the polish ol
art. Logs cut from the forest were laid on the top of each
other, to the height of eight feet, when a roof was added, the
rafters of the same materials covered with the bark of trees.
This building was about twenty feet square; a large fire be-ing
built in the midst, the family lay around it on the
ground. The whole group presented a subject fit for the
pencil of Hogarth. Inquiring how far it was to a public Inn,
I was informed that one was kept there. Necessity con-strained
me to accept of those accomodations, for the v/ant
of better.
Some refreshment for my horse being obtained, I was con-ducted
to a bed kept for travellers, as the best piece offurni-ture
in the house. Nature was too much fatigued to hold a
parley with inconveniences. I soon fell into a profound
sleep, which continued, I suppose, about tv/o hours, when I
awoke. By the complaints which my bones uttered, I was
jealous my bed was not made of down. I arose, called for
my horse, and after travelling five miles further, over a bad
road, I came to a tavern, where accommodations were to be
had for man and horse. I enjoyed myself in this situation
much better, since my other entertainment had been so disa-greeable.
I stayed at this house until noon ; when I tbund
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 39
myself refreshed with food and sleep, I again pursued my
journey. The next day, I arrived at a town called London-derry,
where the father of a class-mate of mine lived, on
whom I called, and to my great satisfaction, found the son at
his father's. I told them my intention of going to sea, and
the reason why I had left College. They tri*'d to persuade
me to relinquish my purpose, but when they found me fixed,
the old gentleman wrote to some of his acquaintance in New-buryport,
to befriend me in my pursuit.
Intending to sell my horse, saddle and bridle, and with the
avails to prepare myself for sea, I here found the market for
horses so low, that a sale for him would not be easily obtain-ed
without great loss; I therefore concluded to send my
horse back to my father. I arrived at Newburyport and de-livered
my letter of introduction to Capt. M'Hurd, to whom
it was addressed. This man kept a house for boarders and
lodgers ; I accordingly put up with him. Not finding any
privateers going to sea soon, I concluded to go in a packet,
which had a letter of marque to France. Having no doctor
engaged, I undertook to act in that capacity : and after ob-taining
the assistance, advice and direction of an old practi-tioner
in physic, together with marks set on each parcel of
medicine, 1 thought myself tolerably well qualified to perform
the office of a physician on board the ship. We did not sail
till the first day of January, 1783. When I lost sight of
America, I cannot say but what my feelings were more disa-greeably
affected than I expected. Those attachments which
we form in childhood, to places, to persons and things, are
pretty strong, I believe in the minds of all ; and none give
them up without a struggle-
Soon after we had lost sight of land, I began to grow in-tolerably
sea-sick, which continued without intermission for
four days. This is a species of sickness, though not dan-gerous,
yet as di agreeable to bear as the most violent disor-der
to whidh the human constitution is subject. This served
in a great measure, to cool my ardor for spending my days on
the salt water. On the fifth day I began to feel more at
ease ; the motion of the vessel was not so irksome ; my ap-petite
began to recover, which before was quite gone. We
made the island of Sable, lying in 45 degrees north latitude,
where we went on shore. This island is a dreary barren
place, about thirty miles in length. Some wild' horses and
hogs were placed on this spot, for the support of seamen who
4*
40 MEMOIRS OF »
might be cast away. Accidents of this kind being very com-mon
here, on account of the shoals extending from its shores
at a great distance into the sea. Here was liiiewise a small
hut, a porridge pot, and fire-wood, flint and tinder-box.
Here, the sailors recounted many circumstances of the mar-velous,
representing this as the abode of spirits, hobgoblins,
&c. They affirmed with positive assurance that many fami-lies
had attempted living here, induced by great rewards
from govenrment, but all their attempts were in vain, owing
to sights and noises, which had disturbed them. It was said
that this island, in time of an easterly -storm, would shake
with great violence, which I was rather induced to believe,
because a natural reason can be assigned for this phenom-enon.
Leaving this place, we proceeded on our voyage, till
the eighth day of our departure, when, about 10 o'clock in
the morning, the man at the mast head cried out, a sail ! a
sail was discovered ahead ; we hove to, in order to see which
way she was going. We soon found her making from us
with all her force. We put about and made sail after her,
till about sunset. We found her a merchant's brig from New-
York, bound to London, with pearl-ash, commanded by one
Pratt. After we had manned our prize, we pursued our rout,
without any material occurrence, till the twenty-third.
About 11 o'clock in the morning, we espied a sail astern,
which we soon saw was in pursuit of us ; we made all the
sail we could, to run from her, and found she carried to it
(a sea term for not takmg in sail) through some pretty se-vere
squalls. We lost sight of her about sunset : we made
an island on the coast of France, pronounced in the French
language, Graw—how they spell it, I do not recollect. We
came to under this island, and fired for a pilot. One soon
came off to us : about 1 o'clock at night, we got under way
again. This pilot v/as the first person I ever saw wearing
wooden shoes; his dress and appearance were miserable
j
the use of the knife and fork was unknown to him. He was
invited into the cabin, and victuals set before him ; he felt
himself in such an awkward situation, that, instead of eating,
he filled his pockets with hard bread, and went on deck.
