The Two Altars; Or, Two Pictures in One Read online

  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  Harriet Beecher Stowe

  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  Table of Contents

  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE..................................................................................1

  Harriet Beecher Stowe.............................................................................................................................1

  I. The Altar of Liberty, or 1776...............................................................................................................1

  II. The Altar of −,

  or 1850................................................................................................................6

  i

  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  Harriet Beecher Stowe

  This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.

  http://www.blackmask.com

  I. The Altar of Liberty, or 1776

  •

  II. The Altar of −−−−−−−, or 1850

  •

  I. The Altar of Liberty, or 1776

  The well−sweep of the old house on the hill was relieved dark and clear, against the reddening sky, as the early winter sun was going down in the west. It was a brisk, clear, metallic evening; the long drifts of snow blushed lilac in the hollows; and the old wintry wind brushed shrewdly along the plain, tingling people's noses, blowing open their cloaks, puffing in the back of their necks, and showing other unmistakable indications that he was getting up steam for a real roistering night.

  "Hurrah! How it blows!" said little Dick Ward, from the top of the mossy wood−pile.

  Now Dick had been sent to said wood−pile, in company with his little sister Grace, to pick up chips, which, everybody knows, was in the olden time considered a wholesome and gracious employment, and the peculiar duty of the rising generation. But said Dick, being a boy, had mounted the wood−pile, and erected there a flagstaff, on which he was busily tying a little red pocket−handkerchief, occasionally exhorting Grace "to be sure and pick up fast."

  "Oh, yes, I will," said Grace; "but you see the chips have got ice on 'em, and make my hands so cold!"

  "Oh, don't stop to suck your thumbs! Who cares for ice? Pick away, I say, while I set up the flag of liberty."

  So Grace picked away as fast as she could, nothing doubting but that her cold thumbs were in some mysterious sense an offering on the shrine of liberty; while soon the red handkerchief, duly secured, fluttered and snapped in the brisk evening wind.

  "Now you must hurrah, Gracie, and throw up your bonnet," said Dick, as he descended from the pile.

  "But won't it lodge down in some place in the wood−pile?" suggested Grace thoughtfully.

  "Oh, never fear; give it to me, and just holler now, Gracie, 'Hurrah for liberty!' and we'll throw up your bonnet and my cap; and we'll play, you know, that we are a whole army and I'm General Washington."

  So Grace gave up her little red hood, and Dick swung his cap, and up they both went into the air; and the children shouted, and the flag snapped and fluttered, and altogether they had a merry time of it. But then the wind good−for−nothing, roguish fellow! made an ungenerous plunge at poor Grace's little hood, and snipped it up in a twinkling, and whisked it off, off, off, fluttering and bobbing up and down, quite across a THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

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  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  wide, waste, snowy field, and finally lodged it on the top of a tall, strutting rail, that was leaning, very independently, quite another way from all the other rails of the fence.

  "Now see, do see!" said Grace; "there goes my bonnet! What will Aunt Hitty say?" and Grace began to cry.

  "Don't you cry, Gracie; you offered it up to liberty, you know: it's glorious to give up everything for liberty."

  "Oh, but Aunt Hitty won't think so."

  "Well, don't cry, Gracie, you foolish girl! Do you think I can't get it? Now, only play that that great rail is a fort, and your bonnet is a prisoner in it, and see how quick I'll take the fort and get it!" and Dick shouldered a stick, and started off.

  "What upon airth keeps those children so long? I should think they were making chips!" said Aunt Mehetabel; "the fire's just a−going out under the tea−kettle."

  By this time Grace had lugged her heavy basket to the door, and was stamping the snow off her little feet, which were so numb that she needed to stamp, to be quite sure they were yet there. Aunt Mehetabel's shrewd face was the first that greeted her as the door opened.

  "Gracie What upon airth! wipe your nose, child; your hands are frozen. Where alive is Dick? and what's kept you out all this time? and where's your bonnet?"

