YALE
UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

THE NOBLEIAFS DATOHTEli,
BEING
AN AUTHENTIC AND AFFECTING NARRATIVE
pp 'the
LIFE AND TRIALS OF
MRS. SARAH E. ALLEI,
MOTHER OF ELIZA ALLEN, THE BRAVE VOLUNTEER OP MEXICO.

*

f

.h

MES. SARAH E. ALLEN,
(Taken at the Age of 30.)
written~by~elYza~allen,
Author of the ''Female VqkMateer JL,
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THE lOBLEMAN'S DAUGHTER,
BEING
AN AUTHENTIC AND AFFECTING NARRATIVE
OF TllR
LIFE AND TRIALS OF
MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN,
MOTHER OF ELIZA ALLEN, TUE BRAVE VOLUNTEER OF MEXICO

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN,
(Taken at the Age ot 30.)
WRITTEN~BT'EUZAriLLEN, i
Author of the '-Female Volunteer "

PHILADELPHIA :
Di Rulison, (luaker City Publishing House, No 32 South Third Street,
CINCINNATI :
H. M. Rulison, (lueen City Publishing House, 115 Main Street.
18 5 6.

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1856, hy
DUANE RULISON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the
Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

GEORGE HABVEY ALLEN.

PREFACE.

In launching the following truthful history of my
mother upon the changing tide of public opinion, were
I to expect it to glide smoothly away into the blissful
haven of popular favor, receiving no counter currents or
opposing gales, I should exhibit, to say the least of it, a
goodly share or cargo of self-esteem in my own vessel.
While such a manifesto would prove too conclusively
the utter fallacy of my present notions of life, and its
strange freight of hereditary trials, I can therefore only
say, " Go, little book," and leave its unknown course to
Heaven. My duty thus discharged, I need not dilate upon
the great pleasure I possess, in thus preparing for pub
lication the life of my mother, for hers is indeed a his
tory so blameless in detail, that I feel a thrill of royal
j)ride course through all my veins as I contemplate the
ennobling beauty of its unsullied purity. And I feel not
the least hesitancy in saying, that here is a book which
the most fastidious can peruse without a blush,-the mor
alist gain instruction from its pages, and the wise and
learned read it with pleasm-e and profit. Oh! what
would I not have given to have possessed such an un-
(9)

erring compass as her dear life affords, ere I cast my
own frail bark so daringly upon the changing and surg
ing sea of adventure. But 'tis past now, and I can look
back on the fast closing wake, and, turning with over
flowing eyes, offer free and voluntarily to Heaven the
only sacrifice I have, — an humble, grateful heart, — and
" learn to labor and to wait," for
"Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us,
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints that perhaps another
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother
Seeing, shall take heart again."
Eliza Allen.

THE lOBLEMAN'S DAUGHTER,
BEING AN
AUTHENTIC AND AFFECTING NARRATIVE
OF THE LIFE AND TRIALS of

MOTHER OF ELIZA ALLEN, THE BRAYE VOLUNTEER Of MEXICO.

PART I.
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream —
Life is real — Life is earnest.
It is with feelings of peculiar pleasure, kind reader,
that after the lapse of a few happy years, I take my
pen in hand to converse with you again. Encouraged
by the hearty reception with which the plain, unvarn
ished narrative of my own life has been favored, I shall
hope that the unfolding of the principal and most im
portant incidents in the life of my dear mother will not
prove an unwelcome intrusion upon your attention, for
"It is pleasant to remember,
How, in otlier hours gone by.
New soiTows spanned our pathway,
New cares bedimned our eye;
How angels kindly guarded
Our childish hearts from care.
Making life a fount of gladness
With sun-shine resting there."
Yes, it is profitable to review occasionally the events
of our past life, that we may learn to commit our ways
(11)

12 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
to divine providence and divine direction, and realize the
beautiful truth of His care, that even a sparrow can
not fall to the earth without his notice, and so much are
we the objects of his care, that the very hairs of our
heads are all numbered. What' soul-cheering inspira
tion? Who can read the divine declaration and still
doubt the overruling power over all of the Great I Am.
Oh ! what hope-inspiring truth, that " there is a divinity
that shapes our endsj rough hew them as we will."
I need not now stay to describe the inexpressible and
overpowering joy that my sudden and unexpected return
from the wars of Mexico, (whither I had gone to seek
him I so deeply loved,) and the reconciliation of my
parents to my choice, occasioned ; but I will commence
at once the story of my mother's life, or rather she shall
tell it herself. It was only after some weeks of almost
daily teezing, that she consented to sit down and give
me her history in detail, but on the evening appointed
we were comfortably seated in our private boudoir, when
she began :
My dear EUza, mine is a story of clouds and shadows,
with now and then an occasional gleam of sunshine,
through which, upon calm reflection, I am conducted
only the nearer to the mercy seat of Heaven.
I was born in the town of Stockton, England, in the
month of November, 1806, of parents respectable, be
cause they were wealthy, for you know, daughter, that
in England the degree of personal respectability is meas
ured by the extent of their wealth. My parents were
blessed with five children, two sons and three daught
ers ; of the latter I was the youngest, and though not
the "pet," yet I believe I came in for a good and reason
able share of natural parental affection and favor. My

MRS. SAR ah E. ALLEN, 13
education was quite as lavish and complete as my sis
ters, and my many presents and little tokens of love and
tender regard were as numerous as theirs, for with my
brothers, as often is the case, I believe I was the "pet,"
for I was respected and beloved by them, so that they
anticipated my every wish, and there was nothing
which they thought would contribute in the least to the
joy and pastime of " Little Sada," as they playfully called
me, which they failed not to procure for me, and in re-
tm-n they received all the sisterly love of which I was
capable, and the kisses stolen from my lips are too num
erous to name.
My life, daughter, until I was near the age of eight
een, was one wide expansive gleam of sunshine ; mv
youthful pulse, buoyant with a constant flow of hopeful
vigor, beat only for pleasure. Roaming in my girlish
glee through the Elysian fields of joy's happy summer,
life was one continuous dream of golden bliss, and ex
istence, innocent and gushing, free from sorrow, glided
sweetly and swiftly away. A thousand perfumes kissed
my enraptured senses, and bedewing my temples with fe
licity, filled my soul with the sweetest music. On the
balmy wings of my guardian angel I was borne to the
delightful centre of a most beautiful garden of ambrosial
fruits, more exquisite to the taste than any ever yet
harped of by oriental poets. Music, the most entranc
ing, filled the fragrant air. It was now that on a rosy
bed of ease, I dreamed of heaven. Ah, daughter, those
were my joyous dnjs. My life was a floral Eden,
through which! was borne, on the rosy pinions of
pleasure, to the rose-strewn, bank of a calm golden river,
the mirror-like surface of which vibrated with the most
enrapturiiTg lays of angelic chorusters. I looked across

14 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
the glassy sea, and lo ! coming towards me, I beheld a
beautiful boat, bm'nished without with the finest gold,
and lined within with costly satin and purple silk. In
the glittering centre of the skiff stood a beautiful youth,
clothed in gold-colored satin, relieved with purple and
silver. On his head rested a neat yellow hat, from
which a black ribbon streamed on the fluttering breeze,
dallying with the glossy tresseS of his luxuriant hair.
As he stood erect, a happy smile wreathing his coral
lips, he appeared beautiful in the extreme. The silken
river of enchantment was calm and clear as a summer
sky. As his skiff struck the shore, he sprang lightly on
the rosy bank, and I awoke in his arms. He was my
betrothed — ^your father. I was now eighteen, and he had
been, for some time, quite particular in his attentions,
and my feelings insensibly at first became interested in
him. I met him one morning at a floral exhibition ;
but it now seemed that he cared less for me than for any
one present ; for, upon hearing an exclamation of de
light from two young ladies, he immediately purchased
the flowers which had elicited the remark, and presented
one to each. It did not escape my notice that their
tastes were gratified aud mine unheeded, for I had pre
viously expressed my admiration of an exquisite bouquet ;
and here, Eliza, I confess I betrayed for the fii-st time in
my existence, a sort of premonitory symptom of that de
testable passion, jealousy.
I left the hall with the fear confirmed that he preferred
another, and proceeded slowly homeward. There was
no longer any elasticity in my step, for my heart was
heavy : and sadly I repassed the threshold which I had
crossed so joyously before. In a single instant my golden
.beam of perpetual bliss appeared forever destroyed.

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN- 15
The world, which before exhibited joy, beauty, and sun
shine on every hand, was now a dark, dreary and soli
tary blank; clouds and shadows enclosed it, all my hap
piness seemed gone.
In the evening the sun seemed dying on a fair soft
scene. But the proud monarch sunk with his crown
yet on — and the folds of his crimson robes fell on the
neighboring cloud, and lay over the west in sumptuous
negUgence. The grass was yellowed and mellow in
the roseate light, and the hills were garlanded with
golden Avreaths. The trees were motionless, save in
the languid swaying of some rich, dark leaf, which the
perfumed zephyrs kissed into coquetry. Listlessly I en
tered the parlor ; I was alone, and the first object which
met my eye was that beautiful vase, filled with the
flowers I had so recently extolled.
My mother here, as a tear moistened her large blue
eye, pointed to a large vase on the mantle-piece, and
which I had claimed as mine from the first moment I
beheld its beauty. "That vase, mother?" said I, "and is
it so, that the vase I have so long and often admired has
been a real love-token ?"
" I have not told you daughter — yet you anticipate me,
and it is strange that you should do so ; but let me tell
you all. I sprang forward and took from beneath it a
note. It was in his handwriting, and expressed all that
I wished to know. In an instant all my former joy
and love returned again, and I sanlc down on the sofa,
overpowered with thankful joy. 0, Eliza, I was happy
then — ^free, gushing and inexpressible — if was more tha/ii
angd tongues can tell, or angel minds conceive."
He was mine ; mine only and forever. If T returned

16 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
his love I should soon greet him with the loveliest
flower of them all — the opening rose-bud — blushing m
my hair. I left the flower in the vase until the last
moment, that it might be fresh and blooming as my own
happy anticipations ; and when the door bell rang, it
was his ring, Eliza. I hastened with trembling fingers to
fulfil his request. It was half hidden in my curls ; but to
his searching eyes its color revealed it, as did my chang
ing cheek betray the emotions which were busy with
my heart.
"Well, mother," I exclaimed, "your early days have
been tinged with romance slightly, as well as my own,
and I perceive too, that you have not quite outlived it
yet.'^ "No, Eliza dear, woman never forgets her first love-
token. Its associations are by memory held most sacred.
She may become old, even superannuated, but she will
be like my precious love-gift. You may break, you
may ruin the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses
will hang round it still."
Yet Eliza how true is it that "the course of true love
never did run smooth," and though after this feeling
little episode in om' courtship we passed many happy
hours together, yet during this there seemed a cloud
of gloom gathering, which at length broke over us like
hot-lava on our love, in the disapprobation of my father ;
it wrung our hearts most fearfully.
My sisters had both mamed in strict accordance
with his wishes, and were now very rich, and to all
appearance quite happy; but appearances are deceptive.
While I was yet quite young my father had clandes-

