forest-crowned amphitheatre behind the meeting-house, and the
recovering invalid was there, leaning on a staff. The glee of a score
of untainted bosoms was heard in light and airy voices, which danced
among the trees like sunshine become audible; the grown men of this
weary world as they journeyed by the spot marvelled why life,
beginning in such brightness, should proceed in gloom, and their
hearts or their imaginations answered them and said that the bliss of
childhood gushes from its innocence. But it happened that an
unexpected addition was made to the heavenly little band. It was
Ilbrahim, who came toward the children with a look of sweet confidence
on his fair and spiritual face, as if, having manifested his love to
one of them, he had no longer to fear a repulse from their society. A
hush came over their mirth the moment they beheld him, and they stood
whispering to each other while he drew nigh; but all at once the devil
of their fathers entered into the unbreeched fanatics, and, sending up
a fierce, shrill cry, they rushed upon the poor Quaker child. In an
instant he was the centre of a brood of baby-fiends, who lifted sticks
against him, pelted him with stones and displayed an instinct of
destruction far more loathsome than the bloodthirstiness of manhood.
The invalid, in the mean while, stood apart from the tumult, crying
out with a loud voice, "Fear not, Ilbrahim; come hither and take my
hand," and his unhappy friend endeavored to obey him. After watching
the victim's struggling approach with a calm smile and unabashed eye,
the foul-hearted little villain lifted his staff and struck Ilbrahim
on the mouth so forcibly that the blood issued in a stream. The poor
child's arms had been raised to guard his head from the storm of
blows, but now he dropped them at once. His persecutors beat him down,
trampled upon him, dragged him by his long fair locks, and Ilbrahim
was on the point of becoming as veritable a martyr as ever entered
bleeding into heaven. The uproar, however, attracted the notice of a
few neighbors, who put themselves to the trouble of rescuing the
little heretic, and of conveying him to Pearson's door.
Ilbrahim's bodily harm was severe, but long and careful nursing
accomplished his recovery; the injury done to his sensitive spirit was
more serious, though not so visible. Its signs were principally of a
negative character, and to be discovered only by those who had
previously known him. His gait was thenceforth slow, even and unvaried
by the sudden bursts of sprightlier motion which had once corresponded
to his overflowing gladness; his countenance was heavier, and its
former play of expression—the dance of sunshine reflected from moving
water—was destroyed by the cloud over his existence; his notice was
attracted in a far less degree by passing events, and he appeared to
find greater difficulty in comprehending what was new to him than at a
happier period. A stranger founding his judgment upon these
circumstances would have said that the dulness of the child's
intellect widely contradicted the promise of his features, but the
secret was in the direction of Ilbrahim's thoughts, which were
brooding within him when they should naturally have been wandering
abroad. An attempt of Dorothy to revive his former sportiveness was
the single occasion on which his quiet demeanor yielded to a violent
display of grief; he burst into passionate weeping and ran and hid
himself, for his heart had become so miserably sore that even the hand
of kindness tortured it like fire. Sometimes at night, and probably in
his dreams, he was heard to cry, "Mother! Mother!" as if her place,
which a stranger had supplied while Ilbrahim was happy, admitted of no
substitute in his extreme affliction. Perhaps among the many
life-weary wretches then upon the earth there was not one who combined
innocence and misery like this poor broken-hearted infant so soon the
victim of his own heavenly nature.
While this melancholy change had taken
recovering invalid was there, leaning on a staff. The glee of a score
of untainted bosoms was heard in light and airy voices, which danced
among the trees like sunshine become audible; the grown men of this
weary world as they journeyed by the spot marvelled why life,
beginning in such brightness, should proceed in gloom, and their
hearts or their imaginations answered them and said that the bliss of
childhood gushes from its innocence. But it happened that an
unexpected addition was made to the heavenly little band. It was
Ilbrahim, who came toward the children with a look of sweet confidence
on his fair and spiritual face, as if, having manifested his love to
one of them, he had no longer to fear a repulse from their society. A
hush came over their mirth the moment they beheld him, and they stood
whispering to each other while he drew nigh; but all at once the devil
of their fathers entered into the unbreeched fanatics, and, sending up
a fierce, shrill cry, they rushed upon the poor Quaker child. In an
instant he was the centre of a brood of baby-fiends, who lifted sticks
against him, pelted him with stones and displayed an instinct of
destruction far more loathsome than the bloodthirstiness of manhood.
The invalid, in the mean while, stood apart from the tumult, crying
out with a loud voice, "Fear not, Ilbrahim; come hither and take my
hand," and his unhappy friend endeavored to obey him. After watching
the victim's struggling approach with a calm smile and unabashed eye,
the foul-hearted little villain lifted his staff and struck Ilbrahim
on the mouth so forcibly that the blood issued in a stream. The poor
child's arms had been raised to guard his head from the storm of
blows, but now he dropped them at once. His persecutors beat him down,
trampled upon him, dragged him by his long fair locks, and Ilbrahim
was on the point of becoming as veritable a martyr as ever entered
bleeding into heaven. The uproar, however, attracted the notice of a
few neighbors, who put themselves to the trouble of rescuing the
little heretic, and of conveying him to Pearson's door.
Ilbrahim's bodily harm was severe, but long and careful nursing
accomplished his recovery; the injury done to his sensitive spirit was
more serious, though not so visible. Its signs were principally of a
negative character, and to be discovered only by those who had
previously known him. His gait was thenceforth slow, even and unvaried
by the sudden bursts of sprightlier motion which had once corresponded
to his overflowing gladness; his countenance was heavier, and its
former play of expression—the dance of sunshine reflected from moving
water—was destroyed by the cloud over his existence; his notice was
attracted in a far less degree by passing events, and he appeared to
find greater difficulty in comprehending what was new to him than at a
happier period. A stranger founding his judgment upon these
circumstances would have said that the dulness of the child's
intellect widely contradicted the promise of his features, but the
secret was in the direction of Ilbrahim's thoughts, which were
brooding within him when they should naturally have been wandering
abroad. An attempt of Dorothy to revive his former sportiveness was
the single occasion on which his quiet demeanor yielded to a violent
display of grief; he burst into passionate weeping and ran and hid
himself, for his heart had become so miserably sore that even the hand
of kindness tortured it like fire. Sometimes at night, and probably in
his dreams, he was heard to cry, "Mother! Mother!" as if her place,
which a stranger had supplied while Ilbrahim was happy, admitted of no
substitute in his extreme affliction. Perhaps among the many
life-weary wretches then upon the earth there was not one who combined
innocence and misery like this poor broken-hearted infant so soon the
victim of his own heavenly nature.
While this melancholy change had taken
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