mother
removed to one of the Eastern States. She survived her husband for
several years, but she is now also dead. Soon after he became separated
from his family Old Rufus gave up the saw-mill and removed to a small
log house, upon a piece of land to which he possessed some kind of
claim, and from that time till his death, lived entirely alone. He
managed to cultivate a small portion of the land, which supplied him
with provisions, and he at times followed the trade of a cooper, to eke
out his slender means. His family troubles had broken his spirits, and
destroyed his ambition, and for years he lived a lonely dispirited man.
He was possessed of sound common sense and had also received a tolerable
education, to which was added a large stock of what might be properly
termed general information; and I have often since wondered how he could
have reconciled himself to the seemingly aimless and useless life which
he led for so many years. But in our intercourse with men, we often meet
with characters who are a sore puzzle to us; and old Rufus was one of
those. When quite young I have often laughed at a circumstance I have
heard related regarding the violent temper of his wife; but indeed it
was no laughing matter. It seems that in some instances she gave vent to
her anger by something more weighty than words. Old Rufus one day
entered the house of a neighbor with marks of blows on his face, and was
asked the cause. He never spoke of his wife's faults if he could avoid
it; but on this occasion he sat for a moment as though considering what
reply to make, and finally said: "O! there is not much the matter with
my face any way, only Polly and I had a little brush this morning." I
know not how serious the matter was, but Old Rufus certainly came off
second in the encounter. This aged man is so deeply connected with the
early scenes of my home life that I yet cherish a tender regard for his
memory; although the flowers of many summers have scattered their
blossoms, and the snows of many winters have descended upon his grave.
He was on familiar terms with almost every family in the neighbourhood,
and every one made him welcome to a place at their table, or a night's
lodging as the case might be; and I well remember the attention with
which I used to listen to his conversation during the long winter
evenings, when, as was often the case, he passed a night in our
dwelling. I recollect one time when the sight of Old Rufus was very
we