  Poor Grace, stunned by this cataract of questions, neither wiped her nose nor gave any answer, but sidled up into the warm corner where grandmamma was knitting, and began quietly rubbing and blowing her fingers, while the tears silently rolled down her cheeks, as the fire made the former ache intolerably.

  "Poor little dear!" said grandmamma, taking her hands in hers; "Hitty sha'n't scold you. Grandma knows you've been a good girl, the wind blew poor Gracie's bonnet away;" and grandmamma wiped both eyes and nose, and gave her, moreover, a stalk of dried fennel out of her pocket, whereat Grace took heart once more.

  "Mother always makes fools of Roxy's children," said Mehetabel, puffing zealously under the tea−kettle.

  "There's a little maple sugar in that saucer up there, mother, if you will keep giving it to her," she said, still vigorously puffing. "And now, Gracie," she said, when, after a while, the fire seemed in tolerable order, "will you answer my question? Where is Dick?"

  "Gone over in the lot to get my bonnet."

  "How came your bonnet off?" said Aunt Mehetabel. "I tied it on firm enough."

  "Dick wanted me to take it off for him, to throw up for liberty," said Grace.

  "Throw up for fiddlestick! Just one of Dick's cut−ups, and you was silly enough to mind him!"

  "Why, he put up a flagstaff on the wood−pile, and a flag to liberty, you know, that papa's fighting for," said Grace more confidently, as she saw her quiet, blue−eyed mother, who had silently walked into the room during the conversation.

  Grace's mother smiled, and said encouragingly, "And what then?"

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  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  "Why, he wanted me to throw up my bonnet and he his cap, and shout for liberty; and then the wind took it and carried it off, and he said I ought not to be sorry if I did lose it, it was an offering to liberty."

  "And so I did," said Dick, who was standing as straight as a poplar behind the group; "and I heard it in one of father's letters to mother that we ought to offer up everything on the altar of liberty and so I made an altar of the wood−pile."

  "Good boy!" said his mother; "always remember everything your father writes. He has offered up everything on the altar of liberty, true enough; and I hope you, son, will live to do the same."

  "Only, if I have the hoods and caps to make," said Aunt Hitty, "I hope he won't offer them up every week, that's all!"

  "Oh, well, Aunt Hitty, I've got the hood; let me alone for that. It blew clear over into the Daddy Ward pasture lot, and there stuck on the top of the great rail; and I played that the rail was a fort, and besieged it, and took it."

  "Oh, yes! you're always up to taking forts, and anything else that nobody wants done. I'll warrant, now, you left Gracie to pick up every blessed one of them chips."

  "Picking up chips is girls' work," said Dick;
"and taking forts and defending the country is men's work."

  "And pray, Mister Pomp, how long have you been a man?" said Aunt Hitty.

  "If I ain't a man, I soon shall be; my head is 'most up to my mother's shoulder, and I can fire off a gun, too. I tried, the other day, when I was up to the store. Mother, I wish you'd let me clean and load the old gun, so that, if the British should come"

  "Well, if you are so big and grand, just lift me out that table, sir," said Aunt Hitty; "for it's past supper−time."

  Dick sprang, and had the table out in a trice, with an abundant clatter, and put up the leaves with quite an air.

  His mother, with the silent and gliding motion characteristic of her, quietly took out the table−cloth and spread it, and began to set the cups and saucers in order, and to put on the plates and knives, while Aunt Hitty bustled about the tea.

  "I'll be glad when the war's over, for one reason," said she. "I'm pretty much tired of drinking sage tea, for one, I know."

  "Well, Aunt Hitty, how you scolded that peddler, last week, that brought along that real tea!"

  "To be sure I did. S'pose I'd be taking any of his old tea, bought of the British? fling every teacup in his face first."

  "Well, mother," said Dick, "I never exactly understood what it was about the tea, and why the Boston folks threw it all overboard."

  "Because there was an unlawful tax laid upon it, that the government had no right to lay. It was n't much in itself; but it was part of a whole system of oppressive meanness, designed to take away our rights, and make us slaves of a foreign power."