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 17
tinely agreed to give me away to the nephew of a weal
thy acquaintance of his early days.
My betrothed was a young mechanic, and we could
see each other only periodically. It was on a beautiful
eve in the leafy month of June that we met, a short dis
tance from the house, beneath a beautiful grape arbour,
encircled by a circular amphitheatre of trees, many of
them just putting forth their tiny green leaves to the
influence of summer. Reared on either side, of this bower
were seats, on which to luxuriate during the sultriness
of the season. Here the dreamer might dream, the enthu
siast speculate, and the lover hope.
We had been together long, and the fair moon cast at
us silver smiles, and the merry myriads of stars twin
kled down through the lattice work of the bower compla
cently on our love. In George Harvey Allen I beheld all
that I had long yearned for — ^in thought, feeling and
action a perfect man — and hope blossomed in my soul.
He fired my nature with visions of poetry and beauty,
exciting my mind with new and radiant thoughts.
With captivating eloquence he read chapter after chap
ter of the great manuscript of the universe. 0 ! he was
beautiful to me then — -beautiful as the dream of a saint
— ^beautiful as a Christian's hope— beautiful as the flood
time of memory when it bears th-e garlands of happy
childhood. In the wild day dream of that hour I forgot
all but the angel at my side ; my hand reposed confid
ingly in his, his arm around my waist, while his breath
fell on my ear like a gentle sigh, as the scintillation and
the shadows of the moonlight robed the bower in a soft
entrancement. But we were suddenly startled from our
lovely reveiry by the hard tread of heavy footsteps near

18 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
at hand. He turned, and as he did so he encountered the
fierce and angry gaze of my father riveted upon us.
"Scoundrel !" cried my father, "how dare you intrude
your petty insolence into my family, and strive to rifle
us of our dearest flower ! How dare you desecrate this
place with your unholy footprints ! Arise and leave us,
and never exhibit your debasing body about my pre- _
mises again. Sada, come to the house, I would speak
with you."
I interrupted his further imprecations by falling on
my knees at his feet, and entreated him, with groans and
tears, to spare us from his overpowering wrath ; but he
at length coldly said to Harvey, who^stood stupefied with
astonishment, " Sir, leave us, and if you have ever hoped
to win my fair Sada's hand, pluck that hope from
your soul, for there is an impassable gulf between
you. Think of your station.- A noble maid stoop to
a peasant, or, for aught we know, some foundling or beg-
ger, and she, remember, is the daughter of the proud
Alden Clarendon. Come, daughter, I'll meet you in the
library." He took me by the hand, and would have raised me
to my feet, but his first effort failed. I was helpless and
weak, almost insensible. He took me in his arms and
carried me to the house, where he foimd that my nerves
were in a much weaker state than he at first anticipa
ted, for it was necessary to summon a physician. O, the
pain, the torture I now endured, to be thus torn ruthlessly
from the idol of my soul, was more than I could bear,
and I sank beneath the shock, well nigh to the verge of
the grave.
My mother, whom I loved most ardently,* and who iu

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 19
turn doated. upon me, now hung over me. Clothed in
tears and the deepest grief, my brothers used every en
deavor to assuage my distress, while my father, filled
with excitement and the keenest regrets, paced the floor
in sorrow, alternately stopping at the foot of my couch,
and looking on me with all a father's love and tenderest
care. I grew delirious, and my fevered brain seemed to
whirl in a fiery sea of unearthly trouble.
" O cruelty, cruelty, to tear me'from him. His soul is
all that is manly and noble. O, why don't he come !"
Happy could I die in his embrace ! But you drove him
from me ! O bring him back, he must come, without
him I cannot live !"
Such they said were my delirious ravings, as my be
loved father, overcome with his own feelings and the
sight of my suffering caused by his hand, fell to the
floor a corpse by apoplexy. The disease appeared to be
hereditary, for two of his brothers were stricken down
a few years before quite as suddenly. His heavy fall
had the superhuman effect of starting me upright in
my bed. It was a peculiar, a strange influence, for I
felt suddenly strong and vigorous. It was death that
caused the fearful change. Death was there, in our very
midst, panoplied in all his armour. In a moment the
deep attention of all, my brothers and mother, was turned
to the staff of our house, as he lay stretched upon the
floor, lifeless and stiff. 0 ! it was an affecting scene, to
see the strong man laid thus, without a moment's warn
ing, cold in the icy embrace of death, his features
pale and motionless, as if chiseled in marble. My
mother, now frantic with affliction, fell on his face, and

20 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
covering him with passionate kisses, wildly screamed
for his return to life again. My brothers, stupefied with
the sudden visitation, looked upon the prostrate person
of their father with mute astonishment and sorrow.
Shall I, 0 Eliza, shall I attempt to describe the exhi
bition of my feeUngs in the sad scene ? No daughter,
I cannot. I know not what my exclamations were, but
I sprang from my sick couch, and in wild disorder gazed
upon the terrible work of death like a statue, though
filled with alarm and soul-sickening suspense . My sisters,
who had been sent for, to hasten without delay to my
sick bed, and perhaps see me die, now arrived, and
learning of our parent's sudden death, faltered and
staggered upon the scene, filling the room with tears
and bitter lamentations.
0 what a fall was there, my daughter, in the sudden
loss of my parent. The sad news spread throughout
the parish upon the wings of the wind, and soon our
house was thronged with anxious acquaintances and
relatives, deeply solicitous to share our grief. O the
pain of the deep quietude of death. The sorrow strick
en countenance of the mourner, the hushed whis
pering, and the slow aud muffled tread of all. The
mansion was now closed, and draped in mourning ; the
insignia of death drooped at every door and window,
and shrouded us all in sombre gloom.
The funeral was imposing and well attended, for the
circle of our acquaintances and friends was extended
and large. But I need not describe the gorgeous pa
geantry of the burial. The deceased was a member of the
nobility of England, and he honored well her son and
lord. And happy-I am Eliza to tell you that my be
loved George attended the obsequies, and shed a tear ol

^^^:„

>*«- A.

The Meeting of Georgo and Sarah in the "Bower," where they were surprised hy the
2 presence of her parent.

MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN, 23
tribute to my father's memory. And I now loved him,
if possible, more fervent than ever before. For this ex
hibition of feeUng and respect for him, who had denied
his fitness and worthiness of me, mirrored to my soul,
unmistakeably, the true nobility of his nature. I re-
isolved to wed him in spite of all opposition. 0, daughter,
it seemed a most holy resolution in which all my former
happiness returned ; and though still draped in the
"inky trappings and suits of woe," I wept, but not
without hope for her life inspiring beacon again illu
mined my soul.
We met again near the " bower ;" the moon had arisen
above the dark Une marked by the forest on the evening -
sky, and its rays falUng aslant into the bower, bathed
his person in a flood of white quivering beams. His
black glossy hair gave back the tints like a burnished
mirror, and I saw that his glittering eye shone with a
lustre almost intolerable to behold. His usually mild and
plaintive mien had fled, and a warm radiance, thrilling
as the Borelian flame in the midnight sky, burned in
every feature of his noble face. It was written over
with a strange enthusiasm — so strange and so mingled
with the agony of tortured feeling, that I arose involun
tary to my feet, wondering whether I was in the pre
sence of an angel or a man. But, like a thought, a
change came over his features, and he was kneeling at
my side, murmuring my name.
"Harvey, dear Harvey, 'tis long since we met here
last, and 0, what hours of absence have they been."
"Sarah, do you remember our parting here ?"
" Do I remember it ? Since that hour, George, I have
Uved in the rememberance,"

24 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
"What will the revengeful, deriding world say to
your choice ?"
" I care not for the world: I am actuated by love."
" Dare you violate your deceased parent's command,
and disregard his frowns ?"
" I loved my father, Harvey, and stiU cherish his
memory." (He had now touched my feelings, Eliza.)
" But I tell you, that every other tie in existence may
be severed, every other hope be cast aside, but this
never. A father's frown shall not separate us — ^the
sarcasm of the world shall be thrown to the winds — for
Harvey, I can no longer conceal it, I love you."
" Sarah, dear, I am unused to coin words of love for
woman. But we are told that the voyage of life, like
yon flowing and sparkling river, has its shoals and
quicksands. Would you fear, noble lady, to launch
upon the swelling bosom of its waters with one whose
beacon light of hope you have been so long ?"
" Your happiness, Harvey, has ever been near my
heart," I simply replied.
" Can you sacrifice your station, pride, and glittering
prospects of a wealthy alliance, and rest your future
happiness with the humble ship-carpenter ?"
See, Eliza, the great beauty of " God's noblest work
— an honest man," I replied.
I have no higher ambition, Harvey. The pride of
station and of birth I have plucked from my bosom,
and the woman of my nature alone remains. I am thine
— thine only.
He wound his arms round my neck, and again and
again pressed his warm Ups to mine. My imloosened
tresses swept over his burning cheek, while his love-

MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN, 25
beating heart throbbed wildly and audibly against my
bosom. A tear fell on my brow — the seal of our holy
bethrothal. Life became once more one brilliant gleam
of golden sunshine.
In due course of time we were married — married in
accordance with the rights of the Church of England.
Yes-, Eliza, although the ceremony was not attended
by many witnesses or spectators, nor was it extrava
gantly imposing, yet we were married in the Church.
There were a few friends present, while the many
wealthy and proud did not deign to sanction with their
dignified presence a union so unsuited and unequal.
"A nobleman's daughter wedded to a mechanic — a
tradesman," they sneered, and scornfully passed on.
But our hands were joined and not without our hearts.
We were turning from the marriage altar as the sharp
crack of a pistol sounded dolefully through the solemn
place, foUowed by a scuffle and disturbance on the
threshold of the Church. It was caused by some fiend
in human shape, who was in the interest of several
purse proud aristocrats, related to our family, who had
delegated him to take the life of my husband. But
their tool had tarried too long at the intoxicating shrine
of Bacchus, and so missed his mark, and was conveyed
to a near asylum as a madman. And I have no doubt
that when he found he had failed, and risked his own
life, he was mad enough, and cunningly feigned insanity
at the instigation of his friends, to save himself from
the gallows, or at least the gaol.
We returned to our home in a close carriage, and en
tered with delight and bright hope upon our new sphere.
I need not attempt to describe to you, my daughter.

26 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
how happy we were, and how sweetly Ufe glided away
for several months. Providence smiled upon us, and
prospered all our exertions to obtain a competence ; for
although my parents and relatives were wealthy, I left
them all without the slightest favor, for by the most
of them I was discarded. But Harvey was a proficient
mechanic, sober, industrious and skilful, which, com
bined with economical management, we soon possessed
a home of our own, built and arranged to suit our mutual
taste, near a beautiful small lake. And then he built
a boat, in which we often sailed, and seemed to live over
again our early days.
We were growing rich, and becoming the envied and
hated of many of our relatives. 0, how base the pas
sion of envy. Once allowed to enter the heart and it
uproots and destroys all that can make man noble, use
ful and true. Still, amid all their combined hate and
opposition, we prospered and flourished in happiness
and health, until one fatal night, long after we had re
tired, we were aroused from a sound sleep by the sharp
crackling of flames — our home was on fire, and being
rapidly consumed, we could save nothing but ourselves.
And, as if disturbed by our good angel, we each awoke
simultaneously and sprang from the bed together, Har
vey seized me in his arms and dropped himself from
the second story window on a grape vine arbor beneath,
which broke our fall, and we reached the ground un
hurt, excepting a few small scratches. We hurriedly
gave the alarm, but nothing could be saved, and shortly
after we escaped the roof fell in with a crash, and our
once happy, beautiful home was a smoldng ruin. 0,
daughter ! if I ever felt desolate it was then. I retired

MRS, SARAH E, ALLEN, ^ 27
a short distance, and, against my husband's most af
fectionate entreaties, sat down and wept aloud, 0, why
is it, I cried, that despite the purity of our motives, some
evil genius seems following us.
It was thus, that scarcely a year subsequent to our
marriage, we concluded to flee from our enemies and
come to America, It was hard for me to leave my
beautiful lake land home, but it was my husband's wish,
and I saw that our enemies were bent on destroying us.
He settled his affairs at the ship-yard, made all pre
parations for a long voyage, engaged passage, and in a
short time we were afloat on the broad ocean. We were
out five days, and on the evening of the sixth day, al
though the sun set calm and clear, yet shortly after he
sank down behind the western horizon we dedected a
small dark cloud shoot up, as if started from its lair, by
the monarch of day, just entering there. It darted
up the sombre sky, no larger at the first than a man's
hand, like that the prophet saw, of such portentous mean
ing ; but it grew larger and larger, until at length the
entire heavens, shrouded in gloom, hung over the sea,
like a covering of black marble over a tomb. The lights
of the merchantman were quickly run up, but they proved
of but Uttle service, for a sudden heavy squall arising,
dashed them off into the sea. This was a fearful omen,
for the same blast of the stern north king, rocked the
huge vessel on the sea, like a feather in a storm, and soon
it began in all its fury. The rain poured down in heavy
torrents — the thunder roared and rattled around us Uke
the continuous discharges of some dreadful artillery —
while the Ughtning's red glare painted death every
where, and the shrill voice of Boreas now fully aroused.