This is the situation of the peasantry, though not in quite so
deplorable a condition, through France, so far as I had op-portunity
of observing. About 10 o'clock the next morning,
we made Bellisle, and soon after, saw a sail standing for us,
ri^^ht a-head. We thought her the same that pursued us the
STEPHKV BUEAOUGHS. 41
day preceding; she provea I » ^e the same. She was a Lug-ger,
carrying 12 six pounders and was chasing a brig mount-ing
6 guns. We soon passed ihe brig, and speaking with
her, found her from Boston, bound to Nantz. We entreated
her to put about with us, and look at the Lugger, which, by
this time, was ho\i« to, waiting for ns. AJl cur entreaties
were in vain ; she ran in under the fort of Belilsle. We car-ried
18 guns, but unfortunately, ten of them wers wood, so
that little advantage could be expected from them. We
hauled up our courses, put up our boarding netting, cleared
our decks, lit our matches, and made all ready for action.
We had on board twenty-one men besides the prisoners. The
thirteen stiipes of the United States were flying ; but the
Lugger, as yet, shewed no colors. We came so near as to
hail—she answered in French—and after understanding we
came from America and were bound to Nantz, she oifered us
a pilot, and when we told them we had a pilot already on
board she affected not to understand, but made towards us
with a pretended design of accommodating us with a pilot.
Not more than ten men were to be seen on her deck.
By this time, she was sufficiently near to discover those on
board by their countenances. Mr. Severe, our first mate,
knew the commander of the Lugger to be a man from the isle
of Jersey, having been taken by him the preceding year. The
mate vociferated like a stentor, " give them a gun ! give them
a gun !'' We fired, but so strongly prepossessed were the
gunners, that the Lugger was a Frenchman, that they point-ed
over her, and did her no damage. She ported her helm,
and fell astern as much as half a mile, expecting that we
fought with 18 guns. We kept on our course—seeing this,
she made all the sail possible after us, hung out the English
colors, and her deck became instantly filled with men. She
first came up on our windward board, but now altered her
intention, and came round on our lee-side. We began to fire
stern chasers at them, and they returned our salute with bow
chasers. While Mr. Severe was elevating the gun at our bow
he received a swivel ball, which carried away his right cheek,
went through and broke his right arm, and two of his ribs.
We caught him up, and carried him into the cock-pit, where
I dressed his wounds, and at the desire of one Bootman, a
passenger, left Mr. Severe in his care, and returned on deck.
Our ship was thinly manned, and the help of every hand was
felt. A chest of loaded small arms stood on the quarter deck,
42 MEMOIRS OF
where I took my station. The Lugger, by this time, was
•grappled to our ship, and attempted sword in hand to cut
away our boarding nettings. Every man was ordered to his
boarding pike, and for ten minutes, the conflict was truly
sharp, but the issue was in our favor. They retreated on
board their vessel, the guns were their next resort. With
cannon and small arms they poured in upon tis a shower of
balls, and we endeavored to pay them in like kind, to the full
amount of our receipt, so that a balance should be in our fa-vor,
and not against us. The captain and myself had fired
nearly all the small arms which were loaded. The command-er
of the Lugger kept bellowing from his quarter deck, that
if we did not strike, he would give us no quarter. I took a
blunderbuss, which remained loaded, and taking aim very
leisurely, at the mouth of his trumpet, let fly. I believe this
did his business ; at least, I heard no more of this bravado-
Twice more did they attempt to cut away our boarding net-tings,
but, to as little effect as at first. We by this time, had
disabled their fore-top-mast, and carried away their gib-boom.
They cut from us, and made all the sail possible towards the
Penm.arks, which were hidden and dangerous rocks, lying un-der
water, where they expected we should not follow them.
In this conjecture they were right. We arrived the same
day in the river Loire, and came to an anchor at a town
called Penbeef, thirty miles below the city of Nantz. The
next day I went up to the city, and took lodgings at one
madame M. Harty's, a house of general resort for the
Americans. To undertake a particular description of the
places through which I went, will be less interesting than
the accounts of travellers of more observation ; being too
young, at that time, to make those remarks, which would
serve to throw any light upon your previovs knowledge of
those places, by the information of other authors.
Soon after my arrival, I had an advantageous offer of
going as Doctor's second mate in a ship bound to the East-
Indies. I accepted of the offer, and was preparing to go;
but the ship, which lay at Penrine, ten miles below Penbeef,
had orders suddenly to sail, and so left me behind.
We received our dividend of the prize money, which was
42 guineas each. Being possest with so much money, and
some time on hand, I determined to take a short excursion
through the country, in order to see what of France my fi-nances
would admit. I accordingly set out, with two more
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 43
Americans, for Angers, from thence to Brest, from there to
L'Orient, and then back to Nantz. I was absent on this ex-cursion
about three weeks, if I remember ris'ht. As nothing
more occurred than what happens to travellers generally, I
shall not take up your time in giving you the uninteresting
detail.
