work in the mills of society. Let it be said
of this woman, that, without wealth of talent or any exact culture, she
possessed the sweetest accompaniments of the highest masculine
genius,--enthusiasm and simplicity.

The questioning spirit gradually took form in various radical clubs and
associations. Pleasing themselves with shining symbols, and
complimenting each other with antique titles of nobility, a large
majority of the Foxden shop-keepers enlisted in the sacred crusade. This
new physical revival, like the old religious revivals, soon got into the
schools, and processions of children, fluttering many-colored ribbons,
paraded the streets. There was an Anti-Spirit League and an
Anti-Tea-and-Coffee League; also an Anti-Tobacco League was in hopeful
process of formation. And soon professional reformers of most
destructive character were attracted to the place, and, having once
attached themselves, hung like leeches upon the community. The
celebrated Mrs. Romulus, and the great socialist, Mr. Stellato, snuffing
their victims afar off, left their work unfinished in towns of less
importance, and hurried to Foxden. Shrewd wasps were these, bent upon
getting up beehives of cooperative activity. Less and less grew the
stanch garrison who must defend the conservative citadel against the
daring hordes. Nevertheless, some boldly stood out, and showed a
spirit--or shall it be said an obstinacy?--which cowed unpractised
assailants. Deacon Greenlaw had not yet been persuaded to burn his
cider-mill,--although committees of matrons had visited him to ascertain
when he proposed to do so,--although bevies of children had been dressed
in white and set upon Mrs. Greenlaw,--although Mr. Stellato, as Chief
of the Progressive Gladiators, had called in person to demand a public
destruction of that accursed instrument for the ruin of men. The Deacon
defied the moral sentiment of the town. Doctor Dastick sturdily
maintained that tea and coffee were not injurious, and had got hold of
the preventing-waste-of-tissue theory in respect to more potent
beverages. The old-fashioned hospitable soul of Colonel Prowley took
cognizance of the fact that the Odes of Horace made no unkindly mention
of ripe Falernian, and that the most admirable heroes of Plutarch do not
appear to have been teetotalers. Mrs. Widesworth, good lady, rode like a
cork upon the deep unrest of society: she thought the whole business
infidel as well as absurd, and, so thinking,