  "Slaves!" said Dick, straightening himself proudly. "Father a slave!"

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  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  "But they would not be slaves! They saw clearly where it would all end, and they would not begin to submit to it in ever so little." said the mother.

  "I would n't, if I was they," said Dick.

  "Besides," said the mother, drawing him towards her, "it was n't for themselves alone they did it. This is a great country, and it will be greater and greater; and it's very important that it should have free and equal laws, because it will by and by be so great. This country, if it is a free one, will be a light of the world, a city set on a hill, that cannot be hid; and all the oppressed and distressed from other countries shall come here to enjoy equal rights and freedom. This, dear boy, is why your father and uncles have gone to fight, though God knows what they suffer and" And the large blue eyes of the mother were full of tears; yet a strong, bright beam of pride and exultation shone through those tears.

  "Well, well, Roxy, you can always talk, everybody knows," said Aunt Hitty, who had been not the least attentive listener of this little patriotic harangue; "but, you see, the tea is getting cold, and yonder I see the sleigh is at the door, and John's come; so let's set up our chairs for supper."

  The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother's lap; the tea−table was forgotten, and the tea−kettle sang unnoticed by the fire, as all hands crowded about mother's chair to hear the news. It was from Captain Ward, then in the American army at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward ran it over hastily, and then read it aloud. A few words we may extract.

  "There is still," it said, "much suffering. I have given away every pair of stockings you sent me, reserving to myself only one; for I will not be one whit better off than the poorest soldier that fights for his country. Poor fellows! it makes my heart ache sometimes to go round among them, and see them with their worn clothes and torn shoes, and often bleeding feet, yet cheerful and hopeful, and every one willing to do his very best.

  Often the spirit of discouragement comes over them, particularly at night, when, weary, cold, and hungry, they turn into their comfortless huts, on the snowy ground. Then sometimes there is a thought of home, and warm fires, and some speak of giving up; but next morning out come Washington's general orders, little short note, but's wonderful what good it does; and then they all resolve to hold on, come what may. There are commissioners going all through the country to pick up supplies. If they come to you, I need not tell you what to do. I know all that will be in your hearts."

  "There, children, see what your father suffers," said the mother, "and what it costs these poor soldiers to gain our liberty."

  "Ephraim Scranton told me that the commissioners had come as far as the Three Mile Tavern, and that he rather 'spected they'd be along here to−night," said John, as he was helping round the baked beans to the silent company at the tea−table.

  "To−night? do tell, now!" said Aunt Hitty. "Then it's time we were awake and stirring. Let's see what can be got."

  "I'll send my new overcoat, for one," said John. "That old one is n't cut up yet, is it, Aunt Hitty?"

  "No," said Aunt Hitty; "I was laying out to cut it over next Wednesday, when Desire Smith could be here to do the tailoring."

  "There's the south room, " said Aunt Hitty, musing; "that bed has the two old Aunt Ward blankets on it, and the great blue quilt, and two comforters. Then mother's and my room, two pair four comforters two quilts THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

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  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  the best chamber has got"

  "Oh, Aunt Hitty, send all that's in the best chamber! If any company comes, we can make it up off from our beds," said John. "I can send a blanket or two off from my bed, I know, can't but just turn over in it, so many clothes on, now."

  "Aunt Hitty, take a blanket off from our bed," said Grace and Dick at once.

  "Well, well, we'll see," said Aunt Hitty, bustling up.

  Up rose grandmamma, with great earnestness, now, and going into the next room, and opening a large cedar−wood chest, returned, bearing in her arms two large snow−white blankets, which she deposited flat on the table, just as Aunt Hitty was whisking off the tablecloth.

  "Mortal! mother, what are you going to do?" said Aunt Hitty.

  "There," she said, "I spun those, every thread of 'em, when my name was Mary Evans. Those were my wedding−blankets, made of real nice wool and worked with roses in all the corners. I've got them to give!"

  and grandmamma stroked and smoothed the blankets, and patted them down, with great pride and tenderness.