, When I returned to our ship, I found some alterations had
taken place in my absence, which proved a source of the ut-most
moititicalion to me afterwards. The prize brig had
been bought by the Captain, and fitted out for Lisbon ; on
board of which went the first mate as commander, and one
Kenne was engaged to succeed him in our ship. The third
mate supposed this, by the right of succession, belonged to
hill!, and accordingly, desired me to write to the Captain,
who was at Nantz, in his behalf. I did according to his de-sire,
which was I induced to do by the drunken irregular con-duct
of Kenne, who had disgusted the whole crew, he having
proved a worthless wretch. This act of mine was the cause
of a mortal enmity towards me, v/hich he was but too suc-cessful
in shewing. When the Captain came on board, I
found his feelings were cooled towards me. However, no
open breach as yet took place. We sailed for America some
time in April, and being becalmed oflfthe western isles, we
went on shore at St. Michaels ; when we came on shore, we
saw a great concourse of people about half a mile distant.
Our curiosity led us to see what was the occasion of this as-semblage;
when we came to the spot we found a Negro
bound to a cannon, and a man standing by with a slake in
his hand, sharpened at one end. The people were Portu-guese,
and consequently, we could not understand their lan-guage,
nor learn the occasion of what we saw, only from
conjecture. The Negro appeared to be in great distress, with
fearful apprehensions. The dreadful operation of empaling
soon began, which consisted in driving the stake through his
body, from one end to the other, till it came out a little above
his shoulders The agonies, which he manifested by w.ith-ings
and hidious yells, had such an effect on my mind, that I
almost fainted. The wind breezing up, we soon returned on
board, to my great satisfaction. I could not, for a number of
days, get the scene of this horrid action out of my mind ;
and even now, sir, my blood recoils with horror at the recol-lection
! What strange infatuation ! That man who is pla-ced
in this state of dependence, instead of granting that hj»ip
44 MEMOIRS OF
•which the voice of nature calls for, should exert his power
to make a fellow creature more miserable, than to be left to
the savage beasts of prey.
We sailed from hence, and I soon began to perceive that
Kenne was intriguing against me, by holding conferences of-ten
with Jack, the cabin boy. One day it was said, that
wine had been clandestinely handed out of the cabin to two
men, who appeared to be drunk. I was ordered, in a very
peremptory manner, to leave the cabin, and remove my chest
into the forepeak. I moved according to order, but you can
scarce conceive the emotions of my mind on the occasion.
No reasons were offered for this order.
The conduct of the Captain before, had been of such a na-ture
as to gain my warmest esteem. I felt those emotions of
friendship for him which would have carried me almost any
length to serve him.
To receive this treatment from him, and, as I supposed,
by the influence of a low, dirty scoundrel, added a poignan-cy
to the sting of disappointment, wliich is more easily con-
-ceived by a mind of sensibility then language can describe.
For the Captain to suppose it possible, that I could be actua-ted
by so base a motive, as to hand his wine clandestinely to
any of the crew, was a sacrilegious profanation of the feel-ings
of my heart.
All intercourse between the Captain and myself was at an
end. I often had visits from Kenne, who, in the most arro-gant,
insulting manner, triumphed over me ; and it was well
for him that I was sick with the small-pox at this time.
About the time I was recovering from this disorder, I found
by the noise, that a number of the crew was drunk on deck.
The Captain came down in the forepeak, and clapped me in-to
irons ; being in a great passion, he accused me of break-ing
open a box of wine and giving it to the men, in order to
revenge the affront of being turned out of the cabin. I en-deavored
to expostulate, but in the room of being heard, I
received a brutal kick on my head. All this did not wean
my affection from the Captain. I considered him a dupe to
the low intrigues of those wretches who were unworthy his
notice.
We arrived at Newburyport, where I left the ship, and put
Tip at a boarding house. Here I remained three days, about
entering on board of a sloop bound to the West-Indies. I had
removed all my things out of the ship, and had no further
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 45
communication with any one belonging to her. I intended a
further investigation of the treatment I had received. While
I was contemplating these circumstance, I was arrested in
the street, and carried before the justice of the peace, and
there found to my surprise the cabin boy, Kenne, and an
Irishman, who testified that one Bradley, who had before run
away, and could not be found, told them that I gave him
wine out of the cabin; that afterwards I broke open a chest
of wine, and handed him the bottles : and likewise broke
open a bale of silk, and hid one piece of it; all which was
done through a revengeful disposition. Something worth
observing took place on their side, viz. Kenne and the cabin-boy
were those, who made the discovery of the wine box be-ing
broken open: of the bale of silk being broken, and the
place in which the piece of silk was hid ; it being where no
man would have mistrusted, who did not know beforehand ;
it was concealed in a cask, once in my use. Kenne was the
man who informed the Captain, that the wine was gone out
of the cabin ; and as he was half drunk the greater part of
the time, from, his first cominff on board till we arrived, I
never doubted in my own mind what became of the wine.
And as for Bradley's telling the story, which they related, I
knew it was false, unless it was done by a preconcerted plan.
However I was committed to jail, where I lay some time, how
long I do not remember, and was then turned out in a man-ner
as unaccountable.*
By this time all my money and clothes were gone I know
not where; I never saw them more. The assistance of my
friend Ripley was not wanting to embellish this scene, who
was in Newburyport at this time. My situation did ndt afford
me the opportunity of calling those to a legal account, who
had confined me contrary to law, and dismissed me in such a
clandestine manner. I returned to my father's sunken and
discouraged ; the world appeared a gloomy chaos ; the sun
arose to cast a sickly glimmer on surrounding objects; the
flowers of the field insulted my feelings with their gaieiy and
splendour ; the frolicksome lamb, the playful kitten, and the
antic colt, were beheld with those painful emotions, which
" The writer of this saw the author at Newburyport, at this period.