28 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
roared around a long and wrecking gale. Every move
able thing on deck was washed overboard, Uke so many
toys tossed aside by the strong hand of a giant. Pre
sently the masts went by the board, and the doomed in
mates of the ill-fated merchantman sank down upon their
knees, overcome by the breath of Jehovah.
It was a terrific scene. It was then that all sorts and
conditions of men sought the Lord with strong crying
and tears. It was then that the profane swearer,
the drunkard, the moralist and Christian, cried mightily
to God from the tempestuous deep. Still the storm
raged on unabated, drowning their screams in the din
and war of the angry elements, and mingling their tears
with the turpid brine of the deep.
It was now Harvey's knowledge of maritime affairs
was brought into successful requisition, and, in the
hands of Providence, made the means of saving ourselves
with several others, among them the captain, for all
the boats were carried away in the first drenching we
received. Out of a number of loosened timbers, he
hastily constructed a sort of raft, on which we were, by
next morning, carried to land. O, it was a fearful night
to me, but I clung to my dear husband and protector
the whole 'night long, determined, if he perished, to
perish with him, and deem it sacred thus together to
die. We were united in life, why not in death. But —
" God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform."
We landed on a small bleal?: island, but were kindly
received by the natives, and comforted until we could
obtain conveyance further on om' way. But 0, there

29

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MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN. 31
Was a large number lost, and the vessel proved a total
wreck. The next morning as I stood upon the Island
by the side of my protector, and looked across the dark
waters, still dashing together, and wave after wave
rolling up the beach, tiieir force well nigh spent, for
the storm had gone down, I remembered that deep beati-
tiful description of Jesus stilling the tempest. 0, I
thought, if we could but have had him on board of our
vessel, ere she went to pieces, and he had uttered those
sacred magic words — " Peace, be still," none would have
perished — all would have been saved, and we now pur
suing our journey much swifter than before. Yet
" Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear ;
But lo ! emerging from the watery grave,
Again they float incumbent on the wave,
Agaia the dismal prospect opens round,
The wreck, the shore, the dying, and the drowned."
We knelt upon flie beach, and offered a solemn prayer
for our preservation to Him, in the hollow of whose
hand, " Past worlds hang trembling."
In a few days we were continuing our voyage towards
this country, where we at length arrived safely, and be
fore we stopped travelling we came to this place, and
settled in the east part of Maine. Here we pitched our
tempest lost tent, drove our stakes deep, and here has
Providence prospered us. It was here, EUza, you first
saw the light, and blessed the eyes of your proud parents
with the sweet vision of their first-born child. It was
at your birth that the drear wilderness of our oft blighted
hopes was made glad, and the solitude of our life " re
joiced and blossomed as the roses,"
We were not penniless when we arrived here, and

32 the nobleman's daughter,
the first business of our Ufe here, after George succeeded
in getting into employment, was to purchase a small lot
of ground, on which to build a cottage home. This
done, we felt that we were now out of the reach of those
who would injure us, and at home once more.
It was a humble and lovely spot, Eliza, and 0, how
I revered the secluded retreat. Laid out and arranged
according to our beau ideal of the happy cottage home.
it stood in the centre of a small lawn, and encircled by
an arbor of neat lattice work, over which a fine large
grape vine, with a number of honey suckles, spread
and blossomed in lovely luxuriance, much, in truth,
after the pattern of our early " love bower," while nu
merous fruit trees, set out with judicious care, filled the
fragrant air with the delicious nectar of their early
bloom. As the budding rose bush, and opening jessa
mine, which here and there relieved the evergreen box
wood bordered walks of the garden, afforded nourish
ment to the busy bumble bee, the pretty humming bird,,
the robin, the swallow, and the blue jay, they, in grate
ful return, made the happy retreat vocal with their mer
riest songs. And on the bright morning of the first of
May, a golden haired sylph, in the happy freedom of her
youth's innocence, was playing gaily over the green lawn
of our cottage home. Now she would chase the but
terfly, which on bright gilded wing flew glittering through
the air ; and, anon, she paused to toss tiny pebbles into
the muttering brooklet, that leisurely meandered, with
cooling murmur, down the gentle declivity, until its
inspiring windings were lost in the distance. Then,
with dimpled hand, she plucked from the brooks &et-
ting brink the wild flowers growing there, and gazed

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 33
on them until their pleasing loveUness seemed to in
spire her young heart with the divine desire to learn of
their Maker; and while a holy intelligence sparkled from
her mild hazel eyes, she gleefully exclaimed, " I won
der who made these pretty flowers ; it must have been
some one very kind and good ; I will go to mamma, per
haps she will tell me." And with fleet step and bound
ing heart, she sped to the cottage to^ gain the desired in
formation. She found her parent busy with her house
hold duties ; but admiring the pleasing wish of the little
sylph, she stopped in the midst of her morning task,
and took the occasion to impress, from the beautiful
wild flowers, a moral lesson upon the tender mind of
her darUng child. That child was yourself, Eliza, and
I think you have not yet forgotten the lesson.
"No, mother, nor the flowers; for there is still a
sacred charm about a beautiful flower and blooming
rose that I cannot resist ; they invariably lead the mind
to Heaven."
" Yes, my child, they are the language of Heaven
and love, and if allowed, will often lead our minds
above. Your father, when young, though favored with
but Umited means, and scant opportunity for improve
ment, yet he had- early learned that Charity and Virtue
should ever constitute the ruling elements of the cha
racter of every man, and that none can be truly great
in whose character both of these ornaments are not
embraced. Of a naturally warm temperament and quick
perception; his rising with the sun, though at first
prompted mainly by the laudable ambition to excel in
his calUng, was gradually rewarded by the lofty ac
quirement of useful knowledge and mental strength.

34 THE nobleman's daughter.
And thus the many valuable moments, usually passed
by youth in frivolous pasttimes, or even worse, in gaming,
were by him studiously employed in the perusal of care
fully selected books. His efforts at advancement soon
won the sympathy and esteem of men, whose counte
nance and approbation was better than riches to merit.
Such in fact was his uniformity of conduct, his general
upright deportment and attention to his employers in
terests, that IrecoUect he was designated — ' The Studious
Ship Carpenter;' while his fellow apprentice, Sidney
Milton, was his exact antipodes. Reared in the midst
of the poisonous dregs of a corrupt city, little parental
restraint had ever been exercised to curb the headlong
passions of his turbulent mind ; and so once in the power
of the dissolute and abandoned, he yielded tamely to
passions he had not the moral corn-age to control, and
at the age of twenty-one Sidney Milton had lost nearly
every redeeming feature of his character. The fine tone
of moral feeling, which once assumed the shape of re
gard for virtue, for the good its possession yields, daily
nurtured by the kindly precepts and good example of
the studious ship carpenter, had fanned the spark of
self-respect into a flame, when the redeeming influence
was rudely severed by his own ruthless hand." Left
again to his worst enemy— his passions; hurried on by
the dangerous aUuring excitements of a constitutional
ardor, he pursued a course of unbridled debauchery
and licentiousness. " The ocean lashed to fury loud,
Its high waves mingling with the cloud,
Is peaceful, sweet serenity 
To passion's dark and waveless sea."

MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN, 35
*' The normal stamina of the heart had been crushed.
He had gone too far to recede. The rein lay loose on
passion's neck, and, demon-like, she madly hurried him
onward. Nightly in the society of an abandoned herd
of gamblers, he was easily persuaded to close in with
their allin-ing overtures, who loading his person with
tiieir spurious gold, he made instant preparation for a
tour of counterfeiting and gaining. Thus, step by step,
he sank to be the sworn confederate of a loathsome set
of outcasts, and a participant in ali their unwritten crimes
and their execrable accompaniments. But while he
revelled in dissipation by day, and steeped his heart in
crime by night, above him, as it did above Damocles,
at the fearful banquet, hung suspended, by a single hair,
the unsheathed glittering Sword of Justice."
" Vice had bound him in her wizard spell.
And ruin foUowed."

36 the nobleman's daughter,

PART IL
" On this world's broadfield of battle —
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ;
Be a hero in the strife."
How true it is that a single incident, apparently
quite trifling in itself, yet occurring at the outset of a
man's career, may determine the color and course of his
entire after life. He may find himself, imexpectedly,
placed in such circumstances that, by a decision, which
cannot be delayed, he possesses the prospect of making,
yet the apprehension of marring his life for ever. An
unlocked for " tide" in his " affairs" may appear ready
to bear him away in bliss to the bright islands of the
happy ; but he tears and dreads by the way some hidden
rocks or quicksands, by which all his hopes seem in
danger of being lost. He stands on the shore of life's
troubled sea, in trembling perplexity. Strongly tempted,
yet afraid to embark. The tide of fortune begins to
ebb, warning him that "time and tide wait not for
man ;" and that procrastination will prove the death of
opportunity. Still he hesitates, doubtfully suspended
between the attractions of hope, and the repulsive sug
gestions of fear. But the tide of flood has gone, and
"our doubts are our traitors." " There is a tide in the
affairs of men, which taken at the flood leads to fortune."
So, EUza, the lawn surrounding our little cottage-

View of the Chnrch in which George Harvey Allen and Sarah were
married.

