The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-09-29
ARRIVING
Chapter !.

Chapter !.
Even when year had passed I said Of
my escape from the Tuieries: 1T was q
dream. How could it have happened?'
For the adventures of my wandering fel
from me like a garment, leaving the one
changeless passion.
Skenedonk and l met on the ship New
England minister. who looked upon an6
considered US from day to day. I uset
90 sit in the stern, the miles stretching
me as rack stretches flesh and tendons
The minister regarded me as prostrate(
by the spider bite of that wicked Paris
out Of which he learned 1 had come, by
talking to my Oneida.
The Indian and I were a queer pail
that interested him, and when he discov'
cred that I bore the name Of Eleazal
Williams his friendship was sealed
to u.s. Eunice Williams, OF
Deerfield. the grandmother OF
Thomas Williams. was a traditional brand
never sratched from the burning in the
minister's town of Longmeadow. where
nearly every inhabitant was descended
from or espoused to a Williams. Though
he himself was born Storrs, his wife was
born Williams; and I could have lain
at his feet and cried, so open was the
heart of this good man to a wanderer
rebounding from a family that dsowneG
the pretender. He was my welcome back
to America. The breath of eastern pines
western
plains had not yet seen, but which drew
me so that l could scarcely wait to land
came to me with that man. Before the
voyage ended l had told him my whole
history as far as l knew it, except the
story of Madame de Terrier; and the be-
ginning of 1t was by no means new to him
The New England Willlamses kept pray
erful eye on that branch descending
through the Iroquois. This transplanted
Britcn, returning from his one memoir
able visit to the England Of his forefath-
ers. despised my Bourbon claims, and
even the French contraction of my name.
w nat are you going to do now,
EleaZar?' he inquired
HuSging my old dream to myself feel
ing my heart leap toward that western
empire which must faScinate a young man
as long as there remain any western lands
TO possess. told him I intended to edu-
cate our lroquois as soon as could pre-
pare myself to do it, and settle them
where they could grow into greater
nation.
The man of God kindled in the face. He
was a dark eyed, square browed, serious
man. with black hair falling below his
whlte band. His mouth had sweet be-
hlSn expression, even when he uuizzed me
about my dauphinhood. A New England
pastor was flame that burned for the
enlightenment Of the nations From that
hour 1t was settled that I should be his
pupil. and go with him to LongmeadoU
TO finish my education.
When we landed he helped me tc
cell my Babylonish clothes, except the
white court dress. to which I chung with
tenaclty displeasing to him. and garb NV
sell In more BETTING raiment By Skene-
donk hand L sent some of the remaining
gold coins to my mother Marianne and the
chief, when he rejOined the tribe and
went to pass the winter at St. Regis And
m
bring me letters from De Chaumont's
manor in the sprng, if any arrived there
for me.
How near to heaven the New England
village seemed, with Mount Tom on the
horizon glorious as Mount Zion, the
mighty sweep Of meadow land the Con-
necticut river flowing in great peace the
broad street of elms like some gigantic
cathedral nave. and in it's very midst a
shrlne-the meeting house, double decked
with fan-topped windows.
Religion and education were the main
springs OF its life. Pastor StOrrs worked
IN his study nearly nine hours a day, and
spent the remaining hours in what he
called visitation Of his flock
This being lifted out of Paris and
plunged into Longmeadow was the pour
Ing of white hot metal into chill moulds,
1t cast me. With seething and a roar
of loosened forces, the boy passed to the
1nan
Nearly every night during all those
yeras of changing, for even faithfulness
has Its tides, put the snuffbox under NV
pillow, and Madame de Terriers kew
spoke to my ear. I would say to myself:
THE one I love gave me this key. Did
ever SIT beside her on ledge of stone
overlooking a sunken garden?-so near
that might have touched her Does she
ever think Of the dauph1n Louis? Where
Is she? Does she know that Lazarre has
become Eleazar Williams?"
The pastors house was fronted with
huge white fluted pillars of wood uphold
Ing porch roof which shaded the second
floor windows The doors in that house
had short wasted effect with little pam
els above and long panels below I had a
chamber so clean and small that I called
1t In my mind the Monks Cell, nearly
filed with the high posted bed, the aus
tere table and chairs. The WhiteWashed
walls were bare Of pictures, EXCEPT q
painted portrait of Stephen Williams, pas
tor Of LOngmeadow from 1918 to 1888,
Daily his laughing eyes watched me as if
he found my pretensions a great Joke,
He had a long nose, and a high forehead,
His black hair crinkled, and a merry
crease drew Its half circle from one cheek
around under his chin to the other.
Longmeadow did not receive me with
out much question and debate. There
were Williamses in every direction; dis
guised. perhaps. for that generation, un-
der the names Of Cooley, Stebbins, Golfer
Ely. Hole, and so on. A stately Sarah
Williams. as Mrs. Storrs, sat at the head
OF the pastors table. Her disapprova
was force. though it never manifested
itself except in withdrawal. If Mrs
6torrs had drawn back from me while
lived under her roof, should have felt ar
outcast indeed. The subtle refinement OF
those Longmeadow women was like the
limited sweetness of arbutus flower Breed
Ing passed from generation to generatio
They had not mixed their blood with the
blood Of any outsiders; and their forbears
were English yeomen.
I threw myself into books as I had
done during my first months at De Chau-
mont's, before grew to think Of Madame