The Captain, after reading the memoirs, told the writer, that Burroughs
had given a much more correct historj- of the voyage to and from France,
than he was capable of doing himself; and that he was pretty well con-rinced
Kenne was the rogue.
46 MEMOIKS OF
are beyond description. Shall all nature, said I, smile with
joy ; shall the brute creation break out into irregular tran-sports,
by the overflowings of pleasing sensations, whilst I am
shut out from even the dim raj^s of hope ? The comparison
between my situation, and that of the rest of intelligent na-ture,
was so much against me, that I could not bear the ideas
which this brought into view, without groaning with pain,
under the pressure of the load.
Those who had before pursued me, with their unabating
enmity proclaimed their triumph. I found a censorius world
little desirous of inquiring into circumstances. It was suffi-cient
for them to have such facts, as served to raise a slan-derous
report ; they felt easy, without giving themselves the
trouble of inquiring into the causes, why those facts existed,
and the circumstances aKending them.
CHAPTER VI.
Descend bland Pity, from thy native sky,
Come with thy moving plaint and melting eye.
After I had remained at my father's housea bout one year,
without attending to any kind of business, I concluded, from
what reason I was capable of exercising, that it ill became
me, as a man, to remain thus inattentive and useless. I de-termined
to enter into business of some kind; and as a school
was the only employment which immediately offered, I en-tered
into that calling. At a town called Haverhill, thirty
miles from Hanover, I engaged to teach an English school for
four months. No sooner was I seated in the busines here,
than I found my friend Ripley busy in his endeavors to throw
me out of employment. He came to Haverhill, and in that
plausible manner, of which he was master, stated the evil
consequences of continuing me in that business. The base
examples I should set before the children who attended my
school ; and although I did very well now, yet notwithstand-ing
my sublety to conceal my disposition, I should, ere long,
do something that wouM make them repent of their creduli-ty,
and expose myself to their universal censure. His repre-sentation
had but too much effect on the people. He was a
clergyman, and consequently must speak the truth. They
STEPHEN BiraROUGKS. 47
were afraid—they kept their children chiefly at home, for
fear of some terrible explosion, which had been foreiold by
their spiritual leader. With indignation I quitted them and
the school.
I then look a school in a" town called Orford, eighteen
miles below Hayerhill, and twelve miles from Hanover. For-tunately
for me, I had kept this school long enough to get
established, before Mr. R y knew where I was, and of
course his efforts to overthrow here were ineffectual. I con-tinued
this school until the expiration of the time agreed for,
to the universal satisfaction of all concerned. I began this
school in November, and ended with the month of February.
The usual time for schooling in all the towns through the
eastern slates, is only in the winter, some few populous towns
excepted.
Whilst I taught th;is school, I became acquainted with a
woman who was supposed to be a widow, possessing those
amiable qualifications calculated to attract the attention of
every admirer of the fair part of creation. I paid strict at-tention
to gain her affections, and flattered myself I had in a
measure succeeded. After the school was ended, I returned
to my father's. I had not been long with my father, before
I had a visit from Joseph Huntington, who was a member of
Dartmouth College. He came in a sleigh, and brought a
class-mate, who was of that peculiar turn of mind, as to be
a butt for the ridicule of all the wits in College ; and it was
certain, he would be led into all the scrapes then in vogue.
Huntington proposed to me to take a ride that evening in his
sleigh, telling me at the same time, he had brought A——
—
with him to steal a bee-hive. For the diversion of drawing
A into a ludicrous situation, I immediately consented
to be one of the parly. We accordingly all got into the
sleigh and drove away about two miles, when, coming near
where the bees were kept, we sent A after them, who
was ever prompt to do what he was set about by any one.
He soon returned with a hive to the sleigh, when we drove
off with great speed to the College, where I found a number
assembled, ready to partake of the repast which the honey
afforded. All were regaled with this delicious morsel but
myse!f, having an insuperable antipathy to honey, which
"wholly incapaciates me from ever making use of it. ,
I am now, sir, at a place in my narrative which has caused
me pain in relating, because I view my conduct entirely
5
48 MEMOIRS OF
V
wrong, and my mode of reasoning upon such subjects, at
that age, quite ridiculous. For some unaccountable reason
or other, youth are carried away with false notions of right
and wrong. I know, for instance, that Huntington possess-ed
those principles of integrity, that no consideration would
have induced him to deprive another, by stealth, of any spe-cies
of property, except fruit, bees, pigs, and poultry. And why
it is considered by youth generally, that depriving another of
those articles is less criminal, than stealing any other kind
of property, I cannot tell ; but it is a fact, that almost all do
esteem this so ; and robbing others of those articles is thought
to be only the playful wantonness of thoughtless inexperience.
I will ask you, sir, whether our treatment of those things
does not give too much reason to convince youth, that we
view them in that light ourselves.
We parted at 1 1 o'clock that evening, and I returned home.
The man who lost the bees, suspected the scholars as the
authors of this depredation, and accordingly, went to the
governors to enter his complaint. Search was made, and by
the inattention of A— , a discovery was effected. It was
found, likewise, in the discovery, that I was of the party.