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 39
home was struck off into building lots, and our more
humble home gave place to a block of splendid and,
substantially built dwellings, and George Harvey Allen
speculated and increased rapidly in riches.
And where once the green bending corn ripening in
the well-filled ear, and fields of waving golden grain
whispered to the happy reapers sharp cycle ; where
heads of cattle browsed and flocks of sheep fed, and
drank of the fresh rimning brook, is now dotted over
with the residences of those who, though they contri
bute in influence to the progressive and mighty change,
yet they give it scarcely a passing thought. And
where once the wide channel of water flowed lazily, up
which the fisherman's well laden barge wended its way,
forming an inviting cove and safe retreat for the weary
waterman, is now the the theatre and busy hum of the
iron foundry and active workshop. Where the fisher
man used to spread his net on the green bank of the
stream, the sound of the anvil is now heard, and the
stirring laboratory of chemical science stretches wide
the spreading wings of his active and healing body
abroad over the once green field.
# * * * * *
Three years passed peacefully away, and two brothers
increased and shared your youthful pleasure, and filled
the parents with joy, whose doating hearts bounded with
the liveliest hope at the sound of your merry voices round
our happy fireside.
Then Harvey Allen was indeed wealthy — rich not
only in a pecuniary view — but rich in the lovely af
fection of a dutiful wife, smiling and happy children,
and a peaceful and comfortable home — ^possessing, in-

40 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
deed, all that the mind could comprehend or the heart
desire. Our home seemed a sacred Eden, containing
aU that was. pleasing «,nd goodin the domestic circle.
But the quiet happiness of our first parents in the gar
den was envied, and Satan, the Prince of Darkness, in
the form of a serpent, scattered poison, deceit, and
death around.
It was at the close of a beautiful day in September,
and as we were* seated at our evening repast, there was
a pull at the door bell. Mary, the servant, answered
the summons, invited and conducted a medium-sized
well-dressed man into the parlor.
" Who is it Mary ?" inquired Harvey, as she returned.
" He did not give his name, but desires to see you,
sir. He is in the parlor."
Harvey turned from the table, and immediately en
tered the presence of his unknown visitor, who arose to
meet him, and exclaimed —
" Allen, I have come to surprise you, how do you
do ?"
" Why, Sidney Milton, you have done so effectually.
How are you ? and when did you arrive ?"
They were shaking hands warmly, as I, having heard
the stranger's name, entered the reception, followed by
you and your brothers.
" Sarah, allow me to make you acquainted with my
old fellow-apprentice, Sidney Milton, who, I must con
fess, has grown almost out of my recollection."
I had heard that he was dead — ^had died a miserable
death, and now that he stood before me, looking so well,
my mind became the seat of strange contending thoughts,
and I advanced and extended him my hand, almost un-

MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN, 41
conscious of what I was doing. I uttered a 'faint ex
clamation of surprise, and mechanically invited him to
be seated. To teU the truth, EUza, what I' heard of
the man before we left England, prejudiced me against
him, and I now felt an impulse of fearful shrinking from
him — a sort of restraining repulsiveness. Before, my
heart was light and merry, but now, since he had en
tered, my mind grew dark and heavy. An indefinable
foreboding of something to come shuddered through my
soul, and I sat reserved, and allowed Harvey to enter-'
tain his visitor the remainder of the evening.
" And what brings you to America, Milton ? To try
your fortune, Uke myself?" Harvey inquired smilingly.
" That is one object, the other is change ; for the
truth is I am tired of ' Old England.' I am here on
a private embassy from the Government."
" An embassy from the Government ! Why, Milton,
you are in high favor."
"Well, I beUeve, without flattering myself, I have
eamed it ; for I have worked long and hard for it. But
come, Allen, it is early in the evening, and I should
like to take a walk. Come, I am strange here, yet ;
I want you to show me the town — the thriving town
of Eastport. I have heard of it. What say you ?"
"It will afford me peculiar pleasure to 'show you
aroimd, Milton. "^
Harvey drew on his coat, and they left together.
Half an hour more and the door-bell rang again. You
answered it yourself, for you seemed to know the ring.
The door opened, and I heard a smothered kiss. It was
William, your lover.

42 THE nobleman's daughter,
" Yes, 'mother, I remember. But you recollect it
well. How good your memory is."
"Recollect it well! Why should I not remember
well the incidents in the early life of my first-born —
her in whom my whole being was enshrined. For,
Eliza, I loved you all that a fond mother can love. My
care over you was of a greater solicitude than the ten
derest gardener with the most precious exotic in his
well attended nursery. With affectionate pride your
father and I watched your gradual growth from the smil
ing helpless infant in the cradle to the merry romping
school-girl of twelve years. And think you, Eliza,
that now you were just entering your 'teens, our care
grew any the less. Nay, it increased a hundred
fold, and as your well moulded form expanded into
womanhood, and you developed new and happy beau
ties to our admiring eyes, you grew the day-dream of
our life — the Ufe and joy of our home circle and the
pride of our happy hearts. And then, when creature-
love seemed tingling your blood, could we, as parents,
feel no anxiety for your choice of him, who should be
your partner and protector for Ufe? Should we not
hope and desire, with the most anxious care, that the
child of our love should not ' waste her affections upon
the desert air,' or lean upon a staff for support, which
should break and pierce her through with many sorrows.
" Eliza, we did not, Uke many others, or like my own
parent, sell you secretly to some moneyed favorite. We
thought not, of giving you away in marriage until the
time arrived when you should be capable of choosing
for yourself upon ' the all-important die on which hangs
a life of happiness or misery, and includes one of the

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 43
most solemn obligations Avhich mortals are suffered to
make. " We wished not to interfere with your free choice,
but ardently hoped that you would give your hand and
heart to one who should not prove unworthy of so sweet
a flower, one whose unstained character, and purely
moral deportment would lead you through life happy.
Were we to blame in desiring or using every effort for
the happiness and welfare of our child ? I know the
obedient heart of my daughter with fervor responds,
'No.' " But we were disappointed in your choice, sadly
disappointed, for, as I said, we had hoped to have no
occasion to cross you in your selection. We preferred
not to do so. And it was hard, after having in our
extravagant and doubting love for you, gratified your
every desire, denied you nothing from your youth up —
it was doubly difficult to cross your purpose in marrying
WiUiam BiUings. Ah, daughter! the secret weeping,
the tears ot pain and sorrow, that wrung our hearts with
anguish, both before and after we were compelled to
give our most peremptory denial to all further corres
pondence with him, you do not — cannot know. It was
a severe trial; our destiny was indissolubly linked.
Should you marry and be miserable, we never could
be happy, but our home would become the abode of sor
row, regret and wretchedness.
" And when we were suddenly called upon to hasten
to the couch of your uncle, who was supposed to be dy
ing, we felt quite easy about your future course, and re-
ioiced that you seemed so obedient to our wishes. But
imagine, if you can, the intensity of our consternation.

44 THE nobleman's daughter,
fears and misgivings, when, on our return home, we ex
pected to be welcomed by you with smiles, and kisses
of endearments, we found our home deserted, and you
fled, no one knew whither. We searched the premises
thoroughly in every place, and at length finding all
your clothing in the wardrobe, and a large sum of money
in your drawer, still undisturbed, we thought it strange
that you should fly to other parts and leave all your
money and your wardrobe home.
Ah ! it was then our Eden of love and hope was
shrouded in gloom, and the scene of anguish and dis
tress. Our neighbors hurried in and joined in our vain
efforts to find you. I was giddy with excitement and
mortification at loosing you. Leaning a moment against
the mantel-piece in your room, my mind passed away
in a sort of swoon ; I felt weak, dejected and nervous ;
but reflection — rapid reflection — strong as death, was
busy with my thoughts, which seemed to breathe Uquid
flames that burned into my very brain. The vast area
of eternity seemed like an extensive panorama, to be
unrolled to my vision in a moment ; and the thought
that our harshness towards your lover may have nerved
yom" steps to suicide, burned like molten lead into my
very soul. I grew bewildered, and fell to the floor,
shrieking at the top of my voice, and in delirious
tones, —
" Search the river — drag the river."
The river was searched — dragged from one end to the
other, but without recovering you.
The following morn arose clear and beautiful, seem
ing to mock our sorrow. The efforts of the previous day

MRS, SARAH E, ALLEN, 45
were renewed with unremitted energy and vigor — all
unrewarded — for we found you not.
Oh ! who can describe a mother's frenzied anguish,
a father's tearless agony, and the heart-rending distress
of your two brothers, when we at last saw all our efforts
at finding you unavailing, and sank down shrouded in
the sack-cloth of despair ? The calm quietude of our
happy home was now changed, and, how suddenly, into
the scene of confusion, and the hurried tread .of many
feet, the voice of lamentation and weeping, mourning
for our lost child. Like the grief-stricken Rachel, " I
refused to be comforted, because you were not."
" O, dear mother, was it I caused you so much suf
fering and sorrow ? 0, how thoughtlessly can we wound
and afflict those who have the greatest care and friend
ship for us. Thoughtlessly we may plant a thorn in
their souls, which may require years of pain to draw,
and the greatest care to heal. 0, how carefiil, then,
ought we to be, that we may not bring the grey hairs
of our parents to the grave in sorrow and in tears.
Mother ! can you forgive me for grieving you so much ?'*
"Forgive you! yes, my daughter, you know you are
forgiven. For, from the moment I read your letter,
after your return from the war, my heart went out to
wards you, and yearned to embrace you and seal your
free and full acquittal, from all the past, with a mother's
most fervent kiss. Yes, my daughter, my heart bounded
with joy to meet you once more in Ufe. We had long
consigned you to the tomb, and grieved for your early
decease; but now, that you had so unexpectedly re
turned, your person, though changed so much by the
loss of your luxuriant tresses, exposure and hardships.

46 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
seemed to us indeed, 'life from the dead.' And as we
had mourned your loss so deeply, we now rejoiced with
unspeakable joy and hopeful rapture. But I need not
now describe the unbounded pleasure of your retum, for
you shared it with tearful, hopeful joy. And then, that
WilUam had proved so worthy of you, and your af
fection for each other being unabated, still contributed
to enlarge our happiness, and circle our ' reconciliation'
and meeting with a bright halo of blooming heavenly
hope," " Yes, mother, I often thought since, that that was
a most happy scene ; and I have wondered if the angels
did not look down with approbation, and share our
joy. Then I have likened my return to that of the
prodigal son, spoken of in Scripture. You recollect
that it says, that while he was yet a great way off, his
father, filled with compassion, ran to him, fell on his
neck, and kissed him. And thus welcoming him home
produced the best robe in the house, put new shoes on
his feet, and a ring on his hand. This, mother, alludes
to the many presents, sacred tokens of undying affection
I have received. See, here is the ring ; I wear it still,
and mean to wear it until my latest breath, and then
I wish the grave to enclose it with me, for it is a holy
memento of a father's love, and should not be parted
from me.
" But, then, the overjoyed parent of the ' prodigal
son,' had the fatest calf slain, called in his neighbors,
and invited them to feast and be merry with him, for
that his son, whom he thought dead, was now alive,
and he that was lost is found. Almost your own lan
guage, mother,"

MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN, 47
" Yes, Eliza, ours was a feast, indeed,"
But I must finish my story about Sidney Milton.
They walked about Eastport for an hour or more, and
then he prevailed on Harvey to step in a restaurant and
take some wine. Here they whiled away another hour,
and yet another and another, and ere they returned it
was past midnight. Harvey informed me that it was
Milton's desire, while he remained at Eastport, to make
his home with us. I loved your father, Eliza, and al
though I feared the results of his associating with a
man of Sidney Milton's habits — for I detected the smell
of liqour from Harvey's breath — ^j'et I could not muster
the moral courage to say nay. The society of his old
friend seemed to afford him pleasure, and I could not
deny it him, so I assented to his staying with us, hoped
for the best, and prayed that my previous fears might
never be realised. I believed that Harvey possessed
sufficient philosophy and self-control to resist all kinds
of temptation — ^that he was proof against the de
ceitful wiles of the gamester and debauchee. But, alas,
no ! 0, fie on my womanly weakness, that I did not
at the very onset place my foot on the threshhold, and
say to the bold, yet oily tongued villian, "hither shalt
thou come, but no farther, and here shall thy proud waves
be stayed." But I did not, though I had a fearful fore
boding of the worst from the first night of Sidney Milton
and Harvey meeting together, would prove our ruin.
The first deceitful glass, drugged, for aught I know to
the contrary — (for a villain so base as Sidney Milton
afterwards proved himself, could be capable of anything
worthy the coward) — ^fixed his taste, throbbed his pulse,
and gave his appetite a peculiar thirst. Ah, how ap-