  It was evident that she was giving something that lay very near her heart; but she never faltered.

  "La! mother, there's no need of that," said Aunt Hitty. "Use them on your own bed, and send the blankets off from that; they are just as good for the soldiers."

  "No, I sha'n't!" said the old lady, waxing warm; "'t is n't a bit too good for 'em. I'll send the very best I've got, before they shall suffer. Send 'em the best!" and the old lady gestured oratorically.

  They were interrupted by a rap at the door, and two men entered, and announced themselves as commissioned by Congress to search out supplies for the army. Now the plot thickens. Aunt Hitty flew in every direction, through entry passage, meal−room, milk−room, down cellar, up chamber, her cap border on end with patriotic zeal; and followed by John, Dick, and Grace, who eagerly bore to the kitchen the supplies that she turned out, while Mrs. Ward busied herself in quietly sorting and arranging, in the best possible traveling order, the various contributions that were precipitately launched on the kitchen floor.

  Aunt Hitty soon appeared in the kitchen with an armful of stockings, which, kneeling on the floor, she began counting and laying out.

  "There," she said, laying down a large bundle on some blankets, "That leaves just two pair apiece all round."

  "La!" said John, "what's the use of saving two pair for me? I can do with one pair; as well as father."

  "Sure enough," said his mother; "besides, I can knit you another pair in a day."

  "And I can do with one pair," said Dick.

  "Yours will be too
small, young master, I guess," said one of the commissioners.

  "No," said Dick; "I've got a pretty good foot of my own, and Aunt Hitty will always knit my stockings an inch too long, 'cause she says I grow so. See here, these will do;" and the boy shook his triumphantly.

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  THE TWO ALTARS; OR, TWO PICTURES IN ONE

  "And mine, too," said Grace, nothing doubting, having been busy all the time in pulling off her little stockings.

  "Here," she said to the man who was packing the things into a wide−mouthed sack; "here's mine," and her large blue eyes looked earnestly through her tears.

  Aunt Hitty flew at her. "Good land! the child's crazy. Don't think the men could wear your stockings, take

  'em away!"

  Grace looked around with an air of utter desolation, and began to cry. "I wanted to give them something,"

  said she. "I'd rather go barefoot on the snow all day than not send 'em anything."

  "Give me the stockings, my child," said the old soldier tenderly. "There, I'll take 'em, and show 'em to the soldiers, and tell them what the little girl said that sent them. And it will do them as much good as if they could wear them. They've got little girls at home, too." Grace fell on her mother's bosom completely happy, and Aunt Hitty only muttered,

  "Everybody does spile that child; and no wonder, neither!"

  Soon the old sleigh drove off from the brown house, tightly packed and heavily loaded. And Grace and Dick were creeping up to their little beds.

  "There's been something put on the altar of Liberty tonight, has n't there, Dick?"

  "Yes, indeed," said Dick; and, looking up to his mother, he said, "But, mother, what did you give?"

  "I?" said the mother musingly.

  "Yes, you, mother; what have you given to the country?"

  "All that I have, dears," said she, laying her hands gently on their heads, "my husband and my children."

  II. The Altar of −, or 1850

  The setting sun of chill December lighted up the solitary front window of a small tenement on Street, in Boston, which we now have occasion to visit. As we push gently aside the open door, we gain sight of a small room, clean as busy hands can make it, where a neat, cheerful young mulatto woman is busy at an ironing−table. A basket full of glossy−bosomed shirts, and faultless collars and wristbands, is beside her, into which she is placing the last few items with evident pride and satisfaction. A bright black−eyed boy, just come in from school, with his satchel of books over his shoulder, stands, cap in hand, relating to his mother how he has been at the head of his class, and showing his school tickets, which his mother, with untiring admiration, deposits in the little real china teapot, which, as being their most reliable article of gentility, is made the deposit of all the money and most especial valuables of the family.