This was a fine bone for my friend R y to pick. He did
not fail to fulfil the office of a clergyman, by sitting his face
against iniquity. He was determined I should be made a '
public example. After Huntington and A had settled
with the owner of the bees, R y represented to him the
necessity of not making any settlement with me, but prose-cute
in the law, and there have it terminate. Cofiin was
ready to back this representation with all his oratory. They
succeeded ; I was informed into the circumstances ; and as
another circumstance had now taken place, which had co-operated
with this, it is necessary I should go back a little
in my narrative, and bring forward this event to the present
time. The lady, of whom mention has been made, and who
was supposed to be a widow, I still addressed on the terms of
courtship : matters between us had proceeded to considerable
length. I went to visit her one day, after I had left Orford,
and coming to a neighbor of her's about six rods distant, I
saw a man standing in 'he door of her house, a stranger,
whom I never before saw; and upon enquiring who he was,
received information that her husband was alive, and had
come home. This intelligence was like heaven's artillery,
charged with tenfold vim. The wheels of nature ran back-
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 49
ward ! The blood curdled in my veins, and I fell almost sense-less
into a chair ! I was aroused from this stupor, by fe-male
shrieks I Howlings of bitter lamentation assailed my
ears «**«**«*««
God of nature ! what greater scenes of distress are reserved
in store ? What sharper arrows yet remain in thy quiver ?
« * « ***«•«« «»
May I hide myself with a mantle of darkness, and retire from
the stage of action into everlasting obscurity.
CHAPTER VII.
** Fir'd is tlie muse ? And let the muse be fir'd,
"Who not enflam'd, when what he speaks he feels ?"
Weary with life, I returned to my father's, made some
small arrangements, and left the country. One pistareen
was all the ready cash I had on hand, an4 the suddenness
with which I departed, deprived me of a chance to raise more.
Travellins; on leisurely, I had time for reflection. What,
said I, again an outcast among mankind ? Where am I go-ing
? What can I do with myself in this world, where I meet
with nothing but disappointment and chagrin ? True it is, I
am an outcast, but who cares for that? If I will not use
means for my own preservation and prosperity, what am I to
expect? Is it to be supposed that whining over misfortunes
is calculated to make them better ? No, by no means. Then
arouse said I, for shame ; use such means as you have in
your power. The greater embarrassments, the more honor
in overcoming them ; lay aside the idea of being any longer
a child, and become a man. If others endeavor to throw
obstacles in the way of your prosperity, show them that you
can rise above them.
This dialogue with myself was productive of the most hap-py
effects ; I began to look about me, to see what was to be
done in my present situation, to what business I could turn
my attention.
The practice of Law, which would have been most to my
mind, I could not undertake, until I had spent sometime in
the study, which would be attended with expense far beyond
my abilities; therefore this object must be laid aside. Physic
50 MEMOIRS OF
was under the same embarrassments ; business of the mer-cantile
line, I could not pursue for want of a capital ; and
even a school, at this time of the year was hardly to be ob-tained.
Business of some kind I must enter into, and that imme-diately,
in order to answer the present calls of nature. And
what can that be ? said I ; have not I enumerated all the
callings, which are profitable for me to attend to ? I might
possibly write in an office, or tend in a store, on wages, had
I any person to recommend or introduce me into that busi-ness.
But what can now be done ? A stranger—moneyless —and friendless. There is one thing, said contrivance,
which you may do; and it will answer your purpose;—
-
preach ! ! Preach ? What a pretty fellow am I for a preach-er
! A pretty character mine, to tickle the ears of a grave
audience ! Run away from my own home for being con-nected
in robbing a bee house, and for my attention to a
married woman: having been through scenes of tumult, du-ring
my whole career, since I have exhibited on the active
stage of life. Besides all this, what an appearance should I
make in my prellent dress? which consisted of a light grey
coat, with silver plated buttons, green vest, and red velvet
breeches. This, said I is a curious dress for me to offer my-self
in, asa preacher; and I am by no means able to obtain
a different suit.
These objections, truly, are weighty ; many difficulties
must be surmounted, in order to enter into this business ; but
as this is the only kind you can attend to, said 1 to myself,
under present circumstances, you can but be destitute of re-source,
if you make the trial and do not succepd. At any
rate, it is best to see what can be done : ilierefore, in order
to obviate the first difficulty, viz. of disagiet able reports fol-lowing
you, it will be necessary to prevent, as much as pos-sible,
your being known, where you offer yourself to preach ;
and in order to prevent that you must change your name.
This being done, you must go some distance, where you are
not personally known ; and the probability is, that you can
continue in such business, till some opportunity may offer for
your entering into other employment. As for your dress you
cannot alter that at present, and therefore, you must makft
the best of it you can. I do not think it will be an insur
mountable obstacle; if you fail in one attempt, mind not ts
be discouraged^ but repeat the trial, until you succeed.