48 THE nobleman's daughter,
propriate the sacred warning, — ' Look not thou upon the
mne when it is red, when it giveth its color in the cup ; at
the last it biteth lihe a serpent and stingeth like an adder.'
" Their meetings, despite my most urgent entreaties,
were continued nightly, and from drinking, Harvey was
speciously induced by his friends — ^the poison-fanged ser
pent of our domestic tranquility — ^to sit at the gaming
table. This, to add our gloom, occurred shortly after
your flight from home, which event, I doubt not, had
some tendency to make your father more pliable to the
machinations of Milton, for he used often speak and
mutter, in an abstract manner, something about you
having been foully dealt with, — of seeking the villian
to the end of the earth, and avenging your death. Then
he would spring to his feet, and start out to find Milton.
" 0, Eliza, our home was now, indeed, dreary and
dark. But a gleam of hope shot suddenly athwart the
gloomy horizon, and there appeared some signs of a
reform, and that Harvey would be redeemed from his
reckless career and become a man once more. It was
after much persuasion and tearful entreaty that I pre
vailed on him to change his mode of life. But still he
clung to his friend, nay his enemy, and I could not dis
suade him from taking Milton as a partner in a projected
speculation. Sidney Milton induced your father to sell
out his business, and embark with him into the new en
terprise with all their available capital, and thus realise
a princely fortune at one stroke.
Every thing being prepared to their wishes, they com
menced sailing smoothly out ijito the glittering, though
illusive stream of fortune, with prospects brilUantand
flattering. Your father even sold a great portion of his

M R S, S a R A H E; A L L E N. 49
l"eal estate, to forward their chimerical scheme, and at
the end of twelve months was a banltrupt, at the mercy
ot his enemy, Sidney Milton, 0, how painful the fact,
and how frequently does the life of the speculator stand
to us the living monument of the unyielding fact, that
that there is a 'flood in the tide of his affairs,' during
which he may speculate and venture with perfect im
punity, and be led successfully 'on to fortune.' But
once in his sheltering haven, there he should rest, and
not again launch his full freighted bark upon her. fickle
waters. For how many, in sailing out too far into the
onward rushing current, dropping their counters, and
overreaching to save them, have been whirled into the
engulphing maelstrom and irretrievably lost.
"Sidney Milton, fiend-like, exulted at our misery,
and to appease the rising wrath of your father, he took
him once more to the gaming table, where thousands,
aye, tens of thousands of dollars change hands of a night,
where the poor man may enter, not worth, in his own
right, twenty dollars, and leave next morning rich —
yes rich ; and the moneyed aristocrat may enter almost
a milUonaire, and depart next day a raving maniac in
poverty. A great leveller is the gambling hell. But
who shall attempt to portray the -sorrow, the misery,
the crime, the multifarious horrors, the self-reproach,
the endless array of evil flowing from the execrable
practice of debauchery and gambling ? It has been
likened, most truly, to Pandora's magic box. Robbed
of its redeeming feature, it transforms the kind husband
into the soulless brute; it robe the cheek of health; the
purse of its contents ; the soul of virtue ; time of con
tentment ; eternity of bliss.

50 the nobleman's daughter,
" It was on a dark and cheerless night in December
that the bell was rang, and ere I could hasten to the
call, the door was pushed open, and three men stood
on the threshhold. The night was cold and bitter ; the
snow swept past us in chilling blasts, and the starless
sky hung like a leaden shroud over us as if void of all
sympathy for those of this lower and wicked world
As the door swung open, a fresh gust of wind rushed
in and extinguished the light in my hand. There was
a moment of hasty conversation between the men, and
they advanced into the hall, requesting me to hasten
and obtain another light, as Mr. Allen was almost in
sensible. Trembling in every part of my body, I hur
ried and procured a light, and saw at a glance what was
the matter.
" But, Eliza, judge not your unfortunate father hastily,
for he was not, thanlt Heaven, led home thus intoxicated,
but it being slippery walking, he had fallen on the side
walk on his way home, in company with Sidney Mil
ton and an old acquaintance of mine — a man whom I
never liked. His name was Richard Graham, the man
whom my father selected as my husband, long before I
arrived at mature years. He was a proud, boastful land
of man, possessed of more money than nobility of mind,
boasting of a long line of aristocratic ancestors, whose
royalty was owing more to the force of circumstances,
over which he had no control, than from any real merit
of his own. And for this I hated him, and preferred the
nobility of your father's generous nature.
" Sadly I led the way to our chamber, and saw him
laid upon the couch, weak and faint. O what mortifi
cation, what pitiful sorrow in which to be wrecked, and

M R S. S A R A H E. A L L E N. 51
that in the presence of our most mortal foes. For they
both now triumphed incur helpless condition. Graham,
in revenge for my denial to wed him, and Milton from
shere envy of our former prosperity, and because he
was paid to follow and harass, and, if possible, ruin us.
He was in the employ of those who discarded me in
England. Strange as it may seem, Graham, vain fellow, still
entertained hopes of my hand. He must have loved
me, to have followed me thus after I was united to an
other. But his love was unreturned, wasted, thrown
away, for I laughed to scorn all his finely pointed and
eloquent avowels, and all his brilliant, offers of assist
ance in my behalf. Yet, for his attention towards Har
vey, in assisting him home on the night of his mishap,
I could not otherwise but treat him with politeness and
civility, even though his secret motives, in coming to
our house, should be but to mock at our sorrow and
add new tortures to our misery.
It was several days after your father had been grow
ing better, that Richard Graham and I were seated in
the parlor. A few minutes previous to his taking leave
for the evening, he commenced to play upon my sym
pathies in most pathetic tones. Said he, —
"0, Sarah, howl have loved you; and though it
may be wrong, I love you still. Coine, leave this tainted
atmosphere ; no longer droop in the sackcloth of sor- -
row ; but cheer up, and be the belle of the court. Fly
with me back to England once more, and Uve as you did
in the hey-day of life. Come, your friends will receive
you, and you shall be my bride."
Eliza, you no doubt think that, as a woman of honor.

52 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
I should have stopped such language from its commence
ment. My heart did prompt me to do so, but then
something whispered, "try him, feed his vanity, and see
how far he really has the presumption to go. Slightly en
courage his advances, as far 05 you can, without compro
mising yourself ; raise his hopes high, so that when he falls
he may never rise. And, strangely enough, I did seem
to encourage his overtures of love. He continued —
" Sarah, I can sympathise with those who may be
unfortunate ; but why should one Uke you, so beautiful
and accomplished, capable of enjoying the world so
fully, born to high station, deny yourself all those plea
sures, and be secluded in some dark corner of the earth
with one unworthy of you, with nothing but poverty
staring you in the face ? Fly with me, Sarah, from this
unhappy spot, and you may command me at your plea
sure." " But my husband, Allan," I faltered.
He placed his lips close to my face, and as his large
whiskers and hateful moustache brushed against my
cheek, and the devil lurked in his cold grey eye, he-
whispered in my ear — (it was a base fiendish suggestion)
— " Strichnyne is a safe and sure. poison ; you can easily
give it him in his medicine, and my word for it, it will
prove the antidote of your life."
I started from him, and a cold shudder ran through
my veins at the heartless proposal. I nodded a languid
assent, and placed myself in a position to listen further
to his syren tongue. He now, evidently, grew bold,
changed his tactics, alnd commenced making famiUar
advances, playfully, first, kissing my hand, then dally
ing with a stray lock of my hair, placing his arm round

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 58
xny waist, and attempted to kiss my forehead. Heavens!
how I hated to submit to that ; the blood mounted to my
brow, an.d all the dignity of my nature swelled my soul
at his profane touch. His lips were hot and burning.
I shrank from him, but he gained his coveted prize —
a stolen kiss, and he chuckled in heartless glee. O,
his was —
" A lip of lies, a face formed to c6nceal.
And without feeling, mock at aU who feel ;
"With a vile mask the Gorgean would disown,
A cheek of parchment and an eye of stone."
Before I could fully recover from the sudden shock
his unwonted boldness gave me, he attempted again to
kiss me, when I exclaimed, " My God ! Richard Graham,
this is too bad, I command you to desist." He apolo
gized, and still I felt secure against his subtle wiles,
adamant against all his plotting, and hoped that his vain
attempt to injure me, should prove his own bitter dis
grace. He was again by my side, pouring his syren
love song into my ear, with all the ardor of a swain in
his earliest love. He ceased, and again proposed to
make me his wife before he departed fbr England. I
objected. He appeared perplexed, but shortly recover
ing himself, said —
" Well, Sarah, you hold the chalice of all my happi
ness and hope in your hands, and refuse me the soul in
vigorating draught. You deny me your hand ; will you
not favor" 
Again he bent his face closely to mine, and whispered
the conclusion in my ear. Had Richard Graham, at that
moment, been transficsed into a serpent of the most
4

54 THE nobleman's daughter,
frightful aspect, and darted at my heart his most deadly
poisoned fangs, I could not have sprang from him quicker
and more powerful than I did. He had insulted me
before. The touch of his parched lips was an insult,
but this last infamous proposition was a still greater in
dignity, and my aroused soul knew no bounds. But in
the highest pitch of insulted pride I fairly screamed, —
" Richard Graham, you now stand before insulted in
nocence, the base libertine, the ravageing sneeking wolf
in sheep's clothing, the foul demon, divested of your
miserable fig-leaf covering, and with all your hideous
deformity revealed. Base assassin I cowardly insulter !
leave me. Begone ! ere hate make me strong, and I
hurl you into the street."
At the epithet " assassin," he was reminded, unplea
santly, of his suggestion to me to poison my husband
with strichnyne, and he started fearfully to his feet, pas
sed his hand quickly to a secret pocket of his coat ; but,
as if checked, either by prudence or fear, his hand re
mained there, and he advanced towards me hastily.
With a voice most fearfully firm, though in a hoarse
whisper, he said —
" Sarah, what mean you by that harsh term ? I'm
in your power, I see ; but breathe that terrible brand
against me again, and I'll have you in mine  "
"Unprincipled villain ! would you murder?"
This came from a quarter that neither of us dreamed
of at such a crisis as this. It was the voice of your
father, who having overheard the last remark of mine,
seemed to start into new life, and leaping from the stair
way, he sprang, like an aroused tiger, upon Graham,
as he impotently flashed his murderous weapon in the

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 55
light, and ground his teeth in mad rage, which your
father wrenched from him, and leading him by the nape
of the neck to the street door, thrust him out, and cast
his steel, cold as his own heart, after him.
All this was done so rapidly, that for a moment I
rubbed my eyes in doubt of its reality. I could not but
believe that it was an interposition of Providence in my
behalf, and, accordingly, made suitable acknowledg
ment to Him for my deliverance.
And now there was rejoicing once more in our little
home. Your Father recovered, and I was saved from
the meshes of the speciously wrought net work of the
libertine's art.
A few nights after Graham and Milton met at a place,
ostensibly kept as a refreshment saloon, but in reality
the most extensive and wealthy gambling establishment
in Boston.
It was a fearful stormy night when your father re
ceived a telegraphic despatch, summoning him to hasten,
without delay, to receive the confession and dying re
quests of an old friend residing there. It was a strange
summons, coming as it did from Boston, and so closely on
the heels of the late difficulty at our house. How did
we know but it might be a trap set by Graham to get
him in his power, that he might wreak his vengeance
on him. Accordingly, your father prepared himself for
every emergency and took his departure. On reaching
Boston, he at once repaired to the place designated in
the despatch, and found the author of it lying on a
pallet of straw, in a dying coiadition. Your father ad
vanced towards him, and said —
" Why, Milton, what^s the matter 1"

56 THE nobleman's i>aughtek.
The dying man heaved a painful sigh and replied, —
" George, I am glad you have come. I am dying,
George, dying, and under very critical circumstances, I
confess. But I have a communication to make, which,
perhaps, while it affords me some reUef thus to unburden
myself to you, it will occasion you astonishment beyond
belief.
" Well, go on, Sidney, I will be an attentive listener."
THE DYING CONFESSION.
" To speak of myself to you, while I was your feUow-
apprentice, George, would be useless — ^wasted breath —
for you knew me then. But after some years we lost
sight of each other. Our habits were different. You
was industrious, sober, and honest in your calling, and
did not despise it. You came to America, and I, O
fool that I have been, followed the natural bent of my
uncontrolable passions, and fell into habits of indolence,
dissipation and crime. " Sloth and folly
Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard,
And make the impossibility they fear."
I need not detail my profligate career to you, suffice
it to say, it has been one continued course of 'splendid'
crime, so to speak. Dissipation, gambUng, counter
feiting, and horse-racing have eaten into my very soul,
and is now consuming me with raving burning remorse.
0 the precious moments of time I have wasted, the
hours in which I have revelled in riotous living and de
bauchery ; they now hang like so many mill stones about
my soul, and seem pressing me farther and farther still
from peace. Peace ! I have no peace; I have lived in

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 57
excitement, and now I am dying in crime and pain.
George, my ' embassy' to this country has been to find
and ruin you. For this I have received large sums of
money from some of the relatives of your faithful wife.
My pay began before you left England. It was I who
fisred the pistol at you as you stood at the marriage altar.
You escaped . But it was I who fired your happy ' Lake
land Home,'' and burned your property to the ground. I
was the unknown, imseen fiend that followed you across
the ocean, and led you captive into the vices which
have destroyed me, in the vain attempt to ruin you.
Failing to draw you, as deep as I desired, into the
the maelstrom of iniquity, I induced you to sell your
property and enter a hazardous speculation. You did
so, but, strangely, survived it all. My object has been
to destroy you, but in this I have been foiled. There is
an unseen power beneath, above, and around you, which
seems to make you almost invincible. This revelation
surprises you, I see, and you think me the victim, ot
some strange hallucination. But, Gebrge, if ever I was
sane, I am so at this moment. 'Tis death that forces
the truth from my Ups, and I must speak. This night
Richard Graham and I met in this place to play at
cards. There were but few present, . owing, perhaps,
to the storm. But we drank together several times, and
played, with alternate success for an hour or more, laugh
ing, joking and chatting on various topics; among others
he introduced yourself, and said, in a boasting manner,
that he had been particularly favored by your wife, and
that he ' pUlowed where your honor forbids that no head
save yours should be.' This was more than I could
stand ; for I had reserved this pleasure, this reward, for
myself, I cast the taunt in his teeth, and hurled the

58 THE nobleman's DAUGHTEE,
cards into his face. He accused me of attempting your
life, both by the pistol and the fire-brand. I was en
raged and drew my dirk, but before I could use it with
effect he was on me. More I do not know. I only re
collect a vivid flash of fire, his blade was all a blaze.
He stabbed me in the side, and he fell to the floor a dis
figured corps, struck by the lightning that, for a moment,
seemed to sheet the room in a sea of fire. Strange that
none others were hurt, but he never spoke again,"
"Is he in the building now?"'
" No ; he was hurried away to his boarding-house,
but where he resides I do not know. But, O, this hor
rid pain in my side ; I feel I am dying fast, 0, George,
I could die happy if I had never injured you. I dare
not insult you by asking your forgiveness ; and from
Heaven I cannot expect it. I have no hope. O, 'tis
hard to die, I take a leap in the dark; I know not
where I will alight ! But no matter where. I feel it
will be a cheerless obUvious abyss of darkness and des
pair for ever.
" Allen, place your hand under my head, and raise
me up. There ; easy, please. Now give me a glass of
water. Thank you. I'm stronger now, though my
breath comes slow. George, there is still another in
cident in which I took a part, before I left England, and
which I must relate to you. And, George, it may ap
pear strange to hear a man confess, voluntarily, to the
crime of murder. Nay, start not, for you will now hear
the unexaggerated truth of a dying man. This is not
a fitting time to dilate on the romance of love, and stolen
interviews by moonlight, I will, therefore, pass over
the- many hours in which, in love with a fair and lovely

MRS. SAEAH E, ALLEN, 59
maiden, my soul acknowledged and breathed more of
Heaven than ever before, and come at once to the base
and damnable act which destroyed all my happiness
I was already on ship-board, and about to embark for
America ; and as we still lay out in the channel, a small
sealed note was placed in my hand. I knew the super
scription, and with something like scorn in my nature.
I broke the seal with indifference, and glanced over the
contents, which were brief and pleasant. I crumpled
the letter, abstractedly, in my hand. Something checked
me, and I, mechanically, unclosed the letter again, and
read it a second time. It was from her whose love 1
had won, conquered her affections, and was about to
leave for ever. Provoked by her importunities, I, pe
tulantly, borrowed a small boat from the captain for a
short time, in order, as I informed him, jocosely, to at
tend a love adventure on shore. I sprang into the boat,
and slowly bent the oars towards a small inlet, or creek,
a mile or more distant, the spot she had requested to
meet me. It was evening, but while yet some distance
from the place, I could see distinctly, by the moons
pale beams, the fluttering of her white robe, as she
paced, in anxious expectancy, the green bank of the
stream. About twenty minutes after I quitted the ship, I
reached the embankment, and having landed, I harshly
asked her why she continued harassing me with her love
sick sonnets. With a piteous scream, that thrills my
soul even at this moment, she fell to thi; earth at my
feet, sobbing, and beating her breasts wildly, beseechr
ing me, for the love of Heaven, for the sake of our in
fant, and of humanity, not to leave her to the cold scorn

60 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
of an unfeeling, unsjonpathising world — not to leaviP
her to the bitter reproaches of her own conscience. I
dashed her from me with my hand, and turned to leave
her to her fate, but she clung to me with the energy
of deepair, begging me, almost deliriously, not to desert
her, but to make her my wife, and remove her shame.
For a moment I hesitated. I was maddened to despe
ration. The arch-fiend of the damned possessed me.
The dark forest surrounded us, and on one side the quiet
inlet. No eye was on us, but unseen demons yelled in
my soul. The creek is deep, I said to myself, and will,
in an instant, wash out your disgrace, and for ever
hide your shame. I raised her from the ground, and
she screamed wildly ' 0, do not kill me ! do not for
sake me !' She slipped from my grasp, and fell fainting
to the ground. There she lay, clothed in her white
robe, as though it were her winding sheet. The moon
shone down upon her, and revealed her motionless face,
which was as white as the lily. Again the exulting
FIEND whispered, ' Why should she awake to conscious
ness again.'
" Let her sleep beneath the wave.
It has oft proved sorrow's grave."
" Again I raised her hastily in my arms, and stumb
ling to ilie brink of the stream, plunged her in, and
jumped into the boat. The sudden chill of the water
seemed to awaken her to consciousness, and she arose
to the surface of the water, and with her eyes fixed im
ploringly on me, grasped for the boat, but which, witli
one of the oars in my hand, I pushed her off, and she
sank to rise no more,"

MRS, SARAH E, ALLEN, 61
" 0, God ! that look and scream will haunt me through
eternity, " Now, Allen, bend down your head, and incline your
ear. Let me no longer live ! Crush me at once ! That
lovely maiden was your sister, Ellen."
" Wretch ! sayest thou so ; then down, down to the
lowest hell. But, stay; no, I will not take thy breath.
Your in the hands of God, and there I leave you.
Wretch ! twice damned, ' plucked up by the roots, to
whom the blackness of darkness is reserved for ever,' "
" Yes, Allen, lam a. wretch — a hell deserving wretch.
But  "
" I can stay no longer. I'll hear no more, Sidney
Milton, farewell, for ever — die alone,"
" Stay, stay, Allen, do not leave me thus. One request
more and I have done,"
" I say, I'll hear no more from your damned lips ; so
die alone. Farewell."
" Allen, Allen. Restitution — I must make restitution.
Stay, and receive my bequest."
"Stay, and receive your bequest I Infamous dog; were
you not half dead already, I would throttle you for the
insult." " And I should deserve it all. But, Allen, I have
that which by right belongs to you, and I cannot die
without restoring it."
" How ? I do not understand. What do you mean ?"
" Raise me up a Uttle higher, and I will explain.
There, that will do. Thank you. Now, move that stand
nearer to the bed. So; thank you. Take this key and
unlock my trunk, and in the left end, near the bottom,
you will find a book ; bring it to me, and pardon my

62 THE nobleman's daughter,
weakness. That is it. These are nothing but blank
checks. I have all my money in the banl?: of M— - — .
I have some six thousand dollars there. This covers
the amount ; take it, and draw the money, it belongs
to you."
"No, Milton, I cannot take it,"
" Why ? Come, don't play the boy ; it is yours by
every reasonable right,"
" It may be the price of blood,"
" Stay ; how so ? That is somewhat bold for you to
say." "How have you obtained it ?"
" I have already told you. I have been for years in
the employ of several wealthy aristocrats in England,
who have, at different periods, given me large sums of
money for the purpose of ruining you. This, strange
that I should do so, I have kept separate from other
moneys, and deposited it in this banking institution,
where it has been accumulating, until now it reaches
the snug little sum of six thousand dollars. Will you
not take it ?"
" Sidney, I am poor ; but still trusting in the guid
ance and support of Providence, I do not feel justified in
receiving the reward of villainy."
" Allen, you are severe ; but on reflection I cannot
but think that Providence has had something to do with
the very saving of this money. And now that this re
lief comes to you at the most needful time, why not be
Ueve in the agency of Providence to the end, and ac
cept what is now offered."
" Well, Sidney, you almost convince me. And to
strengthen your argument, I remember reading in the

MRS. SARAH E, ALLEN, 63
good book, that " He maketh the very wrath of man praise
him." " And, now Allen, dare I ask you to see me decently
buried, after my death, in some quiet spot ? I may linger
here till morning, but longer, I do not think, I can live.
Will you take charge of my effects? Now I have
fished," " Sidney, I will stay by you until your end, and then
fulfil all your requests,"
" Thanks, Allen, thanks ; you are a noble fellow ;
give me your hand, and may Heaven bless you still."
" If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him
drink; and be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil vnth
good."