STEPHEN BUPvROUGKS. 51
»
After I had held this parley with myself, I was determined
to follow the foregoing plan, according to the best of my
abilities. I exchanged my horse for another, much worse,
and received three dollars for the diiference. This furnished
me with money for my immediate expenses in travelling. I
pursued my course down Connecticut river about one hua»
dred and lifty miles, judging that by this time, I was far
enough from home to remain unknown. I concluded to b©«
gin my operations. Hearing of a place called Ludlow, not
far distant, where they were destitute of a clergyman, I bent
my course that way, it being Saturday, and intended to preach
the next daj", if I proved successful. I arrived about noon,
and put up at the house of one Fuller, whom I found to be
a leading man in their religious society. I introduced myself
to him as a clcrsyman, and he gave me an invitation to spend
the sabbath with them and preach. You will readily con-clude
that I did not refuse this invitation. The greatest ob-stacle
was now surmounted, as I conceived, viewing myself
as fairly introduced into the ministerial function. I retired
to rest at the usual time, and after I had composed my mind
sufficiently for reflection, I began to consider under what
situation my affairs now stood, and what was to be done un-der
present circumstances. I had engaged to preach on the
morrow. I had almost forgotten to tell you that'^hiy name
here was Davis. People had been notified that a sermon
would be delivered. This business I never had attempted.
It is true, the study of divinity had come under my attention,
together with every other subject of common concern, in a
cursory manner. I concluded that sermonizing would not be
so difficult as the other exercises of public worship. Many
disagreeable possibilities arose into view. What, said T, would
be my feelings, should I make some egregious blunder in
travelling this unbeaten road ? I must be exposed to the
mortifying consideration of being observed by a whole assem-bly,
in this ridiculous essay to preach, and not be able to
carry my attempt into execution; and all those things possi-bly
may happen. Those considerations made so dismal an
appearance, that I once concluded to get up, take my horse
privately out of the stable sfnd depart, rather than run the
risk of the dangers which were before me. But upon more
mature reflection, I found the hard hand of necessity compel-led
me to stay. When I awoke the next morning, my heart
beat with anxious palpitation for the issue of the day. I con-
5*
52 MEMOIRS OF
sidered this as the most important scene of my life—that in a
great measure, my future happiness or wretchedness depend-ed
on my conduct through this day. The time for assembling
approached ! I saw people began to come together. My feel-ings
were all in arms against me, my heart would almost
leap into my mouth.
What a strange thing, said I, is man ! Why am I thus
pertui bated with these whimsical feelings ? I know my dress
is against me, and will cause some speculation ; but i cannot
help it, and why need I afflict myself with disagreeables be-fore
they arrive ? I endeavored to calm my feelings by those
reflections, fortified my countenance with all resolution, and
set out with my bible and psalm book under my arm, those
being tlie only insignia of a clergyman about me. VVhen I
made my appearance, I found a stare of universal surprise at
my gay dress, which suited better the character of a beau
than a clergyman. My eyes I could not persuade myself to
raise fiom the ground till I had ascended the pulpit. 1 was
doubtful whether I had the command of my voice, or even
whether I had any voice. 1 sat a few moments, collecting my
resolution for the effort of beginning : I made the attempt
—
I found my voice at command—my anxiety was hushed in a
moment ray perturbation subsided, and I felt all the serenity
of a caln*summer*s morning. I went through the exercises
of the forenoon without any difficulty. No monarch, when,
seated on the throne, had more sensible feelings of prosperity,
than what I experienced at this time.
During the intermission, I heard the whisper in swift circu-lation
among the people, concerning my appearance in such
a dress. The question was often asked with great emphasis,
*' Who is he ?" but no one was able to give those answers
which were salifactory. A consulation took place among
some leading members of the society, relative to hiring me to
continue among them as a preacher, as 1 had intimated to
Mr. Fuller that I should be willing to continue among them
in that capacity, should such a mailer meet with their ap-probation.
1 attended on the afiernnoon's exercises without
any singular occuri ence. The meeting being dismissed, and
the people retired, I was informed by my landlord, that they
did nut nsree to hire me any longer; accordingly, I found my
business here at an end.
I WHS advised by Mr. Fuller, to make application to Mr.
Baldwin^ minister of Palmer^ about twenty miles distant from
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 53
Ludlow, for informatioa where were vacancies, and for in-troduction
into those vacancies. I accordingly set out for
Palmer on Monday morning, and arrived at Mr. Balwin's
about four o'clock in the afternoon. I introduced myself to
him as a clergyman wanting employment. I saw he noticed
my dress, but asked no questions. He examined into my
education, knowledge of divinity, tenets, &c. and finding all
agreeing with his ideas of orthodoxy, he concluded to recom-mend
me to a town called Pelham, eighteen miles distant
from Palmer. The next morning 1 set off for Pelham, with
a letter to one Deacon Gray. 1 arrived, and delivered my
letter, and was hired, in consequence of the recommendation
of Mr. Baldwin, without any hesitation, for four sabbaths j
five dollars a sabbath ; boarding, horsekeeping, &,c. &c.—
I
now found myself, in some measure, settled in business.
The want of an immediate relief to my temporary inconveni-ences
was now supplied. I found the family into which I had
fallen, to be an agreeable, sociable circle, and I was much
respected in the family not only on account of my sacerdotal
character, but likewise on account of the ease with which I
mixed with them, in all their little social enjoyments.
CHAPTER Vm.