64 THE nobleman's daughter.

PART HI,
" Oh happiness, our beings end aim.
Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name,
That something still which prompts the eternal sigh,
For which we bear to live or dare to die."
Reduced, Eliza, from affluence and wealth, to de
pendence and poverty, we were now humbled in ihe
dust. Strange and varied, indeed, had our chequered
life been, and truly, as the good book declares, " It is
not in him that walketh, to order his own steps." How
wise, then, that we should commit our ways to Him,
who is the Governor among the nations, and who doeth
according to his own will in the army of Heaven, and
among the inhabitants of the earth.
Gradually our property slipped from our grasp, and
at length the doleful sound of the auctioneer's hammer
was heard in our home. O, how harshly it grated
upon my wounded feelings to see the various articles of
our quiet household made the objects of cold coarse jests
and speculative remarks of those who attended the sale.
I could remain no longer to hear and witness this scene.
I caught up that loved flower vase, and hastened away
from the desecrated spot to a lonely portion of the house,
where I could weep alone for the loss of our once happy
home.. 0, it was a painful sight to witness such a sale
as this. The three hundred exemption law from seizm-e

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN, 65
^v^as not then known, and the hard creditors possessed
not the least charity and made us no allowance.
0, how deep and harrowing were the emotions with
which my soul was filled, to see the disorder and confu
sion take such complete possession of that sacred place,
where, but a short time before, quiet, order and peace
serene were wont to reign. Books were scattered about,
handled by all sorts of people, and then thrown back
again with the utmost indifference. Wardrobes emptied
of their contents, and the furniture piled up in every
corner of the rooms, in order that prying, speculating
curiosity might be satisfied ; allowing rudeness and heart
lessness to penetrate into, and scrutinize those spots
where love and friendship were wont to reign quiet and
undisturbed. It seemed as if they were bargaining for
my blood, drop by drop, and bidding for my body piece
by piece, and which these sacriligious purchasers wished
to obtain for gold. 0, there were objects among them
that has often caUed to my mind many by-gone scenes
ol happiness and love, and to them my soul seemed to
cUng with the tenacity and ardor of a death-struggle.
All was sold, and we were left almost penny less.
Truly riches corrode, " take to themselves wings and
fly away." But " when things are at the worst they some
times mend."
And smiling hope, resting confidingly on her stead
fast anchor, whispered "try again/' per^evcrf, and
prosper, " Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace,
Behind a frowning Providence,
He hides a smiling face."

66 THE nobleman's daughter.
Cheerfully we commenced life again, and it was now
your brothers, Elmer and Henry, afforded us consider
able assistance. Again we gradually prospered. But
whemve heard of Milton's strange, though liberal be
quest, we could scarcely believe the good news.
Peace and plenty crowned our days once more, and
happiness swelled our hea,rts with unfeigned gratitude
to Him who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," and
will not permit us to be tempted above what we can
bear, promising, in all, His grace shall be sufficient,
" Nature hath- assigned
Two sovereign remedies for human grief:
Religion, surest, firmest, first and best,
Strength to the weak, and to the wounded balm.
And strenuous action next,"
" He who has a trade has an estate, truly spoke the
celebrated Doctor Franklin ; and, thank Heaven, Har
vey's occupation has proved to him the truth of this
axiom, which no power on earth can deprive him of,
and then, the trade, how noble.
* # * * «
- Beneath the sweltering sun of summer, and exposed to
the biting frosts of winter, the hardy ship carpenter toils
on, immindful of the laboring blast. Large spars are
suspended upon their hercuUan shoulders, which, it
would appear, little short of temerity to carry. Their
ingenious skill, and bony hands form the cradles, in
which are rocked the commerce and wealth of the world.
And how often do the hopes and fears, aye, the happi
ness and lives of hundreds, nay thousands, hang sus
pended on the faithful blows, stalwart arms, and, too

View of the licsidenoe of George Harvey AUen, his wife, and daughter Eliza, atEasteport, Maina.

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN, 69
often, the unrewarded services, of the noble hearted ship
carpenter. Happily, Eliza, we recovered this our revered and
much loved home, and which I would not exchange for
all the broad lands of the Harrison's, the Heiser's, or
the Norris's, And, by the way, how happy the change
in the current of our life, has increased their notice and
friendship. Riches make friends. But often have I remembered,
when humbled, low, and in poverty, the following
beautiful truth, " There is a friend that sticketh closer than
a brother. And if Elmer and Emily Norris ever marry
I do hope it will be for love only, and not simply to ac
cumulate worldly riches,
*****
It is night, and a storm has arisen on the sea. The
breakers roar and dash themselves, and the rolling surges
sweep onward, and hiss and foam upon the moss covered
rocks. The wild sea birds wheel their flight into the
upper air, and the lonely sea shrieks forth its shrill
cry. BoiUng, seething clouds sweep along the frowning
horizon, and ever and anon the pale moon steals, with
her timid light, upon the fearful scene, and then shrinks
back behind the fiery abode of the swift winged light
ning. Peal after peal of thunder smite the alarmed air,
and then, curUng and twisting, in its fiercest folds,
leaps forth the fiery messenger of wrath. Darkness
reigns over all ; for the setting sun is obscured by the
hurrying masses of clouds, and the queen of the realms
of nature appear to be divested ol its grandeur.
Ploughing the deep are no oak-ribbed monsters, whose
life-element is the heaving ocean, and whose depend-

70 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
ence is the flowing breeze, for the gallant frigate has
gathered sails and sped to distant seas. The heavy
warehouses of commerce are rolling their rich stores
in other and more peaceful ports, and the light brig is
dancing joyously in smooth harbors ; while the dashing
schooner has taken its quick flight to some distant spot
of refuge. Thus beauty is lost in terrible grandeur,
and quietness reigns no longer over the gentle sea, since
the foundations of the throne of the invisible are so
wildly rocking.
But, see, the scene suddenly changes. Deity speaks,
" Peace, be still," and all is calm loveUness upon the _
bosom of the quiet lake and on the mountain top. " The
light orbed maiden, with white robes laden, pours forth
her mellow beams, and bathes mountain, and hill in a
flood of heavenly beauty.
The evening star hangs out her signal orb, and the
innumerable lights, which twinkle on high, cheerfully
obey her sig-nal, and all are mirrored in the "glassy lake.
At this hour, when there is nothing to disturb the holy
quiet of the soft evening scene, there waUis a lonely,
lovely, glorious being, charmed with the sacred scene
around her. Her flowing hair falls back upon her
shoulders, and her deep blue eye gazes earnestly, rap
turously, on the soul inspiring beauty. Fondly she
gazes on the " moon-lit lake," and as a holy calm falls
upon her soul, she turns to the stream, now murmuring
smoothly, and, gently, amidst the green meadows, and
now pent up iu its rage by opposing rocks, likens it, in
her soft melancholy, to the pilgrimage of life. She bares
her bosom to the sweet breezes of enchantment, and
drinking in. draught after draught, of the delicious air.

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN, 71
turns her sweet vision to the queen, of night; sees
planets and other worlds describing their mighty cir
cles through illimitable space, and whispers to her soul,
that "nature is, indeed, xoonder working and mysterious."
This lovely being is the pensive poet, Ellen Allen,
your father's sister, consequently, your amiable aunt.
Sidney Milton was her murderer only in heart. He
thought she was effectually drowned, and sped away.
But she rose again to the surface of the water, and was
saved. She found her way to America, and now, as
you are aware, makes her home with us — ^though she
often dwells in the grottoes of the peaceful lake, and ram
bles through the inspiring groves of the muses.
" Music sweet, music soft,
Linger round the place.
And oh, I feel the childhood charm."
" With eyes upraised, as one inspired,
Pale melancholy sat retired :
And from her wild sequestered seat,
In notes by distance made more sweet.
Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul :
And, dashing soft, from rocks around.
Bubbling runnels joined the sound.
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole ;
Or ever some haunted stream with fond delay,
Bound a holy calm diffusing.
Love of peace and holy musing—
In hollow murmurs died away,"

J 3>

" And this description, dear mother, you have given,
is a picture of your early ' Lakeland Home,'
"Yes, my dear, an exact representation."'

72 THE nobleman's DAUGHTEE,
" 0, how I love it. A deep vale shut out by Alpine
hills from the rude world."
" To which, could love fulfil its prayer, this hand
would lead thee,"
This appropriate reply, and lovely assurance, was ut
tered by William, who, accompanied with my father,
just entered the room, I was glad, and smilingly said,
" Wanderer, come to me ; why did'st thou ever leave
me ? Knowest thou all I coijld have borne, and called
it joy to bear, for thy sake ? Knowest thou that thy
voice had power to shake me with a thrill of happi
ness ; by one kind tone to fill my eyes with tears of
yearning love."

. William's Return and Eliza's greeting.
He shortened my poetry with a kiss, and proudly
said —

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 73
" Come, my dear, the boats are waiting on the lake.
What say you to a pleasant moonlight excursion to
night?" " I shall be deUghted. You know how I love to sail
on the lake."
" We shall have merry company, for here comes our
uncle and om- two cousins, and then we shaU have the
Misses Harrison's and Norris's, accompanied by Elmer
and Henry, with us, not forgetting father and mother
here. Come, hasten love, and we shall be on the ' moon-
Ut-lake' in a thrice."
" But, stay, here is a company of twelve to go. Now
how many boats have you ? for you would not crowd
us all into one, would you ?"
"0, -we have boats plenty. There are three now
ready, and impatient to receive us. Here comes Miss
Norris and Elmer, and Miss Harrison and Henry, They
have agreed to take the little ' Sylph,' the lightest of
the three skiffs. Mother, father, aunt Ellen and uncle
sail the ' Two Brothers,' and we, dear, with our cousin,
grace the noble ' Swan.' Come, are you ready ?"
" Ready, William, and await your pleasure,"
" Then aU aboard."
" Twenty minutes after we left the mansion we were
gUding gay ly over the silvery lake. 0, it was a lovely
scene, a delightful sail. Nights fair-faced queen, decked
in her purest robes, and accompanied by her smiling
attendants, bathed all the boats and the lake in a magic
sphere of enchantment. And, then, the angel-like voice
of aunt Ellen, floated lightly over the mirrored sea, en
trancing the senses with sweet melody.

74 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
" Music sweet, music soft,
Linger round the place,
And oh, I feel the childhood charm,
That time cannot efface.
Then give me but my homestead roof,
I'll ask no palace dome.
For I c^n live a Tiappy life,
With those I love at home."
And, anon, the happy laugh from the " Sylph" danced
musically over the lake, and Ungered away in silvery
echoes. From our skiff", the " Swan," my cousin Ame
lia favored us with one of her choicest sonnets. And
ere we returned to our homes again it was near mid
night. , * * * * *
The night following, on which :^ature appeared quite
as beautiful, witnessed a gay and happy scene at our
romantic "Lakeland Home." Beautiful and proud the
evening sun sank to rest behind the cloud covered hills
of the west, and cast back lovely streaks of his roseate
light, gilding the many windows, spires and domes of
Eastport with a sea of glorious beauty, as if in antici
pation of the approaching festive scene. Presently,
coach after coach rolled up to the gay mansion, let
down their happy living freight, and passed away. It
was the wedding-day of my brothers Elmer and Henry,
which we were about to celebrate at our home with
great rejoicing. Nothing was omitted which could ren
der their respective union, with the Miss Norris and Miss
Harrison, happy. The company, though select, were nu
merous, and our old home never, previously, observed
so many smiling faces and happy hearts coUected to-

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN. 76
gether. It was, in truth, a season of great rejoicing,
and, as on the night previous, it was past the still hour
of midnight when the lights of our mansion were ex
tinguished, before we separated.