** Companion of the wretched come,
Fair Hope ! and dwell with me awhile
,
Thy heav'nly presence gilds the gloom,
While happier scenes in prospect smile"
Before I proceed to the relation of succeeding events, it
will be necessary to give a description of the people inhabit-ing
this town, as much will depend on knowing their char-acter,
to rightly understand the relation of incidents which
will follow.
The town of P. Iham was settled with people chiefly from
the north of Ireland. They were of course strict Presbyte-rians.
They valued themselves much on being acquainted
with the nice distinctions between orthodox and heterodox
principles and piaclice. They likewise wished to be thought
shrewd in their observations on ministers and preaching. A
people generally possessing violent passions, which once
J4 MEMOIRS OF
disturbed, raged, uncontrolled bj'^ the dictates of reason ; un-polished
in their manners, possessing a jealous disposition ;
and either very friendly or very inimical, not knowing a
medium between those two extremes. The first settled min-ister
they had among them was one Abercrombie, from
Scotland, a man of handsome abilities, but violent passions,
resolute and persevering. Not many years after he was
settled among them, a difficulty took place between him and
the people, which was carried to considerable length, and
ended in his dismission. After Mr. Abercrombie left his
people, they made application to one Grayham, who at length
settled among them, to their universal satisfaction ; being a
very handsome speaker, and otherwise possesed with popular
talents as a preacher. Mr. Grayham was a man of very
delicate feelings, of superior refinement, and inheriting a
great desire for that peace which establishes the enjoyments
of society.
After preaching a number of years to this people, he found
an uneasiness prevailing among them, the chief cause of
which was, his practising upon a system of manners more re-fined
than what was prevalent in the place ; consequently,
they accused him of pride, of inattention to the vanities of
the world, of leaving the plain path of scripture, and follow-ing
after the vices of Rome. Mr. Grayham labored to con-vince
them of their mistake ; of his wish to live with them
upon the most intimate terms of equality ; of his ever having
it in view to pursue such measures as would, in their oper-ation,
conduce to their good and prosperity ; and in that
pursuit he had expected his examples and percepts would an-swer
a valuable purpose. His expostulations, remonstrances
and entreaties were all given to the wind. The difiiculties
increased and the clamor grew louder. The mind of Mr.
Grayham was too delicately strung to bear those sirokes of
misfortune; they insensibly wore upon his constitution, till
at last he fell a sacrifice to the tumult, and sought his rest in
the grave.
The town of Pelham remained destitute of a minister for
a considerable time. They tried a number of candidates,
but not finding any with whom they could agree, no one was
yet settled. At length a Mr. Merrill came among them. He
was a man possessing the gift of utterance and flow of ex-pression
perhaps equal to any. He was an eccentric genius,
and imprudent to the last degree, possessing violent passions
STEPHEN BUKROUGHS. 55
—headstrong and impetuous. The plausible part of his char-acter
was so captivatinfif, that the town agreed to settle him.
He accordingly was installed. H,s imprudences soon made
their appearance. Complaint was made, but they found one
now who paid but little atienlion to their complaining. Both
parties began to give way to passion. Their contention in-creased,
and a flame was kindled which set the whole town
in an uproar. Mr. Merrill refused to start from thai founda-tion
to which his legal contract entitled him; therefore the
other parly determined to use extraordinary and violent
measures. This attack Mr. Merrill durst not meet; therefore,
he suddenly left the town. Mailers were in this situation
when 1 came to Pelham. From the information of Mr.
Baldwin, and from ihe communications of my landlord and
family, 1 soon gained a prelly thoroush knowledge of the
people whom I was amongst ; and I endeavored to adapt my
conduct to their genius as far as I was capable. I found my-self
soon able to dress in a habit fitting to my calling. I soon
found, likewise, that my endeavors to suit the people had not
altogether failed. At ihe expiration of the four Sabbaths,
they engaged me to preach sixteen more. I began to form
an acquaintance in the neighboring towns, and with the
neighboring ministers.
This happened to be a time of great mortality among wo-men
in child-bed; consequently I was called to preach many
funeral sermons in this and the neighboring towns, many of
which were destitute of a clergyman of their own. I always
attended this business when I had a call. This circumstance
began to raise a wonder in the minds of some how I could be
prepared for preaching so constantly, and on so short notice,
being as yet only nineteen years of age. I had, in reality,
ten sermons with me, written by my father.
At a certain time, being suddenly called to preach a fune-ral
sermon, I had none of my own written, proper for the
occasion, I took one of my father's and delivered it to a
crowded audience. As this sermon was delivered in a private
house, it was in the power of any to look inlo my notes.
One, who had wondered at my always being prepared to
preach, took this opportunity of looking over my notes, and
thought they appeared too old to be lately written. This cir-cumstance
was mentioned to a number, who began to grow
nneasy with the apprehension of my preaching sermons not
my own. Mr. Baldwin coming to Pelham about this time,
56 MEMOIRS OT
they mentioned the matter to him, that he might make some
enquiry into the business, and inform them. He according-ly
mentioned li.e matter to me, in a confidential manner, and
desired to see the sermons alluded to. I was sensible the
hand-writing of my father was so different from my own, that
the first view must clearly convince any observer, that this
sermon was not writtenby myself ; I therefore thought it the
better way to treat the matter ingenuously, and tell him the
simple matter of fact.