One month after the wedding, I was passing the even
ing with my mother, reading a letter to her which I had
that day received from William, who had now been ab
sent a few days on business in the State of New York.
I had left at home my little son, Edwin, sick. He
was in charge of a good and careful nurse ; yet I did
not remain long with mother ; and when I arose to de
part she accompanied me to see my sick boy.- She re
mained, perhaps, an hour or so, and returned to her
home. I remained by the side of my boy another hour,
and then sought my dressing room. It was intensely hot
weather, and as I laid aside my outer garments, I fan
cied the air of the room was exceedingly close. I raised
every window, and reclined on a lounge, and shortly after
wards was seized with a fit of trembling. I arose and
hurried to the chamber of my son, where the air seemed
cooler, and sat down with him until I felt better. I
again returned to my room, thinking I would rest on
the outside of the bed ; but no sooner had I laid down
than I encountered a shock of the nerves that almost
overpowered me. But it passed off, and I again became
drowsy ; but the moment I touched my pillow, I heard
the click of a pistol and started up. I searched every
part of the room (as I thought), but discovered nothing-
unusual. Overcome with sleep, I again threw myself
on the couch, and " click," as I imagined, went the
pistol again. Covered with perspiration, I sprang to

76

\ —i I

t,

^ ^
M /

-i-T-

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN, 77
the floor, and such a terror came over me, that I hm'-
ried from the. chamber, calling aloud for assistance. In
a few moments help came, in the person of my husband.
No one was there, but a pistol had fallen by the open
window, and loud groans were heard outside.
Looking down a height of forty feet, an unsightly
wreck of human flesh and bones could be seen by the
moonlight. The would-be assassin was a large negro,
who had jumped from the window to make his escape,
without calculating the distance. On examination of
the room, it appeared that he had concealed himself be
tween the bed and the wall, and but for the mishap of
the pistol, I would, without doubt, have been murdered
and the premises robbed.
0, who can doubt the kind superintending care of our
Heavenly Father, who gives his angels charge concern
ing us, who are sent forth as ministering spirits to guard
and shield us from evil and surrounding danger, which,
to us, often remains invisible,
" Midnight reigns around —
Midnight, when crime and murder quit their lair.
Their footsteps, like their conscience, void of sound ;
Their mission blood — their recompense despair."
" Behold here the goodness and severity of God; but
towards (me) goodness."
O, how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways
past finding out.
*****
What shall I say more.
In regard to the business relations existing between

78 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
my husband and father, my readers will easily under
stand its nature, when I inform them, that the name of
the firm reads — " George Harvey AUen and WilUam
Billings, Ship-builders.
But another glance at their quiet Lakeland Home,
and what a tidy air every thing presents. A large gar
den, in the rear of the mansion, spreads out be
fore you fruit trees and flowers of every kind. If you
enter the parlor, simplicity and good taste strive for the
mastery, while the most prominent feature in the room
is a well-stocked library. Paintings, and mezzotint en
gravings, of the choicest selection, adorn the walls.
On the mantle-piece, among other ornaments, are two
large vases, each containing a splendid boquet of the
choicest flowers, selected and placed there by mother's
own hand, whose delicious fragrance fiiUs the apartment
throughout. Above the mantel ornaments is suspended
a plain rosewood frame, containing a certificate of mem
bership to an order of men, who " touch not, taste not,
intoxicating liquors." This affords, my dear mother, in
expressible happiness to preserve with the greatest care.
We enter another room ; the table is spread ; and while
we obey the friendly request to partake of their hos
pitality, listen for a moment to the language of the
Christian husband and father.
" 0, Thou, who inhabits eternity ; thou who art the
poor man's solace, and the rich man's comfort, lead our
hearts to be as charitable to others as thy fatherly hand
has been bountiful in spreading this our full and humble
board ; forgiving our trespasses, as we forgive those who
trespass against us ; lead us not into temptation, but de
liver us from evil,"

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN, 79
*****
" Our life is aU chequered with pleasure and woes,
That chase one another like waves of the deep."
It was on a warm and sultry day in September, when
WilUam having returned from business, a sail was pro
posed on the lake. All things being ready, we "took
om' darling boy, Edwin, with us, and entered the boat
with every prospect of an agreeable excursion. Half
an hour or more we had been gliding over the peaceful
waters, listlessly, a,nd were now, like the swan, floating
securely and happy near her centre. Suddenly, the
restless waves dashed ; fltful gusts of wind came from off
the shore, and fretted and roughed themselves into
spray flashing surges. William, like the careful pilot,
turned the course of the sldff and made direct for the
shore. But, alas ! as the little bird of the wave turned
against the wind, a sudden flaw lifted her up from the
bosom of the waters, like a leaf in a whirlpool. She
fell, and careering to the shock, was now fast drifting
from the place, and, as she turned in the gale, we all
three found ourselves clinging with a death-hold to her
sides. We lifted our eyes towards the western sky, and,
and, God of Mercy ! we were dashing and pitching on
fast as the angry winds, now fully let loose, could hurry
us, towards the terrible Falls. Heavens ! what moments
of torture I endured, with almost certain inevitable
death staring us in the face. The hungry monsters of
the deep danced in glee on the rough bosom of the sea
ready to devour us. I pressed my darling boy to my
spray-washed bosom in a long, fond -and close embrace,
to be separated not even by unrelenting death. On and
on, over the heaving and conflicting surges were we

80 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
hurried ; nearer and nearer we approached the death-
dooming " Falls," over which no human being had ever
been known to pass and live. But now another boat
appeared upon the scene. My father having seen our
perilous situation, with my two brothers quickly launched
the boat, called the "Rescue," and started after us,
fleet as wind and oars would carry them. We had been
swept a long distance from where they started, still
the noble " Rescue," manned by my two brothers, so
licitous for a sister and brother's life, and guided by my
father's most anxious care, shot across the turbulent
waters, like the Indian's arrow just sent from his bow.
On and on they came, and, with a faint spark of hope,
we saw them gaining on us, and we could hear our
father's voice encouraging them to renewed exertions,
and bend manfully their oars. They bent forward until
their faces almost touched their knees ; then throwing
all their strength into the backward movement, sent the
little skiff ahead like the lightning's electric gleam. On
they came, bouyant with a strong hope of saving us.
They now had evidently changed their course. At the
first their object appeared to be to overtake us, but this
hope failing them, their present aim was, to adopt an
other course, and to intercept our progress. O, it waa
an awful — a terrible suspense, that, for a brief moment,
intervened between the changing of their course, and
the instant our feet struck the rocks of the upper side of
the Falls. My father's voice rang loudly out upon the
whistling winds, and we could distinctly hear him say,
"Pull, boys, for the love of God, and your sister's life,
pull." 0, heavens! we were now dragging over the

MRS. SAEAH E. ALLEN. 81
rocks on the very verge of the Falls. The "Rescue"
also was there, and she had struck a rock.
Thus we hung suspended over the horrible abyss ;
saw the terrible death waters boiling and foaming far
below, and heard the fearful yelling of old Boreas
using all his strength, seeming to hurl us down the
rugged declivity into the yawning jaws of death.
But, again, thank Heaven, they are afloat, and, in
a twinkling, are dashing on towards us. The "Res
cue" struck the "Swan," which started her up in the
air, like the noble bird whose name she bore, when
suddenly frightened from her watery element. But, as
soon as the "Swan" left the rock, I was in my father's
arms, and WilUam, though benumbed by cold, and weak,
sprang into tfie boat with the energy of renewed life.
I fell on my father's breast in a flood of thankful joy,
and bathed his brow with kisses and tears, overpowered
with gratitude for our rescue from death. My brothers
now made for the shore with all possible speed. And
need I add here, kind reader, that when we reached
home once more, my dear mother, who was shrouded
in a flood of grief fOr my fate^ welcomed me, and pressed
me to her embrace with unbounded transport. 0, that
was a happy meeting. A second time had she provi
dentially received me as "from the dead."
" At thought of this,
The roused soul swells boundless and sublime."
But again we were taken up with the usual and or
dinary routine of Ufe, until, on a fair morning of the
following November, and in the early part of the month
we resolved- to test each other's skiU in equestrianism

82 THE nobleman's DAUGHTER,
My mother, in her early days, was trained much to the
saddle, and gave early proof of extraordinary abiUty
and proficiency in this accomplishment. She had a pony,
trained expressly for her, and given her by her parent.
Lord Clarendon.
On this beautiful and bracing November morning, we
proposed to take a ride for health and recreation. There
was father and mother, my eldest brother Elmer and
his lady, and William and myself. The horses were
saddled and brought before the house, and, in a few
minutes, we were all mounted and prancing gaily up
the road that led out into the most beautiful and pic
turesque portion of the country about Eastport.
It was a pleasurable ride, and the country, robed in
her autumn attire, looked beautiful and grand. As we
rode along, William and I got into conversation, which
withdrew our attention from the other party. After
riding some distance, William, all at once, exclaimed, —
See, mother's horse has taken fright, and is bounding
away with her at a fearful pace. Take care of yourself,
Eliza, I will rescue her, for father's horse has also be
come unmanageable. Saying which, he sped after my
mother. Sure enough, my mother's horse had taken
fright, and the locomotive, passing at that moment, had
startled father's horse, and ere he could control him,
mother was a mile distant from us. She had lost the
reins, but clung tenaciously to the animal's long mane.
Again she grasped for the bridle, but the sudden jerk
with which she caught it, turned the animal's course
into a large field, and receiving fresh fright from the far
echoing blast of the locomotives shrill whistle, he bounded
away, at a most fearful gallop. 0, Heavens ! how my

MRS. SARAH E. ALLEN, 83
soul went with them in prayer for her life. On, on,
the frightened animal flew, while William kept in hot
pursuit. Father, by this time, was able to follow after
them, and Elmer, myself and his wife, kept the road
and sped after them. It was an exciting scene — a gal
lant chase for life. William struck his spurs into his
horse and rode after them rapidly. Still on they dashed,
unconscious of the awful ravine j'awning betwixt them.
Again my mother lost the bridle, and clung to the ani
mal's mane, noAv snapping the wind in its mad flight.
William urged his horse to renewed speed, and followed
over the plain. Gaining a parallel distance witk the
runaway steed, he tightened the right hand reija, and
forming a curve, attempted to cross their path in front
and thus stop their further flight. But as they ap
proached the precipice, my mother suddenly caught a
glimpse of the fearful leap before her, uttered a scream,
and, overcome with alarm, clung still closer to the
saddle. William called to her not to despair, but she
heard him not. Raising himself in his saddle, he drove
his spurs deep into the flanks of his noble courser, and,
with a terrible plunge, dashed against the breast of the
runaway steed. Thank, Heaven, she was saved ! Her
animal exhausted, and quivering by the collision, reared
upon his hindmost feet, the saddle girth broke, and my
mother fell to the earth, stunned almost to insensibility.
The horse again raised himself, sprang forward, and the
next moment lay, dashed to pieces, in the deep.
WilUam at once dismounted, and bent over my mother
in painful solicitude. By this time we all were on the
fatal spot, and there she lay at the edge of the precipice.
With painful anxiety my father seized her hand as it
lay motionless by her side, and a weak beat of her pulse

84 THE nobleman's daughter,
told that life was not extinct. Hope :ceyived, blooming
fresh in the hearts of all, I kissed her pale brow, and
bathed her temples with tears. My father, assisted by
WiUiam and Elmer, conveyed her across the fields to
the nearest house, about a half mile, distant, where every
attention was paid her. A physician being sent for
soon restored her. When my mother opened her eyes,
she pressed WilUam to her bosom, and tears of the
deepest gratitude coursed down her cheeks. She re
laxed hold of his hand, and fell gently into nature's
Sii^eet repose. When she awoke a,gain, she was in her
own room, and a bright smile of holy happiness illu-
mi^ediher cheerful face.
•^' ifci ' • ' '
" Here, easy) quiet, a secure retreat,
A harmless life, that knows not how to cheat ;
With home-bred plenty, the wise owners bless,
And rural pleasure? crown their happiness."
And here, good reader, we will leave them. Blest
with the full fruition of every earthly toinfort, and- still
trusting in the Divine goodness, may they continue
to enjoy his protecting care to the end of their days.

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