I told Mr. Baldwin, that the sermon was a manuscript
which I had in my possession, together with some others,
written by another person, and the want of time to prepare a
discourse had induced me to take this, rather than refuse to
preach. Mr. Baldwin made some observations with regard
to my situation ; of the necessity of a great degree of pru-dence
; and of the impropriety of using other sermons as a
general thing. He returned to Palmer, without giving the
men any account respecting the matter of their suspicion.
Not gaining that intelligence by Mr. Baldwin which was ex-pected,
those who were uneasy, spread their suspicions among
others, until there became uneasiness pretty generally through
the town. They proposed a number of ways to obtain that
satisfaction, with regard to their suspicion, which would eith-er
clear me from the fact of which they were jealous, or else
establish them in it. They at length, agreed to this method,
viz. to send one of their number to me, on Sunday morning
previous to my going into the meeting-house, and desire me
to preach from a passage of scripture, which he should give
me. I was informed of all these circumstances previous to
the time of trial- Their reasoning upon this subject was ot
this nature, viz. that if I was able on the shortest notice, to
preach on any occasion, I should be able likewise to preach
on Sunday from such a passage as should be given me on the
morning of the same day ; and should 1 not be able to preach,
the evidence would be conclusive against me, that I preach-ed
the sermons of others and not my own.
The Sunday following, I was waited on by the Rev. Mr.
Clark, who desired me to oblige him, by delivering a dis-course
from the first clause of the 5th verse of the 9th chap-ter
of Joshua ; the words were, " old shoes and clouted on
their feet." I informed him I would deliver a discourse from
that text, and accordingly he left me. I truly felt somewhat
blanked, at the nature of the passage I had to discourse up-
STEPHEN BURROUGHS. 57
on. However I was determined to do the best on the sub-ject
I was capable. I endeavored to make some arrange-ments
in my mind on the subject. I had not thought long on
it, before the matter opened to my mind, in such a manner as
to give me much satisfaction. As your patience would hard-ly
endure the repetition of a tedious sermon, I will not trouble
you with it ; yet, sir, indulge me in giving you some general
outlines of this discourse, as it was founded on a very singu-lar
passage, and delivered on a very extraordinary occasion.
CHAPTER IX.
" Thus airy pleasure dances in our eyes,
And spreads false images in fair disguise,
To lure our souls ; till just within our arms
The vision dies, and all the painted charms
Flee quick away, from the pursuing sight.
Till they are lost in shade, aad mingle with the night."
In handling this discourse, the exordium consisted of a
description of the Gibeonites; the duplicity which they prac-tised
upon the Jews; the nature and general tendency of de-ceit,
&c. After I had gone through with the introduction, I
divided my discourse into three general heads, viz. to con-sider
in the first place of shoes; 2dly, of old shoes; and 3dly,
of clouted shoes. In treating of the first general head,
viz. shoes, I considered them in a metaphorical sense,
as shewing our mode of conduct in life. We are all, said I,
sojourners in this world but for a season, travelling to anoth-er
country to which we shall, ere long, arrive; we must all
be shod, in order to enable us to travel the road before us.
We find the good man represented as having "his feet shod
with the preparation of the gospel of peace." All mankind
are in a state of motion ; none remain inactive on this stage
of probation ; all are moving forward with rapidity, and has-tening
to their final end. Not only the natural world, but
likewise the mental, is filled with briars and thorns, stones
and rubbish which wound us at every step, when we are not
shod to guard us from those injuries we should otherwise re-ceive
from those impediments. Mankind, finding this to be
the case, have immediate recourse to such coverings for their
feet, as they imagine will protect them from the injuries to
which they are exposed, &c.
53 MEMOIRS OF
In treating the second head, viz. of old shoes, I endeavor-ed
to shew, that they represented those, " who had been hew-ing
to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, which can hold
no water." We find, said i, from the eailiest ages of the
world, mankind practicing upon that system. They have
continued ever since to tread in the steps of their predeces-sors,
and to wear the same old shoes. The old shoes repre-sent
old sins, which mankind have made use of from old
times, down to the present day. And would to God they had
been worn until mankind had been ashamed of them. A spi-rit
of jealousy and discord, perhaps, may be accounted as old
as any shoes now worn. How soon after the creation do we
find this same destructive principle raging in the little fami-ly,
which then composed the whole human race. Murder
was the consequence; revenge and hatred were perpetuated
by it. " Now I am possessed with this accursed passion,"
said Cain, " whoever shall find me, shall slay me." The dire-ful
influence of this passion spreads its dismal efiects among
all mankind, when it once prevails. Solomon, viewing the
operation of this principle upon the human heart, says,
"Jealousy is more cruel than the graVe." It deluges coun-tries,
destroys societies, and renders man hateful to man.
All civil and religious bodies are destroyed, when once this
hateful monster is allowed an entrance. Ministers and peo-ple,
parents and children, husbands and wives, fall a sacrifice
to the influence of "jealousy, that green eyed monster,
which makes the meat it feeds on.'' Therefore, wo be to that
people who cherish the seeds of jealousy, or practice after
her counsels, &c. &c.,&e.
In considering the last general head, viz. of clouted shoes,
I observed, that those, who wore those old shoes, and prac-ticed
upon a system of jealousy, were sensible of its